#university kicks my ass everyday

[alucardsinep]

me any time i have a less than stellar day:

[heechwe]

dancing with our hands tied ↦ sjy

⋆ pairing: sim (jake) jaeyun x fem!reader ⋆ word count: 7.7k ⋆ genre: semi-angst, fluff, smut (18+/mdni!) ⋆ tags: brothersbsf!jake, minor age difference, college au, friends with benefits, secret relationship, light choking, semi-public sex, oral (f + m receiving), fingering penetration, unprotected sex (please practice safe sex folks). ⋆ synopsis: What began as a simple friends-with-benefits situation with your brother's best friend has turned into something deeper, and you now find that your emotions are more complicated than you initially thought. ➸ bless @temptaetions for giving me so much amazing dialogue to work with and @sweetvenomnet for getting me through finishing this monster!

You did not envision Sunday morning sitting across from your brother, concealing the bottom half of your body with your comforter and Jake next to you in bed. Jay’s face is a jumble of shock and anger, fists balled at his sides. You’re unsure if he’s ready to kick his best friend’s ass or throw him out by his neck, or both.

“How the fuck did this fucking happen,” Jay yells.

Well, you think, the beginning is a lot easier to explain than where we’re at now…

The first night you slept with Jake six months ago was like any other. Jay, your older brother by two years, was home with his best friend for the weekend. They had bonded over their freshman year as dorm buddies and Jay immediately inserted Jake into the family. “He’s like the brother I never had,” Jay would say when people would comment on them being attached at the hip.

It was not unusual for the two of them to stay over at your parents’ house when they were back in town. The university was more than three hours away. If they tried to drive home the same day, it would only end in a headache thanks to the rush-hour traffic. 

It was nice to see Jay succeeding though, his footsteps being ones you’d hope to follow in one day. He had it all figured out, while you were anything but decided. Still unsure about what to do now that you had graduated, you chose to stay home and attend community college in the meantime.

But Jay occasionally being back in your presence meant he had to fulfill his annoying brotherly roles, like boring you with tales of campus and admonishing you for risqué outfit choices.

Like that night.

He stopped you short at the door with judgmental eyes scanning up and down your dress. “Absolutely not.”

You scoffed and pushed him out of your way. The dress hugged your curves just right and the color fit your aestethic. You knew when you bought it that the length wasn’t ideal for everyday wear, but it was perfect for a night out. Jay wouldn’t tell you otherwise. “You don’t have to act like Dad, dude.”

“Listen,” he said, rolling his eyes. “We all know you’re a woman. You don’t need to prove it with a little black dress.”

“Unless you’re blind, this dress is blue,” you mocked him.

“You know what I mean, smart-ass! You’re not leaving wearing that!”

“What’s going on,” Jake called from the kitchen.

“My sister’s about to walk out of the house in a napkin,” Jay responded, sarcasm dripping from his mouth.

“You’re such a prick,” you said, crossing your arms.

Jake sauntered into the sitting room, a bag of chips in his hand. He was taken back by the outfit, his eyes slowly trailing down your body. His Adam’s apple bobbed as Jay continued on his tirade about modesty to nobody but the air.

“You look pretty,” Jake said finally. He popped a chip in his mouth.

Your cheeks turned red instantly. Jay’s best friend wasn’t unattractive to look at, not in the slightest, so hearing him say such a thing even in quick passing made your body tense.

Before you could thank him for the compliment, Jay coughed like he swallowed his own spit.

“Did you just say she looks pretty?” Jay asked in his best friend’s direction.

Jake chomped down on another chip. “What,” he said, his mouth full.

“If I heard that right, you just said my sister looks pretty in her dress.”

“Yes?” Jake’s expression morphed into confusion as your brother’s face went pale.

“Do you have a death wish?” Jay asked.

“Bro, c’mon—”

“No, seriously. Do you?”

You backed up towards the door, making sure not to clack your heels too hard on the tile to be noticed.

Jay, however, sensed your escape. “I meant it! You’re not leaving without putting something else on.”

“Seongie, stop being an asshole. I’m gonna be late,” you whined.

“Dude, all I said was that she looked pretty,” Jake butted in.

Jay turned his focus back to him. “You said the girl you fucked at that club on Fifth was pretty.”

“Bro, I’m not gonna fuck—” Jake ran his free hand through his hair, smiling in incredulity at the ridiculous conversation. “Just trust me.”

“Finish that sentence.”

Jake scoffed, mouth agape. “What the hell, man?”

“Finish. The. Sentence. Jaeyun.”

���Okay, if you’re done being weirdly overprotective and Jaeyun’s done taking back his compliment, I have a happy hour to go to.”

Jay was so preoccupied with Jake at that point that he barely registered your words and your exit from the house. Before he could protest again, Jake interrupted him.

“I’m not going to fuck your sister, Jong,” he says.

“Thanks, that’s reassuring,” Jay responded.

As you closed the door, you heard Jake say, “But if she fucks me, that’s a different story.”

Despite walking down the cobblestone pathway, you heard Jake’s cries from your older brother whacking him. Jay screamed, “You sick fuck!”

Your cheeks felt hot when you finally got inside of your friend’s car. You greeted them with a smile when you sat in the back seat, but your mind kept playing back Jake’s words. He must have had enough pickings on campus and in his hometown to keep him satisfied. He didn’t need to put his effort or interest in you. There’s no way that he would, right?

Five hours later, the clock just shy of 1 AM, you stepped quietly inside to not wake your parents. Tiptoeing up the stairs to your room, you didn’t see Jay’s bedroom light on, certain he was fast asleep. That gave you some relief knowing he didn’t stick around to admonish you for not listening to his forceful advice.

What you weren’t expecting was Jake to be sprawled out on your bed, his body akin to a limp starfish. He had been scrolling endlessly through his Instagram feed until you creaked open the door to your room.

A silent scream jolted your pulse. “Jaeyun, what the fuck are you doing here?” you asked.

“Jongseong told me to wait for you. He wanted to make sure you got home safe,” Jake said absentmindedly, like being in your bed is a natural occurrence by now.

You suppressed the urge to roll your eyes. “Helicopter Himbo couldn’t do that himself?”

“He linked up with some girl he knows…Dahyun I think was her name?”

You sighed. Of course Jay had to hook up with his high school ex when he had no other options to exhaust. You thought Jay had higher standards than that at this point in his life, but he was still Jay.

You nodded. The soles of your feet throbbed from wearing your heels longer than you intended to. You tried to hide the pain on your face, but Jake was quick to walk over to you and feign concern.

“You okay?” He asked.

“Yeah. I’m just slightly buzzed and I’d like to see the inside of my eyelids and forget how bad my feet hurt right now.” You released a breathless laugh. “You can text my doofus of a brother and tell him I’m in one piece.” 

You practically motioned your head towards the door, but Jake only smirked in response.

“Well, first things first, let’s take these off.” Before you knew it, Jake leaned down and began unbuckling the clasps of your stilettos for you. The sight made the alcoholic buzz running through your veins mutate into something sensual. You felt the ache between your legs as Jake’s fingers caressed the skin of your ankle as he was taking off your shoes for you, and immediately you remembered who he was.

This was wrong, and in no way going to happen. Not with someone who your brother confided in and loved so dearly. No matter how it felt every time you looked at him, or if he did intimate things like this that made you question everything.

“I meant what I said earlier you know,” Jake whispered. “And I wasn’t trying to take it back when Jongseong was grilling me about it.”

“I get it. He can be intense sometimes,” you mumbled.

“But you did look pretty. Fuck, you still do.” Jake chuckled to himself and positioned your feet out of the shoes and onto the carpet floor. The fabric felt cool against your toes, and instinctively you released a pleasurable sigh.

“So much better,” you moaned, smiling. “Thank you.”

Jake stood up, his grin infectious. “My pleasure.”

Neither of you moved, and admittedly you were glad Jake hadn’t made his exit yet. In the blur between your gratitude and onslaught of confusing feelings, the tether between your head and your body loosened. 

Then you were kissing him. You were kissing your brother’s best friend and enjoying it very much, an amalgamation of all the passing glances you threw at him when Jay wasn’t looking and the semi-flirty conversations coming to a head in your lips and tongue.

Jake was kissing you back with the same fervor, his hands roaming to the curve of your ass and groaning in your mouth at the sensation of your bodies touching.

“Fuck,” Jake swore and pulled you in tighter, clutching at the hem of your dress.

In a tangle of fingers and lips, you almost didn’t register the feeling of your mattress against your back and the cool air on your skin when Jake pulled the dress down your body. But you did relish in the feeling of his tongue between your legs and how deliciously he slipped inside of you afterwards. And by that point, there was no time to regret and worry about what would happen next. All that mattered was the present and savoring it.

Three weeks after that first encounter, it was easy to forget it ever happened. The next morning, Jay and Jake had gone back to campus without a word. That was normal for them, seeing as they woke early and didn’t want to disturb anyone in the house.

For you, it was a bit disheartening, but it proved exactly what you knew. It was a mistake and a potential repeat was nonexistent. “Jeong’ll never find out and this can stay buried,” you told yourself.

Jay was too busy with his studies to respond with anything but one-word answers to your texts after that, so you gave up initiating anything. Jake, however, began texting you often to either greet you in the morning or say he hoped you were having a good day. It was sweet, but you didn’t read too deep into it. You replied in kind and left it at that.

Then, the boys came back one Friday afternoon in Jake’s Tahoe, and your nerves were live wires at their impromptu arrival. You had not seen Jake since that night in your bedroom. You felt the heaviness of guilt when you welcomed Jay home with a hug. A secret shouldn’t have had the power to eat you alive,  but it did all the same.

And it didn’t help seeing Jake either. His smile took you back to the hours you had spent together in your bed. It was a kaleidoscope of memories. His hands on your hips, his whispers in your ear, his mouth in between your legs— 

“Yo!” Jay waved his hand in front of your face. “I asked if you could help us with the last duffel bag.”

“Yeah, of course,” you said, walking over to the trunk. Jake’s shoulder brushed yours as you moved past him, and you couldn’t help the way your breath hitched. If you weren’t deluding yourself, you could’ve sworn you heard his throat catch in the same way.

You decided to leave the house that night, meeting up with a classmate to take your mind off of what was waiting at home. The Uber driver was polite, not bothering you as you were lost in your thoughts. Thankfully, the tequila sunrise you gulped down numbed your thought processes long enough that you could unwind and converse without rambling on about the situation you were in.

Then, you heard the ping of your phone and saw Jake’s message light up the screen.

Received at 11:23 PM: I’m picking you up. JS doesn’t want you taking an Uber when you’re not sober.

You sighed and typed back a reply with the hand not holding your drink. The words might have been mistyped, but you knew the message would get across to him.

Sent at 11:27 PM: im find u dont ned to come th last guy w nice.

Received at 11:29 PM: Sure. I’ll be there in 15.

You groaned. Jake could be as stubborn as your brother; it was no surprise the two of them became such good friends.

When Jake’s arrival came closer, you said goodbye and walked out of the bar, kicking your feet on the sidewalk gravel while you waited.

His truck’s lights came into full view a minute later. You got inside without a word, leaning your forehead against the passenger window. Just because he was being stubborn didn’t mean you had to be okay with it.

“Have fun?” Jake kept his focus on the road, but he sounded sincere when he asked about your night. While your heart swelled at the tone of his voice, it made the thoughts you tried so hard to suppress creep back in with full force. You were at a loss as to what to say. Honesty was off the table, but you weren’t capable of pulling your heart from your sleeve.

“I was. Not anymore.” You pouted.

You didn’t let him respond to your comment, instead looking around at his car’s interior and changing the subject. “I didn’t expect you to own a Tahoe.”

“What do you mean?” He asked with a chuckle.

“It’s so much space for one person.”

“Well, it was my dad’s truck. He gave it to me before I left for school. Now, I use it to go hiking and stuff with my dog, Layla.”

You smiled and leaned into the seat, looking at him. “That’s hard to believe.”

“That I have a dog or that I actually do physical activity? You’ve seen my body.”

You giggled and turned away. “I guess both. I’ve always wanted a dog, but Jungseong’s allergic. My parents thought plushies were a good compromise. And it all makes sense now. You can’t be that handsome naturally.”

Jake laughed harder. Without warning, he put his hand on your thigh, the feeling foreign yet incredibly welcome. You hummed in pleasure at the sensation. While you would’ve loved to enjoy the moment, your logic kicked in at the scene playing out in front of you.

“Jaeyun, you can’t just do that.”

“Why not? I wanted to,” he confessed, squeezing the curve of your knee. He moved his hand slowly across your skin.

You bit your lip and shook your head. “Just because you want to doesn’t mean you should.”

“Are we still talking about my hand or something else?” You gave him a stern but cutting look, the Are you kidding me evident in your eyes. It made Jake curse into the open air. “Fuck this.”

Jake pulled off into a vacant parking lot of a convenience store, one lamppost barely lighting the surrounding area. He put the car in park with an aggressive fist on the stick shift.

“Okay,” he started. “You want to talk about that night? Let’s talk about it.”

He inhaled a breath. You were terrified of what was unsaid and what he planned on saying, but you knew it was better to put it to rest sooner rather than later.

“I’m not sorry for what happened that night. I liked it and I liked you.” He looked directly into your eyes, his pupils dilating with extreme vulnerability. “I like you. And I’d like to repeat that night as many times as you want, but you’re my best friend’s sister and I don’t know how to accept those two things being true at once.”

You were taken back, his words the ones you wish you could have said to him before he left that morning. You tried to stamp down the truth many times since then, but Jake feeling the exact same way made you realize it wasn’t wrong to want what you wanted.

And Jay didn’t have to know everything.

“I do too,” you responded. “I like you too, and that night is all I’ve been thinking about.” You felt the knot in your stomach loosen, smiling in surprise from his confession. “And I would like to have more of those nights, for sure. In more than just my bed.”

Jake smirked and leaned in closer to you, lips ghosting over yours. “So if I said I wanted to fuck you in my car, you’d let me?”

You didn’t respond to that question with words, both of you knowing the question itself was rhetorical. You pressed your mouth to his hard.

The kiss was a clash of teeth and tongue, the act a desperate plea to pull each other closer after weeks of not being together. Now that you had Jake where you wanted him, you weren’t letting him go. 

Jake palmed one of your breasts over your shirt, and you partially broke away from his mouth to moan. He swallowed it, tugging on your bottom lip with his teeth.

“You like that?” Jake asked, his voice husky.

“Fuck yes,” you said, knowing it was the truth. Nothing felt better than his touch on your skin.

He grabbed the side of your throat with his free palm. The other was hovering over the waistband of your shorts, his thumbs deftly unbuttoning them and dragging the zipper down.

“Tell me now if you don’t want this,” he panted. “And I swear I’ll stop.”

You shook your head vigorously. “If you stop right now, Jaeyun, I might just have to kill you.”

Jake gave you a crooked smile and kissed you again, harder than the first time but just as pleasurable.

His fingers dipped into your underwear, and you both groaned when he found your clit. He was surprised that the little amount of foreplay already made you this wet. You were just glad to have his fingers where you needed them the most.

You moved your hips in rhythm with his digits, the figure-eight patterns he was drawing into your skin creating stars behind your eyes. You released numerous whimpers and gasps into Jake’s mouth as he kept rubbing up and down your pussy, your clit receiving the most attention.

But it wasn’t enough.

“Jaeyun, I need you inside of me, please,” you begged. You gripped onto his shirt tightly to emphasize how bad the desire was to feel him stretch you open.

He nipped your lips again. “Climb in the back seat, baby.”

Jake followed in suit as soon as you moved from the passenger seat to the back. Once he sat down, you had his pants around his ankles and the head of his dick lined up with your entrance, your panties moved to the side to make room for him.

The fullness of his cock filling you to the hilt made your eyelids flutter. Jake knocked the back of his head into one of the headrests, the groan that left his mouth so beautiful you wished you could’ve replayed the sound on loop.

“God, you’re so tight.” He pushed his hips up further into you, the tip kissing your cervix. “It’s fucking incredible.”

You moaned in agreement. Beginning to grind his hips into yours, you licked and sucked the spot behind Jaeyun’s ear. You remembered how much he loved it the first night you had sex, and he loved it even more now that you were partially in control riding him.

He bucked up into you here and there, but for the most part, you were setting the pace. The sounds of your skin slapping against each other as well as both of your moan-laced expletives filled the back seat.

“That’s it, sweetheart. Bounce on this cock. Show me how much you want me.” He trapped your hips with his hands, holding on tight as you continued to grind against him.

“I want to come so bad, Jae,” you gasped. “Please make me come.”

Jake took his index and middle finger and found your clit again. He circled the nub with tenderness as you continued to ride him without mercy. He knew he could come at anytime with how well you were touching him and taking all of him inside of you, but he had no problem waiting until you found your pleasure first.

You felt the orgasm creeping up on you, starting in the pit of your stomach and ready to come to the surface. You begin to grow sloppy with your rhythm, and Jake took extra effort with his fingers to push you over the edge.

“Let go for me, love. Come all over me.”

You cried out, clutching onto Jake’s hair hard as you rode out your orgasm to its full capacity. Jake let go in that same moment, painting your insides white and cursing the entire time at how good it felt.

When you sat down next to him in the back seat, both of you sated and breathless, you knew the path forward was uncertain. And sure, a million questions still lingered in your mind, but you stored them away without a second thought, refusing to let them ruin your current happiness.

This led to where you were with Jake for the past six months, having sex every time he was in town and even sneaking off to visit him when you had the chance. He would pick you up in his truck and hold your hand across the console the entire drive to and from his student apartment. The two of you were skilled at keeping your trysts out of sight from Jay both in your hometown and on campus, the local spots he wanted to take you to and your favorite hometown stores not ones Jay frequented often.

At the same time, Jay had gotten back into a relationship with Dahyun, but you were optimistic for the both of them this time around. He seemed to be really happy, as were you, although he didn’t know the reason why. Dahyun would hang out with the guys and you when she got off work, and the four of you would drink and watch movies together like any other couples would.

The only part that didn’t fit such a picture perfect image was the fact you and Jake were not a couple at all. You slept together and did most things boyfriends and girlfriends did, but there were no labels. It was as if saying it out loud would make it real, and then you’d have to confront the biggest hurdle of all: telling your brother. And you were determined to put that off for as long as possible.

One morning, as you made breakfast in the kitchen for all three of you, Jake slid in behind you without you noticing. You gasped, feeling his chest against your back. “Jae, you can’t do that!”

“Couldn’t help it. Smelled pretty good in here,” Jake responded, kissing the spot that joined your neck and shoulder together, his hair tickling your ear in the process.

“I know, I can’t wait to eat it.”

“I was gonna say the same thing.” Jake smirked.

“Jae,” you reprimanded him, grinning. “Jongseong could come down at any second.”

“But he’s not. Last time I checked, he was still asleep.” The curve of his lips touched your collarbone, making you shiver.

“And when was that?”

In that moment, you both heard Jay yelling “I did it!” in tandem with his quick steps down the staircase. You both split apart in record time. Jake pretended he was searching for a drink in the fridge while you flipped the fried egg in the pan.

“I finally did it,” Jay exclaimed, a wide smile on his face directed at Jake.

“Did what?” Jake asked.

“I got you a date with Dahyun’s cousin Jihyo tonight. Dahyun’s been dying to go out to this new restaurant downtown, and I know you’ve been lacking in the pussy department lately.” You felt the saliva in the back of your mouth hit the wrong pipe, and you coughed.

“You okay, sis?” Jay asked, grabbing you by the shoulder.

“Yeah. Just choked for a second, sorry.” There was nothing wrong with Jake going out; he had no obligations to you. Yet, at the same time, the thought of him finding someone new felt like acid on your tongue.

Jay turned back to Jake, excitement filling his features again. “Come on man, you haven’t picked anyone up in what? Five months? Either your game got terrible or you’ve been holding out on me about some new chick.”

You plopped the fried egg on the plate next to you and motioned for Jake to pick it up. “Over medium, how you like it.”

“How do you know his egg order, freak?” Jay questioned you with a chuckle.

“I asked him this morning, dingbat. While you were snoring in your room and told me to leave so you could get your beauty rest.” Jay gave you the middle finger but you didn’t pay attention to him. You looked back at Jake with shy eyes. “You want toast?”

“No thank you,” Jake said with a smile that didn’t meet his eyes. You could tell when Jake was uncomfortable. His entire body grew stiff at the thought of being roped into a double date with a stranger.

But, avoiding suspicion, Jake said, “Sure man. Can’t promise I’ll be into her, though.”

Jay smiled and patted his friend on the shoulder. “I’ll take it.”

When Jay ran back upstairs to call Dahyun with the news, Jake dropped his plate back on the counter. He suddenly pinned you against it with his hands on your waist, forcing you to look at him. “I don’t have to go on this date if you don’t want me to.”

You shook your head, the faintest frown on your face, hoping it looked more like an expression of indifference. “If you don’t, Seongie’s going to ask more questions. Besides, we’re not together. You don’t have to ask for my permission.”

“That’s not what I’m doing.” He furrowed his eyebrows. If there was one emotion you didn’t show him often, it was ice. But if the alternative was being emotionally exposed in that moment, you would choose the former.

“You know what I mean.” You broke free from his grasp, swallowing the bitter taste in your mouth. You turned off the stove and threw the sizzling pan into the sink. “Hope you have fun.”

Jake waited for you to elaborate, but after a minute of silence, he admitted his defeat and walked out of the kitchen. It cracked a piece of your heart to be so cold, but what other choices were on the table?

Once he was gone, you grabbed your phone from your pocket. Typing out the number in your mind and pressing the call button, you hoped the man you were looking for answered.

“Sunghoon?” You spoke, relieved he picked up. “I need a huge favor.”

“Do I have to?” Sunghoon groaned, straightening the collar of his polo shirt. “This is so ridiculous.”

“Hold my fucking hand, Hoon, or I swear to god I will tell Professor Choi you used my essay on Machiavelli for your paper.”

He released a low, agitated sound and put his hand in yours, squeezing your palm in retaliation. You smiled and walked into the restaurant. 

You didn’t go all out with your outfit. A simple dress and denim jacket fit with the atmosphere of the Brazilian barbecue joint Dahyun wanted to check out. Sunghoon also followed your instructions to the letter, looking presentable without trying too hard.

The hostess made you both wait fifteen minutes or so for a table. Even at 9 PM on a Saturday, past normal dinner time for most folks, the business was still bustling due to the word of mouth from their grand opening a week ago. It didn’t take long though for you to find Jay and Jake sitting at a table in a corner booth. It was like Jake’s presence in any tiny or expansive space was a magnet, pulling you in without giving you space to put up a fight.

“So that’s the guy,” Sunghoon stated, staring at Jake next to your brother. “He’s cute. I see why you’re in love with him.”

“Shut up!” You laughed and smacked him in the chest. He pretended to act hurt, smiling the entire time.

Your Humanities classmate might have been too sarcastic and vain for his own good, but you knew he was a good friend and would always come if you called. And while it was purely platonic, he didn’t mind playing the part of the arm candy for another free essay.

In the midst of your shared laughter, neither of you saw both Jay and Jake walking over to you. Jay’s cough pulled you out of your trance, and you stood stock still at the sight of Jake’s clenched jaw and crossed arms, immediately dropping Sunghoon’s hand in the process.

Jay said your name in annoyance. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“Hoon and I have class together, but we decided to have dinner after studying,” you say with a smile. “Funny we’d be at the same place as you guys!”

“You have my location, dipshit,” Jay said with a stone face.

“Just because I have it doesn’t mean I look at it,” you said in your defense.

Hoon held his hand out to both men, but you knew it was bait specifically meant for Jake. “Nice to meet you.”

Jake clenched his jaw even tighter. You thought he would break the bottom half of his face if he kept it up. To your surprise, he grabbed Sunghoon’s hand like a pure gentleman. Jay did the same.

You immediately felt so small. It didn’t have to be this way, trying to pull a front for this guy that wasn’t even yours. If it took this much effort to be exclusive, a title you didn’t fight for to begin with, maybe it wasn’t meant to be.

When Sunghoon let go of Jay’s hand, you grabbed him by the bicep. “We can just go somewhere else. We’ll probably wait another hour before getting a table if we stay, anyway.”

Jay agreed. “I had to book this in advance, so she’s probably right.”

Jake looked directly in your eyes when he said, “Hope you have fun.” Mirroring your words from earlier, Jake’s were laced with spiteful sarcasm.

Sunghoon put a hand on the small of your back and guided the two of you out of the restaurant. It took everything in you to not turn back and reveal it all in that stupid restaurant, but you circled back to your initial thoughts. What would it do attempting to claim him now? It was already pointless.

You didn’t make it home until midnight, spending the night scarfing down Chinese with Sunghoon in his apartment and watching old seasons of New Girl together. It was a bitch thinking about what it would be like when you got home. Jay would quiz you on Sunghoon and his motives or Jake would get defensive on what you were doing with the guy to begin with. Or both.

The last piece of advice Sunghoon left you with as he drove off was to “be honest” with Jake, if that was any bit as simple as it sounded coming out of his mouth.

You stepped inside your house without a care for your noise level, knowing your parents were off on an overseas conference for four days. And what were the chances the guys had gotten home by now?

 But, like the first night you had spent together, Jake was waiting up for you in your room, sitting stock straight with his hands in his lap.

You didn’t freak out or feel shocked by his presence. You were glad to see him actually, but greeting him with anything but a hello would have been inappropriate given the last few hours.

“Hi,” you began.

“Why have you been gone so long?” His voice was clipped, matter-of-fact but laced with authority. The mixture of sadness and anger in his face surprised you. Jake was always fun, silly, casual…never like this.

