#BDE just coming off in waves

[thornescratch]

Beru Whitesun: Baddest bitch in the entire galaxy and don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.

#BDE just coming off in waves #Beru Whitesun #Owen Lars #Kenobi show #Kenobi spoilers #Obi Wan Kenobi #Star Wars

[mahg-stuff]

Hi. Can I request a big daddy elvis (late 70s) in which he and female reader are having an argument and he says something really mean so she heads into the bedroom and cries. He goes into the bedroom to apologize and then make out. Smut, detailed if you can and also some aftercare. Thanks

Tysm for the request! Enjoy it lovee! ♡

Kiss'n make it better

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Word count: 6.4k (quick) Summary: Bde grows stuffy as he witnesses you playing a card game with the guys, but not only that, you are in your delicate bed attire while you do it. Pairing: (1976)bd!elvis x afab!reader Warnings: 18+!, smut, p in v, elvis finally fully takes the reader, cherry cream pie (if you know what I mean...), kissing whilst bodily fluids are present on the mouth, tasting of bodily fluids, playing around with spit?oral fixation?, mention of elvis’ medications/pill use & dr. nick (im sorry), elvis’ standards for his women, toxicity, once again elvis being volatile, use of the word daddy, & of course fluff + baby talk!!

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AN: Hello there! I was off and on while writing this since I was eager to let it out soon bc I felt I’d left the anon hanging for too long so, certain areas may seem rushed/lack context but I did my best with the details! I hope it’s not a bother, but overall I enjoyed writing this little piece. Anywho, my dear anon I hope you are pleased with this! And to the rest of you loves, enjoy! ♡ (keep the requests coming!!😚)

- pls excuse any errors, your girl got tired half way through cleaning it up 🥹💋

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Elvis was, as of now, getting his day-by-day measurements of meds from Dr. Nick within the master bathroom in his room. In the meantime, you held up in his bed, twiddling your thumbs as you waited, you both had just woken up. He would always make sure to do it in a different room, given that you had eventually told him that you didn't enjoy seeing everything they put in him. When you witnessed firsthand how much his body had to ingest, you expressed your concern, but he waved you off, saying everything was always under control.

At some point, you stopped showing concern upfront to him because it had resulted in the first argument between the two of you, however, you'd unconsciously always be pinching away at your arm's flesh as you worried about him. You were still relatively new to his lifestyle, but you were gradually adapting.

Things were taking quite a while, so you began wandering around his room. You'd only been together for a few months now, so you were still trying to settle in. Elvis asked you to move in right away, and you soon found out he didn't like being left alone. As you moved around the room, you were still in your night slip. It was a look that he found especially appealing. You tip-toed barefoot to the door, peeking outside, and then back over to the closed bathroom door in the bedroom. 

You heard them mumbling inside and decided, Why not go downstairs? 

Making your entrance to the living room and taking in more glances of the house you hadn't paid much attention to before, your eyes shot up towards the voices in the kitchen. As you peered into the kitchen, you saw two of his guys sitting there chatting with some cards in their hands. They took notice of your presence and glanced over at you, their eyes lingering on your attire. Going quite unnoticed by you. 

One clears his throat.

"Hey there, y/n, ya need anythin'?" 

You shrug, not really knowing what you need or want, but feeling a bit restless. 

"No, just bored waiting on El," you reply absentmindedly. 

One of the guys chuckles and nudges the other, whispering something to him. You catch a snippet of their conversation and wonder if they're talking about you.

"What's so funny?" you ask, tilting your head in confusion. 

The guys exchange glances before one of them speaks up, struggling to find the right words. 

"Oh, nothin', just...you know...we were just talkin' 'bout how...um...how fashionable you look today." 

You give them a skeptical look, not fully convinced by their compliment. 

"Really? They're just my pajamas, the first thing I found in the closet last night," you admit with a sheepish shrug as you look down at your delicate garments. 

They both burst into laughter, causing you to giggle along. The guys exchange knowing glances, struggling to contain their amusement at your naivety. Being new in Elvis' life and feeling a bit clueless around the guys sometimes—I mean, you'd never been surrounded by so many men before, so it was uncommon for you to catch their brash ways.

 

One of the guys begins talking, "Since you're bored, why don't ya join us? We're playin’ a card game." 

You happily agree and take a seat at the table. They explain the rules to you as one of them shuffles the deck of cards. The game soon progresses, and the guys bring out their competitive sides, teasing each other and making playful taunts. Even though they might’ve been acting a little abruptly, it was clear that they were enjoying themselves. Amidst the banter, one of the guys turns to you with a mischievous grin. 

"Hey, watch out, I wouldn't want ya to get too confused with all these cards. It might be a bit too much for a girl to handle," he says snarkily. 

You titter and shake your head, clearly letting the comment go over and past your head. 

"I can handle." 

You say it humbly.

***

Elvis, grumbling his way downstairs to look where you'd wandered off, stops at the bottom of the stairway as he hears his precious girl's laughter from the kitchen. He stalks quietly towards the doorframe of the kitchen, there he sees you sitting pretty with his men. He scans your body until he gets to your bare, wriggling sooties that are dangled just above the ground in the chair. Elvis clenches his fists, feeling his irritation rise at the sight of you playing with the guys.

As he watches, he can't help but notice the unkempt yet alluring exterior you possess. Your tousled hair and streaked makeup from the night before only seem to enhance your beauty, giving you a tempting appeal that could captivate those around you. He had set certain expectations for you, and seeing you in this compromising situation with the guys confirms that you were not fulfilling them. He storms in, his footsteps echoing through the room as he confronts the scene before him. 

"Darlin', you know bedder than to be gallivantin' 'round in your night attire with these fellas." He narrows his eyes, his southern accent thickening as he speaks.

Your head quickly turned to that familiar gruff voice, his appearance matching the roughness in his tone. There he stood, portly and only in a silk robe, a region of dark hair trailing down his navel from the open slit and his luscious sideburns framing his face. His noir hair, slightly disheveled from a restless night, completed the picture of a man who demanded attentiveness. As you caught his gaze, you could see a mix of disappointment and fret in his eyes. You instinctively straightened up, feeling a twinge of shame creeping into your conscience for some reason as you looked down at your attire and then back at him. 

"Well, I thought it'd be okay. I mean, I do live here now. Shouldn't I be comfortable, El?" You voiced cunningly, not purposefully trying to provoke him but unable to resist the urge to justify yourself. 

But there was an inimitable standard he held you to, one that required impeccability and grace. 

"Goddammit!" He started. 

"No man's woman should be 'round men in such whorey showin' garments. 'Specially not mah women!" 

You blinked in surprise, taken aback by his strong reaction. The atmosphere in the room suddenly grew tense, and you could feel the weight of his disapproval pressing down on you. 

His pride was unexpected for you. 

As you searched for words to respond, his intense gaze never wavered, making you feel insecure and exposed. 

"W-Well, the guys think otherwise!" You spoke aloud as your throat tightened. Well, at least you thought they didn't find your attire whorey—a word Elvis had introduced to you when he saw an outfit you picked out while shopping with him. 

Elvis glared over at them, and they both quickly stood up from their positions, some cards falling off the table as they did so. 

"That right?" 

"N-No Ep, 'course not." They stood there longer than they should have. 

"The hell y'all still doin' standin' here, for?! Go on an' do sumn then." Elvis spoke sternly as he pointed, his robe falling more open with his motion. 

The guys hastily scampered away, not wanting to further incur Elvis' anger. You look at Elvis, noticing his neglected appearance and glazed eyes. Nervous, you place your cards down, your eyebrows puckering in disarray. 

"What was that, Elvis?" you ask softly, but your voice is filled with slight perplexity. 

"They didn't do anything." You squeaked. 

"Didn't do anyhtin'." He scoffed under his breath. He shook his head and met your gaze again. 

"Matter uh fact, the hell were you thinkin' wonderin' off?" His words were a bit slurred. 

"Know all yur attention should be on me, 'n only me." Elvis' words hung in the air, heavy with a mix of fury and vulnerability. 

You could sense an ache behind his harsh tone, and it struck a chord within you. 

"Elvis." You delicately said his name, the concern evident in your voice.

But before you could continue, he raised his voice again, his drooping eyes glaring. 

"Kept mah eyes off ya for just uh moment, den I find you playin' bimbo wit' 'em fellas." 

Your heart sank as Elvis' words echoed in the room. 

This wasn't your Elvis. 

Your bottom lip quivered as you stood up from your seat, covering your face with one hand as you moved to leave the room. 

"The hell are ya goin'." He says this as he tries to stop you, but you pull away forcefully and hastily walk upstairs. 

Elvis hears your faint sniffle from the hallway, followed by the sound of a door slamming shut. He paced around, mumbling words to himself as he held his forehead, trying to make sense of what just happened. 

It was clear that his head wasn't in the right place. 

***

As Elvis continued to pace, he barely grasps the impact of his words and considers the hurt he may have caused. 

"Baby," he muffles to himself as he looks around. 

He rubs his eyes and begins to walk towards the staircase. 

"Baby." He muffled again, as if he were whispering a plea into the empty space. 

He reaches the top step and hesitates, unsure of whether to knock on the closed bedroom door or barge right in. 

"B-Baby, a-a-ah wannas come in," he says gently in his gruff voice. 

"W-Wanna come in." Elvis stands in front of the door, his voice quivering with desperation. 

His babyish tone reveals the depth of his regret. Your ears perk up on the other side of the door, straining to catch every word. You can sense the turmoil in his voice, the vulnerability, and the longing.

It's a side of him you were weak for, and it tugs at your heartstrings.

Slowly, you rise from the bed, your footsteps barely audible as you make your way to the door. With a shaken hand, you turn the knob and open the door, revealing Elvis standing there, his eyes filled with a mix of hope and fear. He takes in your appearance—your tear stained cheeks, red, fuzzy nose, and the slight puffiness of your eyes. His face softens with concern, and without a word, he pulls you into a tight embrace. Your face buried into his exposed, hairy, warm torso through the opening of his robe. 

Feverishly, he brings his large palms up to either side of your face and pulls your face upwards. Taking in your babyfaced features. Your damp lashes flutter as you meet his gaze. 

"A-Ah made my little 'un cry." he mumbles as he grazes the pad of his thumb under your eye. 

"Y-Ya know ah ain't meant what I said back dere," he continues, his voice filled with veracity. 

"M-My temper… mah words came out wrong. A-Ah, wudnit wha I meant—", he trails off just before he wavers off, trying to focus his eyesight all of a sudden. 

As his eyelids droop, a gentle sigh escapes his lips. You can see the drowsiness etched across his weathered face, the lines deepening in the dim light of the room. 

It always tortured you when you saw him like this. 

You noticed it was one of the many effects the pills had on him, before starting him up, they'd slow him down first. 

Even with his abrupt weariness, you recognize that sincerity in his voice and the sorryness in his slumped eyes. You reached out and took his wrist, wrapping your fingers around it, offering a silent reassurance that you understood what he was trying to get out. 

You cared deeply for him, so forgiving him always came in a hurry for you.

***

As you both stood there, the grogginess began to fade, and his eyes soon became more and more focused. He took a deep breath, his chest rising and falling with each inhale and exhale. He gave your cheek a gentle squeeze. His gaze lingered on your face as he continued to graze his thumb gently on your cheek. 

"Let me m-make it up t-ta mah sweet girl, hmm." He says it so softly with that drawl of his.

As you listen to his soft voice, filled with tenderness and warmth, it becomes evident that he was speaking to you with the same affection one would reserve for a baby. One of his traits you had gotten used to and valued thoroughly. Your cheeks fill with warmth. He holds you by the waist, turning you over, and fully enters the bedroom with you. Shutting the door, he then leads you to the bed, helping you sit down on the edge. Elvis sits down beside you, and you feel the bed sink from his weight. 

He turns your face over to him, and he places a hand on your cheek. He begins caressing your face ever so lightly, as if you were made of spun glass. 

"Kiss'n make it better." He mumbles pouty-lippedly as his thumb runs over your lips. 

You stare into his hollow eyes, nodding, as he begins to push his thumb into your small mouth. Politely opening your mouth for him, the taste of his skin lingers on your tongue as his thumb explores the contours of your mouth. You both hold each other's gaze, and you lightly suckle on it, watching his eyes light up at your action. He gently brings his thumb out, a string of saliva dribbling down your lip. Elvis smudges your saliva all around your soft pout, making your lips appear glossy, then brings his thumb up to his lips to suck off your slobber. As you both continue your intimate encounter, the air around you seems to grow heavier. His fingers then work their way down your torso, tracing your dainty body. With a famished mutter, he slides his hand beneath your slip, teasingly grazing over your soft, small chest, giving one of your nipples a tug. You can't help but whimper at his action.

And want grows between you, feeling a surge of heat run from your face down to your toes. 

"C'mere, let ol’ daddy kiss ya," he leans in, capturing your lips in a fervent, persistent kiss. 

The taste of him fills your palate as he slips his tongue inside your pretty mouth. You find yourself feeling fuzzy in the rush of the moment, willingly giving into his actions. His large hands begin gripping your small waist, pulling you closer as he deepens the kiss. His supple kisses had always been tender and gentle, but this one was different. It left you almost breathless. His touch was heavy, and you found yourself slipping in the heat of the moment. Your slip rises upwards at his action, revealing the pair of tiny matching ruffled shorts. 

He breaks the kiss for a moment, his pillowy lips glistening. His eyes lock onto yours—a look of want. Elvis' hefty hand goes down to your upper thigh, and he grazes the fabric of your shorts. 

"Take 'em off, 'ittle." He rasps quietly, the bass of his voice sending shivers down your spine. 

Your breath hitches with a half-laugh. "Kay." You gently get off the bed and look over at him as he keenly stares at you with his still-glazed-over eyes. 

A look you may never get used to. 

You began pulling down at the hem of your waistband until the fabric hit the ground, being completely bare underneath. 

While the length of your slip fell just enough to cover your most delicate parts, he whispered, "Lemme see her." 

His voice is playful as he motions for you to come closer.

You take a step toward him. He reaches out and gently tugs at your hip, his thumb rubbing your hipbone, sending a muzzy feeling to your belly. With his other hand, he reaches over to the hem of the fabric, pulling it up—he throbs between his legs.

From his view, he could see all of you. Your narrow hips and thighs and the smallest patch of curls that covered your pussy. The little crease in the middle—so sweet, you were puffy, and sticky just from his kisses. You looked over at his garb—his robe now fully undone from all his movement, also nothing underneath. You took in as the section of his body hair went from his pudgy chest to his soft belly, which hung just barely over his waistline, and then turned into thick curls at his mound. His corpulent and hard, leaky cock presently standing tall just for you against his paunch. You gazed at the ridge of his pretty, purplish, rosy tip weep as it peeked from his foreskin.

Suddenly, you jolted as you felt his thumb at your swollen clit, a splotchy pink filling your cheeks. His touch was gentle yet firm, his fingers perfectly caressing your sensitive nub. You couldn't help but whimper, the lovely sound escaping your pursed lips as your hips instinctively bucked against his digit. 

"Ain't nothin' more purdy than seein' you all pink 'n warmed up. Could spend all day thumbin' away at that ‘dorable clit uh yours." He babbled as he applied more pressure and quickened the pace of his movements. 

Making you even more rosy. 

You could feel the heat building between your legs, the ache for release becoming almost unbearable. Every swipe of his thumb seemed to bring you closer to the edge, pushing you towards the brink of ecstasy. Your back began to arch as you leaned into his touch, but just as you were almost there, he pulled his thumb away. You let out a frustrated whimper, desperately wanting him to continue, then you went to cup yourself until he swiftly stopped you. 

"Dun cha get greedy on me now," he whispered, his voice coated with directness and a hint of humor. 

You couldn't help but pout, your need for satisfaction overwhelmed your senses. You ached. He had never stopped on the brink of your release like this before. His hand left your trembling body, resulting in you feeling empty and yearning for more. You watched as he brought his thumb to his lips, tasting the remnants of your sweet desire, a sly smile playing on his lips. The rosiness in your cheeks seems to grow darker with his action.

"Ah can't have ya fallin' apart jus yet," he murmured, his voice low. 

You looked at him doe-eyed as you clamped your legs, standing there. 

"Little 'un." Elvis whispered as he reached out for a hand. 

"Idenit time for ya to blossom," he continued as he pulled you closer, his warm breath hitting your cheek. "'ittle flower of yours needs ta bloom." Elvis gave you a nod as he spoke and guided you. 

"Bloom," you repeated as you held his strong gaze, and he began helping you lay on the bed. 

"Mhm, correct baby." He cooed as he helped you lie down. 

When you finally understood what he had said, your heart seemed to race. Staring up at the mirror above you on the ceiling, you took in as you laid delicately on his silk bedding. You began recalling the past nights and days of glancing up at yourself while Elvis rutted against your tummy when he cuddled you until he came, or when he'd only do little more than barely let the tip of his cock pierce your tiny hole—but never more than that. 

Now, he indicated that he wanted to take things further. You were both a little afraid and excited by it. Even so, you were genuinely more willing than ever. It made you rub your legs together thinking about it. You would constantly pester him for more, but he would tell you that it wasn't the right moment and that he knew when it would be. Thinking of his words from earlier, you thought maybe this would be his way of making it better after he'd lashed out. Maybe, he wanted to make it up to you by fully fulfilling your needs. You beamed at the thought.

Lost in your little mind, you were interrupted as you felt the bed sink next to you.

There he lay, still in his loose, silky garb, fully open, his hairy manliness laying solid against his belly while his balls were perfectly nestled below his shaft. You looked over at him as he began lying on his side to face you. His jawline was soft and his cheeks full, adding to the suppleness of his overall appearance. His overgrown sideburns adding to his rugged allure. The word ‘mesmerizing’ repeating in your head.

"Rest on yur side f'me, baby." You began turning over for him, but before you could, he stopped you—he saw the mild unease in your eyes. 

His hand cradled the side of your cheek as your eyes stared into his. However, he couldn't help but smile, thinking your muddled face looked adorable. 

"Hers dudden needs to be afraid." He whispered softly and patted your head now. 

With each light pat on your head, his warmth enveloped you, making you feel comforted in his presence. You smiled back at him softly, it sort of surprised you when he caught it. 

"H-Her knows." You whispered back in the same way he spoke to you. 

It was really rubbing off on you, for sure.

He leaned in, placed a gentle kiss on your cheek, and then motioned for you to rest on your side. Such a baby, you thought as you gave his chubby face one last glance. As you shifted onto your side, he scooted in closer, so he was spooning you, his round stomach pressing into you. You felt the hardness of his length up against your lower back, feeling the warmth radiating off as it throbbed against the thin fabric of your slip. You couldn't deny the growing ache between your legs, yearning for his touch and for him to take control. 

Elvis began lifting the hem of your garment, exposing your bare, pretty, round backside to him. His hand rested on the curve of your hip, his touch both firm and gentle. A shiver ran down your spine as his palm traced delicate patterns on your skin, sending those funny feelings through your body. You felt him move your leg a bit, so your pussy lips were peeking out between your thighs from his view. You felt him pulsing along your rear now, slick already forming at your petals. You couldn't help but arch your back, offering yourself to him completely. You heard him snicker behind you, bringing a blush to your cheeks. Elvis grabbed his thick shaft in one hand and brought it between your thighs, your slick and his precum mixing into one as he rubbed the ridge of his cock along your lips. 

Eagerly, you try to slide down, so his tip pushes up towards your entrance. 

"Careful, too big for yuh to take so fast," he warns as you bare down on his leaky tip. 

You move back unconsciously, and the head of cock grazes at your swollen clit causing you to shudder. 

Trying again, you huff, "Won't fit." 

Elvis is quite amused by this, and he tittered as he leaned into your neck for a quick peck. 

You feel his warm breath against your skin as he whispers, "Baby, needa take time t'stretch ya out properly." 

He trails his fingers along your inner thighs, teasingly rubbing circles on your sensitive heat. Your body reacts, flushing with chills and impatience. You can feel yourself clenching at nothing. Elvis raises the leg you weren’t resting on with his other arm, and you blush at how vulnerable you seem in the pose. He moves the hand he was massaging you with toward your mouth. You understood what he meant, of course. Carefully, you used your hand to hold the back of his large one as you carefully spit into it. You watch as Elvis gruffly giggles at your compliance as you gaze up at the mirror, his eyes peeking over you as he watches his hand lower back down.

Bringing his hand back down to your throbbing core, now slick with both your juices and saliva. His fingers glide along your folds, applying just the right amount of pressure to make you gasp. As his thumb brushes against your clit, a shudder runs through your body, aching for more. You arch your back, silently begging for his touch to become more demanding, more intense. His finger begins to pry at your snug cunt, slipping inside with ease from all your wetness. You feel him begin to inch a second finger inside of you, stretching you further and filling you completely. The sensation is overwhelming, his fingers deeper than you were used to. He would only nag at your hole in the past. You whimper as he starts to move his fingers in and out—a slow and deliberate rhythm. Your hips instinctively press down on his hand, seeking more friction and more of his lengthy fingers. You can't help but squeal, the sound escaping your lips as he curls his fingers inside you, hitting a sweet spot that makes your whole body shiver. You try closing your legs, but he still holds one up. He feels your leg shift and hears your cute squeal. Elvis lets go, letting your leg rest down, with a snicker as he looks over at you with a mischievous grin. Soothing his palm up and down against your thigh, he leaned to kiss your upper arm. 

"Ya kay, 'ittle?" he whispered in his southern drawl. 

You nod, unable to form words, as the sensations overwhelm you. 

Slowly, he removes his fingers from inside you, leaving you aching for more. But before you have a chance to say anything, Elvis is already positioning himself between your legs from behind. He catches a glimpse of your sweet little gaping hole that was dripping with want. He begins rubbing the ridge of his cock along your pussy, you feel his chest vibrate behind you from a low groan. His tip begins to ease in as he coos in your ear slowly. Without delay, he plunges inside you halfway, his lip curling at your tightness. You wail as he bucks his hips further, and you try to get away due to the harsh feeling of the big stretch. He carefully moves the arm he was resting on to go under your waist to hold you from your firm stomach as he hitches up the rest of your babydoll. Pulling you towards him, his gut pressing into you more. 

Taking a glance at your clenched fists and shut eyes, he grumbles, "S'okay baby, breathe." 

You gulp down and gasp, "'S't-too much." 

"Needa bit more little 'un." He croons and brings his empty hand to swipe at your clit from the front in order to break you in with more ease. 

With a final buck of his hips, he fills your sweet cunt completely, taking him all in. You cry out at the forceful pinch, your hand gripping at his hand that held you from your tummy. Elvis grunts loudly when you clench at his cock. 

"M-Mah god, baby, let loose f'me. You'll break me off wit' all tha squeezin'." He blurts out, his voice strained with pleasure and urgency.

Your body trembles against his, and he continues to swipe at your tender nub, wanting to bring any type of pleasure to you right now. Elvis glanced up at your face, a tear dribbling down from the corner of yours. He leaned in, kissing it away. Gently opening your glossy eyes, you look up towards the mirror, taking in the way you were both at last bound. His robe was still hanging loosely on his body, and his hair was tousled as he pressed his face into your nape. As you gripped him with your hand, you felt him grab hold of it and start pulling it down to your heat. Placing it between your thighs, where you and him connected, you traced his weighty balls over with your small hand. Indicating he was practically balls deep inside your dear little hole. 

"Yuh feel him inside ya." He whispered airily into your nape, the bass of his voice rumbling against your back. 

You blushed at his words, feeling a mixture of shyness and alertness. You nodded, unable to find the words to respond, as you focused on the sensation of him filling you completely. His hand remained on yours, guiding your movements as you continued to explore the intimate connection between your bodies. Your digits now covered by both yours and his fluids. Elvis let his hand loose and moved it over to your waist, both of his arms now holding you in a spoon position. As the initial sting began to fade and pleasure took its place, you began moving, slowly your movements against him became more confident. Each motion became braver as desire continued to build between you both. Your whimpers got louder, and you felt the hairs on your nape stand as you heard a little huff come from Elvis behind you. His grip on your waist tightens slightly, his breath warm against your skin as he buries his face into the crook of your neck. Pulling himself out slightly and then bucking into you again, causing you to let out a high-pitched moan as you experienced the overwhelming sensation for the first time. A dance of pain and pleasure intertwined within you. You were sure a trickle of blood had stained the satin sheets beneath you both as you felt the warm wetness building between you two. You were too busy taking in the feeling of his hardness inside you, he noticed as he peeked up at the mirror and saw you lying there with your small mouth gaping and your hand buried between your thighs where he had left it. 

"Touch yuh'self sweetheart." He grunted into your ear as he strained himself from moving his hips too harshly, his grip on your waist still firmly in his arms.

You complied, your fingers danced over your sensitive folds, slick with arousal, and maybe more, until they found your swollen clit. As you began to rub circles around it, your moans grew louder and more dire, echoing through the room. The mirror gave you a clear view of your own flushed face, your eyes filled with desire and vulnerability. The way he watched you, his dark eyes smoldering with lust, only fueled the fire burning within you. Every movement caused the robe to sway gently, revealing hints of his luscious curves beneath. As your fingers continued their rhythmic dance upon your clit, you couldn't help but imagine his hands—those strong and skilled hands—taking over. The thought of his touch, his fingers tracing the same patterns you were now creating, made your toes wriggle. Your breath hitched as you quivered as the warm, fuzzy feeling in your lower abdomen became more and more unbearable. His thrusts became more vigorous, matching the intensity building within you. The room was filled with the symphony of your moans mingling with his low grunts. As he maintained his relentless pace, you surrendered yourself completely to what your body was feeling. The tension in your body coiled tighter and tighter until, finally, with one strong thrust, you unraveled into a state of euphoria on his cock. Your body trembled with sheer bliss as he continued to move inside you, he watched as your pretty face contorted and your blush deepened. 

"O-Oh god." You whined loudly, tightening around him, and the throbbing of his girthy cock became even more pronounced. 

His grip on your hips tightened as he thrust into you with renewed vigor, looking for his own release. Each movement sent shockwaves of pleasure through your body, making you moan prettily but uncontrollably. He glared over at you, bringing one hand up to grasp your jaw, his thumb once again finding its way into your mouth.

"N-Not so loud baby. Ain't want no 'un else hearin' ya gone like this, only me." He spoke between each heavy breath, sounding imposing. 

You nodded, unable to say any words. 

His thumb pressed against your tongue, silencing your moans as he continued to pound into you relentlessly. The room was filled with the sound of skin pushing against skin, blending with your muffled cries of pleasure. You felt your ears grow hotter as his grunts turned into gruff whines, it made you wonder how such a man could make such pretty sounds. He pressed into you harder, the suppleness of his hair-filled belly now squished into your lower back. Elvis' grip on you toughens under you, his fingers digging into the skin of your tummy as he pulls you closer, seeking an even deeper connection. His other hand now filled with your drool. Watching as his lip was now curled, you couldn't tear your gaze away from his beautiful expression slipping into that o-face of his through the mirror. With one final thrust, he let out a garish whine, emptying himself inside of your now-tamed pussy, filling you completely with his essence. You couldn't help but muffle a sob and bite down on his thumb as you felt his scorching seed paint your walls. 

He was still so far buried inside you as he let out heavy sighs. Elvis slowly began to withdraw his upper body from you, looking down at the slight space between his belly and your back, shifting his hips slowly to pull out, the base of his cock streaked with your pure blood. He paused as he felt your tongue pushing at his thumb and looked over, your eyes were watery. 

He withdrew his large hand, you turned your head over to him, the position putting a little discomfort on your neck as he was still spooning you. You were in awe of his blushed face and matted, lush hair sticking to his forehead from all his sweat. Bringing the hand you still held between your thighs over to hold the side of his face, your eyes widened as you focused on the redness of your blood on your digits, which had now smudged a bit on his cheek. Elvis took in your expression and glanced over at your small hand against his cheek, he snickered. Grabbing ahold of it, he brought it over to his mouth, giving it a soft kiss and even a subtle lick. Your purity now smudged along his soft lips. 

"A fine 'ittle flower 'as bloomed," he mumbled as he leaned his face into you. 

Your heart raced as his lips pushed against yours gently. The taste of his kiss, a mixture of your blood and his own essence, sent warmth down your spine. He steadily pulled away, enjoying the fact that your lips were stained right along with his. 

It left you brain-scattered and your hind eyes in a fuzzy state.

You were brought back when you felt him pulling his practically flaccid cock out of you. You winced as a dull ache shot through your body. Quickly sensing soreness, but a satisfied, weak smile tugged at the corners of your lips, knowing he'd finally gone completely with you. You stiffened as the warmth of his spew slowly oozed out of your snug, bruised hole. 

Elvis' view was a delight, he thought, watching as the scarlet milky mess glazed your puffed-up pussy lips, running down your inner thigh. Slumbering on your back now, your babydoll still pushed up but remained covering your small chest. 

But before you could turn to fully face him, you panicked as he stood up from the bed abruptly. 

"E-Elvis," you sputtered out, even reaching your hand out for him. 

He ignored your plea as he hurriedly walked towards the bathroom. His footsteps echoed in the silence, and you suddenly felt anxious. Moments later, he emerged with a damp towel in his hand. As he approached you, he saw the look on your face as you laid on your back. 

"Hey, what's wit' da worried eyes baby," he asked gently while gently leaning over at you. 