“I lost track of time.” It was the easiest answer to give him, even if it wasn’t enough to assuage his concerns. “We just ate takeout and watched sitcoms.”

He nodded and stood up. Walking closer to you, the emotions on his face registered to you so clearly now. The anger was simply misplaced pain, unsure where to go but in front of you for an answer. “What do you want from me?”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m asking you what this is, what are we doing here?” He ran a hand through his hair. “Seeing you tonight with that dickhead was all I thought about while eating that churrasco and listening to Jay’s dumb jokes. And if that’s against some unspoken rule, I need to know.”

You gulped down a heavy bubble of air. It was now or never. Choose to either lose the guy you had spent so much time with by keeping your feelings to yourself or risk him breaking your heart by being vulnerable.

“I don’t want you going on dates with anyone else.” You beginning with that wasn’t perfect, but you were out of ideas.

He nodded. “Okay.”

“Sunghoon’s a friend, but you’re my best friend. And you make me feel like nobody else ever has.” Your lip quivered. “I feel like an idiot for not saying it before, but I’ve liked you since the second Jay introduced all of us to you. And maybe all you want out of this is exclusive sex and I’m even more of an idiot for saying all of this but—”

Jake caught your mouth in a perfect kiss, effectively shutting you up. A tear passed between your lips, but he was all you tasted. He pressed his forehead to yours, eyes bright and expression full of mirth. “You’re a beautiful idiot, but still an idiot for not realizing I feel the same..”

You gasped. Grabbing his shirt, you pulled him back in hungrily.

The subsequent kisses and touches were ripe with the things you didn’t know how to say in words but could easily express with your body. Every kiss on his jaw told him how enraptured he made you feel. Each pass of your hands exploring his naked skin expressed why you saw nobody but him in the most crowded room. And when you took him into your mouth, you hoped Jake knew why it was so easy to fall for him and want nobody else.

“Just like that,” he said, tenderly grabbing your hair as you stroked what you couldn’t fit past your lips.

It didn’t last long. Jake pulled you in his arms and said, “I want to be inside you.” 

Jake held you as you sunk down onto him. Your legs were wrapped around his waist as he sat on the edge of the bed, rocking his hips up into you. No matter how many times you had sex, it still felt incredible feeling all of him fitting around the spaces inside of you. You wished he could occupy them forever.

“Fuck,” you exclaimed, clutching the hair at the nape of his neck. Your bodies were slick, foreheads touching but slippery from perspiration.

But it didn’t matter how loud you were being or how sweaty your skin became. All you could focus on was the words that came out of Jake’s mouth. “God, I love you so much.”

It didn’t make you slow down, instead riding him faster and kissing him fervently in response. You mewled into his mouth, feeling yourself coming undone quickly.

“I’m gonna come,” you announced.

“Right there with you, sweetheart. Come with me,” he said, and so you did. You felt the warmth of him inside of you in tandem with the downfall of your orgasm, siphoning every drop until you were spent.

When you were lying next to each other, however, you remembered those three little words that slipped from his mouth.

“You said you loved me,” you stated in post-coitus bliss, covering half of your face with your comforter.

“So what if I did?” He was glowing, and it only made you smile harder. “So what if I do?”

You smirked and pecked his lips sweetly, nipping his bottom lip. “I love you too, you goof.”

You woke up next to each other that morning, both in a euphoric daze despite your fatigue. You also took into account how you now held the title of Jake’s girlfriend, a majority of the reason why you were a thousand leagues above cloud nine. Jake showed his joy in the form of his tongue pressed to your clit. 

But it didn’t last for long.

You weren’t fast enough to cover yourself when Jay barged in asking whether or not you had seen Jake at all. Little did he know he would find his best friend in the last place he ever expected.

Which led to now, your brother interrogating the two of you like you committed the worst crime humanly possible. In a way, you could see why he would think such a thing.

“So you kiss my sister—” Jay starts.

You cut him off, grabbing Jake’s hand. “I kissed him first.”

“Then you decide to hook up in my car.”

“It was actually my car.” Jake counters, squeezing your fingers with his own.

“And now I find you guys here in your room”—Jay looks directly at you—“just doing whatever the fuck you were doing before I came in.” His face is red from the shock. “How long has this been going on?”

“Six months,” Jake says.

Jay takes a deep breath of air into his lungs, his body rising and falling at a rapid rate. He’s probably grateful your parents can’t hear him yelling. Otherwise they’d come in and ask more invasive questions while you’re not in the position to answer them, half naked and all.

“And where was I while you guys were fucking behind my back?” Jay asks, darting his eyes between the both of you.

“Hanging out between Dahyun’s legs?” You hypothesize, throwing your other hand in the air. “How the hell are we supposed to remember?”

“And you expect me to believe you kissed his scrawny ass first?” Jay asks you.

“Dude, you’ve seen me shirtless,” Jake remarks, rolling his eyes.

 “True, but it’s not much of a show, bro.”

“Seriously, this is not the point!” You yell, placing your face in your hands.

“Yes it is! You’re my sister!”

“And she’s my girlfriend,” Jake interrupts, “so you need to get your head out of your ass and stop acting like she’s not capable of taking care of herself.”

Jake stands up to Jay, the two of them face to face with each other in a way you expected when your relationship came out of the shadows. You don’t want Jay to feel betrayed, but at the same time, it will kill you if Jake gets hurt trying to stick up for you.

“My priority will always be looking out for my family.” Jay turns to you, disappointment clear as day in his eyes. “No matter how I’ve shown it, I didn’t expect to be branded the bad guy for wanting to protect you.”

Jay slams the door on his way out. Tears prick your eyes, silence permeating the bedroom.

Jake sits back down next to you and places a few kisses on the curve of your shoulder. “Believe it or not, but I think he took it better than I thought he would.”

“He hates me,” you sob.

“He doesn’t hate you. Maybe me, but never you.” Jake takes your hand and kisses the inside of your palm, tucking it gingerly between his fingers. “Nobody could ever hate you.”

“I need to fix this, though.” You swiftly kiss Jake’s lips before standing up to get dressed, throwing on a pair of gym shorts and one of his shirts you stole. When you go to Jay’s room, it’s empty. But you hear the faint notes of a guitar from somewhere on the first floor of the house.

You walk down the stairs to find Jay strumming his favorite Yamaha in the living room, the one your father brought home from a trip to Japan for Jay as his graduation present. You step towards his spot on the couch quietly, but he’s already too adept at sensing your presence. He stops playing but says nothing.

“Hey,” you say.

“Don’t.” Jay’s voice is gruff. “Don’t ‘hey’ me right now.”

“Well, if you’re looking for an apology, I’m not going to give you one.”

The two of you are silent, unsure where to take the conversation next. What was there to say? Yes, you felt guilty for keeping Jay in the dark, but either way, the situation would hurt him. His best friend and his younger sister falling in love is not ideal, but feelings couldn’t be fought. All the same, the deceit sat in your stomach like a stone, begging to be thrown away.

You sigh and sit down on the love-seat, adjacent to Jay’s spot on the couch. “I really like him, Seongie,” you confess. “No. I, actually—I love him.”

Jay looks directly at you for the first time, his eyes a bit puffy. “Are you happy?”

“What?”

“Are you happy? Does he treat you well?”

You laugh. “I mean we’ve only been a couple for about 12 hours, so—”

“You know what I mean, asshat.” The two of you share a laugh together, the mood much lighter than before. “Do you see a future with him?”

You nod. “Yeah, I do.”

“Then I can’t get in between that. I just wish one of you would’ve fucking said something.”

“And I would’ve, but you know Jaeyun.”

Jay nods. “He’s a wimp.”

“No,” you shake your head, smiling. “He just didn’t want to hurt you either. He loves you, and I love you, too.” You run a hand through your hair, contemplating your next words. “I’m just not a baby anymore, Jongseong. I know how to handle things.”

Jay nods, sniffling. “I know. It’s just…hard.”

“What is?”

He puts his guitar by his side. Clapping his hands together, he tries to brush off whatever emotion is surfacing. “It’s nothing, I don’t know. Stupid, probably.”

You move positions to sit closer to your brother, placing a hand on his knee. “Nothing you say to me could ever be stupid.”

He knocks you in the shoulder with his fist lightly. “It’s just—when did you get so grown up? You gotta stop doing that.”

“If I did, I’d be dead.”

“True.” Jay chuckles. “I’m sorry for freaking out.”

“I’m sorry for keeping it from you. And I hope you and Jaeyun can talk, too.”

“We will. For now, I’m just glad we did.”

Nodding, you open your arms for a hug, a hug that Jay gladly accepts. It’s a tight one that encompasses both a white flag of retreat and a sincere love for you that you forget to remember sometimes in the midst of his teasing and admonishment. You now know, more than ever, it’s his way of protecting you and proving he cares.

And you’re grateful to have both him and now Jake by your side through all your successes and slip-ups.

“You don’t seriously think I’m okay with you wearing that dress again now that you have a boyfriend, right,” Jay asks. “I’m even more against it because Jake will have a heart attack.”

You chuckle and twirl in the mirror, checking the back of your dress to make sure it’s sitting right on you. “He thought I looked pretty in it the first time.”

“Well now, he’s not worried about you looking pretty. He’s worried about other douchebags checking you out.” Jay flips the page of his book, trying to feign a nonchalant expression. “I’m just saying, he’s still my best friend. I know things.”

You poke your tongue out at your brother. The doorbell rings and you rush to answer, your heart beating at a vigorous pace in your chest.

Once you open the door, Jake’s standing there with a bouquet of flowers and a lopsided grin on his face. When he sees your dress, however, his smile falters a fraction.

“Oh my god, Jay was right!”

“I usually am,” Jay yells from his space in the sitting room armchair.

Jake looks confused, but the realization dawns on him in a flash. “No, you look beautiful. It’s just…a bit short, don’t you think?”

You pout, crossing your arms. “I spent so much time getting ready, Jae.”

“I know, sweetheart.” He takes his free hand and rests it on your hip. “And everyone will be able to see that. I just don’t want to have to fight anyone off at the restaurant.”

You giggle. Going in for an impromptu kiss, you smell the traces of his cologne. The scent could make your knees buckle, but you try to stay confident and lull your boyfriend into submission. “I’ll only be looking at you. And I can defend myself just fine, baby.”

Jake’s bottom lip juts out. “So, I can’t convince you to change?”

You shake your head, grinning.

Jay sneaks up behind you, making you gasp. “If she isn’t gonna listen to her brother, she’s definitely not gonna listen to you, man.”

Jay and Jake exchange a handshake. You’re relieved their relationship has recovered from the reveal of your relationship, but you know that means they have the potential to gang up on you more out of their misguided sense of protection.

“I have the advantage though. She’s in love with me,” Jake sing-songs, kissing you on the cheek after doing so.

“Regardless,” you say, “I’m wearing the dress.”

Jay rolls his eyes. “Just change, for fuck’s sake.”

Jake nods. “Pretty please?”

“Not a chance in hell, boys.”

[gay-dorito-dust]

I'm curious, how did wade and logan meet isekai gremlin reader? Did reader just fall from the sky and landed beside the two unharmed? We know wade breaks the fourth evrytime because his sentient and logan had seen worse sp if reader just straight up tells the two that they are from another universe the two would just😐👍okay. They woulb be ubothered by it

Wade and Logan first met you when they were having shawarma. It was a nice day, nothing could possibly go wrong until…

‘Ow fuck!’ You groaned as you got up from a seemingly never ending fall through the void, only to realised that you didn’t hurt as badly as you thought you did when you went to run your arm. ‘Don’t know why I said ow fuck when that didn’t actually hurt being with.’ You then murmur to yourself as you looked up to see the portal you fell from close assumably forever.

‘Did god kick you out of heaven little angel? Did you do something naughty? Blasphemous even?’ Wade asked, swallowing his last bit of shawarma, wiping himself down before he let Dogpool run your feet as you smiled down at the cutes dog you’ve ever seen. Some would say she’s ugly, the most ugliest dog they’ve ever met, but to you she’s perfect with her lopsided tongue and scruffy appearance.

‘He fucking wishes but no, I’m not an angel nor did I come from heaven.’ You told Wade as you picked up Dogpool, unbothered by the excessive licking to the face, you’d like to call it her showing you her unconditional love and affection.

‘Then where did you come from?’ Logan asked, completely unfazed by this and the dog licking your face excessively.

You shrug, not caring whether you sounded nuts for saying it. ‘Another dimension.’ You proclaimed.

Wade and Logan looked at each other before looking at you again.

‘Ah! Another overused and abused Isekai trope fanfic, like that’s surprising to anyone reading this.’ Wade then said to no one in particular.

‘The fuck is that supposed to mean scrotum face?’ You replied, holding Dogpool closer in your arms when you noticed that Wade was planing on taking her off your hands, no one was going to take this cute doggy from your hands, you’ve only met this cutie and you’d kill everyone before killing yourself if anything happened to her.

‘Look bub, Wade over here talks out of his ass, so it’s best not to take anything he says seriously.’ Logan answered for you as he got up from his seat groaning. He’s been alive for far too long to act surprised at anything at this point. A pig could sprout wings or suddenly talk and Logan wouldn’t find this out of the ordinary, that or he just was too tired and perpetually annoyed at everything to feel anything outside of that.

‘Now that our meet cute is over and done with, papa is going to need his little Mary Poppins back now.’ Wade reached out to grab Dogpool but you took a step back, still holding her close to your chest.

‘No.’ You told him. ‘She’s my Mary Poppins now.’

Wade gasps ‘are we entering our enemies to friends to lovers, 300k words, slow burn phase?’

You looked to Logan who only shrugs his shoulders. ‘I’ve got not a fucking clue what he just said just now.’ You then looked back to Wade and then little Dogpool, who was still licking your face, before deciding to bolt down the street. ‘YOU’ll never take me alive!’

You could hear Wade and Logan simultaneously cursing as they proceeded to follow after you, and at one point you could’ve sworn you heard Wade yell, ‘MY BABY! PAPA AND PAPA ARE COMING SWEETIE DONT WORRY!’ Before hearing Logan hit him in the back of the head saying, ‘damn it Wade! I ain’t no damn papa!’

You couldn’t help but laugh as you, with Dogpool in your arms, continued to run as far as you could with no real destination in mind, maybe this new dimension wouldn’t be so bad if this is how you got to live everyday. You couldn’t mind it one bit.

[georgiapeach30513]

With Your Touch, Part 7

Summary: Lloyd can’t handle it anymore, and neither can you.

Pairings: Lloyd Hansen X Reader

Rating: explicit

Warnings:  explicit language, explicit sexual content, thoughts of D/s relationships, pussy job, teasing, dry humping, masturbating in front of someone, mentions of toy play, unprotected sex, PIV sex, creampie, Lloyd Hansen, 18+ ONLY

Word Count: 4.8K

Previous

Series Masterlist

*dividers created by @firefly-graphics

Living with you is hard. It’s damn near impossible trying not to place you on the counter, while he ravages your body. Lyla always started the night in her room, and some nights, you would bring her into the bed with the two of you. The nights that you didn’t, and it was just you and Lloyd, you slept peacefully. But it takes everything in Lloyd not to just push himself into you.

You searched him out every night. If he wasn’t right next to you, your hand felt around for a part of his body to touch. Or your ass would scoot back until it sat snug on his crotch. Do you realize how easy it would be for him to just slide it on in? He couldn’t even explain how much he craved your body, and it wasn’t even the carnal expression of sex, it was becoming part of you!

It was feeling you from the inside out. It was getting as close to you as he possibly could. It is watching your face as he pumps himself into you. It is this sweet loving moment that will eventually be destroyed because he will need to ravish you. You deep down are such a brat needing attention, and he is willing to give you that attention, and also respond accordingly.

My god, you are perfection wrapped up in his arms. Even if you are making the sweetest sounds, and rubbing your perfectly round ass in the most perfect spot to make him weak, and harden. Oh, he can’t wait until the day that he is going to punish you for your teasing. But now he waits. And waits and waits.

When the hell were you going to make your move? Or just tell him that you were okay? He is being patient, and you are killing him slowly. Can one die of blue balls? Can one die of being absolutely in love with these moments? Moments before he would kick a woman out, calling her a car, while he finished the night alone. And now all he can think about is cleaning you off, and lavishing you in the softest kisses until you fall asleep in his arms.

He wants to worship you, and give you the world. He wants to stare at your beautiful smile. Watch you love Lyla the way you do. How does seeing you being a mother make you even sexier? See you looking all put together, pushing her pram, smiling at her, talking to her, being Lyla’s universe. Lyla tolerates Lloyd, but she looks at you like you are the very essence that she breathes. The way that her eyes light up when she looks at you. He could watch the two of you everyday, and not tire of it.

Which is why two weeks later, he’s still not gone back to work. He can admit that fucking you would be a great way to past the time. Feasting on your cunt while you writhed in pleasure. It’s how you should feel, so pleasured, so comfortable, so protected, and above all loved. The ways he wants to love you make him dizzy. He’s never done this.

He wants to give you everything. Every little thing. All of it. All of him. “Lloyd,” your lips smack, and your ass wiggles on him again. Whimpering as you talk in your sleep. Your consent while asleep isn’t enough. That would have to be established while you're conscious, but he can oblige to your neediness.

“Daddy,” goddammit. He grits his teeth. Little minx! Little brat! You liked spanking too much, and right now you fucking need it. If only you would open your damn mouth and tell him what it is you need! He is losing all self control here.

He groans, rolling over onto his back. His arm is no longer around you, and his cock throbbing at a slow rhythm. He can’t even think straight. All he can think about are the ways he wants to fuck you. Would the first time be heated and needy? Would it be long and slow, but deep thrusts? Will it be on the counter? On the floor? In the bed? Will he be able to hold off, so you can finish? You are a frustrating woman!

You sit up abruptly in the bed, and look at him over your shoulder, “Go back to sleep.”

“But you moved. You’re ready to get up,” he sees your eyes glance down to his pulsing cock before coming back to his eyes. “Lloyd.”

“Dolly,” you smirk. The most devilish smile he has ever seen you have. “What are you thinking?”

“That you look uncomfortable, and,” you hiss, looking back down at his beautiful, glorious bulge. If his bulge makes your mouth water like this, what is his cock going to do, “I should help you with that.”

“And how are you going to do that, sweetheart?” His voice is so heavy and laced with so much lust and want. Lloyd’s eyelids are at half mast, pupils blown full wide, and he looks like a predator slinking to his prey.

You choke. This has never been your forte. People just told you what you were going to do, “You can just take what you want.”

“No, I can’t. And you said you would help me with that,” he watches you curiously as you try and find your words. Choking up, and looking all shy and innocent. He saw you gulp at the sight of him. Saw how you looked famished for his cock. But your reluctance to just tell him what you need is odd to him. Maybe that’s where some of his fascination is coming from. You are shy about your wants, but you need his brand of sex.

“What if I want you to to take what you want?” He hums, those thick fingers tickle over your knees. “I do want you to.”

“If we want this to work, and you freely give yourself to me whenever I want,” eagerly you nod your head, and his chuckle is such a deep rumble in his chest that it sends slick pooling in your core. “We have to heavily discuss the parameters. You will need a safe word. You will need to talk about what you don’t like, and it is my job to watch you, and read your cues.”

“That sounds complicated.”

“Just straddle my stomach, and do us both a favor,” that mischievous grin spreads over your face, and you give his boxers a tug. Practically drooling when his cock springs free. The desire you have to trace the vein on the underside of his rod with your tongue overtakes your senses. “Dolly!” Lloyd warns, and with a roll of your eyes, you throw a leg over his stomach, settling your cunt on his cock.

“Why must you torture me? You sleep without panties, and that makes me very horny,” he barely lifts up your oversized shirt, and stares at your dripping lips framing his cock. Rolling your hips, he watches mesmerized as your slick folds move over him. It would have been so easy to slip it right in, but there’s this sweetness mixed in with the raw intense connection.

“Lloyd,” you whisper, placing your arms behind you on his thighs. His body trembles. He’s never wanted this type of connection. He never wanted to even look at their face, and now he can’t figure out what he wants to gaze at. Your face wrapped in so much lust, or your puffy folds glazing his cock. Moving over him. Undulating your hips on top of him. The face of innocent sin.

It’s the sweetest sin. You whimpering his name, controlling his body, while he fully falls so deeply in love with you. He sounds like a fool, and he is, but only for you. “Lloyd,” you croak out again. Your voice clipped as pleasure wrecks your body. “Lloyd,” you say breathlessly, and he grabs your hips, assisting your movements, and your head tilts back.

“I’m right there, sweetheart. I’m right there with you. Keep going. Right there. So close,” his voice coaches you through to reach the precipice of the cliff. Climbing higher. Higher. Higher still. Right there as tears fill your eyes. “God, you feel so good. So soft.”

He’s whispering, but his grip is rough. Demanding and needy. Pushing and pulling you over his length with a harshness that lights you up. “Lloyd!” You’re right there, right at the edge, and ready to dive down into the depths of him. One hand moves to your clit, and he gives the swollen nub a pinch, and you whine.

“Let go,” he whispers, and you jump off the cliff as an orgasm rips through your body. He keeps you moving on him. Giving you no time to come down from this high, “Look at my stomach,” glancing down at his tight stomach. He moans as he shoots his load up his abs. Chest heaving, and you scoot back. Smirking as you lean forward, and lick up every drop of his essence.

“C’mere,” his voice is too low. “I need to taste you,” you play coy. Shaking your head no. Rustling on the monitor makes you chuckle. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

Lyla’s voice babbles about, and you can’t help but get the biggest smile, “Mamamamama,” almost singing as she calls for you. She hits and taps on her crib, her voice getting louder.

“I need to brush my teeth, and go get the baby,” Lloyd gives you a growl. His hand swats at your ass, you mewl out his name.

“Oh, if you like that, trust me, I have no problem with spanking this ass. And if you’re going to be such a brat, I’m sure you’ll get a lot.”

“Is that a threat,” you look at him over your shoulder as you trot to the bathroom. Lifting up that shirt, and letting your ass shine, and he rolls his eyes, throwing his legs over the side of the bed, and yanks up his boxers. He stalks towards you, and you spin to meet his eyesight.

His eyes slowly go down your body, and you stare up at him like a child being scolded. He gives you a crooked smile, and his hand cups and holds your cunt. Furrowing your brows, you whimper, melting into his touch, “That’s a promise, Dolly. I will spank you, because you desperately need it. And I’ll enjoy having your cunt leak, and prepare herself for me. Now, make yourself presentable, and go get our baby.”

His movements as calculated as they were beforehand are now quick and casual, and you pout at him. “Don’t be brat right now. Lesson one, learn when that is acceptable.”

You give a peek over to Lloyd with the biggest smile. He opted to use a baby carrier with Lyla, and she loves it. She really loves everything about it. Seeing what he sees. Facing outwards, and bopping along with him. But it’s the fact that he uses her feet as a place to keep his hands. Wiggling around her legs, while she talks up a storm. No words come out, but she doesn’t stop.

Living out in the middle of nowhere has its perks. This little petting zoo is one of them. Nobody here knows what Lloyd does for a living or how powerful he is. Nobody would know that Lyla isn’t your birth child, or that you and Lloyd are very new. Too new. Maybe if it wasn’t so new you and Lloyd might have some issues or arguing points. But today is blissful.

Moments like these are something you craved as a child. Wanting both your parents to spend time with you. Not buying you every toy, and making someone else raise you, but them. Taking you places. Yes, your mom was there, but she wasn’t present. She was just in the house, while Ellen raised you. But Lloyd makes an effort, and has shown you over and over again the time that he wants put in for you, but also for her.

As sexy as he is with nothing but his boxers on, it’s nothing compared to the way he looks down at the baby strapped to his chest. The way he can’t stop looking at her, and then looking at you with a cheesy grin. Things feel normal. They feel safe.

“Would you want another baby?” He seems like parenthood has come so easily to him. But Lyla just showed up on his doorsteps. He missed out on the pregnancy part.

“Eventually,” he looks up from her, and directly into your soul, and you forget to breathe. “There’s so much I would want to experience,” he wraps an arm around you, pulling you into his body, and Lyla Bee turns to look at you sweetly saying mama over and over again. She’s so proud of being able to speak, she never stops, especially when it gets your attention.

“I want us to have spent more time together. And then enjoy making a baby. Watch you grow with our baby, and see how Lyla is at becoming a big sister,” looking up at him, you gawk. “Oh, come on, you’re her mom, and I don’t want to have kids with anyone else. Don’t play mind games with me because you won’t win. You asked about another baby because you need to know where we are with our future. So let me ask you, do you want to have my baby?”

“Yes,” you smile up at him. His fingers pulse on your body. He enjoys when you’re open and honest, so you want to give him that. Opening up was never something you were allowed to do because you were to be seen, not heard, not felt. “I always wanted a family because I didn’t have one. I sound so whiny because I had so much, and my parents were there. My mom would say I’m spoiled, and I should just grow up.”

“You don’t sound whiny. You sound like a woman that is finally getting to realize what she wants, and realize that she can have it, and your emotions are okay,” ouch. Those words hit you right in your gut. “I think that while you were learning to care for a baby, you were healing some of your own wounds.”

“Why are you so smart?” You say it animatedly, trying to laugh off the strong emotions you’re feeling. Obviously those emotions towards Lyla was easy. Letting Lloyd in has been harder. Immediately the sexual tension and need was there, but he’s consistently hammered away at the fortress that your mom made you have.

You never thought you had choices in your life. You were just going to marry the person that your mom chose for you that would give you a rich life. Complete with shopping sprees daily, a nanny, and substance abuse. Whatever it took to make you sit in the background, being used for good breeding and to look good on their arm. But everything in that life seemed to be just numbness. A life where there was nothing to enjoy or love. You were just going through the motions.

“Am I close?” You lean to Lyla, giving her kisses on her cheek, but nod your head. “Are you using the baby, so you don’t have to look at me?” Inhaling slowly, you stand up straight, and stare directly at him. Keeping the most perfect eye contact, and nod your head. “Thank you for being honest. We’ll work on better communication. We’re going to need it. I can’t stay holed up with you two forever.”

“What precautions are in place for when you’re not here? You don’t have to tell me everything, I know some things are on a need to know basis. But…what…?”

“Your concern is okay to have. Some precautions are just for me. But your neighbors are also watching you. They’ll take this easier task over missions,” that’s the best you’re going to get, apart from the alarm system. It’ll have to do.

“I’ll take it.”

“We should go home,” home. It sounds amazing, and currently there’s nothing that you want to do more than to go home with him, and Lyla. “And once she goes to bed we need to have a long conversation.”

Looking in the mirror, you undo another button, exhaling slowly. You don’t want there to be any confusion on what you want tonight. You want him. All of him. Every inch of Lloyd, you want on you. His scent, his touch, his taste, his sweat, his essence. You need him like you’ve never needed anything before. He had given you time, and you’re appreciative, but now you want him to take what he needs.

You didn’t want anything super kinky. You just want to feel him. Have him. And let him partake in all of you. You do another button on his shirt, leaving only two buttons done before you walk out of the bathroom. Sauntering down the hallway, you stop right in the doorway of the living room, facing Lloyd.

His adam’s apple bobs, while he sits down his glass of bourbon. He shuts off the TV. He had already had his shower, and he sits on the couch in nothing but black silky boxers. They start to tighten at just the mere look at you in nothing but his shirt. He Leans back on the couch, and rubs up his thighs. His eyes are a complete black hole of lust.

You slowly walk towards him, timidly straddling his lap. Lloyd’s hands move to your thighs, and they roam up and down your silky skin. “Lloyd, we will have your conversation, but tonight, I don’t want our little games. I don’t want a safe word, or spankings. I want you. And I want you to take,” he clears his throat, and nothing more. “No, I do. I want that from you. I want you to seek out your pleasure with my body, and I know you’ll give me pleasure in return.”

“Aren’t you tired of people taking from you?” You nod your head, and grab onto his hands, guiding them to your tits, and urge him to knead the tender flesh. “Sweetheart, don’t…”

“I’m tired of people taking from me, but I have a choice with you, and I want you to take from me. I. Trust. You,” his smoky blue eyes look over your face, and you nod, “I trust you, Lloyd. You’ve given me every reason to trust you, and given me time to know that you will listen to me and my needs. And my need is for you to be in control. And it’s what I want..”

Lloyd sits up straighter. Keeping his hands on your chest. His fingers tease at your nipples before he pinches them, and pulls you into his body. His mouth catches you in the most desperate and needy kiss. Had he not wanted to take his time he would have devoured you. Nipping at your lip before you open wide, granting his tongue access to your mouth, and he massages your tongue. Dancing around your muscle as your body relaxes into him.

Creating a rhythm of motion that you follow. Grinding on top of him, and swallowing his moans as your delicate fingers discover his chest. His stomach. His arms. Lloyd twists your nipples slightly, and you arch into him, and his rips off the final buttons off his shirt. Jerking the fabric off you, before he lifts you off his body, laying you down on the couch.

You gulp as he spreads your legs apart and gazes at your weeping cunt. Staring at your core like it could solve world hunger. Licking his lips, “Show me how you played with yourself when you thought of me.”

You snake your hand down to your center. Dipping your finger into your juices, and you spread your slick to your clit. Giving the nub a few circles, watching him, while he only stares at your entrance, “You didn’t finger yourself?” You shake your head no, adding more pressure. Circling faster. “Why not?”

“My fingers won’t feel like yours,” he smirks, moving his hand closer, before he clamps it back on your leg, spreading you wider. Allowing him to see more. He wanted this big ass couch for this. You can see it in his naughty eyes.

“But you have other toys?” You give him a nod. More pressure. Faster. “Which was your favorite?”

“A clear one that has confetti in it. He’s eight inches,” he cocks up his brow, “You’re bigger?”

“Shall I get a ruler?”

“I’d rather you didn’t. You can always just show me,” more pressure. Faster.

“What did you do with — him?” Using that pronoun, just like you did. It’s a cute little quirk that you referred to your toys as him.

“I’d fuck myself. Pump him in and out of cunt. Circled my legs around my body pillow while I pretended it was you hovering over me. I even called him Lloyd,” he bites his lip. More pressure. Faster. You rock your body, watching him go weak.

“Sometimes, I’d keep him in me, put my panties on, and sleep with him in there. Wishing he was you, and I was cockwarming you. Did you see me stick him to the wall, while I was on my knees and backing myself on him?” He groans. A wet spot appears on his boxers as his precum ruins them.

“Did you see me put him on the floor while I bounced on top of him? Or maybe…”

“I obsessively saw it all,” his voice is shallow. More pressure. Faster. Whimpering out his name. “I watched you act like a little slut, begging me to fuck you like you deserved. Whining out my name, and daddy,” your cheeks set on fire, but you don’t stop. “And you know the best part?” You shake your head no, mouth going agape as heat coils in your belly. You didn’t have much longer before you were going to be wishing you could close your legs. Quelling the sensation before it gets too much.

“The best part is,” he stops his words as you arch your back. Watching as your walls flutter around nothing. “I wished you were calling me daddy while I fucked my cum into your belly,” the dam breaks, and you sob out his name, trying to close your legs, but he tugs down his boxer, settling over you.

Your vision goes blurry as he runs his leaking tip through your folds. Pushing in the spongy mushroom before trailing it back to your clit. He waits until you regain your sight, smiling as you sit up to stare at his glorious cock, “You think I’m bigger than your stupid toy?”

“Uh huh. And thicker, too,” words trail off as he pushes in a bit more, and you have to watch. Have to see him splitting you in half. Ready to beg him to just fuck you already, but the build up is making it that much sweeter. You want him. Need him. Obsess over him.

“The only toy I want to see in this pretty little pussy, will be a mold of my cock,” you nod your head. Giving him a glance before you’re locked in on him sinking in another inch. Noises you have never heard exiting your mouth. “I want to see you walking around this house, serving me a bourbon, while that toy makes you walk funny.”

Another inch, and you see stars. Your body lighting on fire at the way you connect, mixed with his shameless words of needing to see you always stuffed with him or the fake version of him. “Scrubbing the floor on your knees, so I can see it puckering out of this sweet, beautiful, amazing cunt.”

Another inch. Your fingers grip onto his arms and you realize who you thought was a demon is now the man taking you to heaven. “Have you trained to beg for my cock,” another inch. “Feeling so empty without me,” another inch. “You’ll have tears in my eyes as you fuck yourself, because I won’t until my bourbon is done.”

Another inch. He’s a beautiful asshole, “I’ll drink my bourbon slow or fast. Depending on your behavior,” another inch, and you dare to look down at where the two of you connect, and he still wasn’t fully in.

“Lloyd!” Your hands grab onto his ass, and you attempt to pull him closer to you. Willing him to just finish the mission. Let your body acclimate to his presence before he thrusts into you over and over again.

“And then, my sweet Dolly,” he waits until your eyes are on his. That mouth turning into a devilish grin. “I’m going to watch you clean that cock with your tongue, while I give you what you want. Maybe one day you’ll take a second mold, and I can have every one of your holes stuffed with me. What do you think, hmm?” Another inch.

You think that you can’t think because you’re dizzy with pleasure. Dizzy with a nagging feeling that you need for him to make you dumb with his cock. “Lloyd!”

He slams the rest of his length into your body, and your head lurches up. Ramming into the arm of the couch, and your body goes numb. He is there inside of you. Sweet surrender. Completely settled into your body. “You’re the first woman I have ever fully given myself to,” you aren’t sure if he was talking about his full cock or his mind. But somewhere in between, you think it’s both. You think he means that you are the first woman to have every bit of his soul!

He pulls completely out of you, and you wail. Ready to cry for him not to leave you, but he stabs back in. Creating a show of this motion. Leaving your tunnel slowly, while burying back in with so much force that your body shivers. “I know,” you manage to whisper out, and it’s that moment that you know what he’s talking about.

These months have been this aching long buildup for this moment, and the moments to come. You both teased each other. You both became obsessed with each other. Tested boundaries. And somehow were able to come together for Lyla, and in that weird common territory. You craved him. You were his prey, and he was your predator. You had only just begun this part of your relationship, and you have never felt more at peace. More cherished. Respected. And…

“Lloyd, I love you,” it’s the first time you’ve ever said those words, and meant it. Meant every vowel and consonant. Meant every syllable. Every inflection. It all belonged to him. Because he belongs to you.

His breath is labored as he thrusts deep into you. “I do. I love you, Lloyd. And I’m obsessed with you,” he chuckles. A hand caressing your face. You don’t think he’s going to say anything, and yet, you feel it. Feel the love he has for you coursing through every grind of his hips.

“God, you’ve made me a mess,” his pace quickens, and even though this is addicting, and you’re going to fuck him every chance you get, you just want to snuggle with him. Maybe with his cock inside of you. “And it’s all because,” he needs time to come to grips with the term, and that’s okay by you. You can wait for when he’s ready.

His hips roll into you in the sweetest way, making sure you feel every bit of him. Grinding his stomach on your clit, and his cock stretching you out beautifully. He fits perfectly. He feels perfect. He feels like he’s all yours. Heat bursts into your core, offset by his grunts. He repeats your name over and over again. Punctuated with every push into you.

Your walls clench around him, and you gleam up at him like he was the key to everything good in your life. You need to feel his warmth. “I love you,” he says right as your cunt locks around his cock, and hot ribbons of his cum spurt deep into your belly, and you sigh. “I love you.”

What a fucking trip. It would seem fast, except you two have slowly moved into this phase. Slowly made your way here. “I love you,” you realize he really likes the sound of saying that. Maybe he’s never said it before either. “I love saying that to you because every time I say it, you get this cute dopey little look on your face.”

“It could be because I’ve felt cum in my pussy for the first time.”

“Oh, you and that filthy little mouth. Keep talking, and I’m going to plug you up with one of my fake dicks,” you cock your brow up at him, “Yes, I already have three. Because I want to enjoy playing with your holes. But we’ll get there.”

And you would. Each teasing step of the way, you would.

Next

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[dairy-farmer]

I love love LOVE the idea of Tim being on the other side of an affair! And not the mushy "but then they fall in love with Tim and leave their wife for him" stuff (which is good in its own ways ofc!), I'm talking about unapologetic slutty homewrecker Tim

He fucks these men bc he wants to, he's completely independent otherwise. He doesn't need these men for anything other than good dick, and he can find that anywhere. He gets a thrill out of making married men cheat, what can he say?

But my favorite idea with this, is Tim starting out these affairs when he's still way too young. Like his first successful affair isn't even a cape, it's one of his tutors when he's 13. They only do it the once, but Tim loved it! He would seek out more opportunities, but then he becomes Robin a few weeks later and his priorities shift

So when he's 14 and alone with Superman and somehow finds himself on his knees sucking down a huge cock? He takes the chance where he can. It ends up becoming a regular thing despite Clark's guilt over cheating on Lois, and it gets worse when Tim gets pregnant at 17, in the aftermath of him and Clark fucking for the first time since Tim saved Bruce from the time stream

Clark is conflicted on what to do but Tim is like "whatever, nbd. I've always wanted kids one day anyways, even if this is a little early. Honestly I'm surprised it didn't happen sooner with the way I sleep around" and then Tim realizes why Clark is upset and adds "oh, no one will know the baby is yours, ofc. It isn't any of their business, anyways. And you don't have to take any responsibility, tho it would be nice if you visited on occasion. But I get that Jon and Lois are your priorities and stuff"

So Tim goes through with the pregnancy, as a darling baby boy that he kicks ass at raising as a single mom, and everything is just fine (except maybe Clark's paranoia at being found out). Tim finds out he's pregnant again about a year later tho and he's just as fine with it as he was the first time, and reassures Clark that he knows the baby is someone else's in the JL. By the time Tim is 25 he has five kids, all of them clearly having different fathers (and if you look closely, you could definitely figure out who fathered who. Clark for his first baby, Barry for his second, Oliver for his third, Arthur for his fourth, Wally for his fifth, and a recently married Bruce is responsible for Tim's belly filling out once again with baby number six). The only thing they all have in common is that all of his baby daddies (aside from being JL members) are happily married husbands

Tim never thought he would let it get to the point where he was having these affair babies, and so many to boot, but honestly? It makes him feel sexy, desired, and powerful. After all, it's not everyday you have blackmail over some of the strongest members of the JL

its universally acknowledged that all the bats are a little screwy, they all have a little something something wrong with them. for tim his thing is homewrecking, there's just something about married men that draws him in so much closer than anything else. but not just any men, its the weak ones. some part of tim revels in sniffing them out like a shark, that no matter their words, no matter how much they posture, or how they hold themselves- tim knows that at the slightest opportunity they'd risk losing everything just to fuck him.

so tim's just a little disappointed to find so many capes fit that criteria, just a little bit though. tim only wants their dicks not to lecture them. plus once his short affair with the tutor his boarding school hired, tim had been looking for someone else. someone older, closer, someone who could really fuck tim, not the quiet quickies he'd been having up til then.

and so clark comes to him! bruce is in space and he and clark apparently had some agreement where he'd fly by the manor to check on jason and dick, make sure they weren't in any trouble. only tim doesn't live at the manor and suddenly clark is standing in tim's room, unsupervised and alone with tim who had just been under the sheets and playing with his little cunt. tim barely has to even try. he's horny and desperate and clark is there and big and his hands are so large they drawf tim's head and force him close as he swallows his cock into his wet, tiny mouth. he begs clark to fuck him. and he does, tim's pajama covered bottoms hang around his ankles as clark kneels and wetly sinks into tim's pink baby cunt with a thick wet sound while tim is laid on his bed and whining. clark's cock is so big that he's only able to get half his cock into him, the rest is stuck outside getting steadily dripped on by tim's wetness. clark's cum is hotter than a normal human's and so liquidy it drips down like a broken faucet out of tim's cunt.

for the rest of the time bruce is gone clark returns to swing by, marveling over tim's body an stroking his sides as he rides him, the stretch having been made easier with the help of the lube tim found in his dad's bedside drawer.

clark is tim's longest lasting affair, and while he'd never admit it to bruce, his favorite. after all you can't carry on an affair for years and not grow at least a little fond of someone. its why tim is a little excited when he does get pregnant. he'd been thinking of settling down and retiring for awhile. damian was now robin, bruce was doing better mentally than he ever had before, the rest of the family was mostly at peace and talking rather than estranged. it's perfect for him to retire.

so when he finds out he's pregnant, he does.

tim doesn't actually tell clark he's pregnant, he doesn't see the point, he and clark see each other sporadically so tim could just tell him the next time clark swung by to fuck him, maybe tim would already have the baby by then and they could work on baby #2.

bruce tells clark, lamenting to him about tim retiring due to pregnancy and not seeing how clark goes ghost white.

tim assures clark he wasn't going to tell anyone, that he had no obligation to tim, that this was TIM'S baby and he'd handle everything about it and it was alright that tim wouldn't tell anyone clark was the daddy.

and tim doesn't.

he keeps his promise.

but the baby thing does scare clark away for a little, he comes back eventually but not until tim has already started fucking barry. oh barry, he's so kind and thoughtful. he hears about tim's "unfortunate" teen pregnancy (at least that's what the other heroes were calling it) and takes it upon himself to gift tim supplies and a crib that once belonged to his own children and was so expensive it was a shame to leave it rotting in the attic. tim is visibly pregnant and living alone in his apartment because bruce had not been too happy about tim's pregnancy. and barry is welcome company who chats and asks tim questions about his baby plans while building the crib even though tim knows that with his superspeed he could have it done in under a minute and cut the visit short. but he doesn't and tim appreciates the company while talking about his birthing classes.

barry really is a swell guy even if he accepts the advances of a pregnant teen that he has on his back and fucks on the floor of a baby's future nursery. barry is very into fucking tim, tim suspects a kink but he's not sure which one. tim was already pregnant so there wasn't much use in condoms which barry was particularly happy about as he buried his cock heatedly into tim's reddened cunt.

clark comes back eventually. a few months after tim gives birth to his baby he brings enough diapers to last tim months and fucks him while tim's baby naps in the other room. when tim gets pregnant again tim makes sure to tell him before anyone else does and also assures him that he's not the father which clark just blinks at and it occurs to tim that he probably hadn't realized tim had been fucking other people aside from him. tim doesn't say who (no need to open a can of worms with the information) but does admit they are also in the JL.

tim's affair with oliver is a natural progression as a result of his affair with barry. of course barry confides to olly. they run in the same circles, are "bros" to an extent, and when barry comes to him freaking out about having gotten tim pregnant well of course oliver gets interested. he's curious, wants to feel out the extent of the affair, maybe softly interrogate tim. tim is certain green arrow came to his door fully intending on doing something about barry's affair, instead the only thing he ends up doing is tim.

pregnancy makes tim horny, almost as horny as married men do and so tim getting bent over his washing machine and thoroughly fucked was the natural result.

oliver swings by to see him every time he's in gotham, he swings by even more frequently after tim gives birth to a sweet little girl with a head of blonde curls that he gets weepy over.

aquaman hears about his fellow married leaguers all having affairs from their drunken rambles. the husbands in the league have a bit of a boys club, something that initially started out as a way to bully bruce since he was the only unmarried man. he hears about their shame, but also how they can't help going back, how they secretly check on their kids, and how they're happy that tim's such a loving and wonderful mother, how tim has the best cunt any of them have ever fucked. arthur starts it out of curiosity. he loves his wife, he does. but...arthur has gotten a bit of a reputation among the husbands as a bit of a bore, not really someone who would take risks, who would do something as aghast as having an affair. tim seems like the best option, he's clearly discrete, is very capable of managing league personalities, does well in bed. its a no brainer. arthur is only planning to do it once, just so he can have the badge of honor of having successfully had an affair. but then he finds himself returning. finds himself...attracted. timothy is good company, he's humorous, he's curious, he listens to arthur's laments, he's wonderful company in more ways than one. arthur finds the little mother of three very attractive and before long he's the reason he's become a mother of four. arthur is the only one of tim's affairs that tries making it more, offering to bring tim and his children to atlantis, offering them a safe haven to learn and grow, to support tim and even legitimize their child. mera may be upset with him (very upset) but arthur was still ultimately king.

tim rejects it. insists to arthur he's fine, that he wants to raise his babies on his own terms and that tim wasn't looking for commitment.

besides if arthur's affair came out, if the fact that he sired a child outside his marriage came out- surely that would incense some people, shake atlantean's view of him?

arthur hesitates but its enough and tim tells him to drop it. that tim will send him pictures of their child through email occasionally if he wants, its what he does with the others afterall.

bruce is the last of them. he was also the last to get married but still. the ink is barely dried on the marriage certificate when a tipsy bruce fucks tim in the bathroom, right next to the baby changing station. tim's dress is hastily shoved up, the top pushed down to expose his milky tits from nursing arthur's baby. bruce's voice is deepened to a near growl and he whispers about how he's needed tim for so long, that this was his last chance to ever fuck him before being tied down forever. bruce's cock is almost dripping with need, the tip messy with precum as he presses into tim's warm cunt with ease, a benefit to having four babies.

bruce fucks tim so hard he nearly leaves a permanent imprint on the tile as he hoists tim's legs up to wrap around his waist.

it's a good wedding night. for tim at least.

the next morning bruce is at his door with an apology, an excuse with his drunkenness. but it doesn't last because it ends with bruce and tim on the couch, bruce buried inside tim again.

bruce is the most possesive of tim's affairs. tim's not sure when he starts looking into it but shortly after starting his affair with tim bruce threatens the others away from him, somehow it got into his mind that he wanted to be the only one fucking tim. but a quick threat to out him to selina and all of a sudden bruce is okay with sharing.

which was the point, it was the reason tim was able to peacefully enjoy his many affairs. there was a built in backup plan. if they ever tried to do something he didn't like, ever tried anything- it would be over for them. people could forgive affairs but affairs with a much younger person, someone he mentored, someone that was more of an honorary nephew, someone they'd gotten pregnant, someone they'd been seeing for years? there was only one natural result to all their marriages if they found out and tim knew they knew it, knew they loved their wives too much too lose them, but they were also unwilling to lose tim.

it was perfect. tim had everything he wanted and things were just as they should be.

[xgoldentempest]

nsfw merman au feydpaul thoughts

i am thinking CRITICAL thoughts about feydpaul mermaid au...either feyd as this otherworldly creature (could be merman, shark, octopus?), cast out of his pod because of his ferocious fighting nature and deemed too dangerous to keep around when he comes of age. paul, human, sailing on board the arrakeen, with his father (still the duke) on the way to meet his mother (and duncan/guerney) in a new ? location idk. their ship gets attacked in the middle of the night, paul sees his father die on another man's blade. they come for him next, the pretty little duke's son, put a gag in his mouth - but he wriggles free, kicks a man but earns a long cut with a blade against his side for his trouble. he jumps overboard, and swims, cold panic squeezing his lungs. feyd smells him, blood in the water, for the first time in his life he knows the smell of mate, and his lonely existence seems to narrow down on this scent as the new centre of his universe. he is gripped with fear, why is his mate bleeding? until he finds paul, close to fainting as the blood loss and cold water tries to pull him under - and drags him to cave. paul is in and out of consciousness by this point, but feyd gets him out of those cold human fabrics and wraps himself around his body to try and warm him up instead. he licks up paul's cut, relishing in his mate's lifeblood gift to him - more than enough of a courting gift for him, he bled so feyd could find him! ig his saliva has magical healing properties idk. paul wakes to find this creature wrapped around him, feyd lets go because he thinks paul is disappointed in the lack of a prepared nest for him, so he quickly gets to work bring in nest-materials, and food, and he brings paul new things everyday as courting gifts and is giddy when paul slowly starts to take them. paul just thinks it's better to not offend the creature feeding him.

(for enjoyers of monsterfucking one may imagine feyd deciding he needs to clean paul, every day, preferably with his tongue (healing saliva pops off here) and yes - every part of him. paul atriedes is getting tongue in his ass bro. preferably multiple times a day if feyd has anything to say about it. he's also fascinated with paul's balls cause while he has a breeding pouch/tentacle thingo he doesn't really have an equivalent. he may also make the mistake of thinking that paul is then in a constate state of knot and feyd pities him greatly for the pain this must cause him - knotted all the time but with no relief to soothe him? and wants to suck on his balls like 24/7 which drives paul absolutely mental because he's a virgin duke's son and masturbation had been perfunctory at best and ohmygodsosenstive. feyd sees it as perfectly routine to worship your mate however he can and actually worries he is unworthy of paul, for feyd has had little sexual experience too, and that he is not good enough to give his little mate the ecstasy he deserves. paul on the other hand could not disagree more.

for noncon enjoyers: one may imagine feyd uhhh sliding some tentacles/fingers into paul's ass during the night just to keep him nice and plugged and full because feyd is territorial af. bonus points if feyd thinks it will help soothe my mate's constant knot! by milking his prostate. paul notices but lets him keep doing it anyway because he realises somewhere along the line it felt weirder to not be plugged and also he might be a little bit in love with this creature anyway.

anyway as paul starts to heal, he's been grieving for his father but realises his mother may have come looking for him. in this version he doesn't want to be duke all that badly and alia is aged up so she's only a few years younger than him so when he finally meets up with them he's like damn i kinda like it here. alia want to take over?

also come mating season feyd really wants paul to incubate his clutch and gets really sad when paul freaks the fuck out and doesn't want eggs inside him.... until he relents...... look is it so wrong to want that boy's holes full ...

idk i just had an image of feyd with black eyes and spikes down his back and now we're here. i think he would be hella cool as an octopus tho. does anyone fw this or am i yelling into a void. if u think this is weird. you're right but i won't apologise.

[thotsofadepravedwoman]

Serpentine Nights Chapter 3

Livin' on a Prayer

Pairing: Benny Cross x Fem!Biker!OC

Fandom/Universe: The Bikeriders

Summary: Azzie and Benny Both feel the first pulls, neither of which wanting to admit it, as they wait for Johnny and the other Vandal's.

Trigger Warnings: None really, Azzie and Benny just checking each other out and not admitting it to themselves, this chapter is pretty fluffy, The next chapter wont be though,

Notes: I swear this gets better, I promise. Work kicked my ass today and yesterday, so I couldn't post this chapter as quickly as I wanted to. Let me know if there is anything yall want to see going forward!

Series masterlist Main Masterlist

When Azzie awakes, she stretches, her soft bedding curling around her limbs. She had cracked her window open to let in the cool autumn breeze before she fell asleep, and now all she hears is hushed mumblings of curses and quieted scolds to keep quiet. Azzie giggled at the familiar voices on the other side of the glass. her brothers and sisters may not have been the most inconspicuous bunch, but they surely respected the sleep of their fellow Vipers. 

She pushed herself off the bed, her bare feet quietly padding across the floor as she reached into her closet for a cardigan, the weather cooler than yesterday, and definitely calling for a sweater of some sort. Just as she pulled her arms through the black wool, she heard another thud, something dropped outside followed by even more hushed laughter as she shook her head, opening the door to her room. 