You still felt the pang of fret in your chest as Elvis leaned over you, his concern evident in his eyes. 

"I-I just got scared. Thought you w-were leaving," you admitted, your voice shaky. 

Elvis' expression softened, and he reached out to brush a strand of hair off your face. 

"Aww, don' worry, sweetheart. Am here now, ain't goin' anywhere," he reassured you, his voice smooth and reassuring in his drawl. 

His touch was comforting, and you felt yourself relax under his calm presence. 

As his hand lingered on your cheek, he spoke again. "Ah's needs ta clean my little girl now, kay." 

You nodded as Elvis stood in front of you while you lay splayed on the bed. He softly lifted your legs and began to gently wipe away the sticky residue, his touch sending shivers down your spine. His sunken eyes met yours briefly, a glimmer of tenderness, before he focused back on cleaning you up. You flinched as he swiped at your tender bud, and he couldn't help but grin. Finishing up, he tossed the used rag aside. Elvis had always been thorough in his caretaking when it came to you. As he gently began tugging your delicate top down to cover you, he paused and scrunched it up, revealing your small, supple chest and your soft pink meek nipples. 

Leaning down to give both of your petite mounds delicate kisses, "Almost forgot 'bout 'em sweet lil' things," he muffled as he kissed your warm skin. 

You found yourself giggling as you ran a hand through his tousled-up hair. One of the things he had made you become—a giggler. 

He stood back up and fixed your babydoll fully now as he smiled at you.

"All done, my little 'un," he whispered softly, his voice filled with pride and adoration. 

Collapsing beside you, his hand tenderly stroked your hair, whispering, "We'll get tha rest uh us cleaned up later." 

He then continued as you moved over to fully face him, his robe now imperfectly tied. "Needa hold ya darlin’, ah know how emotional you puny things can be after experiencin' this kinda thing." 

You snuggled closer to him with a giggle, feeling a sense of warmth and comfort in his embrace. The tubbiness of him being all the more cozy. As you both basked in each other, you felt the palm of his hand smooth down at your lower abdomen. 

"Yuh sore?" His voice held that babyish tone. 

"Bits," you mumbled as your cheek rested against him, feeling the rise and fall of his chest with each breath. 

His hand continued to caress your belly, his touch gentle. “Love her lots,” he suddenly blurted and leaned in to give your forehead a kiss. 

You gazed up at him, leaning in to kiss the fullness between his neck and chin. “Loves daddy lots too,” you whispered as you followed up with another kiss before you snuggled into him again. 

• Master List

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Glimmers of Dawn

AN: This is a belated birthday present for one of my favourite people @ellie-24. I have been promising her a BDE fic for months and this is the beginning of one at least? As our guy once said: "I hope you like it. It doesn't make much difference."

“This is crazy! Are you sure we’re allowed?” 

Steve rolled his eyes at her like he did this every day, like it was nothing. But if it was nothing, he would not have suggested it. 

_______________________________________________________

Aurora had been sliding on her denim jacket at the bar, ready to go home to Johnny Carson and the dried out meatloaf that her mother had been cooking when she had ducked home after work to change. She had already given in to Joanne’s plea to stay for another round and that had left her with nothing but a numb butt from sitting perched on the bar stool while she watched her friend flirt with the tall, shaggy-haired guy at the pool table. Now the guy was draped over Jo’s back as she giggled and lined up a shot, pretending to miscue so that he could ‘correct’ her. 

Aurora gave Jo a little wave to get her attention over the heavy rock playing over the tinny speakers and then thumbed towards the door, making the phone and time gestures to let her know she would call her later. 

“You’re not leaving so soon?” asked one of the other guys playing pool. He was tall too, and broad shouldered but athletic looking with it and had a mustache to go with this long brown hair. 

“Yeah, it’s getting late and I got things to do in the morning,” Aurora said apologetically. “It was nice meeting you though… Steve, wasn’t it?” 

“I can’t talk you into one last, teeny tiny drink?” She paused, considering. The thought of the meatloaf wasn’t exactly appetizing and it wouldn’t be the first time she showed up on a Sunday morning to take her grandmother to church on a whisper of sleep. She relented, but then the bartender reminded Steve that he had called last orders ten minutes ago and no amount of wheedling or good natured threats could change his mind. 

“Forget it, man!” called the guy who was currently taking a break from inspecting Jo’s tonsils. “Let’s just go up to the house.” 

“Naw, you sure? The Boss-”

“Won’t even know anything about it. He ain’t come down in three days, man, in more ways ‘n’ one.” 

Aurora frowned questioningly at Joanne, who shrugged back as the two men worked it out, and suddenly they were leaving the bar. 

“So, where exactly are we going?” Aurora asked, as she and Steve followed Jo and Dave, his name turned out to be, into the parking lot. She could feel Steve nervously eyeing her as they watched Dave sling his arm casually around Jo’s shoulders and stick his tongue in her ear. She had already prepared a sharp elbow in the ribs in case Steve got the same idea. 

“Uh, the place where I work has a pool room and a bar.” 

“You work in a bar?” She was trying to figure out why he was being so cagey. Wondering if maybe he was embarrassed, but that didn’t make sense if he was going to take her there. 

“No, it ain’t… It ain’t a bar.” 

Even as she was climbing past the folded seat into the back of Dave’s Datsun, Aurora was having second thoughts. The cool night air had cleared her buzzing head and chased off the last of the energy powering her limbs after a full day of work. She started preparing her speech for when they got to where they were going, so she could call a cab and head home, with or without Joanne. 

‘Look, it’s nothing personal’, she would say. ‘I just had a really long day.’

And then the Datsun turned right on the highway at the gates of Graceland.

“What are you-?!” Aurora gripped the headrest of the driver’s seat in front. “Are you kidding? God, I don't have time for this.” 

Fooling around and trying to break into Elvis Presley’s house was for kids and tourists. If these guys thought it was going to impress her, she would be glad to correct them. 

The gates opened. 

“Are you sure we’re allowed?” she asked again, staring at the  lights ahead and trying not to catch the eyes of the smattering of people standing outside the gates even at this hour.

Someone was sure to realise that they were not supposed to be there and they would be stopped. She wondered if the security guards really did have guns like the stories said. All sorts of crazies probably wanted to try and hurt a huge star like Elvis; there could be FBI snipers in the trees. 

“It’s okay,” Steve said finally, though his tight jaw didn’t exactly make him seem convincing.

The way that Dave shushed Joanne when she was laughing and squealing with excitement about seeing inside Elvis’ house also didn’t fill Aurora with a huge amount of confidence. 

It seemed deathly quiet and still as they went in the back. Aurora thought there should have been music, maybe ‘Hound Dog’ playing on a jukebox like they were stepping into one of his movies. Her aunt Phyllis would be green with envy that she was there. 

The guys crowded them in so it was hard to see exactly where ‘there’ was. Muted lighting, stairs, a lot of wood, and then a… a tent? 

“So, where's Elvis?!” Joanne asked, as they took in the busy pleated material sweeping out from the ceiling and draping down the walls surrounding the pool table. 

It made Aurora feel like she was trapped in her bed covers. She took in a strangled breath to reassure herself that she still could. Meanwhile, Joanne bent at the waist to check under the pool table- God, how much had she had to drink?!- as if Elvis could be lying in wait under there. 

“You think he'd sing ‘Don't be Cruel’ for me? That was my favorite when I was little.”

“He's probably sick of singing it,” Aurora told her, grabbing Jo's arm and shoving her sideways onto a sofa before she broke something and the King of Rock ‘n’ Roll had them in court for millions of dollars. 

Their secret out in the open, the guys seemed eager to tell them about their jobs and all the dangers and intrigue it entailed. It wasn’t all fetching and carrying, they assured the girls, there were some real bad guys out there who wanted to get a shot at Elvis and they were the reason that these bad motherfuckers had never got their shot. 

“You know a head honcho of the FBI said Elvis has better protection than the President,” Dave remarked, just before he potted the cue ball and swore under his breath. 

“Yeah? You ever meet the President?” Joanne asked, rolling her eyes at Aurora behind her hands. 

“No… No, the Boss did, though, more than one.” 

“Must’ve been when you weren’t on duty,” Joanne murmured. “Seriously, where is he, your boss? Isn’t he home? He’s gotta be home if you’re here, right?” 

“He likes to relax upstairs after he gets back from a tour,” Dave mumbled, racking up the pool table. “Things can get pretty intense.”

“I bet,” Joanne giggled. “All those mamas and grannies throwing their girdles at him.”

“Jo!” Aurora elbowed her and flashed an apologetic smile at the two guys.. “Sorry, a little beer on an empty stomach goes straight to her head. Can we maybe get some water?” 

The guys exchanged looks again, and Steve sighed and shrugged, glancing up at a camera with a little red light on it that Aurora hadn’t noticed before. 

“Sure, no problem. Follow me.” Aurora nodded and smiled, glancing back over her shoulder to watch Dave drop down into her space beside Joanne on the sofa. 

“I’m sorry about Jo. She just gets over excited, she doesn’t mean nothing by it.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Steve replied as they climbed the stairs. “You hungry? They can make pretty much anything you want in the kitchen.” 

Aurora followed him into a sleek, modern kitchen, all patterns and walnut. It was like walking around a maze. She had no idea where she had come from, nor where she was going, but she was vibrating with amazement that she had finally made it inside the house on the hill. 

The next time she drove past on the way to the mall she would be able to imagine what was going on inside. She could think of about fifteen customers at the salon whose toes would curl with jealousy when she told them. 

There were two ladies in the kitchen, their pale matching uniforms, the only plain, unpatterned material Aurora had seen in the house so far, were stark against their skin. Aurora could feel her cheeks burning, waiting for them to point out that she shouldn’t be there and call security, but they barely paid her any mind. 

Imagine having people whose job it was to just sit in your kitchen waiting for you to want a snack at one am! Aurora did catch one of the ladies glancing at her, her face unreadable, but her thoughts not impossible to imagine. She knew she was out of place, there but for the grace of Steve in her cut off jean shorts and her thrift store spaghetti strap blouse, staring starry-eyed at the glimmering glass or maybe crystal in the glass-fronted cupboards as sizzling sounds started coming from the stove. She could feel herself getting smaller, tucking in her edges and minding her manners, making less of herself so that she would be less of a blight. 

“Well, what do we have here?” 

The voice was soft and unmistakable, whether it was on the radio, in movie theaters, or in a strange kitchen in the middle of the night. 

Everyone immediately whipped around to look, but Aurora’s brain instead made her freeze on the kitchen stool. It told her that she couldn’t turn and face Elvis Presley with her mouth full. For some reason that seemed the ultimate violation.

So, she chewed and chewed the suddenly vulcanized bread as the seconds stretched into decades. Finally, when it had become too weird, she tried to force the ball of dough down her throat and ended up almost choking, swilling it down with a frantic gulp of water. 

“Steve, son, if you’re gonna sneak pretty girls into my house at least don’t try and kill ‘em in my kitchen. It’s, uh, bad for business.” 

A warm weight rested on her shoulder and squeezed as she looked up through watery eyes at Elvis Presley, up close in person. Her brain couldn’t take it all in at once, just fragments like the black hair, the sideburns, the gold aviator sunglasses, the smile… Even with her airway clear, Aurora was not exactly breathing. 

“Are you okay, sweetheart?” She watched the familiar pillowy lips move as the words filled her ears, not completely in sync. His hand on her shoulder, his cologne in her nose, it was a fully immersive experience and she had already been finding it hard enough to comprehend standing in his kitchen. 

“Yeah, it went down the wrong way,” she heard someone say, and it kind of sounded like her. 

“Well, honey, looking at that ugly mug over there was always gonna give you indigestion. Nothing personal, Steve, you just got that look-” He laughed a little to himself. “Liable to give this young lady heartburn or something, you know.” 

Steve stood awkwardly on his other side like he was trying to gauge the mood, trying to figure out whether it was time for an explanation or an apology, and Aurora was trying to feel bad for him, but all she could feel was Elvis’ hand still on her shoulder, and the sleeve of his jacket brushing against her skin. There was pressure there, like he was leaning on her a little, and she tried to stay still when her pounding heart was telling her to try and run.  

“What’s your name, darlin’?” He pulled off his sunglasses and stumbled back a little, pretending that the low lighting of the kitchen was blinding, rubbing his slightly puffy eyes, before they narrowed as they fixed on her. Then it was Aurora who felt like squinting, trying to take it all in. 

“I’m Aurora,” she said. Then, for some reason she thought it might make things better somehow if she added, “You have a lovely home.” As if she was an invited guest coming over for iced tea on the porch. She was such an idiot. 

“Well, thank you, Aurora. Aurora, is that right?” 

Her name was a little unwieldy in his mouth, like he couldn’t quite get his tongue around it. Her face burst into flames as soon as she thought about his tongue. 

Luckily, he didn’t seem to notice, seeing as he was turning to berate Steve a little more, pointing out that at least she had some manners, unlike some people. 

Elvis had gray in his sideburns, Aurora noticed, as her muscles stiffened in the tense atmosphere and she was unable to look away. It made sense, he had been about her age when he first got famous, and that had been… a while. But it was still weird to think about Elvis going gray. She couldn’t picture him as an old man. In fact, the idea made her a little sad. But then the alternative would be worse. 

“Child,” he intoned suddenly, interrupting whatever he had been saying to put Steve in his place, and turning back to her with a twinkle in his eye, “you have gotta lower the beams on those pretty eyes of yours, they are practically melting my face off!” 

And that, more than the gray roots and the stumbling over her name, helped Aurora’s perspective click back into focus. The fancy furniture and the maids and the cooks and the Elvis-ness of him had turned her head for a while, made her feel off kilter, but she knew this dance very well.. 

“Well, it’s not like I can help it when you’re standing so close to me!” she retorted playfully. “You’re not made of glass you know!” 

The crooked smile crept across his face like the tide coming in and she felt herself slipping beneath the waves, drowning.

“You got some nerve, honey, I’ll give you that,” he said, shaking his head. “How ‘bout you finish eating my food and I’ll give you a real tour of this old place?”

“Look, if it means so much to you, you can have the rest of the sandwich,” she said, her careful, watchful eyes belying her teasing, irreverent tone. She knew she was in dangerous territory, her mama would have hissed a warning and cuffed her across the back of the head for being so rude, but the light that glittered in his heavy lidded eyes when she gave him some sass was too enticing to ignore. She didn’t think that too many people dared to tease Elvis Presley and that made her feel a little bad for him.  

In response, he gently ‘snatched’ the glass of water she was clutching and turned it until his luscious lips were in the same place hers had been, taking a sip. She somehow froze while also melting at the same time at the glittering challenge in his gaze and the faint twitch of his eyebrow. In that moment, she realized that she had vastly miscalculated how evenly matched they were in this battle. 