As Azzie walked past her brother's room, she remembered the man that was inside. She assumed he would be awake by now, likely awakened from the commotion outside, so she had softly knocked on the door. When no answer came, she knocked slightly harder, still with no response. She cracked the door open, peeking her head into the room, scanning the dark room for Benny. Azzie wasn't sure what she was expecting to see, but the sight before her was far from whatever she was envisioning. 

He was asleep, sleeping on his stomach, his one arm under his head, the other splayed out besides him. It took her a second to realize he was shirtless, his bare back rising and falling with his breaths, the toned planes appearing extra defined from the small amount of light leaking through the drawn blinds. Benny was well built, and his biceps alone almost seemed unreal. He wasn’t overly muscled, but he was built well, with lean and defined arms no longer covered in oil and ash. Azzie had been awake long enough to hear him turn the shower on, but she hadn't expected him to look so dazzling underneath all the grime he sported the day prior. 

She caught herself smiling at the sight, and for a split second, she wondered what his back would feel like under her hands. The thought was quickly pushed away before she could delve any further into that train of thought. He was a handsome man, surely, built like an angel, his halo of now fluffy golden hair accenting his tanned skin well, but he was a biker. She had heard many stories about bikers and their tendencies in relationships, and even if she was one herself, she wouldn’t fall under the spell of those intoxicating blue eyes. 

Azzie closed the door before she could dwell on the beautiful stranger much longer, instead making her way into the kitchen to brew a pot of coffee. She pulled two mugs out of the cupboard, her mug that she used almost everyday, and her fathers mug, placing them both down on the counter. She opened the fridge door, reaching for the cream when a loud boisterous laugh caught her off guard, making her jump and accidentally knock her head against the top of the fridge door, a dull pain reverberating out as she hissed. 

“You alright there Darlin’?” Benny’s unexpected presence startled her once again, Azzie’s shoulders tensing as she sucked in a quick breath.

“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph-” She took a steadying breath as swung the fridge door closed. “Don't you know better than to sneak up on a lady?” Setting the cream down on the countered Azzie finally turned to face the man behind her. 

All other words died in her throat at the sight before her, Benny still shirtless with the biggest pair of sweatpants she could find from her fathers closet hanging snug and low on his hips. He looked truly divine, much more enticing than when he was asleep, and his devilishly sug smirk pulling at his plush lips, Azzie swore she would commit every sin in the world if it meant she could feel his skin against hers. The thought rattled untamed in her head, her coffee nearly forgotten. 

Benny chuckled at the obvious staring, his eyes growing more amused by the second that passed as the woman before him gawked at his half naked form. “Got a starin’ problem I should know about?” he teased.

His words sent Azzie tumbling out of her daze, quickly spinning to face away from him as she placed the carton on the counter. Her hands grabbed the edge as she steadied herself,taking a deep breath to calm the raging blush coating her cheeks. Her normally steady hands nearly shook as she reached to grab the coffee pot, any witty remark dying on her tongue. 

“You uh-” Azzie had to admit, her words came out weaker, more rattled than she had anticipated, having to clear her throat before she could finish her sentence. “You want cream or sugar?”

“I’ll take mine black.” Benny answered, his bare feet moving to stand behind Azzie, looking over her shoulder at her hands, the deep red manicure beginning to chip around the edges from wear and tear. The light scarring around her knuckles had reminded Benny of his own battered knuckles. It was obvious that she hadn’t been in a fight, or at least hadn’t thrown a punch in quite some time, the scars barely noticeable, and far past the pinky twinge of freshness, were still there, faint against her otherwise unmarred complexion. It made him wonder if she simply didn't get into many fights, or if she preferred knives. He wasn't sure which possibility was more enticing to him. 

Azzie turned, having to lean back against the counters edge to stop their chests from brushing, a look of surprise pulled at the saturated hues in her eyes, making Benny take a mental note to see how that look would look in a different context. 

Quickly shaking that thought away, Benny gently took his mug of black coffee out of Azzies hand, accidentally brushing their fingers together. The contact chaste, yet somehow sensual in his eyes. Her skin, so soft, so warm, in contrast to his rough, dry skin was a feeling Benny wanted to treasure. He simply maintained eye contact while he took a sip of his coffee, the sleep now long gone from his eyes, and a new, unreadable emotion taking control of his deep blue irises. 

“Thanks for the coffee.” He said, stepping away and making his way over to the dryer, pulling his now clean clothes from the machine, cradling them against his chest with on arm, the other, still holding his mug, balanced on top of the small pile, his hip making contact with the dryers door, swinging it shut, and making his way, once again, back to the bedroom he slept in. 

“...Yeah, anytime.” 

Azzie sighed as she pulled her jacket over her form, the call from Johnny just under two hours ago had her walking out to the yard, turning towards the group of lounging men that sat in the couches and chairs in front of her trailer, a request to make sure all the Vipers were ready for a emergency meeting leaving her lips. The sound of the trailer door opening and closing once again drawing the attention of the men before her. Questioning looks came her way, and with a simple look of ‘you'll find out in a minute’ the guys got up, beginning to make their way around the trailer park to spread the message. 

Azzie looked behind her, motioning with a quick quirk of her head for Benny to join her. “Johnny and the rest of your men should be here soon.” she said.

A soft grumble came from him, a deep reverberating sound of acknowledgement coming from deep within his chest as he came to stand next to her. 

Azzie turned to face him, her head tilting back so she could make eye contact with Benny. Her hair now pulled up into a loose bun, a few strands framing her face, her eyes accentuated by makeup, the deep smokey eye making her eyes appear as if they were glowing. Benny was entranced, he knew it. Something unintelligible pulled him towards her like gravity. If she was a black hole, Benny would gladly spend the rest of eternity being dragged into her center. 

[biniminisblog]

wish you were mine | yang jeongin drabble

pairing: yang jeongin x fem!reader ft. brother!seungmin

genre: angst, forbidden love, brother’s bestfriend

word count: 0.6k

a/n: i know i said i wasn’t gonna post for a while but i just came back from school after hours of dance practice and inspiration suddenly kicked in. ig my mind works better when i feel like dying lmao. its also probably why its angsty lol. as always reblogs/replies and feedback are very much appreciated, thank you! and stream social path ‼️

you’re crying. you’re crying and it's all his fault. you were only supposed to be seungmin’s younger sister, even so, jeongin knows that falling in love with you was inevitable. however, he also knows that it’s forbidden. which is why he just stands there, watching you cry as he continues to lie to you. he lies that he’s not in love with you. he lies that he’s never thought of you everyday. he lies that you’re just seungmin’s younger sister to him. everything he’s said are lies yet he can’t seem to stop it.

“please jeongin just give me a chance! i promise i can give you the love you deserve.” he knows you can. in fact, you have already given him more than what he deserves while also simultaneously stealing his heart in the process. the very same heart that is now burning with anguish because of you—no, because of him. he could never blame you of his stupid actions, you were too perfect in his eyes.

he’s the one who messed up. he led you on for months, flirting and teasing each other, only for him to claim he never had feelings for you.

“oh, my sister? she can be a pain the ass sometimes but i love her. why? you like her or something?”

“what? pfft no of course not!”

“good because she’s off limits, wouldn’t want my best friend dating my own sister. gross.” he recalls his and your brother’s conversation, and although it was intended to be a lighthearted joke, jeongin knows seungmin was being serious. just a reminder that he could never be with you.

“i’m sorry yn.” his apology seems to have calmed you down a bit. you’ve probably realised that maybe he wasn’t worth it after all and although it hurts, he won’t deny it. he knows you deserve someone better than him anyway. someone who can say what they truly feel without hesitation. you nod slowly, and just as he thinks you’re about to walk away, you suddenly lunge forward and attack him with a hug. it startles him, making him stumble a bit but he regains his balance. you’re hugging him, and in that moment, hope begins to bloom in his chest. jeongin thinks that maybe, just maybe, he can ignore the fact that you’re his best friend’s sister, and you both can finally do what you’ve always wanted.

“let’s stay like this, even just for tonight, please. then i promise i won’t bother you again.” you whisper, and just like that, all hope is crushed within a split second. of course you wouldn’t fight for him, that would be selfish of him to think. even he didn’t put up a fight, he just gave up the moment seungmin told him so.

despite this, he nods at your request, finding it hard for him to say no. it was hard enough to reject you, he doesn’t want you to get hurt any more than he’s given you. with that, jeongin wraps his arms around your waist, and you snuggle closer to him, wrapping your arms around his neck. at this close proximity, he can smell the perfume he was sure was his. he knows it’s his because you would steal it even though you try to deny every time he asks. he smiles endearingly at your fond memories together. jeongin was going to miss your beautiful smile and looks that were only reserved for him. he hoped that in another universe, you guys would be together without any care in the world, just happy to be in each other’s arms.

jeongin wishes you weren’t seungmin’s sister. he wishes you were just a random person who he happened to stumble upon and fall in love at first sight. but life is unfair like that and all he can do is suck it up and try to move on, even though he knows he never truly will. still, just for tonight, jeongin would pretend you were his and he was yours.

[an1meslvt]

|attitude|

tag: toxic!shuriri x blackfemreader

warnings: smut, smut, smut! (18+)toxic relationship themes, a bit of angst, dom!shuri, dom!switch! riri, sub!reader, bdsm themes, fluff at the end :)

translations: xhosa: kuqhubekani-what’s going on, thatha yonke into endikunika yona-take everything i give you. sthandwa-my love, usana-baby, ewe-yes

summary: you’re fed up with how shuri and riri have been in the lab, and giving less and less attention everyday…but it gets resolved. :)

you laid comfortably in the bed you shared with riri and shuri. they were down at the lab (as always) and you were quite bored honestly. ever since this big project came up, they’ve been distant due to the constant need to tweak what they’ve already worked on. now you being the considerate girlfriend you are, you completely understood that they needed to work and honestly it didn’t really bother you….at first that is.

you knew they wouldn’t always be around since shuri is a well know scientist and the queen of wakanda, and riri was her right hand man on missions and projects, but got damn! you didn’t think you would feel basically like a damn child waiting for their parents to give them attention(cuz that’s literally how you felt.)

as you thought about it more, the more annoyed you got. and to make matters worse, they haven’t been home in almost a damn week(except to shower and change, and sometimes barely that.) “bruh this shit so unfair.” you mumbled, getting up from the bed to go into the kitchen. you aggressively took out the items you needed to make dinner.

as if the universe could have the worst possible timing, riri and shuri walked in the door with wide smiles on their faces (that soon dropped when they saw how mad you clearly were.) “woah, ma! what’s wrong?” riri’s voice was slightly raised as she addressed you. “yea y/n, kuqhubekani?” shuri asked.

angrily, you threw a bowl in the sink, causing the two to jump. “how could you ask a dumb ass question like that? what’s wrong is how yall been in that mfin lab for a whole damn week! what about me?!! huh?! i need attention too!.” you yelled. shuri and riri both scrunched their faces up at your yelling.

“ok first of all calm down and talk like you got sum sense. second of all you know how important this project is so why you tripping, baby girl?” riri spoke, causing shuri to look at you expecting an answer. “maybe because it seems like the only people in this relationship is y’all two! it’s just fuck me and my feelings, right?!” you said now calming down a little, but still angry.

“so we get yelled at because you wanna be an attention whore? wow, that’s crazy.” shuri laughed. this bitch-she had the audacity to call you an attention whore just because you felt neglected?!!?? oh hell no! “oh so i’m an attention whore because i wanna spend quality time with my significant others?! you got me ALL the way fucked up.” you began to walk upstairs to the shared bedroom.

they followed close behind you, curious to see what you were about to do. once reaching your bedroom, you pulled out a suitcase. “i honestly don’t know why you pulling out yo suitcase cuz you not goin no where.” riri said, throwing your suitcase on the ground. shuri followed up by kicking the suitcase down the stairs. “y/n you need to stop playing with us as if we can’t track you down wherever you go, kimoyo beads or not.” shuri said, glaring at your kimoyo beads.

“and y’all need to stop thinking you can talk to me any kinda way! i’m not some child so stop treating me like one!” you we’re beyond hurt at this point. the two people you loved the most were growing further and further apart from you.

“Look y/n, maybe you should start being considerate of our work! we go in that lab everyday and bust our asses to make sure you and wakanda is safe!” riri yelled, walking up to you. “you’ve been more irritable lately, y/n…what your problem?” shuri now began to walk towards you. ok, now you were getting anxious. these mfs is ganging up on you! now you were fully pressed against a wall.

“why are y’all fucking ganging up on me?! all this because i want to feel loved by my girlfriends?!” the tears couldn’t stop and their faces softened as they looked at you, realizing their mistake. “y/n baby we’re so-” you cut shuri off before she could finish.

“no! i don’t wanna hear it! fuck you! fuck both of you! how dare you treat me like shit and call me names when you’re the ones who should be getting yelled at!?!” you pushed past them, grabbing your purse and phone, putting on shoes and walking out the door to your car.

of course they followed you outside, begging you to stay. “come on, y/n! don’t be like that!” riri yelled, running after you. you got in your car and closed your door before they could get to you. you pulled out of the drive way and just drove. you didn’t have a specific destination.

𖧷༄𖧷༄𖧷༄𖧷༄𖧷༄𖧷༄𖧷༄𖧷༄𖧷༄𖧷༄𖧷༄𖧷

it’s been about 2 hours since you left and shuri and riri have begun to worry. they hadn’t gone out to look for you yet being that they knew you wanted space, but DAMN. 2 hours is absolutely insane. you took your kimoyo beads off so they couldn’t track you the easy way, they were about to do the next best thing until you finally walked through the door.

they both both ran towards you, showering you in love. “baby! are you alright?!” “are you you hurt or anything?! where did you go?!” you pushed passed them, heading up to the shared bedroom. they frowned as they followed you.

“y/n? will you talk to us please? we just want to know if you’re ok.” shuri spoke and riri nodded in agreement. “i’m fine, i went for a little drive and stopped to get me something to eat. is that ok?” you spoke, giving them a side eye and rolling them as well. riri and shuri looked at eachother before sharing a light chuckle.

“ok y/n, you getting a lil too bold now, ma. roll them pretty eyes again and see what we do.” you scoffed before turning to face them fully. “not shit, that’s what. i really don’t wanna talk to y’all right now.” you said waving them off, but shuri wasn’t goin for it.

she grabbed your arm tightly before giving you that look. “you wanna repeat that princess?” shuri said and riri followed up right behind her. “yea cuz obviously you we must’ve heard you wrong or sum…cuz ain’t no way you just said that.”’she then pulled on your other arm so now you were basically restricted.

they begin to kiss your neck, slowly removing each item of clothing you had on (as well as themselves). “you want us to show how sorry we are, mami?” shuri asked, biting your neck like a starved animal. you let out a faint “yes please.” to let them know they could continue.

𖧷༄𖧷༄𖧷༄𖧷༄𖧷༄𖧷༄𖧷༄𖧷༄𖧷༄𖧷༄𖧷༄𖧷

“oh fuuuccckk.” you moaned in ecstasy. riri was between your legs while shuri kissed all over you. “yea? you like that?” she whispered in your ear, softly biting it afterwards. your hands were cuffed to the rails of the headboard and you had a silk blindfold on.

“oh shit riri! please don’t stop!” you moaned loudly, causing riri to bring her head up and move her fingers faster. “hmmm, i don’t know, ma. do you deserve to cum?” she said, giving off fake sympathy. your breathing hitches as you reached your orgasm. “please mommy! please let me cum!” you were so close, you just hoped she wouldn’t deny your orgasm. luckily for you, she granted your wish.

“alright, cum baby. and it better be a lot too.” as if on cue, you came, creaming all over her fingers. your legs quivered as she overstimulated you. when you finally had enough, you squeezed your legs together, which made her slow down and come to a stop.

she gave your pussy light peck before coming up to let you taste yourself. “hey, i wanna taste her too! kiss me.” shuri said, causing riri to laugh and kiss her. “now it’s my turn. riri, go into the the closet and get my strap for me baby, while i eat baby girl’s pussy.” riri smiled and nodded, scurrying to do what shuri asked of her.

“awww. it’s so swollen baby. and you’re leaking! you ready to cream for me, huh? you ready to cum again?” she rubbed your pulsating nub causing you to ooze more cream. “yes!” you yelled, but shuri slapped your thigh. “yes what?” “yes daddy!” you squealed as she connected her lips with your clit, her fingers sliding inside of you. just then, riri walked in with the strap in hand.

“oh? she creamin already? damn, ma, ian know you was like that.” riri laughed climbing in the bed next to you, kissing your neck sweetly. shuri’s head bobbed up and down between your legs, her fingers moving rapidly. you moaned loudly, your chest moving up and down due to your heavy breathing and gasps.

“daddy! i’m gonna cum! oh shit i’m gonna cum!” you screamed. shuri moaned into your pussy before speaking. “do it, sthandwa. cum in my fucking mouth.” shuri said aggressively, lapping up your juices. riri whispered in your ear, telling you to “do what daddy tells you and cum, baby.” making your back arch instantly, cumming all over shuri’s face and fingers.

“good girl.” they both cooed to you. shuri thanked riri for grabbing the strap for her before standing up to put it on. the strap was of course made of vibranium, and i was about 8 inches long with veins that glowed a blueish purple. “ri, lay y/n between your legs so you can keep her calm…she’s gonna need it.” shuri said, climbing into the bed and running her hands up your exposed torso.

she spread your legs and put them on her shoulders. “i’m gonna fuck you so good, usana.” shuri said before bottoming out. you gasped loudly, pulling at your cuffs. “daddy!” you moaned, instantly creaming around the sex toy. “mmm baby. you sound so fucking good, you making mommy’s pussy so wet.” riri said biting her lip.

you let out the most pornographic sounds as shuri pounded your fat pussy, and riri whispered dirty words in your ear, fondling your breast. “i know baby, i know. you taking what we give you so good.” shuri said, barely above a whisper. they couldn’t see it, but your eyes was rolled to the back of your sockets as shuri hit your spot. you couldn’t control your body anymore.

“fuck baby, wish you could see how good you look right now, shit.” riri moaned. just then, shuri began to drill into you, catching you by surprise and making you squirt. “fuckkk! ok daddy! okayyyyy!” you screamed, trying to run from her unforgiving speed, but she held you down. “nuh-uh baby, thatha yonke into endikunika yona.” shuri said in a very dominant manner.

“say you’re sorry baby. tell me and daddy your sorry then we’ll give you and that pretty pussy a break.” riri said, slapping you pussy a couple of times. “oh shittt! fuck, i’m sorry! i’m sorry guys please! i won’t act up no moreee!” you moaned. shuri and riri smirked in satisfaction. “mhm, yeah. tell us who this pussy belongs to.” shuri said, rubbing your clit. “it belongs to youuu! oh shit, this pussy belongs to both of you!” you screamed, on the brink of cumming so hard.

riri looked up at shuri who was already looking at her. shuri nodded which let riri know everything. “go ahead and cum baby, cum for mommy and daddy. make that pretty pussy come for us.” riri said in your ear, feeling on your upper body. you being basically brainwashed by them, you came as soon as they told you to. shuri finally stopped and began the after care process.

𖧷༄𖧷༄𖧷༄𖧷༄𖧷༄𖧷༄𖧷༄𖧷༄𖧷༄𖧷༄𖧷༄𖧷

you layed in between them both, their arms draped over you in a protective yet lazy manner. “we’re sorry, ma. we should be more considerate of your feelings and make time for you, and we shouldn’t have called you out of your name.” riri cooed, causing shuri to nod in agreement. “ewe, usana. we promise to be better from now on.”

you smiled weakly before snuggling into them and speaking softly. “it’s ok i forgive you guys. and i love y’all so much…please don’t ever leave me.” they both nodded. “we love you too baby, and we won’t ever leave you! we 4Lferss!” riri said, making you and shuri laugh. you loved them annoying ass mfs so much.

𖧷༄𖧷༄𖧷༄𖧷༄𖧷༄𖧷༄𖧷༄𖧷༄𖧷༄𖧷༄𖧷༄𖧷

©️ an1meslvt

author: i hope y’all liked this one! i did my best for y’all! send request loves 🫶🏾💕 also @imshurisbabymama here’s your tag, pretty! 🫶🏾

[missmaywemeetagain]

Read Paisley Dreams Part 1 🏵 NOW!

Hello, my wonderful darlin’s! (And Happy 1st Bday to Pink Scarf!💗) This week's story is a special request from a dear Sugar Mama regarding Elvis’ sexy yellow shirt from August 6th, 1970 and how it disappeared. It’s coincidence that I happened to be working on it on the anniversary of him wearing it, but I just take that as a good sign from the universe LOL.

This one definitely got away from me, and because of that, I’m splitting it into two parts—consequently, Part 1 is more tension building and not very smutty but I promise Part 2 will have more spice!

Enjoy babies, and let me know what you think!

xoxox, Madi 💗

TW: attempted sexual assault, cussing, ass kicking, protective!e, passing reference to his weight/ed/drug issues, masturbation

Paisley Dreams (Part 1) 🏵💛🔥

August 1970

Elvis has a love-hate relationship with going out on the town, especially when going to his fellow entertainer’s shows. He loves the novelty of it, being able to be out in the world like a (somewhat) normal human being, to be able to interact with people that aren’t necessarily there to see him. He likes that the focus is on someone else for a change, and he loves talking with people who aren’t part of his immediate circle.

What he hates, however, is pulling focus from the people performing. It’s the reason he shows up a little late and gets seated after the lights go down. Contrary to what some idiots may believe, he does not want it to be The Elvis Show all the time. And while he likes being around new people, he doesn’t always enjoy the hobnobbing that is seemingly required with other celebrities, if in attendance. No, he’d rather talk with people he cares about or regular, everyday folks instead of putting on airs for some Hollywood types.

There is also something to the fact that he’s not in 100% control of those situations when things are not revolving around him, and while a little of that is thrilling and breaks through the boredom that can happen in his insular life, it can also be disconcerting. It leaves him a little more jittery than usual, but the stubborn part of him refuses to let it overcome him tonight.

Somedays, he wishes he could be invisible and could mull about as he pleases in obscurity. Problem is, he’s way too used to the attention being him brings, and whether or not he’d admit it to anyone else, it would make him feel mightily insecure if no one at all knew who he was, if not one person came up to say hi or get an autograph. He had a little taste of that with Steve before the ’68 Special, when he’d been told in so many words to get over himself when no one stopped him on the street in front of the studio.

He hadn’t liked it, no siree, despite the freedom and lack of pressure it offered in the moment. No, he was much too used to being Elvis Presley. It is the conundrum of his life, of a fame unlike any other, that leaves him to continually pendulum from being trapped by it on one end and unable to live without it on the other.

Tonight, he fortifies himself for a night that won’t be entirely under his control and heads over to Nancy Sinatra’s show at Caesar’s Palace. Something about the unpredictability makes him feel a little more alive, like something exciting is just waiting for just the right moment to happen and bring him along with it. He much prefers thinking in those terms and not in terms of threats of harm.

Since Nancy is a good friend, he keeps himself rather understated for the evening. He knows he looks sharp in his high-collared, well-tailored chocolate suit, with a paisley yellow shirt underneath. His belt is simple (for him, at least). The outfit does not scream “look at me!” He wants the attention to be on Nancy and not him.

He also refused to bring the whole damn entourage tonight, feeling a little bit smothered by the sea of men he’s cultivated around him. He’d settled for Charlie, Richard, and Felton as his companions for the evening, despite Joe and Red’s protestations. All he wants is a little fun, a little music that isn’t his, and a little break from the pressure of rehearsals for his own engagement that starts in a few days—complete with a movie crew from MGM to film the damn thing.

He likes rising to the challenge of it, but hell, it makes him more nervous than usual. A lot is riding on his ability to deliver a fabulous show, and not only that, but they’ve been filming the rehearsals, too, so he feels like he’s under the microscope even when he normally isn’t. That coupled with learning three times as many songs as usual has his brain feeling fuzzy and him sleeping worse than usual. Nothing a pill (or three) can’t fix, though.

At least it’s all…stimulating. And Lord knows he’s a man that needs stimulation and variety, something that is harder and harder to come by with his life being the way it is.

But tonight isn’t about him. And everything seems to be going according to plan—there’s a little attention on him with fans and photos and such, enough to make him feel good, but most of the focus is elsewhere. It feels like he can breathe a little.

The show is great; he enjoys seeing Nance after, though his heart always does a little flip around her. She’s been a soft spot for him for a long time, and despite his multiple attempts to endear her a little more intimately to him, she’s always kept him mostly on the straight and narrow. He loves her even more for keeping him in check, though he still wouldn’t mind a tousle in the bedroom with her.

And it’s here he finds himself, ruminating pleasantly, if not a bit hopefully, on the past, when the lot of them sneak out through the back kitchens in order to avoid the crush of people out front waiting for a glimpse of him.

He certainly doesn’t expect to come upon some drunken asshole aggressively throwing a young woman up against the wall down the dark alley behind the Palace. His eyes narrow and a surge of adrenaline wafts through him as he tries to figure out what exactly is happening and why. Body standing to attention, he’s grateful his karate training comes in handy in times like these—which is precisely why he keeps up on the craft.

“Don’t think we should get involved, EP,” Richard warns, putting his hand out as if to stop him from moving towards the scuffle, but he bats it away like a fly.

“Come on, you little tart. I know you want it. You know you’re jus’ askin’ for it up there in those skimpy costumes, don’tcha?” the guy slurs at her, groping at her breasts.

Elvis hastens his stride down the alley, blood up, nerves tingling, and ready to kick this guy’s ass for assaulting this poor showgirl.

“Get the fuck off me, creep!” she screams back at the guy, slapping his hand away, and looking more angry than afraid, she stomps on the guy’s foot and knees him hard in the nuts.