Luckily, she was rescued by Joanne, who had found her way upstairs and came reeling slightly into the kitchen, clutching Aurora’s jacket, and mumbling that she wanted to go home. She got as far as knocking into Aurora’s back before- and Aurora was never going to let her forget it- she shrieked:

“Oh Elvis! Oh shit!” 

Without context, it would have been impossible to tell whether she had caught sight of Elvis or a mouse running across the floor. What made it funnier was the complete non-reaction of Elvis himself, and the way that he locked eyes with Aurora for a long second, as if to say, ‘See what I have to deal with?’

Then he was introducing himself to Joanne, shaking her limp hand and saying he was pleased to meet her like it was all prearranged and they hadn’t effectively broken into his house in the middle of the night. 

Oh Elvis, oh shit, Aurora’s brain said helpfully, Elvis Presley is a nice guy. 

Sitting in his kitchen, trying to hold a loud, flailing Joanne with one arm and not failing to notice how uncomfortable Dave and Steve looked, Aurora began to feel grimy. It was one thing to take a peek at how the other half live, to get a glimpse of a rarefied existence, but it was another thing to barge in, do questionable things on the couch and make yourself a sandwich. The goldilocks giddiness had soured into shame. 

“So, um,” she began as she stepped backwards over her stool like the world’s clumsiest cowgirl, “we’re really sorry for trespassing…” She still couldn’t bring herself to say his name out loud. “And we should probably get going.”

“Well now, wait a damn minute, honey, I promised you a tour, and by God, that’s what you’re gonna get!” This time, she didn’t giggle on cue.

Aurora wasn’t clever, but she was smart. She might not have read fancy long books, but she knew people and she knew men, best of all. Her mama made sure of that, because she didn’t want her to end up the same way, fooled by some good looking lying man who looked good in a fancy borrowed suit. 

It occurred to her, as she watched Dave and Steve share yet another long look, that this could all be some elaborate trick. It wasn’t like she and Joanne had asked the guys to bring them to Graceland, hadn’t twisted their arms, hadn’t even known they worked there before they brought it up. And the two guys had barely debated it before they were all suddenly getting into the cars. 

What if it was a set-up? What if Dave and Steve did this regularly, went out trolling for girls to bring back for their boss? What if she had walked into some weird situation straight out of the Hollywood gossip magazines?

“I have to get home,” she said, fumbling for excuses, “I gotta get up early to take my grandma to church and I have a couple of clients after that.” 

“Clients?” She didn’t understand his strange tone, but she simmered under his appraising eye, and instinctively held her jacket in front of her like it could transform into a pair of baggy pants. 

“She’s a hairdresser, she cuts hair,” Steve said sulkily, defensively. 

It felt like there were twelve different conversations going on in fifty different languages and it was too late and Aurora was too tired to deal with it all. It had been a fun adventure, but now it was time to go home. 

“Well, you know, I've been needing a haircut myself,” Elvis remarked with a strange, sly grin on his face, looking at Steve, who was irritably shuffling his feet against the carpet. “What do you say, honey?” 

“Your hair looks fine,” she replied, before turning to Steve and raising her eyebrows in a silent plea.

“No, really, if it gets any longer I’ll start looking like one of those weirdo freaks this one listens to,” Elvis joked, nodding towards Dave with his Led Zeppelin t-shirt stretched tight across his chest. “Nice guys, but complete weirdos, man.” 

Aurora was pretty sure that nobody was about to get Elvis Presley and the guys from Led Zeppelin mixed up, but saying so would have taken her over that line from light teasing to downright unkindness that she would never cross. 

“I’m sorry, I haven’t got my kit with me and I’m so tired, I don’t think I should be trusted with scissors.” 

“I’ll go start the car,” Steve said, turning towards the kitchen door. 

“No! Now, hold up, man, nobody’s going nowhere ‘til I say so. S’cuse me for a minute, ladies, I think I need to have a word here with these so-called employees of mine.” Elvis’ tone was aggravated, like he was working hard to keep it even, behaving for company.

Joanne and Aurora looked at one another, shrugged, and stepped past the door that led down to the basement and found themselves in the red carpeted foyer, looking towards the front door. They listened carefully, but could only hear murmuring from back in the kitchen. 

Joanne squeezed her arm and pulled a triumphant face, hissing, “Fucking Elvis, man!”

“Shh, they might hear you.” Aurora occupied herself with staring up at the chandelier, watching the way the light was reflected back on the glass walls. She couldn’t imagine living in a house that had a chandelier. She wondered if Elvis ever marveled on it since he had grown up just as poor as her, maybe even more so. 

“You think he thought we were call girls?” Joanne asked, moving to lean against the staircase and resting her head on the banisters. She yawned wide enough to show the fillings 

in her back teeth. “When you said ‘clients’ they all got this weird look. Maybe he wants you to cut his hair to test your story.”

“I ain’t cutting anyone’s hair, I’m dead on my feet,” Aurora grumbled. 

“Not even if he offers you a thousand dollars?”

“Well, maybe for a thousand dollars.” She sleepily contemplated what she would spend a thousand dollars on. She wondered how much a chandelier cost. 

“Hell, for a thousand dollars I’d pretend to be the call girl!” They both snorted and giggled, before sighing into the still peace of the foyer. 

“He looks a little different from the movies though,” Joanne observed. “He’s got… heavier.” 

“Yeah,” Aurora conceded with a shrug. “Still Elvis though.” She giggled. “‘Oh Elvis! Oh Shit!’”  

“Shut up!” Joanne groaned, donking her head against one of the banisters. “I bet you didn’t come out with anything deep or profound when you saw him.” 

Aurora’s throat was still a little sore from where she had forced a fistful of bread through it while choking, but she kept that to herself. 

Finally, Dave shuffled out to let them know they could return from exile and led them back into an empty kitchen. When he spoke, he sounded annoyed and Aurora wondered if he had got a ticking off from Elvis too. Maybe it hadn’t been a set up after all. 

“C’mon.” He nodded towards a set of the stairs that curled up round a wall in the corner of the room. 

“Where?” she countered. 

“Look, just cut his fucking hair a little, all right? Pretend if you have to, we’ll be heading out on tour soon and he’ll have his hairdresser do it properly then anyway.” 

Aurora looked at the staircase and thought about getting back into the Datsun and going home. She thought about telling the ladies at the salon about her weekend, the way they would say, ‘And what happened then?!’ And she would have to finish her surreal recount with, ‘Then I chickened out and went home.’ 

That would be a lame ending to the story. 

And so she found herself leaning in front of Elvis Presley, examining his wet bangs as she ran them through the comb, scissors clutched in hand, standing in the most outrageously opulent bathroom she had ever seen. 

“You shouldn’t wrinkle your forehead like that, you know, honey,” he observed, his breath tickling the column of her throat. “You’ll look old before your time.”

Her frown shifted from one of concentration to intense control, trying to stop herself from shivering because it felt like he was murmuring into her ear. 

“My face does what it wants,” she replied finally, snipping the tiniest fragment of an inch. “I don’t have too much of a say in it. Keeps me honest, otherwise who knows what I’d be doing instead of cutting hair day and, apparently night now too.” 

They had negotiated down to just trimming the bangs, and now that she was confronted with his mass of fine hair, she was grateful. Everyone knew that half the teen population back in the day had flipped their lids when they cut off Elvis’ hair in the army. Aurora didn’t want to become the target of those same women today, stronger, smarter, and old enough to own handguns.

“What would you be instead, if you could choose?” She made the mistake of looking at his face when he asked. It was a trap. Framed by dark, weary shadows, the murky blue of his eyes had all but swallowed up the pupil and it felt like they were looking at something within her, somewhere she didn’t even want to let people know existed.  

“I don’t know. If you ask my memaw, there are only a few careers a girl can have with a name like mine. I picked the most respectable. There we go, all done.”

“What kind of name is Aurora anyway?” Searching, his damn eyes were searching and she couldn’t seem to distract him.

“I don’t exactly think we should be making fun of people’s names, Elvis. Especially not when some of us are holding scissors.” He snorted and laughed to himself. It sounded so young and silly that she knew it was real. 

“Aurora means dawn or light. You know the Northern Lights? Those squiggly colorful lights up in the North Pole? Their real name is Aurora Borealis. And you know, Sleeping Beauty’s name was Aurora.” 

It was the well worn explanation she had been trotting out since she was knee high to a cricket, not that it ever made any difference to the bemused, baffled or disdainful faces of the gangs of kids or customers at her father’s store that demanded she explain herself. 

She caught sight of Elvis’ reflection studying her, but not in the way that he had been before, the way that men often studied her, appraising and pricing her up like her daddy did with cans of soup. No, this was a different kind of look. 

“Dawn,” he murmured, his gaze seeming to look past her. “Sleeping…Beauty… Might be something to this…” His eyes seemed to click back into focus and he smiled at her, that crooked smirk that everyone in the world imagined in their head when someone said the name Elvis Presley. “It’s pretty, sweetheart, I was just kiddin’.”

When she followed him out of the bathroom, he mumbled, “Think fast!” And before she could even decipher his words, she was catching the tiger statue he had tossed at her. It was heavy enough it could have probably cracked her skull if she hadn’t caught it. 

“Whoa, was the haircut that bad that you had to try and kill me?!”

“No, honey, it was fine, but it’s like you, you see.” She could tell something corny was coming from the silly little grin and the way he paused to laugh at himself. “It’s a roarer.” She groaned, but giggled as he laughed, his brows knitted together in a pained acknowledgement of how corny he had been. 

“Woo, well, it’s lucky you’re pretty,” Aurora replied, doing what she thought was a damn fine impression of her grandma, who always said it like it was. 

When Elvis snorted a little, but didn’t say anything else, she wondered if she had caught him off guard and made him a little bashful. She made a show of giving the ceramic tiger a scritch under the chin like it was a pussy cat and then went to hand it back. 

“No, no,” he replied, waving his hand. “It’s yours, honey, you caught it. Them’s the rules.”

“Well, thank you… You know, it puts a whole new perspective on those folks you gave cars to. They probably belong in a circus.” He didn’t reply, just sat down on his bed and shuffled back against the pillows, picking up one of the books that lay strewn across the comforter. 

Not knowing quite what she was supposed to do, she petted the tiger under her arm and started edging towards the door. If she couldn’t make a glamorous exit, she could at least minimize the awkwardness of it. 

“Hey, you know…” Her eyes fixed on him as she did her little side shuffle, she saw him glance up from his book and his expression go from open to frowning. “Where you goin’?”

I thought we were… I thought you were waiting for me to leave.” He shook his head, looking slightly irritated, and then patted the bed heavily by his legs. 

Aurora thought of Steve waiting downstairs and then shrugged, walking over to the bed. You didn’t ignore an Elvis for a Steve. She perched on the edge of his bed and watched as he rooted around on his nightstand, sliding on a pair of gold framed glasses and shooting her a sheepish look. 

“The lightning of the Word will illumine the abysses.

New, new, new ones, beautiful ones, sensitive ones, 

Exalted ones, will be assembled.

The Teacher has entrusted thee to manifest Him.” He read it like poetry or scripture and it sounded dramatic and lovely to Aurora’s ears, but then he stopped and he looked at her like she was supposed to do or say something. It was like standing at the front of the class on book report day with nothing in her hands. Her face burned all the way back to her ears. 

“You ever heard anything like that before, honey?” he asked finally, his eyes back to scanning the text, leaving her to writhe in her ignorance and humiliation. 

“No, I don’t think so.” She looked longingly at the black padded door standing open and then down at her tanned toes, half submerged in the thick red shag pile carpet as if her sandals weren’t even there. “I was never too good in school.”

“School,” he muttered, shaking his head. “You don’t learn nothing worth knowing in school. I mean no disrespect to the teachers, but-” He sighed loudly. “You know most people use but one percent of their brains, one percent! Just focussing on the Mickey Mouse shit, uh, workin’ and paying the bills and having a good time, coveting their fuckin’ neighbor’s whatever… Never knowing what’s really important.” 

Aurora stared at him as he continued his diatribe, a little impressed at how he weaved in foulmouthed quotes from the Bible. Nobody was going to believe this was how she spent her Saturday night.

“I’ve been studying all this a long time, it takes discipline and dedication. Honey, why don’t you come on up here and get comfortable?” He gestured to the space beside him on the pillows, the space usually occupied by glamorous models and beauty queens, one of whom was beaming with fierce intensity at her from a framed picture on the dark wood unit against the wall. 

“Um, can I bring Muffin?” He lifted an eyebrow and she tilted the tiger she still had tucked into her hip. “I named him Muffin.” 

“Well, I was talking to Muffin anyhow, but I guess he can bring you.” He shook his head, his cheekbones brimming as he smirked and watched her shuck her sandals and clamber up gracelessly from the bottom of the bed. “You’re kinda silly.” He leant forward and gave her a lightning fast kiss on the lips, just warm and wet and gone. “I like that.” 

And then he read to her, for over an hour. Sleepily leaning against the pillow, Aurora slid her finger underneath the stretchy strap of her watch as it was pressing into her skin. Her eyes caught sight of the time and she pushed herself up, feeling a little dazed and dizzy. 

Having sunk back into his pillows too, Elvis was still reading, his voice barely above a whisper and he didn’t seem to notice her sitting up. Tentatively, she reached out and touched his arm and then said his name. It took him a beat or two to register the interruption. 

“It’s getting really late,” she said apologetically. “I think I should go find Steve, he’s my ride home.” 

“Aw, honey, he went, he’s gone.” 

Aurora smiled anxiously, not sure if he was joking. “He better not be. It’s a long walk back to my house.” 

“I’ll have someone take you home, don’t worry about that,” he murmured, his words slipping and sliding together.

“Well, It’s getting pretty late,” she said again. 

He lowered his book and went to say something, but seemingly changed his mind. Instead, he reached over with a grunt and picked up the phone, gruffly asking who was on duty. Aurora busied herself with slipping back into her shoes and hefting Muffin back onto her hip. 

Elvis put down the receiver of the red phone and climbed off the bed. 

“I’d like to see you again, if that’s okay with you?” The way he said it was oddly formal and solemn, a complete contrast to the way he had teasingly beckoned her onto his bed earlier. It threw her enough that she forgot to be overwhelmed.

“Sure!” She cringed inwardly at how high pitched her voice sounded and tried to clear her throat discreetly. 

“Let me take down your number and I'll call you.” 

Elvis rifled through the contents of his nightstand and snatched up a pen and then, with a shrug, opened the front cover of his book.

It was about then that Aurora's brain caught up with the situation and her hand shook as she reached for the pen and scrawled ‘Aurora + Muffin’ alongside her number on the inside cover of his book. When she handed it back, he teased her by turning the book upside as he squinted at it. 

“What is this, hieroglyphics?!” 