Elvis can’t help but cringe, but the guy deserves it. Good on her.

“You bitch!” the asshole shrieks, clutching his groin. Unfortunately, in his pain, or maybe just because he’s that much of a dick, the man yanks down on her flimsy top, ripping it apart and right off her chest, exposing her braless breasts. Then, he lunges for her throat.

With a growl, Elvis takes his last few steps quickly, easily knocking the drunk bastard off his feet with a well-placed kick and sending him sprawling onto the dirty pavement. The guy lands with a groan, shaking his head. Elvis goes down on one knee and pulls him up by the shirt.

“Hey, fuck you, man! This ain’t none of your business—” the guy starts, flailing up at him drunkenly before his eyes go wide and he stops abruptly. “Holy shit, you’re—”

“I’m the guy who’s gonna kick your ass from here to Sunday if ya don’t apologize to this nice young lady and get your ass back to whatever sewer you crawled outta,” Elvis spits out, quick and cutting, his blue eyes flashing with something the man doesn’t want to test. He is self-aware enough to know that his presence is big enough to knock even sober men for a loop, and that’s when he’s not angry.

The guy opens and closes his mouth like a guppy, looking altogether wrecked and muddled by his predicament.

“Boss?” he hears Charlie’s cautioning voice from behind him, and Elvis puts up a hand to tell him he’s got this. There are some things he can do on his own.

“Well?” Elvis asks, turning his attention back to the jerk on the ground, dragging the guy up by his ugly polyester shirt.

“I-I-I—” he stutters, looking bleary eyed from Elvis to the young lady.

Elvis uses the toe of his boot and grinds down slowly on the man’s fingers.

The guy yelps, then sobs, then looks helplessly at Elvis, “Okay! Okay! I’m sorry! I’m sorry!”

“Don’t tell me. Tell her,” Elvis emphasizes, still wanting to make this guy pay. He points up to the young lady, who is standing there frozen against the wall, her arms desperately trying to cover her bared chest.

The man’s eyes narrow, obviously feeling it’s beneath him to apologize to a girl.

“Okay,” Elvis sighs dramatically, easily raising himself from the ground without using his hands, “but don’t say I didn’t warn ya.” He brings his foot back as though he’s gonna kick the man in the gut, and it has the intended effect.

“Alright, alright!” the guy shouts, curling in on himself while holding out his hand to stop Elvis. He begrudgingly looks at the woman. “I’m sorry, okay? I’m sorry!”

“For what exactly?” Elvis asks, raising an eyebrow. He is getting more of a kick out of playing with this drunkard than he should, but he can’t deny he enjoys the pulse of blood through his veins as he gets to be the hero.

“I-I-I’m sorry…for…for touching you a-and ripping your top! I’m sorry!” he cries defeatedly.

“Was that so hard?” Elvis muses. “Now get the hell outta here before I decide I’m bein’ too nice and let my boys have a crack atcha.”

The man gulps and nods, then his legs wheel a bit as he tries to get up too fast and clambers clumsily out of the alleyway.

Adrenaline waning, Elvis turns to the woman, immediately softening his features and his voice—a well-honed skill. “Are you okay, Miss?”

She looks at him like he’s grown two heads. “Yes. No. I’m not sure…I had that under control, you know,” she adds a little bitterly.

“Oh, didja now?” he replies, amused by her fiery response.

She does not look amused as she shrugs her shoulders defiantly, then remembers she’s got no top on. Her green eyes widen to saucers, and she grasps her breasts tighter, succeeding in pushing them together and creating ample cleavage that in any other circumstance would have him looking twice. But this is not the time, and he feels guilty for even glancing at her in this state.

“Shit. I’m an idiot,” he mumbles, realizing how uncomfortable she must be half naked in a dark alley full of men she doesn’t know. He scrambles to unbutton his already half-open yellow paisley shirt the rest of the way, then shrugs out of his jacket, pulling the shirt along with it.

Her mouth parts in what he assumes is disbelief as he becomes as bare as she is from the waist up. It’s vulnerable and disarming in a way he doesn’t initially intend—he more just wants to give her something she can truly cover up with and his jacket only has the one button. He’s not in the habit of running around with his shirt off these days, even though he’s slimmed down for his upcoming performances (because God knows the cameras will add ten pounds whether he likes it or not). Years of being shamed about his weight in one way or another by directors, the Colonel, and the gossip magazines always have him self-conscious, even when he’s slim, which is perhaps why he is so readily understanding of the girl’s current predicament. The August Vegas night is hot, and he feels a tinge cooler now when the air hits the sweat beaded over his skin.

“Here, honey, put this on,” he says and holds the shirt out to her.

Her mirth shifts to guarded thanks, but then she shakes her head and tightens her arms around herself. He realizes that she can’t take the shirt without exposing herself more.

“Oh. Turn around, sweetheart,” he coos at her. “I won’t hurt ya none.” He throws his jacket to Charlie, who is suddenly by his side, and holds his shirt open for her.

She turns cautiously, letting him help her as she slips her shaking arms into the oversized sleeves. “Thanks,” she whispers quietly, and he watches as she fumbles unsuccessfully with the buttons because her hands are trembling so badly.

“Lemme help, darlin’,” he says, reassuringly, “I promise I ain’t gonna look atcha.”

Seemingly frustrated at herself for needing his continued assistance, she relents and turns back to him, her doe eyes brimming with unshed tears.

He does everything in him to not look at her pretty, soft skin, or her legs that go on for days, focusing the best he can on the task of doing up the highest buttons in order to give her some modesty. Of course, his shirts being designed as they are, specifically for him and his open-chested style, there aren’t buttons as high up as there should be. The shirt is already too big on her, so she’s still showing quite a bit of skin, but is certainly better than it her previous nakedness. He looks up at her as if to say sorry, and she just looks away uncomfortably.

Elvis nods, then races to do up the rest of them, needing to kneel before her to get the lowest ones. The act feels very intimate, him half-undressed but dressing her in this prostrated position, and it sends a warmth spreading across his bare chest. He looks up at her, finding her watching him carefully for any impropriety. He is determined not to give her any, but when her intense, tearful green eyes meet his, he feels a bit off-kilter for the way it makes him feel. His heart drops into his stomach like he’s on a roller coaster.

Uh oh. He knows that feeling all too well, and it usually ends with him neck deep in infatuation at the very least and in love at the most.

“All set,” he says, looking down almost bashfully. Clearing his throat, he raises effortlessly up to standing, and Charlie hands him his jacket to put back on.

“Thank you, Mr. Presley,” she says quietly, the edge in her voice gone now that she’s swimming in his yellow shirt and the threat is gone. Her pretty pink lip bottom lip wavers.

Then she bursts into tears.

There is nothing that pulls at his heartstrings quite like a pretty young thing weeping. She’s proven herself anything but helpless but having been through such an ordeal would be frightening regardless.

“Aww, it’s okay, sweetheart, you’re safe now. Let’s get you home,” he says. He suddenly wants nothing more than to swoop her up into the protective cocoon that is his penthouse so no one can ever hurt her again, but he gets the distinct impression that bringing her into a private den full of older men is not the right move in this situation.

Sniffling, she swipes angrily under her stage makeup-smeared eyes as she attempts to get ahold of herself. He recognizes her need to not appear weak, to retain her dignity, so he gives her a minute to collect herself even though he wants to sweep her into his arms and tell her he can make everything alright.

It takes her a moment and he can tell she wants to tell him no, that she can get home on her own, thankyouverymuch, but after closing her eyes and taking a deep breath, she finally nods in acceptance.

Something in his heart soars because he likes feeling needed, likes truly helping people, and enjoys the warmhearted feeling it gives him to put others before himself. It is also the least he can do after what she’s been through.

Though it certainly doesn’t hurt that she’s a looker with her long, caramel colored hair, intelligent jade eyes, and showgirl body. He knows he would’ve helped her regardless of all of that but, even so, at 35 he’s still a virile man who can see what is plain in front of his face. And there’s something about her resilience that attracts him beyond her looks. A flash in her eyes that tells him her soul is guarded and complex and beautiful all at once. There’s a hint of darkness he can relate to, one that, combined with all the rest, sends his overly romantic heart into overdrive.

As he, Charlie, Richard, and Felton lead her trembling but head-held-high form to the car, he can’t help but think God put him in the right place at the right time tonight.

“What’s your name, sweetheart?” he asks gently once they are in the car.

“Pepper. My name is Pepper.”

*

This night is turning out to be incredibly strange, Pepper thinks as she shakily unlocks the door to her apartment. She hates that she can’t seem to stop shivering after the whole ordeal in the alley. No matter how many deep breaths she took in the car, she is still shaking like a leaf and she can’t decide if the fact that Elvis Presley is at her elbow is making it better or worse.

Finally jimmying the door open, she nearly falls inside, feeling all too unsteady in her high heels. Exhausted, it doesn’t help matters that she can’t remember if she ate today, between her waitressing shift at the diner and her showgirl gig at the Palace. She forces herself not to cry the stupid tears that pool stubbornly in her eyes. No, she doesn’t think she ate today and she’s cursing the fact because she’s quickly turning into an embarrassing pile of weepy nonsense, in front of Elvis Presley, no less.

This isn’t like her. She is no damsel in distress. She’s a strong, capable young woman who’s been dealt a bit of a shit hand, but she’s got it under control. She’s always got it under control.

Liar.

Pepper turns in the doorway to say goodnight and thank you to the man who so annoyingly but luckily had her back in that alley. She doesn’t want to think too hard about what could have happened if Elvis hadn’t appeared when he did, like some sort of movie star hero. Unfortunately, the spin towards him makes her dizzy and her wobbly knees start to give way.

“Hey now, little one, let’s get you settled, huh?” Elvis drawls out at her as he puts an arm around her waist and effortlessly ushers her into the apartment. She’s suddenly too exhausted to protest. It’s not often that anyone takes care of her. Honestly, she can’t remember the last time someone did, or the last time there was a man in her apartment.

He deposits her on her secondhand couch and its one of the many things tonight that has her embarrassed. Then again, she wasn’t expecting an incredibly handsome superstar to be gracing the walls of her tiny, dingy apartment.

Elvis stares down at her for a moment and his gaze is heavy and all-encompassing. It’s not what she expects—she’s used to the heated, horny looks she attracts from men—because it’s as if he’s surveying the situation, reading her with an intuitive intelligence she is not prepared for. She knows how to deal with men gawking at her—but treating her kindly with no expectations in return? This is unfamiliar in every way.

He nods to himself, making some sort of decision. His stance, one hip jutted out, hands on his hips and looking off to the side with his pouty lips parted, makes her feel a little funny in her belly.

Or maybe that’s just the hunger talking.

Her pride wants him to go, to not survey her poor existence and pity her. But the rest of her, the weak part of her desperate to have someone take care of her for once, wants him to stay.

Surprisingly, his face is devoid of judgement of her circumstance when his oceanic blue eyes meet hers again. There seems to be only concern and a bit of humor there. This confuses her.

“I’m starvin’,” he declares suddenly. “What would you say to some hamburgers?” His eyes sparkle—actually sparkle—when they look at her for approval.

Her stomach growls and before she can think better of the strangeness of eating hamburgers with Elvis in her crappy apartment, she’s nodding her head furiously.

“Charlie! Hey, man, get us some hamburgers and fries and shakes, will ya?” he tells the tiny guy who seems to be some sort of friend/employee, probably part of his infamous Memphis Mafia she’s read about in magazines.

It comes to her then that the man she’s read about and listened to and watched on screen for years is now in her home, and she is swimming in his yellow shirt. It smells wonderful—a heady, spicy mix of cologne and soap and sweat—and a silly part of her never wants to take it off.

Oh, god, he’s seen my tits, she realizes, her cheeks flushing.

“Hey, lemme get ya somethin’ to drink, honey,” he says, extraordinarily and infuriatingly observant, as he goes to pilfer around her kitchen.

“Oh, I’m just the worst hostess. I can get it,” she murmurs attempting to push herself off the couch.

He stops abruptly and points at her. “Stay.”

Pepper freezes. The command in his deep, drawling baritone is assertive and unarguable, sending a thrilled shiver down her spine that she’s not ready for. Almost as if her body were not her own, she slides back into the sofa.

“Whatchu got in this here ree-frig-er-a-tor?” he says, rummaging around in what she knows is a sad excuse for one. Her schedule hasn’t allowed time for her to go grocery shopping. She can hear him humming a familiar tune as he goes, and there’s something beautifully domestic about the whole thing that she doesn’t feel she deserves. He returns with two cans of Pepsi, popping the tab on hers before handing it to her, then doing his own.

She can’t quite bring herself to look him in the eye. “Thank you,” she says quietly, suddenly parched. She tries to be ladylike about it but can’t help but gulp some of the fizzy cola down as fast as possible. Of course, this all goes awry the moment the carbonation hits her empty stomach, causing an uncontrollable rolling belch to erupt her throat.

“Oh my god!” she gasps, throwing a hand over her mouth. “I’m so sorry!” For some reason, this rudeness feels almost more humiliating that her top being ripped off earlier. At least with that, it hadn’t been her fault. This was just bad manners.

Elvis looks at her seriously, blue eyes narrowed as if he might scold her, and she holds her breath, wanting to crawl into a hole and die. Then he starts laughing.

It’s a giggling, hiccupping, musical sound that immediately disarms her in its contagiousness. She can’t help the way her own giggles bubble up. Suddenly, the absolute ridiculousness of this entire night has her doubled over with exhausted, hungry laughter, and he follows right along with her.

They are just starting to get themselves under control when she snorts. Elvis completely loses it and falls apart all over again.

Tears are pouring down her face now, and she’s grateful for this release in this way. It’s better than her weak and frustrated tears from earlier, and as she watches Elvis, she sees just how utterly beautiful, unselfconscious, and almost innocent he seems in his laughter.

She wonders if he laughs often. She hopes so.

Eventually, they are both wiping their faces and the giggle fits are dying down.

“Peppercorn, you are too much,” he smiles, shaking his head with a few lingering chuckles. “Who knew such sounds could come from such a pretty little girl like you?”

Peppercorn? She smiles at the nickname. If anyone else had called her that, she might have their head, but Elvis…well, he can call her anything he wants. Butterflies start rolling in her empty stomach when she realizes he’s called her pretty in such a way that it sounds like an obvious fact and not a come-on. Oh, he’s skilled.

The fact is, it’s almost bashful the way he looks down and then his eyelashes flutter back up to meet hers from the other end of the couch. As if she had called him pretty and not the other way around.

He opens his mouth to speak, and she thinks he just might say something profoundly charming, but his friend Charlie chooses that moment to reemerge with an arm full of food and shakes. And her stomach chooses that moment to growl loud enough for the room to hear, sending Elvis and her back into peals of laughter.

Charlie looks confused, but laughs along anyway, pretending to get the joke as he sets the food down on the rickety second-hand coffee table in front of the sofa. Then, without a word, he makes himself scarce.

Elvis digs right into the bag, taking everything out of it, handing her a wrapped burger and then tearing the bag apart to make a sort of makeshift tray on the table.

“I do have plates, you know,” she says with a lingering chuckle, moving to get up. She’d certainly never seen a man of his caliber of celebrity—probably one of the richest in this town—eat off a greasy paper bag before.

“Don’t you worry yourself. I’m just fine,” he says, unwrapping and taking a giant bite of his hamburger, followed by a handful of fries. “Eat your food, Peppercorn.”

She’s way too hungry to argue. After the burp and the snort, she doesn’t put on too many airs about eating daintily, either.

“Tell me about yourself,” he says in such an earnest way that she cannot stop herself from doing so. As they devour the food, he asks her questions, and she finds herself telling him about how she’d moved here because there wasn’t much work in her small town, about how she sends most of what she makes back to her house-bound mama and little sister.

These are things she doesn’t tell people here, preferring to tell a common tale of wanting the glitz and glamour of being a famous showgirl, instead of sharing that she’s using what God gave her only to support her kin. But by the haunted look in his eyes, it’s as if he knows, like he truly understandswhat it means to keep family at the forefront and tell the world something different. So her mouth keeps moving and she shares too much, but she’s weary and hungry and Elvis Presley is in her damn living room eating burgers like it’s a completely normal occurrence.

“So, you’re tellin’ me what you’re doin’ now ain’t your dream?” he asks.

She can’t help but choke a little at that. “Um, no,” she says, wiping sauce off her lip with a finger. “Waitressing all day and being eyed-up all night is not my dream. It’s a means to an end. And I’m happy to do it.”

“For your family.”

“Yes, for my family.”

“And what about you, honey? What’s your dream?” He says it in such a perfunctory way that it takes her aback. It’s a question no one’s ever bothered to ask her.

“I…I don’t know,” she says, looking away from his curious, reading stare.

“Mmm, not sure that’s true, baby. Ev’rybody’s got a dream,” he says. “Hell, I was just a poor boy drivin’ a truck ‘fore all this took off. Could barely sing in front of anyone but there was this…this thinginside me I can’t explain, pushin’ me forward in spite of it all.”

“Really?” she says, shocked at this revelation. She didn’t know those things about him, and they make him seem more human and all the more unique all at once.

He nods. “So, what’s your dream?” he says, looking at her with a curious expectation she can’t deny.

She gulps down a mouthful of burger. “Okay, well, this is probably stupid, but I’ve always liked numbers.”

“Numbers?” he questions, confused.

“Yeah, I like solving problems. Making everything add up. Numbers are…calm, predictable, I guess. I’m sure that sounds strange, a showgirl telling you she likes math. Most men…well, they think it’s weird,” she rambles, feeling her face get hot.

He shakes his head. “Naw, it just weren’t what I was expectin’, is all. Usually pretty girls like you, they…” he trails off, not needing to finish the sentence to get the point across, “but I like that you’re different. Special.” He looks at her with a sort of pride, like he’s discovered some treasure in her she can’t see in herself.

This sends a wave of appreciation over her that she isn’t prepared for, and she smiles broadly. “So, I suppose my dream is to work with numbers. Money, maybe? I guess I’ve never really let myself think that far into it. I haven’t been able to, with everything else…That must sound silly,” she says, feeling too exposed all the sudden.

“Not at all, honey,” he reassures her, finishing off his burger and fries. She gets caught up in looking at his full, pouty lips covered in grease and has the inappropriate urge to touch them. Blinking, she looks away, hoping he didn’t catch her staring.

“Sorry I’m talking too much. I usually don’t tell people...I don’t…I’m not one to…” She hides the floundering embarrassment of both her circumstance and her attraction behind the last loud slurp of her milkshake.

“Naw, Peppercorn, don’t go bein’ ashamed of doin’ what it takes to take care of your family or about havin’ dreams for yourself. We’re more alike than you think, darlin’,” he says, wiping his hands on the paper napkins from the bag.

She quirks her eyebrow at him.

He sighs, as though he’s been holding a weight on his shoulders. “I’m know I’m lucky. My dream came true and’s put me in a position that most don’t ever get to. I’ve spent a long time makin’ sure my people are taken care of, and I love to be able to do it, but I also know it can be…” he trails off, a look of guilt flashing over his features as he waves his hand in the air.

All she can do is nod at this confession. He doesn’t need to finish for her to know exactly what he means. Burdensome. Difficult. Soul-sucking.

He shakes himself off, whistling lowly, a shy smile curving up on his face.

Pepper’s heart starts pounding in her chest partially because he’s trusted her with this knowledge of himself and she’s trusted him with her own. The vulnerability of that is strange and somewhat uncomfortable to sit with. But it pounds also because she realizes with chagrin the meal is over and she doesn’t know what he expects of her next.

Despite her job, she does not have a habit of spending the night with men she’s just met, but Elvis is not just any man. There have only been a handful of boyfriends, half of which were back at home, and certainly none recently with what little free time she has. She’s no prude but she’s not exactly experienced, either. And one-night stands are not her thing.

He has been nothing but a gentleman this whole night and didn’t even ogle her when her top had been ripped. There was no reason to even think that he wanted such a thing from her, yet there is tension building in the air that she doesn’t know what to do with. Maybe it’s because when she looks at him in his well-cut suit with no shirt underneath (shivering at the fact it’s because it’s on her) and sees the sweaty tuft of chest hair that is exposed against his tan skin, something deeply primal rises in her and she wants more than anything to feel it beneath her hands.

Pepper blinks and quickly looks away. She knows what it’s like to be eyed up and down by the opposite sex and thinks it’s a little strange that they share that in common, too. Making him uncomfortable is the last thing she wants to do but now she is not sure what to do with her eyes and finds herself staring at a tear in the fabric of the sofa instead.

Elvis coughs, and she can’t help but look up at him then. Getting caught in those endless, sparkling eyes, mere feet from her, she wonders how in the hell the world is supposed to go back to normal after tonight. How she is supposed to go back to working her multiple soul-sucking jobs, to try to forget the way he is looking at her now, like she is actually something special? That she matters enough to save her in a back alley and is worth him literally giving her the shirt off his back?

Her body betrays her, then, a huge yawn escaping her mouth of its own accord. It reminds her it has been an extraordinarily long day and that she has the monotony of another tomorrow, despite everything that has happened in the last few hours.

“I think it’s time for me to go and let you get some rest, little one,” he says quietly, that little smile of his pulling at his mouth in a way that makes her think he doesn’t want to leave but will anyway because that is the kind of man he really is—not some sex-crazed superstar locked in an ivory tower that the magazines might try and make him out to be. He stands and makes for the door.

Jumping up abruptly, Pepper follows him to the door. She is not ready for this to end. She is not ready for this to be the last time she ever sees Elvis Presley. But she is also realistic and practical. Her life is no fairy tale, nor does she need a prince to save her, as tempting as it all may seem in the moment.

“T-thank you…for earlier. As much as I’m loathe to admit it, I don’t want to think about what might have happened if you hadn’t come along,” she says quietly, feeling utterly caught in his blue-eyed gaze. “And thanks for the food, too. I’m feeling much better.”

There is a twinkle in his eye. “I’m glad I could be there for you when you needed it, Peppercorn,” he says with such kindness that she thinks she might cry.

Silence sits heavily between them and she can’t seem to tear her eyes away from his. He finally turns to go, hand on the knob, and she moves closer to hold the door, but suddenly he pauses and turns back. She nearly runs into him. This close, she can feel the heat radiating off his body and it scares her how much she craves the comfort of it.

“My show o-opens this w-week,” he says, stammering endearingly. “I’d like you to be there.”

Her heart jumps into her throat and her limbs feel tingly. “I would love to,” she gushes but then reality hits her and her face falls, “but I have to work. I-I can’t afford to lose my job. I’m so sorry.” She wants to cry, but that would be even worse than rejecting his offer. Don’t be a baby.

Pepper thinks she might imagine it, but Elvis seems defeated, too, for a split second before he smiles knowingly. “Well, we’ll see what happens, honey. The universe works in mysterious ways, don’t it?”

Cocking her head to the side, she wonders what he means by this, but she is too disappointed to try to piece it out now. She is also distracted by his bare chest rising and falling so close, the scent of him permeating her senses. The air in the room feels thick and hot, despite the whirring of the air conditioner in the window. He starts to turn again towards the door.

I don’t want him to go.

“Wait!” she shouts, a little too loudly for the proximity and he jumps a bit. “Your shirt—let me get changed real quick and I can give you back your shirt,” she rambles out, making for her bedroom.

His hand encompasses her small wrist, his firm touch branding her in such a pleasurable way that she gasps. He turns her back around to face him, bringing her closer towards him. She goes willingly, too enthralled by the nearness of him to keep her distance. She’s usually better than this, keeping a safe distance from the wiles of men, but she has never felt the pull of someone so strongly. It’s like he’s magnetized. And he’s succeeded in making her feel safe and valued in a way she’s not used to, leaving her rather defenseless against his charms.

“Don’t bother, sweetheart. It looks better on you anyway,” he says, his lips curling up into a grin that melts her heart into a pile of goo. He runs his fingers along and down the tall collar of the shirt, and the action, while innocent, sends a glorious heat into her belly.

“Oh,” is all she can manage to get out, her tongue tied into knots. She desperately doesn’t want this to end. She considers asking him to stay, but both courage and words fail her.

His eyes scan her face and then he brushes her long hair back over her shoulder. “Don’t worry, Peppercorn, I have a feeling we’ll be seeing more of each other soon,” he says, as if reading her mind, as if he doesn’t want this to end either.

She nods, as if this makes all the sense in the world. It sets her heart galloping. She feels like it is about to beat out of her body when his long finger tilts her chin up to him, and he leans in and kisses her ever-so-gently on the cheek.

Her breath catches at the feel of his soft lips on her skin. It is somehow chaste yet incredibly erotic all at the same time. As a long-neglected warmth pools between her legs, a giddiness that washes over her that makes her feel like a schoolgirl.

Elvis lingers perhaps a moment too long before pulling back. “Goodnight, honey,” he whispers, then turns and leaves.

“Goodnight, Elvis,” she manages to squeak out before he disappears into darkness.

Once he’s out of sight, Pepper closes and locks the door, befuddled and hopeful and confused all at once. Her forehead lands on the wood as she closes her eyes, trying to reconcile this whole night with some semblance of reality.

He surprised her, truly, in his ability to be so down to earth. She is astonished (though perhaps she shouldn’t be) that he seems so complex, and she can’t help feeling connected to him because of all the small ways they are unpredictably alike. There is a part of her that very much wants to believe him when he said they would see each other again, but she knows her life isn’t build on wishes and dreams. It never has been, and she doesn’t expect that will change anytime soon, despite the bizarre fact that she can still smell the lingering scent of Elvis’ cologne in her living room.