And Aurora laughed goodnaturedly, even though she had been teased her whole time at school for her poor penmanship and inability to improve it. She laughed even though, as a rule, she never let anyone get away with making fun of the things she couldn’t change. Something about him defused all those defenses designed to detonate on a hair trigger. 

Aurora felt Elvis follow her to the bedroom door without seeing him. It was a weird feeling, like wearing a heavy cape made of ice. She was almost afraid to check in case it all evaporated like a dream and she woke up in her pilling pink blankets and worn rosebud sheets. 

The heavy, warm hand that came to rest on her shoulder was a surprise and a reassurance then, as she felt him turn her. She took a step back, since he was that much taller and they were standing so close together that she was face to face with the dip at the base of his throat, able with microscopic clarity to see the way his golden chest hair curled behind the thick gold chain he was wearing with the strange symbol that looked to her eyes like a musical note with extra parts. 

“Um, sorry,” she murmured, looking away, even though he had been the one to crowd her. He smiled softly, angling his head and pressing his soft full lips against hers. She jolted, almost choking again, and saved herself by grabbing hold of him, clutching at his waist, thick but firm, with her free hand and pressing in against him. His lips were soft and lush, like no other man’s she had kissed before. They tickled and teased, and sent shivers that spread down her spine and radiated through her body. 

When his tongue first brushed and then slid against hers, she let out a little whine that had him huffing a laugh and drawing back, his hand cradling her jaw.  

“You sure you gotta go, baby?” he asked softly in that low, intimate voice that made her legs quiver. “We could just sleep, you know. I wouldn’t- I wouldn’t try anything.”

“I trust you,” she replied, though she wasn’t sure she did. “It’s me I don’t trust.” Which was one hundred percent true.

He pulled her in again by her chin, but she still wasn’t ready as they both exhaled in playful frustration. She nibbled on his ripe bottom lip even as she was pulling away. 

Aurora made it to the outer door that led to the stairs before he called her back. 

“Hey Tiger!” She let her shoulders and face slump with indignation as she realized she had answered to the silly name. “We’re going to see each other again, sweetheart.” She smiled at the previously unimaginable picture she was walking away from- Elvis Presley framed by the light in a doorway, his hair rumpled and tousled (her fault) and his mouth wet and swollen (even more her fault). “Ask, and it shall be given you; seek, and ye shall find.” 

“Sure.” Frowning a little through her smile, she nodded and turned back to the stairs. Was he talking about himself or was he talking about her? Maybe he was talking about Muffin. She hefted the tiger a little higher under her arm and clumped down the stairs, blearily opening the front door to greet the dawn. 

@thatbanditqueen, @vintageshanny, @be-my-ally @lookingforrainbows, @from-memphis-with-love, @peskybedtime

#elvis presley #big daddy elvis #elvis x oc #elvis fanfic #elvis fanfiction #70s elvis #whositmcwhatsit #elvis presley fanfiction

[skz317cb97]

Valentine's Don't

Bang Chan x Female reader

Word count: 4k

Synopsis: Sick of spending every Valentine's Day in a rut you impulsively ask a cute guy at the bar to go out with you. Will your plan to meet up backfire in your face?

A/N: This was a wonderful idea brought to me by one of my sweet friends. I'm not sure if they want to be named but they know who they are. I loved this idea as soon as I heard it! I was hoping to have it all done in one part for Valentine's Day but couldn't quite make it. Oh well. Hope you all enjoy! If you do please like, comment, share, shoot an ask, I love to hear from you all! Also there is no smut in this part but there will be in part 2.

Warnings: None really. Swearing/strong language, drinking/mentions of alcohol. That's it I think. If I missed something let me know!

Why, why did you let your friend talk you into coming to the bar one week before Valentine’s Day? You always hated the ‘holiday’ ever since elementary school. It was just a popularity contest that you never won, hell you never even placed. Now you were at the bar alone, ditched by your friend that made you come out in the first place when the first halfway cute guy approached her. Not that you blamed her. If a halfway hot guy approached you right now you probably wouldn’t be so bitter but alas you clearly weren’t winning any popularity contests still. Which may be your fault, you were not always the most approachable person, but your past had taught you to be guarded. 

You were working on your third drink since your friend had disappeared and after you emptied the glass you happened to catch a look at a guy from across the bar. He was way beyond halfway hot he was scorching, fire, lava. What’s hotter than lava? He was that! He looked away when the two of you made eye contact.

Had he been looking at you? Only one way to find out. Tipsy you was about to make a big move because why the fuck not at this rate? The worst he could do was say no, well no, the worst he could do was laugh in your face and tell you you’re dumb and ugly. You were going out on a limb that he wasn’t the type to say that. You approached him with all the BDE you could muster. 

“How many times a day do you get told your gorgeous, it's gotta be in the double digits.” He turned towards you smiling and his ears instantly turned red. 

“Probably about half as much as you do.” You grimaced. 

“Yikes. That bad huh?” He laughed at the jab you took at yourself not realizing it was one hundred percent true. No one ever walked up to you let alone walked up and told you you were gorgeous. Maybe it was the ‘don’t fuck with me’ look that had a way of unintentionally appearing on your face or maybe they thought... you were hit with a realization you, for some stupid reason, hadn’t considered before approaching him 

“Oh wait, oh shit, I’m sorry you have a girlfriend don’t you. I’m so sorr-” He shook his head. 

“No no. You’re fine I don’t have a girlfriend.” You quirked an eyebrow. 

“Boyfriend?” He laughed so hard his dimples appeared. 

“No boyfriend either no, I’m single.” You nodded. 

“So do you come to this bar a lot?” he wiggled his hand back and forth. 

“Sometimes, some of my friends are in the band.” 

“What about next Tuesday?” It was so random, and you asked so quickly it caught him off guard. 

“Oh uh...” He thought for a moment. 

“Ohhh isn’t that Valen-” You waved and shook your head. 

“Yea okay look I’m gonna give it to you straight is that okay?” You legitimately waited for his reply, and he nodded. Just lay it all out for him, fuck it. 

“You’re probably the prettiest person I’ve ever seen in my life, and I don’t even know your name, but I have never had a good Valentine’s Day, I’m always angry and alone. I don’t want another repeat, I’m sick to death of it, for once I’d like to go out with a cute guy and actually enjoy the stupid holiday. So here it is, I’m going to come to this bar at 7 pm February 14th. If you think spending Valentine’s with me might be fun, meet me here. If you don’t, well then, no hard feelings.” You turned to walk away, and he caught your hand to stop you. 

“Chris...” You looked at him confused. 

“My name...it’s Chris...” You smiled and nodded then turned and headed straight out of the bar. You would text your friend to tell her you left, you had to go after that move. As soon as you were out the door you were mentally kicking yourself. God that must have seemed so desperate, you hoped it came off as confident. Ugh why did you do that!?  

Every day that week up until Valentine’s Day you went back and forth between freaking out and trying to be optimistic. He did laugh and he’d told you his name, but you were never very good at being optimistic. Your internal monolog was louder. ‘He could have been laughing at you not with you, Chris is so generic he probably said the first name that came to mind.’ Then you would be back to freaking out again. 

Valentine’s Day. You had decided you were going to go, now all you had to do was muster up that same BDE that you’d had when you asked him out in the first place. You dressed nicely but not too fancy, put on a little make up and just threw your hair up, a few of those stubborn pieces refusing to stay put, falling around your face. Your nerves started to get to you again, and that voice. ‘No sense in trying too hard, he won’t be coming.’

You second guessed even going yourself and you had just about talked yourself out of it, then you saw yourself in the mirror. You had put in a little effort to look nice already, you could at least go and have a drink then leave when he doesn’t show. No one would know the difference anyway.  

So you were sitting there at the bar about halfway through your first drink, you were trying to pace yourself, but when you looked at the clock and saw seven fifteen you downed the rest of your glass and signaled to the bar tender for another.

At seven thirty and two drinks down, you decided you would rather get drunk at home alone than in a bar full of couples groping each other while wearing literal heart eyes. You threw some cash down on the bar and went to leave. As you were making your way through the sea of people you could hear someone from the crowd behind you calling for someone. 

“Hey! Uh... wait hey!” The voice sounded like it was getting closer and closer. Whoever they were looking for was evidently in your direction. 

“Wait! Fucking hell, I... I don’t know your name... fuck. Hey gorgeous!” For some reason that struck you and made you turn. When you did you saw that the person who had been yelling was in fact yelling for you and that person was Chris. You must have looked shocked when he walked up. 

“I’m so sorry I’m late I was taking care of something really important and it took me a little longer than I thought it would.” You still stood there stunned. He actually came? You shook the cobwebs in your brain loose and remembered how to speak. 

“Oh, uh no that’s fine, I just figured...” He frowned a little. 

“I was standing you up? Sorry, I’d have texted and told you, but I didn’t know your number, or your name...” He chuckled rubbing the back of his neck. 

“No really it's okay, did you want to grab a drink?” He shook his head. 

“We should probably get going if we’re going to make our dinner reservations.” You stood there stunned again. 

“D-dinner?” He laughed, his eyes scrunched and his dimples showed. 

“Yes, dinner. It’s Valentine’s Day and I’m taking a cute girl out to dinner.” You started giggling like a teenaged girl talking to her crush. Your giggle transformed into a cough as you cleared your throat, trying to maintain your cool façade from the week before. 

“Right of course dinner. Let’s go then.” Chris smiled and placed his hand on the small of your back. You wished it didn’t send a shiver up your spine. God you were touch starved. Chris led you out of the bar and to his car, opening the door for you. Right at that very moment you actually stopped and thought for a second. What you were doing seemed so crazy you hadn’t told any of your friends. Cute or not, no one knew you were meeting this guy and you were about to climb in his car. You hesitated getting in. 

“You’re not some serial killer, are you? If I ask and you are, you have to tell, that’s the rule.” Chris laughed with his whole body. You really liked his laugh; it was warm and made you smile.  

“I think that’s for undercover police but no, I’m not a serial killer.” You nodded side eyeing him. 

“That’s exactly what I’d expect an undercover cop to say.” Tears were in his eyes, every time he thought he had a hold of himself you had him laughing again. What Chris didn’t realize was humor was your security blanket when you were nervous. It was kind of hard for you to make friends, it wasn’t easy for you to open up and be vulnerable enough for people to really get to know you. When you did make friends it was usually because you made them laugh, so that was your go to safety net when you weren’t sure if being yourself was okay.  

After a short ride you pulled up to a small restaurant. The only way it stood out was the neon sign with its name in cursive. You could blink and miss it. When Chris led you into the dimly lit restaurant you could hear salsa music playing. There was limited seating and a dance floor took up quite a bit of space. The only time you had ever danced was at prom and that was more shuffling back and forth while being groped than it was actually dancing.  

“We don’t have to dance. I picked this place because they have great food and music, the dancing is optional.” He must have picked up on your immediate apprehension. 

“We can dance.” The fuck were you saying? 

“Looks fun.” FUN!? Oh God why was your overzealous mouth sabotaging you like that. 

“Really?” He asked surprised and you nodded 

“Yea really!” ‘Yea really’ you mocked yourself in your head as you continued to speak without thinking. 

“That’s great, I used to be a dancer. I don’t get to do it very often anymore.” Of course he used to be a dancer, look at him. Making an ass out of yourself in front of a hot amateur wasn’t enough, go ahead and make a fool of yourself in front of a hot professional instead.  

“You used to be a dancer?” That was in fact what he said. Braindead much? He nodded and suddenly your mouth was overriding your brain again. 

“Exotic?” Chris laughed shaking his head. 

“No no, mostly hip hop but some contemporary and ballroom as well.” Fantastic. You dropped the subject as you made it to the table. Maybe it wouldn’t come up again. Once you were both seated and your drinks were ordered you started to loosen up a bit. You had a little small talk, but you still didn’t open up about yourself.

Chris was friendly and open. He struck you as the type that never met a stranger. You both ordered your food and he was right, the meal was delicious. The music was good, and he was pleasant to talk to also. After you ate you both sat there listening to the band. Chris smiled and tapped his toe along with the rhythm.  

“You know someone in the band here too?” You asked sarcastically and sipped your drink. His dimples appeared again. 

“Yes actually.” You almost spit your drink out. 

“Really?!” He nodded smiling ear to ear and pointed. 

“See the buff dude playing drums?” You shook your head. 

“That’s my friend Changbin, he fills in here sometimes, but he usually plays at the bar where we met.” Then you recognized him, you had seen him playing at the bar before. 

“So how about that dance.” You laughed nervously. You really hoped he’d forgotten about that. 

“Aren’t you supposed to wait twenty minutes before dancing after a meal?” Chris shook his head laughing again. You really liked his laugh. 

“I’m pretty sure that’s swimming but if you don’t want to-” You quickly shook your head. 

“No, I want to!” Internal face palm. Way to not take the out he gave you genius. 

“You sure?” You nodded. There you go! Double down on your chance to look stupid, why not? 

“Great come on!” He held out his hand and you took it. As he led you towards the dance floor your heartbeat got louder and louder in your ears, you almost couldn’t hear the music. When he turned to face you, you had no idea what to do. Chris picked up on that pretty quickly if he didn’t know outright from the start. He pulled you closer by your hips, then he placed your hands on his shoulders before grabbing your hips again. 

“Just follow my lead.” You gave him a small smile and shook your head as he started to sway both of your hips to the beat of the music.  

“There you go, now look at me.” Your eyes had been glued to your feet. Two of Chris’ fingers placed under your chin tilted your head up to look him in the eye. 

“Perfect. Gorgeous.” You could feel yourself starting to flush. 

“Now when I take a step forward you take a step back and when I take a step back you take one forward. It’s easy.” He took a step back and you followed taking a step forward. Chris’ hips swiveled to the rhythm as he took a step forward and you back. 

“A natural!” You bit back the smile trying to force its way out. 

“Yea a natural disaster, just like a tornado.” You scoffed and Chris laughed. You made it through the first song only stepping on his toes a few times, then a slower more sultry song started.

Chris pulled you closer, your hips almost pressed together, you didn’t think your face could burn any hotter when his hips started swaying with yours, his arms around your waist, yours wrapped around his shoulders. You bravely toyed with the curls at the nape of his neck while watching your feet again. When you did, he started rubbing his thumbs gently against your lower back making your skin erupt in goosebumps.  

“So why do you hate Valentine’s Day?” He suddenly broke the silence between you. You looked up and shrugged your shoulders opting to look over his shoulder and not in his eyes as you attempted to be a little open. 

“Might as well be Friday the thirteenth to me. It’s just never been a good day, I dunno. Break ups always seemed to happen around that time for me, I always end up alone. When I caught my last boyfriend cheating on me on Valentine's Day that just kind of sealed the deal for me.” 

“How long ago was that?” You just shook your head. It had been years but you had given up on finding someone, trying to be content in your loneliness. This stupid holiday just always got to you. You finally willed yourself to look at him, Chris gave you a tight smile.  

“Sorry.” You shook your head and tried to laugh it off putting up the wall again. 

“What are you sorry for? It’s just some corporate holiday to make money off saps. It’s not that big of a deal really.” You looked back over his shoulder again focusing on the wall behind him hoping he wouldn’t press the matter as you tried to hide the overwhelming sadness you felt suddenly. He didn’t thankfully and you finished dancing to the song in silence.   

“Come on let's get out of here.” 

“Where to?” Chris shook his head. 

“Nnnope, it’s a surprise and why I was late. I hope that it makes up for it.”  

“You’ve already more than made up for it just by coming at all Chris. Thanks.” He smiled and his hand braced the small of your back as you both got your things and left the restaurant. Once you both were in the car and on your way a silence hung between you again and that internal monolog of yours came back. ‘You sounded desperate before now you sound sad and des-” As if Chris could sense the spiraling thoughts in your head, he finally broke the silence. 

“So Valentine’s Day is a bust holiday for you, what’s your favorite?” You thought about his question and then shook your head not wanting to give him the sad answer. 

“Come on you can tell me, please?” He pushed his bottom lip out and it was too cute not to give into. 

“Halloween was my favorite when I was a kid.” Chris smiled. 

“All the candy is pretty awesome.” You shook your head. 

“No, I mean yeah, the candy was great, but I liked it because I was able to be someone else for a day, anyone else. I don’t know just someone that wasn’t me.” Chris’ brow furrowed. 

“Why wouldn’t you want to be you?” Chris was pulling up to an iron fence and parking as he asked. You couldn’t help your attention suddenly being drawn to your surroundings. 

“Just because I... uh Chris why are we at a cemetery?” He shook his head. 

“It’s not a cemetery it’s a botanical garden. A friend...”  

“Plays in the band here too?” He laughed, that warm sweet laugh of his. 

“No no they run the place though and when they closed at seven I met her and got the keys to the place. Which is why I was so late. Sorry again about that.” You shook your head, you were shocked. If Chris put so much effort into a Valentine’s date with a total stranger he must be a really good friend. You hoped after that night you could be friends.  

He unlocked the gate and led you into the garden. It was kind of hard to see just at first then Chris disappeared for a second and the next thing you knew hundreds of thousands of twinkle lights lit up the whole garden. It was breathtakingly beautiful. Suddenly Chris was by your side again startling you.

You turned to him with your hand still over your heart. When you looked up at him you couldn’t speak. He was beautiful, you knew that, anyone with eyes knew that, but with the lights and the garden, his smile that scrunched up his eyes, he was stunning, hence the speechlessness. Finally you forced yourself to form words. 

“Chris... I... just... you did all of this for me? Dinner? This garden? For me?” You were genuinely confused because you had never met anyone like him before, as beautiful inside as he was outside. Your cool façade was melting, you had no joke or punchline. 

“Well it’s not like I strung up all the lights or anything, but yeah! I know it’s not much-” You kissed him. You threw your arms around his shoulders and kissed him and he kissed you back. It was a soft innocent kiss, a thank you, that words alone couldn’t convey. 

“Thank you.” You whispered as you pulled back with your eyes closed. He tasted like mint and smelled like the woods. 

“You’re welcome-” His voice was a breath; he cupped your face and immediately kissed you again. There was more passion behind his lips the second time, his hands cradled your face as he tilted his head, his plump lips slightly parting to taste more of yours. You followed, your lips parting, head tilting. Chris’ tongue gently invaded your mouth, teasing yours.

You toyed with the curls at his neck again as the two of you slowly, softly kissed. Chris let go of your face and wrapped his arms around your waist pulling you closer. After a moment you two broke the kiss, having to breathe being your only reason. You both stood there flushed, chests rapidly rising and falling with heavy breaths, arms wrapped around one another. He chewed at his bottom lip and smiled at you, forcing a small smile onto your face. 

“Um, heh, uh why don’t I show you around the place hm?” You nodded and Chris grabbed your hand and started to lead you through the garden. You both walked quietly for some time looking at all the beautiful flowers and reading different descriptions before Chris’ voice cut through the silence. 

“You know you really are gorgeous.” It caught you off guard. You must have looked shocked. You had been looking at flowers, but Chris had really only been looking at you this whole time. 

“W-what makes you say that?” He stopped walking and turned to you, grabbing your other hand holding both in his own. 

“Because you are and because I really want to kiss you again.” Before you could even think of how to reply to that Chris’ lips were softly pressed against yours again, his fingers threading through your hair. You gripped the front of his shirt and kissed him back, things getting heated rather quickly between the two of you. Finally Chris broke away apologizing. 

“I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m... uhh, I’m trying to be respectful, just... when I kiss you...” He wasn’t even sure of what he was trying to say. 

“It’s okay Chris...” You pulled him closer by his shirt and kissed him again both of you getting lost in the other momentarily. When your lips parted again you both started laughing. 

“How about I get you home?” Chris chuckled and you nodded, smiling the biggest smile you had in the longest time. You walked back out of the garden the way you came in so Chris could turn off the lights and lock back up. You both hopped in his car, you gave him directions to your place, and you were off. The car ride there was accompanied by some soft music Chris had put on. Once you got to your place Chris parked the car. 

“Hold on l’ll get your door.” Before you could insist that it was unnecessary, he was out of the car making his way around to your side. He opened the door and helped you out. He kept a hold of your hand the whole way to your front door. You fished your keys out and stood there a moment. 

“This has been the best Valentine’s Day Chris. Thank you.” You couldn’t look at him only your feet, you felt so vulnerable at that moment. Chris traced the back of his fingers along your cheek, you tilted your head up and he leaned in and kissed you goodnight.  

“Thank you for inviting me to spend the evening with you.” Just before you opened your front door Chris cleared his throat. You turned and looked at him confused. 

“Well I was just wondering I mean... I’d like to take you out again some time if that’s alright?” You nodded smiling. 

“I’d really like that Chris.” He stood there for a moment like he was still waiting for something more. 

“Would it be okay if I got your number?” He handed you his phone as you laughed. 

“Of course, I wasn’t even thinking!” You typed your number in and hit call. Your phone started ringing and you hung up. 

“There now I’ve got yours too.” You handed Chris back his phone. 

“Just one more thing?” You stood there waiting for his final request from you perhaps another goodnight kiss. 

“What’s your name?” Oh holy shit, you had gone this whole evening and not once did you bother mentioning your name! 

“Oh my god Chris I’m so sorry!” He laughed then you leaned in and kissed him, your lips slightly parted from his. 

“y/n.” He nodded and gave you one more peck on the lips smiling. 

@acciocriativity @caroline-ds-world @chansynie @ughbehavior @jquellen27 @hyunelixies @fixation-dump @lachinitaaaaa @rinrinndou @bangchans-angel @laylasbunbunny @owo-manii-uwu @armystay89 @b00dyguts @purplenimsicle @caticorn61 @lauraneuuh

“y/n... gorgeous.” 

Please do not repost or translate any of my works. My blog and stories are NSFW and 18+ ONLY! Minors, ageless, and blank blogs will be blocked!

#stray kids smut #skz smut #bang chan smut #chris bang smut #chan smut #skz317cb97 #cal 🖤

[sweetly-yours-and-mine]

Hi! I’m so glad you’re taking requests because I absolutely love the way you write. If you have time, please may I request ‘kissing while sitting in your lovers lap’ or ‘kisses while cuddling’ with marc spector if thanks okay? thank you!❤️

Pairing: Marc Spector x Reader

Word Count: 560ish

A/N: Don't be fooled by the photo this is just sweetness. Wrote this in half an hour because I wanted to challenge myself.

Warnings: fluffy, a little smutty but no smut, everyone is kinda in love, kissing, no editing bc author suffers from BDE, probably too many ocean references

Marc is cupping your jaw as if your skin were made of silk. 

His lips glide against yours like tectonic plates shifting. 

They speak of a darker desire he has for you, one that you’re sure will inevitably unleash when you’re both alone for the first time during this long, long, day of too many emotions. 

Marc always kissed you like his life depended on it. Like he’s satisfied with the world and a half of suffering he’s gone through in his life, his body and soul scarred alike, because it led him to you at the end of it. 

Right now is no different. 

He holds you in his lap and makes sure your feet stay off the ground because your shoes had started to pinch a while back and now they're laying beside you two on the bench.

And he kisses you, smearing your lipstick over his mouth like a footprint in wet concrete, of love, of lust. 

“Marc,” you pull back for only a moment to murmur it against his lips. He lets you exhale his name like the flap of a bird’s wing before he’s pressing back up against you insistently. 

It makes the thoughts flutter out of your head and leaves you with instinct which tells you to curl your hands through his hair and you’re already doing it before you’ve thought of it. 

It’s the beat of your heart, the exhale of your lungs, the rush of blood through your body. 

Marc is bound to you in so many ways that you’ve lost track of them, the same way you’d lose track of counting the waves in the ocean, rocks on the mountains. 

He lets out a soft grunt underneath your touch and it makes you come to. 

“Marc,” you pull back just enough to press your forehead against his and trail your finger down his neck to touch the curve of his unbuttoned dress shirt. It’s an olive green he’s bought specifically for tonight. “They’re gonna ask where we’ve been.” It matches the accents on your shoes.

You start to wipe away at the stains around his mouth, and he tsks and pushes your hands away, instead taking them to rest on his chest. 

You mean to scold him but the words can’t come to you. The lava heat of them dries into rock and crumbles into dust, swept away by the cool breeze of the night that shuffles the white fabric of your dress against Marc’s leg. 

He pulls you down again with such urgency it feels the both of you were just a pair of lungs sharing just one heart and mind. 

His hands wander this time, to the curve of your hip, back up to your collarbone and jaw. He trails his fingers around the seashell of your ear and exhales a tide of a breath against you as he takes a moment to catch his breath. 

His ring is cool and foreign against the side of your face but you revel in it.

“Let them wait, honey.” 

Like a seagull he swoops and dives. He wraps his arms around you and turns you so that you feel you’re floating in air, untethered to anything but Marc. 

From outside, the sounds of the reception are drowned out. Marc’s leg bumps into one of your shoes and it falls down from the bench and onto the ground with a soft clatter. 

To you, they make just as much sound as a pebble would, falling into uncharted Atlantic waters.

Thanks for reading, if you liked it, please consider leaving some feedback! I don't usually respond, but I obsess and re-read reblogs and comments constantly.

Masterlist here, requests here.

#marc spector #marc spector x reader #marc spector x you #marc spector x y/n #marc spector x female!reader #marc spector fluff #marc spector angst #marc spector fanfiction #marc spector fanfic #marc spector fic #marc spector x f!reader #marc spector imagine #moon knight fanfiction #moon knight #moon knight imagine #moon knight fic #oscar isaac

[sissylittlefeather]

6 with F

:)))

Hey hey! Thanks for being the first request for my 200 follower celebration! You didn't specify smut or fluff, so I did some fluff with a hint toward future smut, so you can let your imagination run wild, if you want to 😉

Warnings: none, really. One cuss word.

Prompt: "Oh, we're not married." With '74-'77 BDE

One of Elvis's favorite things to do with you was drive. He'd take you out to different places around town that were quiet and secluded, so you could talk or do other things. You'd been dating for a few months and time spent with him was always your favorite. He loved that he could be himself around you, and, for a little while, be able to take off the mask of performing that he often wore even when he wasn't on stage or touring. Every time he would call you and tell you to meet him downstairs in half an hour, you'd grab your purse and your shoes and sit outside in anticipation. He tried to drive a different car each time, and it became a bit of a game to guess which one he'd bring next.

Tonight, you're sitting outside your apartment in the cool night air waiting for him when he pulls up in a Cadillac Deville station wagon. It's not the first time he's brought this car. He likes to drive this one when he knows you'll need space. You roll your eyes and laugh to yourself. Elvis is not a man that anyone could ever accuse of subtlety. He pulls up and rolls the window down.

"Hey, doll. Need a ride?"

"Depends on where you're headed, sir." This is a game you play often.

"Anywhere you want, baby." You lean in his window and kiss him on the cheek. Then, you walk around the car and slide into the passenger side.

You ride for a while talking about nothing in particular. Eventually, you come to one of your favorite spots off the road and he turns. Once you're parked, he asks if you want to move to the backseat.

"I just wanna kiss ya without a steering wheel in the way." You smile and oblige, both of you sliding into the seat at the same time. He opens his arms and gestures for you to come closer. You scoot to him and he plants a deep kiss on your lips, slipping his tongue into your mouth. You continue this way for a while, with him wrapped around you, pressed together. As things start to heat up, your hands go to his belt buckle and you've almost got it undone when there's an emphatic knock knock on the window. You gasp and sit straight up.

"What the fuck?" Elvis growls under his breath. He rolls the window down to see a young male police officer.

"Umm sir, you can't, uh, park here."

"I think you'll find I can do most anything I put my mind to." Elvis waits for the young man to realize who he is, but he doesn't.

"I need your drivers license, please, sir." Elvis turns to you.

"Honey, will you look in the glove box and see if it's in there."

"Sure, baby." You slip out of the door, open the passenger side, and rummage through the glove compartment, careful to keep the gun that's in there hidden. Eventually, you locate a wallet that has an ID in it. You walk around the car to the cop. He's noticeably nervous.

"Your husband seems to think I should know who he is."

"Oh, we're not married. But you should know him." The cop takes the ID from you and looks down at it. His head snaps back up and then he looks down at Elvis in the car.

"You're..."

"Nice to meet you, son."

"I'm gonna... I'm just... this is just a warning..." Elvis smiles knowingly and gestures for you to get in the car. By the time you get back to your place on the seat next to him, the cop is apologizing and walking backwards away from the car.

"Have a good night..." He calls as he gets back to his patrol car. Elvis waves and rolls the window up.

"Now, where were we, doll?"

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

#elvis presley #elvis presley fanfiction #elvis presley x reader #elvis x reader #elvis fanfic #elvis presley x y/n #elvis fluff #elvis presley x you #elvis presley fluff

[suntaeshine]

Til There's Only You

Jeong Yunho

Yunho x Reader (established relationship)

You've been working too much. Yunho decides that enough is enough.

2.4k words

Smut, 18+ MINORS DNI

Warnings!: heavy smut, no protection (wrap it before you tap it), creampie, oral (female receiving), dry humping, size kink, yunho has a bd and bde to match, reader is insatiable, reader is also dick whipped, they're also v v in love uwu

You really needed to finish this mountain of paperwork.

Honestly, your deadline is approaching and your seniors were already jumping down your throat on when you would finally be done.

But, God, you were so fucking tired. Exhausted. Drained. Beat. Down right fucking done.

"Baby," Yunho calls, nudging your shoulder.