Just be glad you had any time with him at all, she tells herself to try and manage her expectations. It would take a miracle for us to cross paths again.

Suddenly exhausted, she floats through her bedtime routine in a daze. But her doubts about the future don’t stop her from sleeping in his shirt, though, savoring the lingering scent of him on her skin and in her bed. And the feel of his lips on her cheek replays in her mind over and over as she reaches into her already damp panties to relive the ache he’s left her with. It doesn’t take much to bring her over the edge—imagining his sweet, pouty lips on her and his long fingers deep inside her does the trick—before she arches up with a strangled cry, clenching around nothing but a fantasy.

Breathing hard and barely sated, she collapses into the bed, wishing she’d been bold enough to invite him in with her. Refusing to wallow in regret, she finally manages to drift off to sleep with the unrealistically hopeful thought that his knowing smile means she’ll get to see him again someday soon, just as he promised.

Era One-Shot

A/N: This one has been sitting in my drafts unfinished for quite a while. Sweet Symphony started as a special request for '68 Special era Elvis from my Get to Know Me Gala way back in March! I also included the prompt, "Do it again, please." Nothing like a good two-fer!

A professional violinist Reader gets a little more than she bargains for after rehearsal for Elvis Presley's '68 Special...

Mature 18+ || Word count: 9.2k

TW: Sexxx in various forms, fluff, cussing, dubious use of a piano

For my most patient baby, @savedrebelcreation 💗

(If you want to get stories like this early, come join my Patreon!)

GIF by seredelgi

Sweet Symphony

A ’68 Special Era Request

You’re early. Too early, in fact, but your mother always said, “If you’re on time, you’re late,” so it goes to reason that for such an important job, you find yourself clicking your heels into the rehearsal room a full hour before it’s set to start.

The only reason they allowed you in this early is that your brother-in-law, Billy, is the one in charge of this portion of the production rehearsal, arranging the music for Elvis Presley’s television special due out in December. He had been tasked, rather last minute, to take over the musical arrangements. When your sister called on Billy’s behalf, saying he desperately needed a professional violinist to fill in for the one who’d been suddenly struck with a bout of appendicitis, you were a little confused at first. Why in the world would Elvis Presley need a violinist? had been the first thought in your head, but a job is a job, and you figure a television special of this magnitude wouldn’t hurt your classical resume.

Sure, why not? you’d thought, then packed up your violin and got a ticket for the next plane out to LA. If nothing else, I’ll get some sun.

Since your plane arrived late, you made the executive decision to go straight to the studio rather than chance the traffic by checking into your hotel first. Which is how you find yourself in the near-dark rehearsal space before anyone else has even thought to arrive, violin and suitcase in tow. At least you’ll get a chance to look over the score Billy just handed you before anyone else arrives, you think, finding a chair and settling in to unpack and prepare your instrument.

So focused are you that you don’t really register the door opening and then latching closed. You figure it is just Billy, who had been frantically going over sheet music up in the booth. When the piano begins to play, softly, you nearly jump out of your skin with surprise, having been so lost in sight reading and humming your part that you were oblivious to the presence of another in the room.

“Oh my god!” you gasp in surprise, managing to knock the loose pages of the score off the music stand as your hand flies up to your chest. “Damnit,” you mutter under your breath, scurrying to pick up the pages and put them back in order.

“I’m sorry, honey, I didn’t mean to startle ya,” you hear a gentle voice drawl out from the darkness.

“Oh, no, I just wasn’t expecting anyone in here so early and I was so caught up in…” you taper off, furrowing your brow and trying to get your sheet music situated.

“Here, lemme help you with that,” the voice says, kneeling to pick up loose pages.

“Oh, thank…” your voice hitches when you look down at the man holding up more music that had fluttered away across the floor.

It’s the sparkling sapphire blue eyes that catch you first, framed in criminally long, dark lashes, blinking up at you from where he’s kneeling on the floor next to your chair. They are utterly mesmerizing in the way they search your face apologetically. Your voice dies in your suddenly dry throat, and so mesmerized are you with those eyes that it takes you much too long to take in the rest of him.

That’s when you realize that the man with the pretty eyes on his knees near your feet is the one and only Elvis Presley.

“…you. Thank you,” you manage to finish, gingerly taking the pages from his grasp.

Elvis smiles up at you so bashfully, so charmingly, that it takes your breath away.

It doesn’t hit you until this very moment that you are playing for the Elvis Presley. Between everything happening so quickly and you assuming you wouldn’t get to meet the man himself, you just hadn’t considered the magnitude of the job.

You’d just hit your teenage years when Elvis came into his stardom, the timing perfect for swooning over the Southern boy with the rebellious good looks and the completely unique sound. But your parents had been strict and conservative, opting for your upbringing to be filled with learning and playing classical music, so the only chance you’d had to listen to Elvis was when you went to your girlfriend’s house. There you could swoon over him unimpeded, but it was more vicarious than anything else. And by the time you were old enough to properly swoon to your heart’s content, you were so busy with your music degree that it hadn’t really crossed your mind to ogle over Elvis.

To be quite honest, you had become a bit of a music snob at that point, so Elvis wasn’t really on your radar, though you had been impressed by his reworked English version of O Solo Mio. His It’s Now or Never had been a massive hit, and he had amazed you with his vocal talent, which you were convinced was wasted on silly pop songs. Needless to say, Elvis and his music had been off your radar for a long, long time.

You certainly hadn’t realized the man had only gotten more attractive as time went on. Magazine pictures and even his movies (which you hadn’t cared to watch since the beginning of the decade) don’t do him justice, which is saying something since you’d never once seen the man look anything less than handsome. But those damn eyes pop against his tanned skin and raven hair, and that curved-lip smile has butterflies flying in your stomach like a schoolgirl.

“What’s your name, sweetheart?” he asks quietly, still kneeling at your feet.

“My name? Oh, um, my name is y/n,” you stammer out. You could kick yourself for how gobsmacked you sound, a grown professional woman nearly forgetting her own name in the presence of an attractive man. But the thing is he isn’t just attractive—he’s ethereal.

“Well, hello there, y/n. I’m Elvis,” he says, as if he were just some regular Joe and not one of the most famous men alive. “What do you play?” He motions to your music.

“Uh, violin. Well, and piano, but violin professionally,” you reply, unable to take your eyes off him.

His eyes light up at this. “I play piano, too,” he says, with such a little boy quality that you can’t help but smile.

“Oh?” This surprises you quite a bit since he is so synonymous with the birth of rock and roll and you’d only ever seen him with an acoustic guitar.

“Yeah, a lotta people don’t know that, but between you and me, I like playin’ piano more,” he says, with a wink. Elvis stands up from his crouch with little effort, so lithely that you equate it to a dancer. Your eyes follow up, up, up his lean frame, and you try not to notice just how well his tailored outfit fits him.

He walks back towards the piano he came from, and you blush when you catch yourself staring at his backside, like some sort of lecherous creep. Quickly turning your attention back to the pages of music in your lap, you force yourself to try and make sense of page numbers, shuffling them back into order.

“Do you know this one?” Elvis suddenly asks, shocking you by playing the opening notes of a well-known Beethoven piece.

“Yeah, I mean, yes. I do,” you respond, still stumbling over your words. “That’s Moonlight Sonata.”

“What happens after this part?” he asks, playing the beginning again. The question seems quite honest, still having that curious, young quality about it. Before you think better of it, you’re walking over to the piano.

“May I?” you say, standing near the bench. Music is your language. You’ve always been better with an instrument at your fingertips than with your words. It makes you feel bolder, so when Elvis only scoots over instead of yielding the bench, it doesn’t stop you from perching next to him.

It only takes a second for the movement to come back to you and you place your hands on the keys, letting them speak for you. You’ve done your share of teaching, so it doesn’t take but a moment to fall into that role. You just try not to think too hard on that fact that it’s Elvis Presley that you’re teaching.

He’s nodding along, eyes focused solely on your hands. So close to him, you can feel the way the music affects his body. It’s something you can relate to.

You stop yourself from speeding too far ahead in the music and pull your hands away from the keys. “Is that…do you want me to go again, or do you want to try it?” you ask.

“Do it again. Please?” he asks watching your hands with incredible focus.

You do, trying to keep it simple and without too much flourish.

“Okay, so it’s like this then?” he says after you finish, and as his long, slender fingers glide across the keys, you realize they are musician’s fingers. They may be dripping with jewels that are likely more expensive than your apartment, but they are quite perfect for the kind of instruments he plays. It strikes you he was made to do this.

You recognize then that Elvis is truly a musician and not just a performer. The way he concentrates, learning and adapting quickly as you show him more of the song, only by ear and sight, amazes you.

It's through the music that you begin to calm. Talking one musician to another is much more manageable than considering the magnitude of the person you’re speaking with. Frankly, you are completely amazed by how incredibly gentle and disarming the man is.

When the door opens again, both of you are consumed enough in the music that it doesn’t faze you much.

“Oh, hey Elvis! Just the man I needed to see. I hope y/n isn’t bothering you,” Billy says, in a teasing tone only a family member could produce.

“Hello to you, too, Billy,” you say, a bit annoyed at the interruption and at feeling put in your place as if you were still a child.

“Oh, no, not at all. She’s a great teacher,” Elvis grins, bumping your shoulder. “You two…know each other?” he then asks, his smile faltering in the slightest as he looks from you to Billy. The question is innocent enough, but the way he says it gives you pause and your heart flips.

“Since she was practically in diapers. She’s my sister-in-law,” Billy says.

“Twelve isn’t in diapers, Billy,” you scoff at him, then turn to Elvis. “He’s married to my older sister yet has never hesitated to treat me like a baby. Lucky me.”

“Aw, you know I only put up with you because you’re too talented for your own good,” Billy ribs, making to muss your hair.

You duck swiftly out of the way, bumping into Elvis in the process. “Oh, sorry!” you breath out.

Elvis just chuckles at the two of you, looking pleased as punch, though you’re not exactly sure why.

“I think what you meant to say is, ‘Thank you for dropping everything to fly across the country last minute to help me, dearest sister-in-law,’” you throw at Billy, batting your lashes.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m sure I’ll never hear the end of it. Now, skedaddle. I need to talk to Elvis,” Billy shoos you.

You suppress the urge to stomp your foot and pout, but you realize you really should act more professional than you are. Settling for a huff at Billy, you turn to Elvis. “It was nice to meet you,” you say, all the spunkiness you had towards Billy deflating into shyness the moment you look into those dark blue eyes again.

“Oh, I have no doubt we’ll be talkin’ again soon, honey, and thank you for the lesson,” Elvis drawls softly.

His words send a cascade of shivers through your limbs. You feel heady as you stand from the bench, shooting a familial glare Billy’s way, noticing the frown on his face as you do so. God, even with you being 27, Billy had the ability to make you feel like a scolded younger sister.

You force yourself not to look back as you head to your chair. Be a professional. Just because Elvis is handsome doesn’t mean he’s not the man you’re ultimately working for. Busying yourself with rearranging your music, you hear Billy usher Elvis out and up into the booth.

Well, that’s that, you think, rosining your bow, and you get to practicing.

*

You’ve been at your share of long rehearsals, but you will admit this one is both long and intense. The music Billy has arranged—this “Guitar Man” medley of some of Elvis’ songs—isn’t difficult music to play, per say, but you can now sense an underlying importance around this entire operation. Part of it is the barely held back frantic look in Billy’s eyes, and knowing him as you do, for him to be this frazzled means there’s a lot on the line. However, it’s when Elvis comes back, much later, to run through the medley with the orchestra, that you realize you can sense it in him, too. It’s well-hidden, to be sure, when the man introduces himself and shakes hands with the members of the orchestra, and you probably wouldn’t even have noticed if it weren’t for the relaxed way he’d been with you earlier in the day, but it’s an undercurrent all the same. Then, they send him into the booth to do his thing.

And, boy, does he. You’ve worked your share of Broadway musicals and operas, but you’ve never seen a man completely give himself over to the work in just a rehearsal quite the way Elvis does with this medley. It’s like he’s singing for his life. By the time it’s all through, Elvis exits the booth, dripping with sweat, exhausted but exuberant. His eyes sparkle and his body hums, some part of him tapping or jiggling or wiggling every moment, as though the music had become electricity in his veins.

You try not to stare as you slowly put away your bow, your violin, collecting your music from the black stand. You try not to, but you keep stealing glances because not only does he look enticing, but it’s also more that you connect with the feelings he seems to be having. The way the music can just take over and become something else inside you, as if you are the conduit to something much bigger than yourself. This you understand. And you’d never imagined a sensation like Elvis Presley would feel the music that way, too. Perhaps this is the secret to his massive success.

Almost all the other musicians have packed and left by now. You tell yourself you’re stalling so you can say goodnight to Billy before hailing a cab and finally checking into your hotel by midnight. You are exhausted, after a day of traveling and frenetic rehearsal, yet you are buzzing with the excitement only music seems to bring you. And you can’t help that the part of you that feels that way is being drawn towards Elvis like a magnet.

When Elvis catches your less-than-sly stare, a million-dollar smile spreads over his face and your heart flip-flops in your chest so hard it takes your breath away. Caught, you quickly and conspicuously look up and away, as though that will save the burning embarrassment on your cheeks. Suddenly, all you can think of is how fast you can get out of here, and you finish packing up like a fire has been lit under you. You scurry towards the door, hoping to escape before making a fool of yourself further.

“Hey, Miss Moonlight,” Elvis says, fingers light on your arm, stopping you before you reach the door, “whaddya say you join us back at my place for a little get together?”

The nickname would usually make you roll your eyes, but coming from him so sweetly, you balk under the attention. It distracts you so much that it takes a full second to realize that he’s just invited you to his place.

“I…uh, it’s been a long day. I-I haven’t even checked into my hotel yet,” you stammer, the excuse so unconvincing you might laugh if you weren’t so befuddled and nervous that Elvis is asking you…well, you’re not exactly sure what he’s asking you.

He quirks a perfect raven brow at you. When he steps in closer, you can feel the heat radiating off him.

“Well, I can have Joe swing you by your hotel before headin’ over, if you’d like, though there’s plenty of space at the house. We can set up a room for ya…s’probably more comfortable than a hotel,” Elvis drawls quietly in your ear.

You’ve never heard a man make a pass so naturally in your life, so much so that you almost hesitate to believe it is one. His low voice and the open suggestiveness spear straight into your core, threatening to melt you into a puddle on the spot.

In any other circumstance, you would laugh in a man’s face for suggesting such a thing. Generally shy, reserved, and cerebral, you’re certainly not the kind of woman who just spends the night at a strange man’s place. But this isn’t any other circumstance. This is Elvis Presley asking you to stay the night with him.

And maybe he does just mean it casually—a “hey, come party with us and you can sleep on the couch”—but at the moment, your body doesn’t know the difference. Your inner pragmatist begins listing off all the ways this is a terrible idea, but the only thing that cuts through the noise is the regret you know you’ll feel if you don’t accept this invitation.

“Um…well, okay. I mean, I wouldn’t want to impose, of course,” you manage to breathe back.

His lip curves up into an almost bashful smile. “Oh, Moonlight, you couldn’t be an imposition if you tried. Plus, you hafta show me how to play the rest of that piece,” he says, running a calloused fingertip down your pointer finger.

You can’t help the shudder that runs through you or the way your heart catches in your throat. “Well, how could I possibly refuse?” you finally get out.

“Fantastic! Hey, Joe, this is my new friend, y/n,” he says enthusiastically, calling over the shorter man. “She’s gonna be joining us tonight.”

Joe seems kind enough, albeit barely looks or speaks to you after the main introductions. Before you know it, you, your violin, and your suitcase are packed into the back of what you assume is a ridiculously expensive vehicle. Elvis slides in behind you, and you, now sandwiched between him and the car door, think you ought to feel apprehensive about the situation, but all your attention is fixed on how Elvis’ side is pressed up against yours. The heat radiates off him, bleeding into you, his leg bouncing so quickly that you think he might need to get out and run laps. He makes conversation, asking about how you came to be a musician and you uncharacteristically and nervously start rambling about yourself. You’ve got to give him credit for the way he nods and hums, truly seeming to listen to you even though your mouth is running almost uncontrollably.

By the time you arrive at the house, you feel as if you’ve told Elvis your life story and you abruptly shutter your mouth closed. God, I am such an idiot. Way to play it cool, y/n, you berate yourself.

Elvis kindly helps you out of the car, walking you toward the house as Joe follows with your violin and suitcase in tow. The way your heart pounds against your ribcage threatens to do you in—it’s all suddenly become very real that Elvis Presley is leading you into his house where you are going to surreptitiously spend the night. His hand is guiding you so gently at the small of your back, but the heat of it blazes through you.

Oh, get a grip! The man has probably touched thousands of women, you’re no different. You’re not special.

Realizing you’re holding your breath, you force yourself to take in air as inconspicuously as possible.

“You don’t gotta be nervous, baby,” he says, a cheeky little smile gracing those luscious lips of his.

“Sorry, I…this just isn’t where I thought I’d be at the end of this very long day,” you chuckle.

“Well, let’s make you at home then.” His smile turns reassuring and warm.

He spends the next hour getting you comfortable and fed, having the most amazing ability to relax your normally nervous nature without hardly trying. You can’t help but feel butterflies in your stomach at the way he seems to be continuously touching you—the press of his leg, an arm around your shoulders, the graze of a finger against yours—in a familiar way, even though you’ve known him less than a day. If it were anyone else, you would have leapt off the couch and run for the hills.

What surprises you the most is that you aren’t uncomfortable at all. Excited and nervous, yes. But you don’t feel preyed upon or anything of the sort. Frankly, you are trying not to get ahead of yourself about what the rest of the night might bring.

An impromptu jam session with his old bandmates has you feeling even more surreal. If someone had told you yesterday that you would get a private concert with Elvis Presley and his former band, you would have laughed at them. You find yourself unable to take your eyes off him and how he seems to get completely lost in the music, and you right along with him. His gritty baritone combined with the sensual way he tackles each song has warmth pooling in your belly. Despite the cranked-up air conditioning, you find yourself sweating and parched, especially in the moments he smiles in your direction.

You aren’t sure how much time passes, only that you feel the heady exhaustion of being up too long coupled with an uncharacteristic hungry adrenaline running through your veins. When the jam session ends, you are both disappointed and exhilarated for what might come next.

Don’t get your hopes up, you remind yourself. This night has been amazing no matter what happens next.

“Did you enjoy that, Moonlight?” he leans over and whispers in your ear. It tickles you and sends a shiver down your spine.

You nod. “Oh, yes.” It comes out more breathless than you’d like.

You feel him smile against your cheek. “Are you up for teaching me more of that sonata, honey?” he asks. It’s an innocent enough request but you can’t tell exactly what his motivations are, though for the first time in your life, you’re not sure it matters.

“Of course,” you say quietly, starting for the piano in the corner of the living space.

His warm hand catches yours, and you look back, surprised, as he shakes his head and pulls you in the opposite direction.

Your heart threatens to beat out of your ribcage as he leads you down the hall and into what you assume is his private suite. It’s not until he closes the door and you realize that you are utterly alone with him that you feel a glimmer of trepidation.

It must read on your face because he jumps in to reassure you. “Oh, honey, I just want to get to know you better, away from the rest of them. I’d never hurt you or make you do anything you didn’t want to do. Honestly, I don’t want the other guys ribbing me…they don’t go for the classical stuff,” he says quietly, looking away, and you think there might be a little pink rising on his cheeks.

His sincerity is palpable, and you certainly never expected him to be bashful about playing classical music. There’s a softness to him now, almost a shyness, that wasn’t present moments ago around all his entourage. It is like a yearning for one-on-one connection, and this part of him melts all your reservations and tugs at your heartstrings.

“Well, I do…go for the classical stuff, I mean,” you say quietly. You smile and squeeze his hand reassuringly as his deep blue eyes find yours again.

He looks giddy as he leads you to the second piano in the house, a baby grand in the far corner of the large suite. You sit down, opening the lid, and he slides in beside you. The heat of him rolls around you, the smell of his cologne and a day’s worth of sweat combining into an alluring combination that perks up your senses.

“Show me what you remember,” you say, and he starts to play, long, nimble fingers gliding gracefully over the keys. It amazes you that he committed everything you showed him earlier to memory so fast and so accurately. Something about it tightens a coil low in your belly. Unsure whether it’s your attraction to him physically or musically that has you so aroused, you swallow hard as he finishes abruptly.

You shake it off as best you can as you show him more of the movement, hoping the music might quell the buzzing in your veins. You go through it a few times, getting a little lost in the notes, as you tend to do. It only serves to stoke the fire in you when he picks up what you’ve shown him so quickly.

He finishes a phrase, and you move to show him the next, but his hand suddenly covers yours. Surprised, you look over at him to find his oceanic eyes searching your face so intimately that warmth blooms across your chest and your breath catches in the silence.

Slowly, Elvis leans over, cups your cheek gently, and kisses you. It’s almost chaste the way his incredibly soft lips press into yours and your surprise is so great that by the time you register what is happening, he is already pulling away.

His eyes open slowly, those lashes fluttering along with the fluttering in your heart and belly. Shock has you outwardly frozen but it’s as if he lit every one of your nerve endings on fire with the touch of his lips.

He must register your surprise as hesitance because his gaze changes to something akin to apologetic.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare ya. I shouldn’t’ve—”

Before he can get the rest of that sentence out, your body miraculously obeys you and you unfreeze. Boldly cupping his jaw with both hands, you pull him back to you and plant your lips on his.

It surprises both of you, and it’s a second before either of you relaxes into the kiss. This permission is all it takes, however, and then his mouth is languidly searching yours and his arms are wrapping around you to pull you close. Soft, short kisses alternate with longer more passionate ones, and you feel utterly spellbound by him, every inch of your body aware and alert to his.

Never in your life have you been kissed so well or so thoroughly. It’s as if the music in his soul must find a physical outlet, and the way he explores and opens you up to him is like him playing a new instrument. When his tongue rolls softly against your lower lip, you can’t suppress the low moan that comes out of you, causing you to open your mouth. He accepts the invitation readily, expertly, and the wet plushness of his tongue slowly begins exploring.

The warmth that sparkles and blooms across your chest travels lower still, sparking fires as it goes, until you feel your pulse throbbing between your legs. It’s nearly unbearable the way he stokes you without hardly trying. You’ve never felt so aroused so quickly or so completely.

Your eagerness is impossible to contain, your fingers buried in that luxuriously soft hair at the base of his neck, your body rolling towards his of its own accord, as if magnetized. You follow his rhythm, meeting his music with your own.

When he pulls back to trail kisses down your jaw, you are left breathless and clutching the lapels of his half-unbuttoned shirt. The nuzzle of his nose on your cheek as he finds and licks the tender spot behind your ear leaves you gasping. Pleased, he does it again and your entire body shudders.

Every inch of you yearns to be consumed by him. It’s never felt like this, not with any man you’ve been with. Those were fumbling amateurs playing one handed melodies in comparison to the symphony Elvis is invoking. While he is leading and in control, you sense as much eagerness from him as there is in you. It’s reassuring and flattering all at once.

There is an embarrassing amount of slick between your legs already, soaking the cotton of your panties and leaving you clenching your thighs together in search of friction. He must notice this as he kisses down your throat and across your décolletage because then he’s looking up at you for permission with those pink, swollen lips and dreamy bedroom eyes.

It’s unspoken, but you nod and he continues his sweet journey, one hand deftly unzipping the back of your dress while his lips follow gravity as it slips down your arms and reveals your chest. Pushing the fabric off and to your waist, his hand is then hot against your bare stomach. He hums in approval when his mouth finds the swell of your breasts that spill from your simple, beige bra.

A low whine escapes you. His apt response is to thumb your nipple to attention through the thin satin before lapping at the bud with his tongue. The result is a jolt of electricity shooting straight into your core, sending you clutching his neck and writhing against him. Expertly, he undoes the clasp in the back and abandons your bra to the floor in what must be a well-practiced motion based on the speed of it.

Goosebumps rise across your now fully exposed flesh, both from the cool air in the room and the way his fingers brush so lightly over your breasts. He seems pleased with the way your nipples stand at attention under his heated gaze. You don’t have the wherewithal to feel your usual self-consciousness; instead, the sight of his pupils blown black with arousal has you shivering with nothing but anticipation.

The combination of the way his tongue darts between his lips as he lightly pinches the hardened buds has you begging for more. “Please,” you moan and that’s all it takes before he’s lathing his tongue over and around the sensitive nubs, palming the fullness of your breasts. You can hardly stand it, how everything he does makes your body sing and want to scream his praises.

A quizzical look crosses your features though when he stops his ministrations and slides to his knees on the carpet on his side of the bench. For a second you are worried something you’ve done something to hurt or displease him, but when he beckons you towards him at the end of the bench with such arousal in his eyes it nearly knocks you over, you obey without a thought.

Elvis scoots you forward and kisses your belly, sending a new wave of tingles over you. He removes one of your low-heeled pumps and then the other, ghosting kisses along your ankles before running his large hands up the smoothness of your pantyhose, pushing your dress up with them. As if under a spell, you can’t help the way your legs fall open for him when his thumbs drag up the insides of your thighs. The little coy smirk that graces that beautiful face when he feels the damp that has soaked through to the gusset of your hose has your cheeks flushing and your lips parting.

You can’t bring yourself to be too embarrassed at how wet you are because the pleased look on his face at the discovery makes you feel like you’ve won the lottery. He pulls on the waistband, forcing you to lift your hips, before gently rolling the hose down your legs until they are off and discarded on the floor.

What you don’t expect is how he begins peppering soft kisses up your now bare calves, at the inside of your knees, and then up your inner thighs.