Your head lolls, trying to pick up the heavy burden to look in his eyes. You were laying on your stomach, a pillow under your chest as your laptop was in front of you. You were fighting sleep harder than you'd ever known before. Your head lolls again and a few strands of hair fall over your face.

"Yun.. Yunnie.." you mumble.

Yunho was on his knees by the bed, concern making his eyebrows scrunch. He had just gotten back from a night with the boys. Why were you still up? Clearly you weren't waiting for him- something else had you occupied.

"You.. You're back," you stretch, finally resting your head on the pillow under you. "Back already?"

"It's past midnight, love."

He knew you were long gone as you hum- seemingly not phased by such a late time.

"Have you been working all night?" he asks. He knew the answer. He just wanted to hear you admit it. Maybe then, you'd understand it yourself.

But, you were stubborn.

"Hmm? No.. No!" you wave off.

Yunho says your name and he hates that his heart skipped a bit when you smiled sleepily at the sound.

"Come on. Let's get you to bed," he urges.

"No, I'm okay," you force yourself back up, elbows bent to let yourself face the screen. "I'm almost done."

Yunho figures to let it slide for a bit. He had to go take a shower- his shirt reeked with Wooyoung's God awful cologne. A shower would be long enough, he decides. You were on your last leg, anyway. By time he got out, you would probably be passed out, drooling on the keyboard.

So, he takes a shower and walks back through, already mentally planning how to get your motionless body under the blankets to sleep normal.

But, as he walked into the bedroom, towel still in hand as he dried his hair, he stops in his tracks.

"Baby," he calls, lowering his arm.

You looked like a zombie. Your mouth was open, eyes both lazy. One hand was on the keyboard as another was in your hair. You were typing letter by letter, a word count that would make a great grandmother seem like a hacker.

When you don't respond, Yunho tosses his towel on the ground. He had his ways to get through to you. And at this point, he was desperate.

You may have Yunho wrapped around your pinky.. But, Yunho always had you wrapped around his own body part.

He climbs onto the bed, sitting straddle of your thighs. You acknowledge him with a piece of a smile until he disappears behind your head.

He starts gentle, wrapping his hands around your sides, massaging his heel into your skin. It doesn't take long until he's up to your shoulders and your head is back on the bed, gentle 'uh's and 'oh's falling from your lips.

"How long have you been working, baby?" he asks.

"Don't know," you finally admit.

His hands were so strong. You could feel the day's stress being worked out as he massaged you- your heart pounding out of pure adoration for the man.

Then, something else was on you.

"Yunnie," you mutter, wriggling your hips.

Yunho's grasp grows tighter, one hand easing into your hair as he gives a slow and firm roll of his hips into yours. You could feel his cock on your ass.

"Yunnie!" you gasp, arching your back to the best of your ability.

Yunho grins, pulling your hair back as his hips push yours down- a sick but so sweet feeling of balance.

"You've been working too much, baby," he tsks. "How about I tire you out until you can get some rest."

"Mm," you moan, trying your best to scoot your ass back against him harder. "I.. I need to finish this."

"After I finish you off, hm?" he offers, the hand not in your hair sliding to hold your hips.

He gives a strong pump, your body jumping as he humps you so openly. You inhale sharply, fidgeting under him as you already felt your panties soak.

"Please," you pant, biting your lip.

"Please, what?" he feigns innocence.

He lowers himself, pushing your face into the bed. His chin rests on your shoulder as the hand on your hip squeezes between you and the bed. Determined, his fingers slip into your shorts, running the pads against your lips.

"Yunho~" you nearly sing.

He nuzzles into your neck, knocking your hair out of the way until his lips can find your skin. He retrieves his hand from your shorts, placing it on the bed so he could really drive his hips into yours. Weakly, your hand reaches up, tangling in his hair.

"Yunho," you call. "Baby, fuck me."

"Yeah?" he asks.

"Mm," you nod. "Fuck me."

"Want me to fuck you until you pass out?" he growls. "Fuck my baby until she can't think of anything else but my dick?"

"Yes. Yes. Yes," you pant.

Yunho slides over, flipping you onto your back before settling in between your legs. You moan again- just the sight of your boyfriend in the space you craved him most having an effect on you.

He pulls your shorts and panties down with ease, tossing them off the bed. Just as you begin to reach for him, he ducks down, arms wrapping around your thighs.

"Yunnie," you repeat, head falling back onto the pillow.

"Just wanna taste, baby," he kisses your thigh. "Just relax. I'm gonna take care of you."

You hum, reaching down to run your hand through his hair. He grins and your hand cups his cheek. He places a gentle kiss in your palm, wrist, then lowers to your mound.

Instinctively, your hand rests on the back of his head. You weren't pushing him. Not even whining or complaining. When Yunho said he was going to take care of you, he meant it. These were the nights you just laid back and let him do whatever he wanted- be the pillow princess you loved to be on certain days.

Yunho uses one hand to slide between your folds, smiling when you let out a puff of air. His fingers were huge compared to the tiny nest of nerves between your legs. But, he loved the sight. And he knew that you loved the feeling.

He pulls his other hand around, placing a thumb on each side of your pussy. With a single motion, he's spreading your lips open wide and diving in. The first stroke of his tongue against you leaves you breathless, back arching off the bed.

He peeks up to you, watching as you gripped your shirt with one hand as the other laid on his head- shaking.

With your lips still spread, Yunho leans back down, tongue filling up the space- his nose bumping your clit. He was trying to get as deep as possible. If this was any other time, you might have half the mind to make fun of him, the way his jaw almost unhinged to lick up every part of you. You tried to remember to call him a snake later. To pick on him about his big mouth. But, when he goes again, head bobbing as he picks up speed, all thoughts leave your head.

He shakes his head, slurps, flicks, sucks, and caresses every part of your cunt with just his tongue. Your head spins, throwing your arm over your eyes as you cried out at the pleasure.

He said he was going to take care of you, but fuck. This was beyond anything he'd ever done before. It was like he was trying to drown himself in your pussy. All you could do was let him know how good it felt and keep your hand in his hair like the anchor keeping him there.

"Yunnie! Oh, fuck!" you sob. "Just- just like that!"

He was dipping his tongue into your hole, watching your reaction to his motions. His chest, and cock, swelled. He was going to give it to you like never before. You had no idea.

When he could feel your walls clenching around his tongue, he suddenly moves up, lips puckered around your tiny clit as he sucked on the bundle of nerves- tongue still darting out to lick it as he stuffed your cunt with his two fingers.

"Fuck! Yunho!" you scream, almost sitting up right.

"Cum, baby," he groans. "Cum all over my fuckin' face. Give it to me."

You whine- a strangled noise in your throat. Both of your hands fly to his hair, pressing his face deeper into your cunt. He growls, swallowing you whole as he drinks in your juices, fingers massaging your inner walls as he tried to push himself further in your perfect pussy.

Finally, the overstimulation was too much and you pull his hair, unable to get the words out as a few tears ran down your face.

Yunho raises up, wiping your cum from his lip just to lick it back off.

"Yunnie-" you cry, making grabby hands for him. "Yunnie, please."

Yunho was already shirtless from his shower and it doesn't take him long to shove his joggers down, taking his dick out and stroking it.

"No," you complain, reaching for his dick. "Mine."

"I'm gonna give it to you, baby," he assures.

You lay back down, opening your mouth and sticking your tongue out. Yunho laughs, gently patting your cheek as he set his dick on your clit.

"Later. Gonna fuck this pussy first."

"Yunho!" you shout- a mixture of anger and excitement.

You always sucked him off. At a moment's glance, you were ready to get on your knees for Yunho. There was something about him and that perfectly sized, curved dick that made you drool until you couldn't take it and just had to get him down your throat.

He was doing the dishes? You were stationed between him and the cabinets, swallowing him whole.

He wakes up? You were climbing onto his lap to fit that morning wood in your mouth.

You were at Mingi's house? You snuck into the pool shed and begged him to fuck your face until you lost your voice.

Cock hungry- he called you. But, he never turned down your want to suck him off. Not until now, that is.

He was so much bigger than you. It was something that horrified the both of you when you first slept together. He was afraid he would hurt you and you were scared of that thing even fitting in you. But, after years of being together, you learned how to take his cock like a pro. And you would, anytime and anywhere.

"Oh, so-" you cut yourself off as he pushes the head in.

"Fuck, baby. Tight," he hisses. "Fuckin' tight."

"Fuck me," you plead. "Just fuck me."

"I gotta take it slow, baby. How else are you gonna take this bog cock?"

"Make me take it," you demand, reaching to scratch at his chest. "Give it all- all to me. Fuck me, Yunnie."

All self control flew out the window.

Yunho leans down, hiking one of your legs around his waist. He caresses the other, resting his palm on the inside of your thigh and pushes it outward until you're stretched out, nothing to hide from him.

"Gonna fuckin' ruin this pussy," he moans, thrusting deep into you.

You let out a scream that sounded like 'yes', hands gripping Yunho's shoulders.

"Like that, baby?" he asks.

"More. More," you beg.

Yunho throws his head back, loving how needy you always got for him. He reaches down, pulling that pillow to rest under your hips to angle you a bit higher. With the new height, Yunho pulls the leg around his waist to bend at his shoulder.

Then, he lets you have all of it.

Your entire body jolts as he fucks you, hard and fast. Your bent knee become something like a handle for Yunho to slam your hips against his. He was hitting so deep in you that as you cried out, you could swear his dick was in your chest. It was all so much, but fuck was it so good.

"Fuck! Fuck me! Baby! Uh, uh, uh!" you scream, eyes shut as you just soaked in everything he gave you.

"So needy," he teases.

His hips continue hitting hard, but he changes the rhythm enough so that he's not pounding into you, but rolling into you. Despite being as deep as possible, he continues to put pressure on you. It was like he was trying to split you in half on his dick. And you loved every second of it.

"Fuck me so- so good," you praise. "Yunnie, always- God! Fuck me so good."

"Yeah? What if I just fuck you forever? Keep you on this dick. THis pussy was made for this dick. Made for me. Gonna fuck you all the time. Always, baby, fuckin' always."

"Please," you happily sigh. "Fuck me always. Til there's only you. Nothing else but you."

"Damn right."

He returns to slamming into you- you could already tell there would be bruises on the insides of your thighs for the days to come.

"Close," you choke out. "So close. God, Yunho, make me cum."

"Gonna cum again? All for me?" he hums, jack hammering into your cunt. "Do it, baby. Fuckin' drown this dick."

You clench around him, flying up to wrap your arms around his shoulders. He relents, laying you down and pumping fiercely into you as you claw at his back.

"That! Just- just like that!" you shout until you scream his name.

He feels a warmth wash over his dick and thighs, wondering just how hard and how much you came.

"Gonna fill this pussy up, baby," he pants, sitting upright.

You, even more exhausted, could only spread as wide as you could- encouraging him to fill you up.

"Make me yours, Yunnie," you urge. "Make this pussy yours."

A deep groan escapes Yunho's lips- coming from his chest as he cums.

"So good, baby," you praise again. "Make me feel so good."

He stills inside you, making sure his cum hits deep in you. Even when he's done, he stays inside you. With one hand, he wipes the sweat from his hairline.

You moan again, his dick still so, so deep in you.

"So good for me, baby," he praises you this time, leaning down to - finally- kiss you.

Easy, he pulls out of your tightening cunt. He kisses your cheek, whispering about clean up. He steps into the bathroom to retrieve a wet wash cloth.

When he returns, you're asleep.

"Knew you'd see it my way," he tells your sleeping figure.

--

A/N:

I love Yunho so much this man takes me to another level of thirsting ughhh

I really hope you all enjoy this! And remember, my requests are open!

#ateez #jeong yunho #yunho smut #ateez x reader #ateez smut #ateez imagines #yunho x reader

[maxsix]

#jaehyun #taeyong #nct #jaeyong #nct 127 #look man....listen listen..... #is it just me #or does Jaehyun have BDE in this #just the vibe and that cockiness on his face #like it's coming off him in WAVES #and also why is tae sitting between his legs #like gdi jae #have some consideration #rude just so rude

[irrelevantwriter]

House Call

Pairing: Rio (Good Girls) x Female Reader/You

Rating: Explicit, NSFW

Warnings: Language, vaginal fingering, unprotected vaginal sex, mention of bodily fluids, reader being scared and horny, Rio’s BDE (y'all know what's up)

Word Count: 4.2K

Summary: Part 1. Rio shows up unannounced to talk business. Among other things. 

A/N: It’s here...it’s happening. It took me a whole 2.5 seconds to become obsessed with Rio once I started watching GG. Ya’ll know how I roll. Anyway, this is me just dipping my toe into the water. I didn't get too deep with a plot (spoiler alert: there isn't any). It’s essentially just reader-insert into the show’s current plot, but with some smut thrown in. For fun. I hope you guys like it. Feedback is that good shit. 💗

*Added a Part 2! Read it here.

*Give and Take series masterlist

*Masterlist in bio.

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

“You okay?”

The sound of your friend’s concerned voice filled the line, pulling you back to the moment and the conversation you’d been engaged in before you’d burnt yourself in the spray of hot water.

“Yeah, just washing dishes.” You explained, cradling your cell between your shoulder and cheek as you maneuvered dirty dishes under the spout of water.

“So the meeting with the principal? How’d it go?” Rachel asked, getting you back on track.

You sighed, beginning to scrub at a stubborn coffee stain left behind on one of your favorite mugs.

“Fine. The kids are still having a hard time with the divorce so it’s…” You paused, unsure of how to describe the child-like brooding your son and daughter had taken to participating in since you’d separated from their father.

“Tense? Difficult? Weird?” Rachel listed off helpfully.

“All of the above.” You deadpanned, still scrubbing.

“You take the rest of the day off?”

“Yeah, I’ve gotta figure out what I’m going to do with these kids. Paul said he’d come over later to talk it over.”

“How incredibly thoughtful of him.” Rachel replied, sarcasm and disdain dripping from her words.

“Well, it’s a start. And as much as I’d like to tell him to fuck off, I can’t. He’s still their dad.” You explained for the hundredth time, feeling the stress of your situation with your ex starting to creep into your body. Your shoulders felt stiff and your head began to throb with a dull ache. It was a familiar reaction these days. One you loathed.

You opened your mouth to steer the conversation elsewhere when the doorbell rang, chiming throughout the empty expanse of your home.

“Paul?” Rachel asked, obviously hearing the alert of someone’s company over the phone.

“I guess. Look, I’ll call you later.” You said with another sigh, this one more tired than annoyed. You gave up on the stained mug and moved onto drying it, shutting the water off as you did.

“Okay. Good luck.”

“Thanks.” You ended the call, aware that you were short with her, but unable to feel sorry for it. You had plenty of other things to worry about, none of which involved your shitty ex or his new girlfriend.