A swell of panic hits the farther up he goes, and you jerk up, unsure of what exactly he’s meaning to do. The men you’d been with in the past had been rather direct about the whole thing—once the clothes were off, they buried their pecker inside you and thrust above you, all with varying levels of success in getting you off as they did so.

But not a single one had kissed up your thighs and spread them open with a hungry and expectant look like the one Elvis had now.

Looking down at him, confused, you ask, “What are you doing?” in a voice that is a little too apprehensive for your liking, but you need to know.

He cocks his head at you a moment, as if trying to determine your level of seriousness. Then his eyes shine with understanding and in that low, Southern drawl of his says the downright naughtiest thing you’ve ever had a man say to you: “You ain’t never had a man take good care of your kitty before, have ya? Give her all the love and attention she deserves?” He runs a fingertip lightly over the wet cotton at your center and you shiver.

He can’t possibly mean what you think he means.

You must be gaping because he rises on his knees and catches your lips with his own before breathing, “Close that pretty mouth baby or you’re liable to catch flies up in there.”

You are speechless, unable to form words, but the question is written all over your face.

He leans back on his knees with a contemplative smile. “That sweet little kitty of yours ain’t never been eaten, has she, baby?”

Oh my god.

It’s all you can do to bite back a moan and shake your head at him.

He looks positively gleeful about this development, his shining eyes taking on a whole new level of arousal. Then he seems to notice your trepidation and reigns himself in.

“That okay with you, baby?” he asks.

You had never even considered it an option before, or that a man might like to do such a thing. Maybe he’s teasing you? Suddenly you feel very conscious of the mechanics of the act and breathlessly mumble, “You don’t…you’re sure?”

“Oh, I am.” The smile of anticipation on his face seems to echo the sentiment.

The enticing thought of that beautiful mouth of his being down there on you outweighs your uncertainty and prudishness. You nod your head. “O-Okay.”

You’ve never seen a man look so thrilled at the thought of being between your legs as Elvis Presley is. “Don’tcha worry, I’m gonna take real good care of ya,” he says comfortingly. “You just lie back and relax and let me make you feel good, honey.” Then he places a kiss just under the waistband of your panties and you let out a little sigh.

The piano bench feels slightly warm on you bare back as you lay down. Elvis, grabbing under your thighs, pulls you to the edge, and your heart resumes its pounding. You truly can’t believe any of this is about to happen and steel yourself for him to rip off your underwear and go to town.

But he doesn’t.

No, he takes his time warming you up, as if he’s trying to get you used to the idea. He kisses down one hip then trails down the panty line. You tense the closer he gets to your core but then he only ghosts a breath over it before jumping to the other leg and kisses up the crease on that side. The ticklish sensation is almost too much to bear as he works his way up to the waistband again.

You are panting by the time his mouth is grazing from your belly button downwards, pressing into the soft curls beneath the fabric. He stops just short of that forbidden little spot where your aching clit resides, and you push up on your elbows to shoot him a look.

A grin spreads over his features, his eyes narrowed like a crocodile’s and full of desire and he watches you intently as he finally places a light kiss over that sensitive little button.

The sensation is nothing like anything you’ve felt before and the whole scene has your body flaming white hot. You don’t recognize the low mewl that erupts from your lips and the only thing keeping you from throwing your head back is the way his eyes are locked on yours, as if feeding off your reaction. Then he uses his perfect nose to nuzzle into it before placing a firmer kiss there.

“Elvissss,” you whine, unable to keep from throwing your head back this time.

“You like that, baby? I barely even started,” he speaks, his hot breath puffing over the slicked core of your panties. He kisses down, down until over your entrance, where he then tongues the fabric, pressing it up and into you.

“Honey, you’ve done soaked right through,” he murmurs.

You’re not sure if he’s speaking to you or directly to your pussy. You’re not sure you care for the way you moan, the way your body shudders and writhes, suddenly starving for anything he’s willing to give.

“Lemme see how pretty she is,” he says, and God, if his filthy yet somehow sweet words aren’t stroking you in such a way that you wonder if you could come from his lilting voice alone. He pulls your underwear to the side, finally baring yourself to him, and he whistles.

“Just lovely, and all weepy for me, too,” he says, voice thick with lust now.

The anticipation has your heart racing and your fingers clawing at the wooden bench with a whimper.

“Okay, baby, I hear ya,” he murmurs kindly, then hooks his fingers in the sides of your panties and finally slides them down and off your legs. Then his hands are pushing them apart and his tongue is lightly skimming up your folds.

You gasp at the soft and silky feeling, unready even despite his preparations. When he circles your clit and then kisses it, bare this time, you are so aroused you’re afraid you might weep. But the teasing is done, and he tests you expertly. His tongue flattens and takes in the full breadth of you, licking a stripe up your pussy that sends your hips rolling.

He seems to gauge every reaction carefully, giving equal and alternating attention to every piece of you. Nipping, suckling, and kissing your swollen clit into submission and just when you think that heated coil in your belly might snap you in two, he moves down and kisses through your folds. When he laps at the arousal dripping from your tight little hole, tongues it, and then plunges it inside of you, you find yourself screaming out his name.

You can feel him smile and hum at your response, the vibrations adding entirely new sensations to the slew of new sensations you are feeling. He thumbs at your clit as he laps at your hole, and you think you might hyperventilate with how fast you’re breathing and how hot you feel.

So completely attuned to you, he pulls back and gives you a break, despite your whimpering protests. His full lips are swollen pink and slick down to his chin with you, and when his lip curls up into a knowing but almost bashful smile, you think this might be the eighth wonder of the world.

“You alright? I’m doin’ okay?” he asks, his left eyebrow quirking.

You giggle, almost drunkenly even though you’re entirely sober, because the question is so absurd but sweet of him. “Yes, yes, yes,” you say, words slurring.

“Okay, good,” he says, nodding. Then he rises on up on his knees and commands you forward with a come-hither motion so deft and quick, it has you drooling.

You are powerless to resist and push your dazed self to your elbows on the bench. He meets you halfway, kissing you deeply, lewdly letting you taste the tang of yourself on his lips. Distracted as you are by his wandering mouth, you aren’t ready for the way he slides two of those perfectly long musician’s fingers up through your silky folds and deep into your wet heat.

A shocked gasp quickly turns into a moan that he swallows with another kiss. He begins ever-so-slowly pumping those fingers into you and the rough pad of his thumb circles that sensitive bundle of nerves at the hood of your sex.

“Goddamn, you’re so perfect, so tight,” he breathes into your mouth.

You can’t stop the shiver that ripples through you. “I-It’s been a-awhile,” you pant. You can’t help but look down and watch the way he works you.

“Don’t you worry, baby. I gotchu,” he purrs, then curves his fingers just so and the pleasure that courses through you has you crying out.

Your brain is fuzzy, with only one thing on its mind. Luckily, Elvis seems to be reading it because he smiles that coy smile and returns those full lips of his to your clit.

For a moment you think you might die from the intensity of the sensations he’s procuring from you. Seems an awful lot like God gave him long fingers and a full mouth not only for music, you think. Though the way he’s playing you right now and the noises he’s coaxing out of you makes it seem like a whole different type of song he’s expert at.

The way he traces and flicks and suckles your clit, coupled with the obscene sounds coming from the way he’s fingering your pussy has you writhing on the bench and gripping his beautiful hair in your hands.

More, more, more, is the only thought left.

He hums against you with one last kiss and a wildly accurate thrust and curve of his fingers. The coil inside you explodes, then white-hot, full-body shudders violently overtake you as you silently scream and hold onto him for dear life as to not fly away into the stratosphere.

Your orgasm is utterly mind altering and earth shattering.

“Good job, lil’ girl,” Elvis coos, soothing you through the aftershocks with a lathing tongue.

You can’t think straight enough to respond, only whimpering from the empty feeling when he removes his fingers, then gasping again when he laps at the arousal pouring out of your core.

It’s all too much, and, overstimulated, you whine and clench and pull at him.

He sits up again, between your legs, looking mighty pleased with himself. “Come ‘ere, darlin’,” he says, pulling you up by your arms and sliding you onto his lap. Boneless and naked (save for the dress bunched in a ring around your waist), your legs fall open, easily straddling his hips. Your hands grip at his shirt and you bury your head into his neck, still dizzy with release.

He holds you steady. “Didja like that? Your kitty all happy and purrin’ now?” he whispers in your ear, sending a new set of shivers down your spine. All you can manage is a pleased hum and a nod. You kiss his neck, tasting salt on his tanned skin.

A soft moan escapes his lips at that. Suddenly, you become quite aware of the hardness in his slacks, pressing up near your swollen folds. The embers of your arousal have not died, and you kiss his neck again while slowly rolling your hips into his.

Groaning, he tightens his arms around you, holding you to him. You nip at the throbbing pulse point on his neck and are reminded just how talented and famous these hips of his are when he rolls them back into you in response. He’s rock hard, straining against his zipper, the tip of him bumping against your sensitive clit. You moan and find his rhythm, feeling the wetness between your thighs start to soak through the fabric of his slacks, creating a delicious friction.

Elvis pants heavily in your ear, murmuring curses and praises as he grinds into you. At this rate, you think he might come in his pants, which just won’t do. Not with the way your pussy is buzzing, and that coil is tightening again in your belly. No, you need him inside you. You need him to fill you.

You use what little returning strength you have and rise on your knees, away from his needy cock. The man actually pouts, his lower lip jutting out with a desperate little whine and it is so alluring you almost forget what you’re trying to do. You place a finger over his lips to quiet him, then set to the task of trying to undo his lavish belt and zipper.

Once he understands, he races to help, making much quicker work of the whole thing and finally his cock springs free. It’s quite long, and the deep pink tip peeking out of his silky foreskin is already shiny and weeping with precum. Of its own accord, your finger slides over his slit, circling the slick tip and spreading the wetness gathered there. He hisses. You bring your finger to your mouth, tasting the salty musk of him.

“Oh, fuck,” he breathes, his hand palming his length. He gives it a pointed tug, then another, his lips falling open as he watches you.

He’s gorgeous in every way and it’s almost intimidating the way he looks at you with such open and vulnerable lust. You can’t bring yourself hold back or tease any longer, needing desperately to give him all of you, to give him what he needs. Hovering over him, you help line him up, then slowly descend onto his cock.

You are plenty wet—he’s seen to that—but even still, the stretch of him burns. It’s been too long since a man has been inside you like this and he is much longer than you anticipated.

A quiet, “Oh, oh, oh,” is all you manage to puff out as you bob slightly up and down, taking a little bit more of him with each tiny pump. He presses gentle kisses everywhere he can reach and murmurs encouraging praises with each inch that you conquer.

By the time you settle on the hilt of him, snug in his lap, you’re both groaning. Your fingernails dig into his shoulders because you are so full of him you don’t know what to do. You’ve never been so gorged and the pressure is a little frightening.

“Snug as a bug in a rug,” he slurs happily, letting you adjust around him. “Little Elvis likes you lots and lots, baby. S’like you were made just for him.”

“Little Elvis? H-He’s not so little,” you say with wide eyes, then giggle a little, which causes you to gasp from the tightness below and how it makes you clench even harder around him.

He groans. “If ya keep doing that, he’s not gonna last very long, darlin’.”

You try to move, but in this position and after that orgasm, you feel weak and a little like he’s spearing you in two. You’re almost too full, and the angle is not quite right. You wiggle in his lap, your brow furrowed, as your arms grow tighter around his neck. A low whine escapes your throat.

He notices your distress. Petting your hair, he babytalks at you, which under other circumstances might be strange for a grown man, but it comes so naturally to him somehow it both comforts and arouses you, “Oh, shh, shh, baby, s’okay. He’s a widdle much for ya, ain’t he? Sometimes he gets too ‘cited and gets ahead of ‘imself. But he’s gonna take real good care of ya, I promise.”

And with that, he gingerly shifts sideways, leans forward, and lays you down on the plush carpet under the piano. The movement has him sliding partially out of you, giving you some relief from the bursting sensation, and you let out a breath you hadn’t known you were holding. Your body relaxes.

He looks so gorgeous above you, with his raven hair falling in his eyes and a soft, bashful smile gracing his lips. You can’t help but smile back at him.

“That better?” he asks.

You nod.

Leaning down, he nuzzles your nose, then places soft kisses on your mouth. He coaxes you back to him, the heat building between you with each deepening kiss. So focused on the rolling of his tongue against yours, you don’t even realize he’s pressing deeper into you until he’s nestled almost completely, but much more comfortably between your legs.

You sigh contentedly into his mouth. The pressure still has you feeling full, but in a delicious, silky way this time as you finally relax around him. He rolls his hips smoothly, the strokes slow and deliberate, in time with the movement of his lips. Each stroke is better than the last as your increased arousal combined with his own slickens your inner walls.

“There she is,” he moans quietly into the crook of your neck.

That feeling is back, a chant of want, want, want running through your brain as the tension and fire in your belly begin to grow once more. When he bottoms out this time, your punctuated, “Ah!” is from pleasure and not discomfort. He’s managing to hit places inside you that you didn’t know existed.

You writhe under him, starting to meet his thrusts with your own, trying as you might to find that perfect spot he keeps slipping past. If only you had the right leverage…

It comes to you once you’ve hitched your legs up around his svelte waist. You lift your hips and plant your bare feet against the grainy wooden underside of the piano, meeting his next thrust with your leveraged one. It sends him deeper, driving into that little spot just perfectly. You keen.

“Oh, goddamn,” he moans along with you.

Each thrust seems deeper than the last with your legs pressing up like this. They shake from the exertion, but it’s worth every ounce of effort for the way you feel driven into the earth by his cock. Sweat drips off his face and onto yours as he showers your body with pleasure you didn’t know existed.

He thumbs your clit, timed perfectly with the piston of his hips, and you can barely breathe at the sensation. Gasping, your entire body shudders of its own accord as you hurtle towards another release.

“I…I…I…” is all you can seem to manage as your second climax starts to crest, and he grunts with effort above you, his eyes glassy with unbridled desire.

He mutters a string sweet filth that only fuels you forward, slurring and panting, “Oh, fuck, yes…such a good yittle kitty…good girl for me…look atchu taking ‘im so deep…never been s’deep…Jesus, I can see ‘im in your belly.”

You both look at the swell of your abdomen on the next thrust and this time he holds you flush against him so you can see the tip of Little Elvis bulge out the slightest bit. The moan you let out is obscene. Holding you at the waist, he doesn’t let your hips down, instead running the palm of his hand over the protrusion while he flicks your clit furiously. Then he presses down at the same time he thrusts as hard and as deep as possible.

Your climax hits so hard and so fast that it knocks the breath out of you, leaving you gasping his name, “Elvis, Elvis, Elvis!” Flaming white stars flash behind your eyelids as you flutter and clench around his length. Molten fire spreads from your core outward. You shudder and claw at him, at the bottom of the piano, at anything that will keep you tethered to reality while the rest of you shatters into a million pieces beneath him.

“Good girl, s’good fo’me,” he praises you through it, losing himself to you as you come apart.

You feel his hips start to stutter into you again because a primal need has him beyond the point of waiting any longer. Somehow, through shivering aftershocks, you have the wherewithal to force your eyes open, even as the rest of your body goes slack. He looks like Adonis in the throes of passion, his full and swollen lips falling open. In one fell swoop, he drops your hips and pulls his considerable length from you, his knowing hand pumping his slick-covered cock with expert precision.

Watching him come is a marvel and you make yourself commit this moment to memory, knowing it will fuel your arousal for years to come. He tenses above you, those sapphire eyes fluttering closed. Shivering tension ripples over him with a choked cry and through gritted teeth. Thick and warm white ropes erupt and splatter over your torso and you moan along with him. Then his eyes pop open pointedly as he watches himself cover you with his seed. The poignant, dramatic end of a brilliant symphony.

“F-fuck,” he pants, finishing off with another shiver. Exhausted, he catches himself just before crushing you with his weight, instead pressing his sweaty brow into yours. Your hot, heavy breaths mingle as you both try to come back down to Earth. He nuzzles his nose into yours before kissing your cheeks and your mouth.

Eventually, you find your words. “That was…incredible,” you say breathlessly, with no exaggeration.

He pulls back to look at you, with a goofy, pleased grin. “I told you I’d take care of you, Moonlight. And boy oh boy, was that a neat trick with the piano there…that part of your classical trainin’?” he says, blowing a lock of hair out of his eyes.

“Putting that college degree to good use,” you say with a giggle.

His eyes go wide and then he laughs—a musical, beautiful, contagious sound—which fills your heart up in a way you don’t quite understand.

He crawls back and helps you out from under the piano. Your back is rubbed raw from the carpet, which he kisses gently with apology, but you barely feel the sting. You are too dazed and relaxed to worry about much of anything.

When he helps clean you up and pulls you into his big bed, slotting you in next to him, you want to savor every minute. How he smells delicious and masculine, how the heat of his long body envelops your own—you want to remember everything.

Exhausted, you fall fast asleep, sated and cared for, knowing that you’ll never, ever be the same.

*

taglist

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@be-my-ally @whositmcwhatsit @vintageshanny @ellie-24 @thatbanditqueen @powerofelvis @from-memphis-with-love

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[stars-n-spice]

Thoughts on S3 Ep09!

Went to Universal last week on Wednesday so I missed watching it this week, couldn't watch it until today and oh my god,,,

Ignorance really is bliss <3

It's slowly getting harder and harder to bring myself to watch the new episodes ahaha

Anyways, spoilers and my incoherent screaming under the cut!!!

So I was like a puddle on the floor the entire episode

Ventress spoke and I melted,,

I love her so much I'm so glad she's back and I hope she comes back PRETTY PLEASE

SO M COUNT WAS MIDICHLORIANS!!! I mean,, that much was obvious but we're one step closer to having answers!

Wrecker and Crosshair helping out the Pabu civilians :(

Also noticed how fucking,, big Wrecker looks compared to Crosshair,, aahhhhhaaaaa big,, big man, big guy,,

Crosshair being like, "We aren't going to hand her over" AAAAA he really is worse than Hunter,, fucking love him

Ventress just,, being able to find them so easily and get onto Pabu without anyone noticing makes me,, so nervous,, oh my god

WRECKER FOLDING HIS ARMS ACROSS HIS CHEST AFTER SEEING HUNTER AND CROSSHAIR HOLDING THE SAME POSE?!?!

WRECKER STEPPING UP AND PUTTING HIS HANDS ON OMEGA'S SHOULDERS WHEN VENTRESS MENTIONS FORCE WEILDING?!?

Wrecker just,, fucking doing ANYTHING?? I love him

Ventress is actually really tall-

tall,, tall woman

AND HER GAY ASS HAIRCUT OH MY GOD

"Clearly none of you are normal" LMAOOO

I was like,, "hey why don't they recognize her?? they were fighting in the same war???" and then Crosshair was like "I went through Tech's files" or whatever and :(((

Tech mention :((( I miss him more and more everyday

CAN WE TALK ABOUT THAT FIGHT SCENE?!?!?!

HOLY SHIT!!!!!

want that fight scene injected into my blood

SHE SLAPPED WRECKER?!?!

she kicked their asses oh my god

fuck I loved that

Meanwhile Omega's on a scavenger hunt

I felt like I was watching Karate Kid

Omega not knowing who/what she is :(( and wanting to figure it out and have answers :( MAN.

WRECKER CHEERING ON OMEGA WHILE SHE WAS TRAINING!! it was so sweet but also hilarious because it made me think of how Chopper and Zeb would MAKE FUN of Ezra while he was training (I love my space families)

Omega trying to convince them to trust Asajj,, fucking,, "I never gave up on you, didn't I?" SHUT THE FUCK UP :(((((

With every episode I love Crosshair more and more and it's fucking DAMNING as all hell because I will not be able to handle anything remotely bad happening to him at this point

fuckin,, something,,, about,,, Hunter,, on his back,,, legs spread with the,, lightsaber in his face,,, fuck,, fuck fuck

I'M TELLING YOU MAN I WAS A PUDDLE ON THE FLOOR THE ENTIRE EPISODE

WE MAYBE DIDN'T GET WET HAIR HUNTER BUT WE GOT WET HAIR ASAJJ AND I THINK THAT'S OBJECTIVELY BETTER!!!

Omega is just collecting like,, mentors/parents like Ezra,, I fucking love it,, she comes across adults who are like,, "fuck it. I'm adopting this kid" and Hunter's like "NO!"

Omega is just a teenager I love her so much - "Ventress is bad." - "Okay, but-"

WHY IS THERE ALWAYS A BIG MONSTER?!?!?!

RAAAAAAAH SO SHE IS FORCE SENSITIVE?!

look,, I feel like,, that training wasn't nearly enough to determine the right levels and honestly I'm still confused

ASAJJ YOU BETTER COME BACK

I was like begging for her to stay because I know shit is going to go down on Pabu and they could use her help :(

but also I'm selfish and want to see her more

"But I've got a few lives left" - RAAAAAAAHHH

Also Crosshair helping Omega and Asajj up onto the Maurader :((

I love Crosshair :((

The last two episodes have been relatively,,, calm? Like the calm before the storm and that makes me fucking TERRIFIED for this week's episode oh my god

[sscieloz]

lordddd i need mina so bad… in a unclassy way… no lube, no protection, all night, all day, from the kitchen floor to the toilet seat, from the dining table to the bedroom, from the bathroom sink to the shower, from the front porch to the balcony, vertically, horizontally, quadratic, exponential, logarithmic, while I gasp for air, scream and see the light, missionary, cowgirl, reverse cowgirl, doggy, backwards, sideways, upside down, on the floor, in the bed, on the couch, on a chair, being carried against the wall, outside, in a train, on a plane, in the car, on a motorcycle, the the bed of a truck, on a trampoline, in a bounce house, in the pool, bent over, in the basement, against the window, have the most toe curling, back arching, leg shaking, dick throbbing, fist clenching, ear ringing, mouth drooling, ass clenching, nose sniffling, eye watering, eye rolling, hip thrusting, earthquaking, sheet gripping, knuckles cracking, jaw dropping, hair pulling, teeth jitterbug, mind blogging, soul snatching, overstimulating, vile, sloppy,moan inducing, heart wrenching, spine tingling, back breaking, atrocious,gushy, creamy, beastly, lip biting, gravity defying, nail biting, sweaty, feet kicking, mind blowing, body shivering, orgasmic, bone breaking, world ending, black hole creating, universe destroying, devious, scrumptious, amazing, delightful, delectable, unbelievable, body numbing, bark worthy, can't walk, head nodding, soul evaporating, volcano erupting, sweat rolling, voice cracking, trembling, sheets soaked, hair drenched, flabbergasting, lip locking, skin peeling, eyelash removing, eye widening, pussy popping, nail scratching, back cuts, spectacular, brain cell desolving, hair ripping, show stopping, magnificent, unique, extraordinary, slendid, phenomenal, mouth foaming, heavenly, awakening, devils tango ever bro could cause a nuclear bomb inside me and I'd still ride.

the way it’d be cramp legs, can't walk for 5 years, don't care, still non-stop, him oiled up makes me turned on even more, screaming without s, him whimpers makes my inside giggling, in heat, everyday, till the neighbors hear us, till the neighbors can remember his name perfectly, even earthquake, thunderstorm, heavy rain, typhoon, we still keep going, broke bed, everyday buy a new bed, hole floor, gasping for air, crying, gripping his back, leave a bite marks and red marks on his neck and every spot, scratching his back, leaves a scars on his back, phenomenal, month foaming, heavenly awakening, id still bounce on it, body numbling, back worthy, hair drenced, flabbergasting, down break, whimpering our names, till the neighbors decide to move, legs spread automatically,

[godza]

which korean webnovels you should read: the elise guide. my only authority is that im very autistic over each of these things and have gotten very far into all. if you see this in the tags no you dont this is for my mutuals!!!

the starter: orv. the gateway drug of webnovels. tumblrs favorite. i cant write a better pitch than whats already been said. yes it is longer than the bible but thats rookie numbers. read if you like found family full of assholes, unreliable narrators, and plot twists youll be thinking about for days and picking your memory apart with a fine tooth comb over.

the wish fulfillment: tcf. guy accidentally adopts three children and several adults. he just wants to chill but he keeps being forced to save the world. very well written every chapter makes me giggle and kick my feet. 800+ chapters and ongoing but im fucking committed. read for a pathetic sopping wet meow meow who everybody instinctively wants to protect despite him paradoxically being weak and able to kick their asses. he takes his kids on family fieldtrips to loot and murder across several universes.

the kpop: dod. its funnier if you dont know a damn thing about kpop but is more understandable if you do. guy has to debut as a kpop idol, or die trying. title self explanatory. its balls to the walls ridiculous but simultaneously really sad. the protag suffers everyday but its funny as he does it. really realistic depictions of korean stan twitter and all internet in general. guy begrudgingly gets friends against his will but is okay with it eventually

my roman empire: sssrh. i will die out of excitement if you read this. guy kills himself 4000 times, kills someone else for revenge, and then is normal again. well not normal entirely hes still messed up from killing himself 4000 times but yknow. he is the nicest little guy ever and gets many friends after never having any. he also gets a husband (wife) who he loves so much its known everywhere. he tries to give lesbian god therapy, and makes all his enemies like him eventually because he keeps resurrecting them. except for the guy he killed himself a million times to kill he makes him dance perpetually and work in a cafe. the comic is also fantastic it has recently adapted the part where [my mouth is covered because i will talk about it for hours] at its core the message is humans need connections to be stable and it says a fuck ton of stuff about family i want to elaborate on but my brain is too jumbled. read it read it read it ill stab myself out of joy if you do

[harrywavycurly]

Can we get an update on pregnant reader and Eddie?

Hiii babes!! So I am working on an update that’s actually another request so in the meantime I thought maybe I’d give you some random conversations. I hope that’s okay??😬💖

-friendly reminder in this series Eddie is a boy dad✨

*Eddie knows you’re pregnant but he doesn’t know much else…also this mentions Chrissy because in this universe everyone is alive lol*

“You like the color black?” “Yeah it goes with everything and it’s just easy.” “It’s easy? It’s a color princess not a math test.” “It’s just an easy color to find things in like when people try to get you a gift or whatever it’s always easy to find stuff in black.” “I’ve never thought of it like that…” “what’s yours?” “I like black but I also like red.” “How very metal of you Eddie.” “That’s me. Totally metal.” “Well Mr. Heavy Metal can you hand me that pack of onesies so I can wash them.”

“Did you really just ask me that in the middle of the frozen section of the mini mart?” “I mean…no time like the present right?” “Eddie…” “what? I just..I just realized I like doing things like this…with you and I know we kinda are on this crazy journey right now but I just needed to know where you’re mind is…about…us.” “I mean you’re offering to help me raise my baby so…I kinda thought you were my boyfriend at the very least.” “Really? Thank god I was terrified you were about to drop the best friend line on me.” “Best friends know more about each other than we do. So yeah you’re my boyfriend…if that’s okay?” “Hell yeah that’s okay baby.” “Now what kind of frozen pizza do you want?” “Whatever my girlfriend wants is fine with me.” “You’re kind of annoying has anyone ever told you that?” “Everyday since I was three.”

“Hey sweetheart do you drink coffee?” “Yeah I just can’t right now.” “How do you take it?” “My coffee? Just cream and sugar and I do like to dabble in holiday flavors when they are out.” “Please tell me you’re not a pumpkin spice girl…” “says the man who goes crazy for anything gingerbread flavored.” “Gingerbread is delicious.” “So is an iced pumpkin spice latte.” “Moving on…do you drink tea?” “Yes herbal teas are my favorite. I drink peppermint when I’m nauseous.” “Just by itself or do you add shit to it?” “Well peppermint I drink plain but like the ginger lemon one I add honey.” “Honey…ginger lemon…got it.” “Are you writing all this down?” “Yeah.” “Why?” “So one day when you ask me for coffee or tea i know exactly how you like it…why are you crying?” “You’re so fucking cute Eddie Munson.”

“So you loved her? Or was it just a crush?” “Uhh just a crush I think…never acted on it so not sure…Chrissy was nice though she was never mean to me like her asshole boyfriend was.” “That’s good I’d hate to have to kick her ass.” “What about you? Anyone I need to beat up?” “Uh…I can think of one….” “did uh did you two date or was it like a uhm…one night type thing?” “he was an on and off type thing but he decided to cut all ties when he found out I was pregnant.” “Shit I’m sorry sweetheart. He’s clearly the world’s biggest idiot for letting you go.” “Thanks Eddie.” “I’ll gladly kick his ass for you baby just point him out and his ass is grass.” “Hopefully I won’t ever see him again but yeah…I’ll point him out for you.” “You know I’d never make you do all this alone right?” “What if…what if this get to be too much for you? I wouldn’t blame you for leaving.” “Let me make it clear for you okay? Even if one day we decide we aren’t good for each other and break up or whatever…I will still be apart of his life, I will make sure he knows he’s loved…now I may not be the best role model but I’ll at least be there for him to look up to.” “Why do you always make me cry? It’s fucking rude.”

[tiredatiny]

—Concrete jungle where dreams are made of…

Pairing: Lee Taeyong x male reader

Genre: enemies to lovers, gang au, slowburnish, angst

Warnings: a lot of cursing, gangs, fighting, arguments, guns, mentions of insomnia(?), death, abusive parent, mommy issues, nightmares, hallucinations, lowkey toxic masculinity, crying, unhealthy coping mechanism, accidental overdosing attempt but not really, quick mention of suicide

Summary: Taeyong has been trying to get help to defeat the newly formed gang but no one seems to be willing to help him.. except Chinatown’s most powerful gang’s leader.

Ah the bustling city of New York. Full of life and adventures. Some of the people living there will have a peaceful day and some of them will have the police chasing after them.

“Shit shit shit! Run faster, they’re gonna catch us!!”

“I’m trying!”

The two young men ran and ran until they reached a familiar bar. Quickly they swung the door open and hid inside the gloomy pub. The police didn’t come into the bar, they probably didn’t want to cause a scene. Both of them exhaled in relief but instantly stiffened when they heard a voice behind them.

“The cops? Really?”

It was you.

“Y/N hi uumm we can explain.” They both stood up in shame as they kept their eyes on the floor. “Just… don’t let it happen again”, you muttered and left the two men stand there confused. They expected nagging and an angry Y/N but you didn’t even yell a single insult at them.

You made your way to the back of the bar ready to get some peace. Today had been kicking you in the ass, to put it nicely, and all you wanted to do was spend some time alone with absolutely no distractions. An impossible request.

Not even five minutes later you found yourself face to face with your least favorite person in the whole world, Lee Taeyong. It felt like the universe had stopped everything it was doing because of the way everyone’s eyes were fixated on you two. Well it wasn’t everyday that you could see your rival gang’s leader standing on your doorstep.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” You snarled between your teeth. The way he was standing, breathing- literally everything about him was disgusting. “I need to talk to you privately”, Taeyong answered.

Someone stepped between the two of you: “no way in hell Taeyong.” You stayed silent for a moment waiting for something to happen, maybe the leader would threaten or maybe even beg but no. “It’s okay Kun, let him talk”, you decided to give Taeyong a chance, “but you’ll say whatever it is you need to say right here. No private chit chat, you understand?”

“We need to team up. You and me toge-“

“Absolutely not.” To think that he was actually suggesting such an idea. “Y/N you need to understand that we have to do th-“

“There’s no we”, you cut him off again.

“Let me finish my sentence for fucks sake!”

You let out an exaggerated sigh. God this conversation was giving you a headache.

“The gangs from east have gotten together and are trying to get new territory”, Taeyong explained rather seriously. You had heard about the happenings of east but until now hadn’t seen any issues with it. “And how exactly does that affect me?” you questioned. “New territory aka Chinatown. They’re coming for you and then possibly me as well. I can’t risk it.. for my sake of course”, he mumbled the last part but you were able to catch it.

“You don’t want to do this- hell I don’t want to team up either but you have to understand that-“

“Fine.”

Everyone inside the bar was shocked to hear you agree to Taeyong’s request. Not only did you never get together with another gangs but you also never ever would work with your number one enemy.

“But this is only for my benefit, remember that Lee Taeyong.”

You later ended up regretting saying yes to the other because now your apartment was full of gang members, both yours and Taeyong’s. But why in your apartment? Simple, your apartment was in Chinatown. And Chinatown would be the first victim of east’s gang. Or at least that’s what Taeyong had reasoned before stuffing his gang into your already cramped apartment. He had also mentioned something about how keeping your enemies close was a good thing because of the saying, but honestly you had paid zero attention to him so you weren’t a hundred percent sure.

“Y’know I could really get used to this.. I mean 18 guys in one apartment”, one of your members Yangyang joked. You gave him a warning look and the poor guy’s smile instantly dropped with a quiet ‘sorry’.

“Everyone listen up!” You tried getting everyone’s attention but nobody seemed to even notice you.. well nobody except Taeyong. That cocky little bastard yelled a bit louder and like magic everyone got quiet. You showed him the middle finger before speaking up: “since we have so many people right now, we have to split into two groups to be able to live.”

You had thought earlier about the current situation and remembered that Kun had a very much bigger apartment right next to Chinatown. “So about 7 people will stay here at my place and the other 11 will be staying at Kun’s house. Understood?”

Taeyong got up from the couch with an irritated expression. It seemed like he had some complaints. “Y/N we didn’t talk about this-“

“I don’t think we need to.”

Something in Taeyong’s brain snapped. I don’t think we need to. Are you stupid or something? You can’t just make decisions on your own and expect people to follow them just like that. You’re not the only one leading the group, you know that right. “You wanna get beat up or what?” He threatened with a rage-filled voice. The dry chuckle that left your mouth made the male see red. He grabbed you by your collar while yelling incoherent insults. Neither of the leaders’ gang’s members dared to interrupt whatever the two of you were doing, in fear of starting a fight.

Before Taeyong could throw a punch, which he had been waiting to do for some time now, you pulled a gun at him. “If I were you Taeyong, I’d watch my next words very carefully.” 

“You won’t shoot me”, he replied cockily, a smirk evident on his face. Of course you weren’t going to shoot him, you weren’t an idiot. You tilted Taeyong’s head with the gun and let out a defeated sigh. “You’re right, I won’t”, you admitted with a fond smile and punched him in the face with the revolver. 

-

After the events of today, neither one of you spoke to each other. And that’s maybe a good thing because if you did, another fight could possibly happen again.

Despite the fact that the apartment was full of people, it was quiet. Too quiet actually. Did the others already go to sleep? You carefully opened the door and saw that your prediction was right. Your eyes landed on a sleeping Taeyong and- oh god how stupid he looked. Snoring and turning around on the sofa without a worry in the world. 

You closed the door and sat down on your bed, maybe it was time for you too to go to sleep for.. how many hours exactly? You glanced at the clock that was hung up on your wall. The pointers showed 2:50. When you realised that you were going to get a maximum of 5 hours of sleep, you rushly wrapped yourself in a blanket and tried to fall asleep. 

The rising sun was shining to your room through the poorly put up grey curtains. You grunted at the feeling of getting blinded by the sun and turned to your other side. You thought putting the blanket over your head would fix everything and take you to the dreamland you had hoped to go to for 3 hours now. Your restless night had started strong, you were dozing off every now and then and even managed to fall asleep for half an hour. But then you started overthinking things, what if Taeyong woke up before you and decided to harm you. Maybe he was going to punch you as revenge from earlier... Maybe he was..

You don’t know when you fell asleep or how, but you were woken up several hours later by someone with the attitude of a chihuahua.  

“I didn’t really think you were much of a sleeper, but guess I was deeply wrong.”

You raised your head from the comfort of the pillow looking around, still half-asleep and confused about the fact that who was talking to you.

“Damn Y/N, you look like shit.” 

Oh now you definitely knew who was speaking. You quickly got up while ignoring Taeyong and his snarky little comments. It was way too early to start anything with him. After brushing your teeth and getting some decent breakfast you were ready to officially start your day. 

“So did you sleep well?” You heard the question behind you. Your member and a close friend Chittaphon- or better known as Ten sat down next to you. “Okay”, you answered quickly as if you wanted to avoid the inquiry. “Stop lying you little fucker. Have you seen yourself and those eyebags?” the male hit you on the head gently with a scolding tone. 

Little did you know that Taeyong had been eavesdropping on your and Ten’s little chat from around the corner. He was just about to join the conversation but was stopped by you, more specifically your laugh. He was too stunned to even move. The Y/N he knew never laughed or had fun. 

“But seriously if those nightmares have made a comeback, tell me.” Gosh Ten was such a kind soul, you still had no idea how he ended up in a gang. “What are you gonna do? Scare them away or something?” you laughed just thinking about it.

The sweet moment between you and Ten was sadly cut short by a phone call. “Sorry it’s Kun I have to take it”, you murmured apologetically before answering. 

Something wasn’t right. It was quiet, not even a single “hello” could be heard. “Kun you there?” You couldn’t help but get worried. It was silent another ten seconds before he answered: “they found us.” Then the call ended. 

Maybe it was your expression that gave it away but Ten somehow also knew that whatever Kun had said was bad. “Call Renjun and Xiaojun and meet us at Kun’s place”, you ordered without thinking much. You then turned to face Taeyong, who had finally had the courage to join you in the living room, “You’re coming with me.” And for the first time ever Taeyong listened to you. 

-

You ran with thousands of thoughts racing through your mind. What if it was too late? What if someone was hurt? What if- 

“Are you listening??” Taeyong’s question brought you back to reality. “No, not really”, you answered truthfully, it was getting hard to even focus on what the other was saying. Before Taeyong could open his mouth to reply with some sort of rude comment, you both heard a loud gunshot. 

It was like something in you exploded, like you suddenly had no control over anything that was happening. The male next to you saw the clear stress in your eyes, but decided to not say anything. 

Your body started moving without realising and soon you found yourself at a building’s stairway. Only now did you realise that Taeyong was not in fact with you. But you knew to not worry about him, he was used to these kinds of situations and could handle them without help. 

Your breath stiffened when hearing footsteps approach your current hiding place. You held the gun- or specifically  The Smith & Wesson Model 27 revolver, ready to shoot the person. 

You knew they were close, close enough to shoot, you even saw their dark figure right in front of you. It’s now or never, you thought and aimed at the enemy’s head. But when you heard the bullet hit nothing, you knew something was deeply wrong. Your assumption was proven correct after turning around and being met with the familiar feeling of getting shot in the shoulder. 

The piercing pain distracted you enough to let the person escape. You let out a quiet grunt while holding onto your wound and continued moving upwards, towards Kun’s apartment. 

“What the fuck happened to you?” The sudden question made you jump and turn around, the gun now aimed at the speaker. “Woah woah it’s just me”, Taeyong put his hands up and took a few steps back, just to be safe. 

“What does it look like?” you started climbing up the stairs, careful of not being spotted by any of the enemies. Taeyong followed just behind you, also being extremely cautious.

It was silent between the two of you. Just heavy breathing and distant gunshots could be heard. “Does it hurt much?” Taeyong finally broke the quiet bubble ,“the shoulder I mean..” You scoffed at him, “are you worried about me or something? Focus on yourself.”

When you made it to the apartment, you both saw Kun and Renjun fighting with the enemy. You quickly shot one of them in the chest and the other one was down as fast as the first, thanks to Taeyong.

“Where’s Ten?” You asked as soon as your and Renjun’s eyes met. Since those two had come here together, surely he knew about the male’s whereabouts. Renjun thought about it for a moment, “he’s probably somewhere safe.” The much shorter male kind of dodged the question, afraid to say that, he had actually no idea where Ten was.

You nodded slowly, trying to think of what to say. “Make sure that there’s no more of those people” ,you motioned towards the two bodies lying on the floor “but.. if things get bad, we leave okay? Don’t want any one of us dead.” After instructing Kun and Renjun, you turned to face Taeyong, who had been standing next to you awkwardly for some time now. “You can do whatever you want, just don’t get in my way”, you murmured the sentence coldly before leaving the three males alone.

While moving around the building, the feeling of something terrible happening kept you wanting to see your friend alive and well. You had to remind yourself multiple times that Ten knew how to fight, he knew to not fuck things up. You reached the fifth floor and automatically knew someone was there with you, hiding somewhere so you couldn’t see them. You were ready to shoot whatever moved, you didn’t want to risk getting hurt again.

Slowly moving forward, you made your way through the hallway. You heard someone run down the stairs and turned towards the sound instinctively. When the familiar face made its appearance, you let out a sigh of pure relief. It was no other than Ten.

At the heat of the moment, you totally forgot about the possible enemy that was with you. “What happened to your shoulder?” Ten asked while pointing at his own shoulder, “you need Chenle to patch you up when we get back?”

“Yeah absolutely, it hurts like hell” you forced a crooked smile “but I’ll manage for the time being.” Ten smiled back at you and for a moment, it was peaceful. It’s always calm before the storm.

“Y/N, there’s-!”

A loud bang sound was heard, followed by a thud. The male that had stood in front of you a second ago was now on the floor. Your brain took a moment to process everything that was happening… there was blood. There was so much blood. And Ten was bleeding badly.

You were in panic, to say simply. With your shaky hands and unsteady breathing, it was hard to do anything to help your friend. “You- you’re,” you tried to force words out of your mouth, “gonna.. be okay.” You felt Ten’s breathing get fainter every passing second, and it was driving you insane. You sniffled quietly, tears threatening to spill from your eyes.

No matter how hard you put pressure on his wound, the blood just dirtied your hands into crimson color. You wanted Ten to say something, to say that he was going to be fine.

But it was already too late. He was gone.

You started shaking the body with sobbed pleases, he wasn’t dead, he couldn’t. When you didn’t get any response from Ten, you knew he wasn’t coming back. Loud, ugly crying filled the empty void that was the hallway. “You piece of shit had- had to die huh!?” You cried out while holding onto the other like he was going to disappear into thin air, if you let go.

Hopeless, you felt so hopeless. You couldn’t do anything but wet Ten’s shirt with your tears. All critical thinking was thrown out the window a long time ago, you didn’t know who shot him, you didn’t know if you were going to be dead next. Honestly, you couldn’t care less at that point.

You had no idea how long you laid there, on the floor with Ten. But when his body started getting cold, you knew deep down that it was time to leave. Yet you didn’t want to go, not yet. But when hearing someone call out your name, you had to get up. With a long breath in and out, you tried to get the composure back that you had lost before. You took one last painful look at your friend and with that you left the fifth floor. 

“There you are-” Xiaojun’s expression changed drastically after seeing the state you were in. With bloodshot eyes, your face red and puffy, the male knew that you had cried. “Did something happen? Are you hurt?” You tried answering his questions, but a sudden wave of coldness, followed by dizziness, totally overwhelmed you.  

The shoulder. You had been shot. How could have you forgotten about that?? You knew what was happening, you had lost a lot of blood. “Xiao..”, you took a few groggy steps towards the other. Before you could continue your sentence, an army of black dots covered your sight of vision, and just like that, you were out.

-

An old house in the middle of nowhere. You knew where you were, you were home. Calling a place like this a home, wasn’t something you were proud of, but it was all you got. 

Walking on the pathway, that once was nothing more than grass, felt safe for some reason. The door of the house was open and you stepped inside. You knew that you shouldn’t be here- no, you didn’t want to be here. But as long as mother wasn’t home, it was safe. 

You looked at your own reflection through a broken mirror, mother had thrown a plate at it once. You made your way to your own room and sat down on the bed. It was silent, it was better that way. 

“Y/N.. mother’s home..” 

Whenever mother came back from work, it was best to stay out of the way. You had learned it the hard way. So you quickly hid inside your closet, just like you did as a child.

“I heard you cry, love.” Mother was near, you could hear her footsteps outside the closet. “Why are you crying Y/N?” You held your breath and tried to be as invisible as possible. 

The door opened and there she stood. Mother asked the same question again, yet you couldn’t answer. “Come out of the closet please, you shouldn’t be hiding.” You didn’t have time to react, mother was already pulling you out by your hair, even if it hurt, you couldn’t scream. 

“You killed Ten, didn’t you Y/N? Is that why you’re crying?” You looked up from the dirty floor and saw mother sobbing. You instantly tried defending yourself, but got kicked in the stomach as a punishment for talking back. “Now everyone’s going to think that I love a son, who’s a murderer!” Mother threw things at you, some hit and some didn’t.

You flinched when her soft hand caressed your bloody cheek. “You could’ve saved him” mother whispered, “he would be alive, if you didn’t do what you always do.” With a kiss on the forehead, mother stood up and said her final words before leaving: “I still love you, even if you’re a murderer.”

-

You woke up covered in cold sweat. Did you have a nightmare? You took shaky breaths in and out while trying to figure out where you were. You saw a clock and could feel the pillow against your head, you were laying on your own bed. But you couldn’t stay here, you needed to get some water and maybe even fresh air. 

You quietly opened the door and started making your way towards the bathroom. You took note of the people sleeping in the living room, there were more than you had thought, maybe all the members from Kun’s apartment came here. When the door to the bathroom closed, another door opened. 

Taeyong had woken up earlier to you shuffling and talking in your sleep. He was just about to shake you awake, but stopped when you suddenly opened your eyes. He got scared so bad that he almost let out a quiet scream. You didn’t see him though, maybe that’s a good thing.

He listened as you walked through the apartment and when hearing the sound of a door opening and closing, Taeyong carefully stepped outside the room, trying to figure out where you went. Not like he really cared or anything, it’s just that Chenle made him watch after you. When you had passed out and carried back to your place, at first you weren’t waking up at all and when you finally did after two hours, you managed to fall asleep- or maybe the medicine that Chenle gave you put you asleep. 

Either way, Taeyong was put in charge of you for the time being. Chenle or Kun would have done that in a heartbeat, but they both had something to take care of. After the fight back at Kun’s place, Ten had gone missing. They had gone looking for him and that’s why Taeyong ended up being your babysitter. 

You had locked the bathroom door, just in case. Watching your own reflection through the dirty mirror, you saw how much of a mess you truly were. Messy hair and dark eyebags made your face look very unpleasant, to put it nicely. You noticed something in the background of your reflection and for a split second  you were a hundred percent sure it was Ten. 

You slid down to the bathroom floor with a soft sob. Ten is dead.. Ten is dead.. you tried to calm yourself down with those words but as expected, it didn’t help at all. The walls were closing in and it felt impossible to breathe, you thought you were dying. Nightmares that once were just dreams, had become a reality for you and it’s hard to escape nightmares when you’re wide awake.

There had to be something for this kind of condition, some type of pill that would make you calm down. You reached for the cabinet and a bunch of bottles dropped to the floor. Reading them in somewhat of a hurry, you ended up grabbing pain killers and swallowing seven pills.  

“Y/N.. uumm you in there?” 

Someone knocked on the door, it was so loud. “Stop banging on the door...”, you said more to yourself than the stranger on the other side. You finally stepped out of the bathroom and a chill ran down your spine when realising the stranger was Taeyong. “I’m going to”, you took a quick look at the state of the bathroom and then turned back to face the male, “take a q-quick walk.” You didn’t wait for an answer. 

Taeyong stood beside you, while you struggled putting your shoes on. “You really should stay here” he whispered just as you were about to leave. “I mean, Chenle and Kun will kill me if they found out, I let you go for a walk. And you could get sick and get the bulletwound infected-” You scoffed at him and opened the door, “no need to lie. You don’t care about me.” 

“Yeah.. I guess you’re right.” Taeyong weakly forced a smile on his face and when you slammed the door close, he muttered something before going back to bed. 

The fresh air hit your pale face and the sounds of New York calmed you down a bit. You didn’t know where you were going, you just wanted somewhere far away. 

-

“Where the fuck is Y/N??” 

Taeyong was shaken awake by two unrecognisable people, his eyes tried to focus on their faces, but the temptation of falling asleep again was making it hard. The leader heard the same question again, he had no idea what they were talking about, you were there with him, sleeping on your own bed- oh wait you weren’t. “Why’s he not here?” The two men, who Taeyong now recognised as Renjun and Chenle, let out a sigh “That’s what we’re asking, you idiot.” 

Taeyong thought about the last night, he had woken up at around 4 AM to something and had gone back to sleep- no, there had to have happened something more. He tried rewinding the memories from earlier and this time he remembered you. More specifically, he remembered you leaving to go for a.. walk? 

“He.. Y/N went to get some fresh air” Taeyong recalled, “but he didn’t come back?” 

-

For three days, Taeyong looked for you for three days. The guilt he was feeling couldn’t be described with words, it was something else. Letting you go just like that when earlier, you had been through hell. The first and worst thought that crossed Taeyong’s brain was that, you had committed suicide. That’s why he had been trying to find you like crazy. And maybe that’s why it felt like a miracle, when seeing you alive and well. 

He hesitated to approach you at first. You looked so.. peaceful, he didn’t want to ruin that. Watching you just exist, the view of the Manhattan bridge slowly disappeared. It was just you and him. 

“We were really worried about you y’know.” You looked up and saw Taeyong stand next to you, it was obvious that he was feeling awkward. You hummed in response, not really knowing what to say. “You said, you were only going for a walk”, the other didn’t even dare to look at you, just watch the scenery in front of him. It was silent for a while. “Do you think I’m a coward, Taeyong?” The sudden question made Taeyong look at you in confusion. “No, no absolutely not-” 

“I’ve been acting like a fucking coward.” Your voice was shaky, “a-and I just ran away because I’m a stupid piece of shit who can’t take a-any responsibility!” You didn’t want to cry, not in front of Taeyong. Still the salty tears spilled from your eyes like a waterfall. 

You felt a pair of arms wrap around your body, it felt good. “W-what are you doing?” You tried to not sound weak, but the sniffling made it oh so hard. Taeyong thought about an answer for a moment, “comforting, I guess..?” You nodded, accepting the safety he was giving. 

You two had stayed like that until you had calmed down. It was getting cold and you started making your way back home, without talking about what happened on the bridge. 

As you were about to open the door to your apartment, you turned to Taeyong. 

“I think I like you, but I don’t know if I can love you.” 

[meandmypagancrew]

I did not know Jeremy Jordan originated a role in newsies, I just knew him as varian from tangled... huh, you learn new things everyday

He was the original Jack Kelly in the stage show and there is a proshot on Disney+ starring him that you can watch any time. My family personally watches it every Labor Day.

Also, if you’ve seen the movie The Greatest Showman, despite not having a role in the film he was vital to getting the film greenlit, a story you can watch him tell here and while he may not be P.T. Barnum, from the way you see his storytelling abilities kick in there, I personally think he’s the actual greatest showman.

Also, funny kind of, another thing he did is he was the original Clyde Barrow in Bonnie and Clyde on Broadway, and then in the past few years or so they decided they wanted to transfer B&C to the West End and so they did a test concert, kind of like with Death Note, and Jeremy came over to be their Clyde, but the original Bonnie couldn’t come (long ass story but she’s kind of blacklisted from theatre because she lied about getting vaccinated for Covid) so they had to recast the role and they cast Frances Mayli McCann to be the Bonnie to his Clyde - who then went on to be the original West End Misa, so at least in that universe, Light and Misa went down together to the end.