You placed your cell on the counter and turned to make your way to the entryway, mug still clutched in your hand. The ceramic cup dropped to the floor and shattered into pieces when you saw who was already in your kitchen. You gasped, clutching your chest and yelping at the familiar man in black, the dark ink splattered across his throat the first thing you noticed. Your heart leapt, your body going rigid at the unexpected visit. Pop-ups like this were never a good sign.

“I let myself in.” Rio supplied, voice low and thick with authority and charm. He wore a smirk, lips upturned at your surprised reaction. He always seemed amused by you. That fact only served to unsettle you further.

“What’re you doing here?” You managed to say between shaky breaths, fear making your own voice quiver.

“Just checking in, mama. Can’t I do that?” He challenged with his arms spread wide, daring you to say otherwise.

You didn’t.

You went to move around the large kitchen island but the shards of broken mug prevented you from getting far on bare feet. Rio took notice and strode towards you, all clean lines and hooded eyes. He had a swagger about him that radiated. It sent a clear message about the kind of man he was. Confident. Skilled. Smart. There was an ease in his movements, but a beast lay in wait inside, ready to strike when the need arose.

His piercing gaze took in your dress, uncaring of being discreet or polite. He appraised you from the tips of your painted toes to the top of your head. It was as unnerving as it was thrilling. He crowded your space. He always did. While the scent of him filled your nostrils. Something spicy, but pleasing. It sat in your nose, and you knew from previous experience that you’d smell it for hours after.

You swallowed, wanting to avoid his close proximity. You hastily bent down to gather what you could of the jagged pieces, moving around his sneaker-clad feet that stood before you. You tried to ignore his presence, tried to appear calm and composed. It was an uphill battle. The man always knew how to throw you off. He knew how to keep people on their toes. It was yet another facet of him that you both coveted and despised.

You hissed, feeling the edge of one of the shards dig into the tip of your finger. You stood and sucked the tip into your mouth, trying to clear the area of the blood that had started to surface. His eyes were on you, watching you with interest and a certain level of lust that you didn’t allow yourself to explore. You stiffened when he reached for your wrist and pulled your finger away from your lips. He inspected the cut, his flesh warm and soft against yours. It was a side of him that eclipsed the man you’d come to know over the last several months.

“It’s not bad. I’ll be fine.” You whispered, attempting to pull your hand free of his. It was futile.

“Band aid?”

“Uh...yeah. In that drawer. Next to the stove.” You pointed in the direction of the drawer, holding your breath as he retrieved the item. This time, you watched him. Watched as he unwrapped the bandage and tended to your finger with all the care of a parent with their child. He held the appendage steady as he got ready to wrap it, but he stopped himself. He locked eyes with you instead, making you shiver.

“I make you nervous.”

It was a statement. A very true statement. And yet you found yourself shaking your head; ironic because your voice felt too unsteady to use.

Your heart stopped when he placed a tender kiss to the cut. The air around you crackled with heat and tension. It was unlike any feeling you’d ever been subjected to before. It was danger mixed with primal fascination...attraction. And it called to you like a raft in a sea of treacherous waves.

He ignored your silent response and sealed the band aid over your finger, ensuring the ends were smooth against your skin. He didn’t let go of you.

“Don’t lie to me, okay? Trust is an important thing. And we’ve gotta have it if we wanna keep doing business together.”

His calm demeanor and gentle chastising made you a puddle of obedience. Your need to please wasn’t just born from fear. It was something you’d been unable to come to terms with until now. You saw it for what it truly was. You wanted to please him. In as many ways as he’d let you.

You nodded in response, agreeing to his statement.

“Let’s try it again then, yeah?” He started, eyes roaming your face. “I make you nervous, don’t I?”

“The constant threat of my life makes it difficult for me to be calm.” You said, choosing to still be untruthful. 

You forced yourself not to fidget as his stare scorched your skin. His black eyes roamed across the open expanse of your collarbone and to the modest neckline of your wrap dress. He licked his lips as he focused on the measured breaths of your chest, your breasts rising with each pass.

“That’s not the only reason.” He retorted with a shake of his head. He leaned in close, noses almost touching as he spoke. “Don’t move.”

You said nothing as he bent down, continuing your failed task of picking up the broken bits of ceramic. You observed him dutifully gathering each piece, piling them into one large hand. His face looked pensive, as if he was trying to solve an equation in his head. You leaned against the island for support and bit your lip, unwilling to give into the lecherous thoughts that haunted you at night and managed to infiltrate your dreams.

“Nice dress.”

His compliment made you pause, looking down to meet that familiar smirk. He’d set what was left of the mug onto the counter, the floor relatively clear of large fragments. His fingers now played with the hem of said dress, the flowy material dancing in the air and away from your body.

“Thanks.”

Your voice was small. The apprehension so clear that you could both taste it. He found it funny. You found it humiliating.

He slowly straightened, taking the fabric with him as he gathered it to just above your knees.

“Color looks good on you.”

Again, the juvenile warmth of his praise sent you reeling further into anxiety’s waiting arms. Inwardly, you were responding to every lick of his lips and quirk of his eyebrow. Your thighs shifted restlessly against each other, waiting for that satiation that you hadn’t felt in forever. Outwardly though, you remained as skittish as a wild horse. You were as much on the edge of pleasure as you were on retreating.

“Thanks.” You said with a pleasant smile, wanting to conceal the yearning that bubbled just under the surface. You smoothed out the hunter-green fabric that rested against your abdomen, hoping to urge his hands away from you and the dress.

No such luck.

Instead, he ran his fingers up your skirt and along the outside of your thighs and hips, almost meeting the edge of your lace panties. Your traitorous body showed its hand, your nipples hardening in eagerness. Rio’s gaze predictably caught the action. And his face showed his approval.

“How long you been divorced?”

You furrowed your brows in confusion at his sudden curiosity. But the switch in topic had you alert again and somewhat clear of the fog he was so insistent on throwing you into.

“Why? What does that have to do with anything?” You questioned, stepping back from his body.

His hands fell away from you finally, but they didn’t stay idle for long. They skimmed over your hips, pressing your backside into the edge of the kitchen island.

“Answer me, mama.” He demanded, head craning down to meet your eyes. The intensity of his stare made you shift on your feet. He had an amazing poker face. A skill that left you envious.

“Two years.” You dutifully supplied, leaning backwards every inch that he moved in.

“It’s been that long then.” He commented with a nod, a finger tracing along the neckline of your dress, hovering just above your cleavage.

“That long for what?” You asked, taking note of the subtle ways in which his face changed. There was no trace of the teasing, light-hearted flirting that you’d become accustomed to seeing from him. He was serious. Almost as serious as the times he’d threatened your life. His touch was more insistent, telling you what he wanted rather than hinting. His mouth lowered to your ear, his nose brushing against your neck in a far too erotic manner. Your fingers itched to anchor yourself to him. You denied the request.

“Since someone stretched you out.”

A gasp caught in your throat, though you didn’t know if it was more from his words or his touch. He’d managed to slip a hand under your dress, tracing the crotch of your panties with a dexterous finger as he spoke.

“Wh-what do you mean?” You stammered, knuckles tightening against the edge of the counter you were currently gripping.

“I mean…” Rio started, lips brushing against the shell of your ear with each syllable. His finger barely teased your slit, but his voice more than compensated for the lack of physicality. “You haven’t had someone here,” He emphasized the word with a firm press of his finger against the soaked material that hid your clit from view. “In two years. Maybe more.”

You whimpered, biting your lip as he continued to manipulate your body. Your head screamed at you to stop, to pull away. But the sensation of his body pressed so firmly to yours was far too comforting to deny.

“You don’t know that.” You attempted, though the effort was obviously pointless. It was true. Since your separation and subsequent divorce from Paul, you’d barely been on a date, much less had sex. Your body was fiending for it...for him. And he knew it.

He scoffed, finding amusement in your words. He pressed his finger along the same dampened area, seeing your eyes roll into the back of your head. He licked his lips when your hand shot out to grasp at his wrist.

“Yeah, I do.” He affirmed with a nod, finger still teasing over your lace-covered slit. “He stepped out on you, didn’t he?” He continued, his eyes taking stock of the way you responded to his touch.

You had trouble focusing on the conversation he insisted on having while his hand was up your dress and practically in your underwear. You didn’t feel the need to supply an answer anyway. He already had all the information he needed.

“He didn’t deserve you.”

You were jolted back to reality by his words, straightening your spine and pushing his hand from between your legs.

“And what? You do?” You threw back, agitation seeping into your tone. You felt like he was patronizing you. He was always one step ahead. Always aware of the skeletons in your closet before you were.

“Never said that.” He said with a shake of his head, not stepping out of your space. His hands were off your body now, but the stains they’d left on you would remain there. They wouldn’t easily be erased. And you weren’t entirely sure that you wanted them to be.

“Why are you here?” You asked, trying to sound more confident than you felt.

“Business.”

“A simple call or text works for that.”

“Wanted to come in person.” He said with a shrug of his shoulders. He wore an expression of smugness, as if he knew something you didn’t, which was often the case.

“What do you want then?”

“Why don’t you tell me?” He retorted swiftly, lips pulled into a thin line.

The seriousness was back, his eyes nearly swallowing you as all humor became sucked from the room. The nerves in your stomach came back full force, the fear aiding them in their efforts. He was challenging you, apparently done with your lying.

“I…”

You didn’t know what to say. Didn’t know how to even begin. He was too intimidating. Just too much.

“I-I can’t.” You finished lamely, shaking your head and looking down at your feet.

He tilted your chin up, his mouth only centimeters from yours as he dared you to move.

“Just say the word.” He rasped against your lips, his free hand cradling your cheek.

You let yourself stare back, taking in his dark lashes and the angles of his face. He confused you on many levels, angered you beyond belief. He made your life a living hell. And yet, you wanted him more than anything. More than the money and the thrill of crime. And somehow he was privy to it all. And he wanted to give it to you.

So you were going to let him.

“Kiss me.” You breathed out, your hands finally coming to rest on his chest.

He needed no further encouragement. His mouth settled over yours in a tangle of lips and tongues. He tasted like mint, his lips much softer than they looked. The scratch of his facial hair only added to the moment as you pressed further into him, asking him to take more.

He did.

His hands were rough, but not unpleasant as they trailed along your body. They had the marks of healed scars. Not to mention the blood of those who chose to cross him. They were everywhere and all at once. Your breasts, your neck, your waist, your ass. He kneaded where he knew you yearned for more and tenderly stroked the areas in between. You struggled to keep up as his hips pushed into yours, his own yearning making its presence known.

“We shouldn’t do this.” You managed to say between heavy breaths, Rio’s mouth attaching to your neck and sucking near your throbbing pulse.

“Why not?” He mumbled into your skin, hands unwilling to slow down.

“Things will get complicated.”

He pulled himself away from the crook of your neck, his thumb running over your kiss-swollen pout.

“Yeah, they will.” He said with a chuckle, that devilish smirk staring back at you.

It was all a blur after that.

Limbs intertwined together as you worked on the buckle of his pants while he pushed your dress up and over your hips this time. He harshly pulled the lace away, the elastic snapping against your thighs as it got caught before making its way to the floor. Your mouths didn’t separate, not even when he lifted you onto the counter. He pulled one side of your dress away, exposing the matching bra you wore underneath. Your pebbled nipples called to him and he responded, massaging the flesh with expert precision. You moaned and writhed like a woman possessed. Like a woman that hadn’t been laid in two years.

“Feels good?”

The roughened gravel of his voice made your walls spasm, the hint of self-assuredness causing a wave of arousal to seep from within you. You could only nod, wordlessly pleading with him to continue on. His touch ventured south to your spread thighs. You widened them, allowing him access to the place you needed him the most. He didn’t disappoint.

His fingers were long and probing as they penetrated your sex, slipping easily in. You gasped at the fullness, the stretch around him making your eyes squeeze shut. He let your body guide him as he rubbed at your clit, his fingers curling against your walls.

“I’m...god...I’m gonna cum.” You confessed, only somewhat embarrassed by the suddenness of your climax.

He worked hard and faster. Your nails dug into his back, your mouth landing on his shoulder as you struggled to not cry out. You bit down when the euphoria of orgasm washed over you, trapping his hand within you. He could feel every tremor he brought forth as you shook in his arms. It felt like it lasted for hours, your body unwilling to let the feeling be a fleeting moment in time.

“You still with me?” He asked, lips pressed to your temple.

You nodded, hissing when he removed his fingers from the confines of your body. You watched, feeling as if you were in a daze. He shifted his pants and boxers down, revealing his length to your ravenous eyes. The hand that had been so deeply embedded in you now wrapped around himself. He was long and hard, as rigid as his hands. You felt like a moth to a flame, hand reaching out to feel if he was real. He was.

You swiped your finger over the tip of him and were overcome with wanton pride at feeling the moisture that sat there. His jaw clenched in a way that you’d only ever seen him do in anger. He didn’t allow you to continue. In an instant he was wedged between your thighs, his body already pushing into your waiting sex. Even with the climax from his fingers, he was a tight fit. You both expelled breaths, his a mumbled curse and yours a throaty moan. You shut your eyes as a new burst of pleasure radiated from your core and traveled up your spine. There was only a brief moment of intimacy as he sat unmoving within you, letting your body adjust to him.

It was short-lived.

“Fuck...” He cursed as he began to fuck you into the counter, hands holding your hips in place.

You wrapped your arms around his neck as he lavished yours with kisses and bites, each thrust of his hips causing his teeth to graze your skin. The chill of the marble countertop beneath your bare ass cooled your overheated skin. You bit your lip so hard you could taste blood as he filled you over and over, each pass making your walls accept more of him. He was deep and hitting that gloriously elusive spot that sat within your womb. 

He cupped your breasts while you scraped your nails down his back, hearing him growl in response. The sound made you yearn to hear more. So, you did something you’d always wanted to do...you licked the ink on his throat. You decorated his skin with tantalizing kisses, your tongue aiding your actions. He shivered against your lips, the reaction making your walls clench around him. He was, at least for the moment, a slave to your ministrations. And it was a high unlike any drug you’d ever encountered.

It was animalistic fucking at its finest. He hit every nerve, soothed every ache. The union of your bodies was enough to send you sailing off the proverbial cliff, but his touch kept you tethered to solid ground, longing for more. He rocked his hips mercilessly into you, making your back arch at an almost painful angle.

“Right there, huh?” He teased, feeling you squeeze around him in raw desire. “Yeah, that’s the spot.”

You whimpered and tensed when he savagely rubbed your swollen clit, forcing your legs to tighten around him. He laughed, the sound ominous in your ringing ears. You could only hold on as he delivered the sweetest torture you’d ever felt. You spread your thighs wider, trying to get him closer than humanly possible. You opened your neck up to him, letting him have access to your bare flesh. You wanted him all over you and leaving a scorching trail of hunger in his wake.

It was manic. It was frenzied. It was passionate. And it all combined into a seductive elixir that made fireworks burst from within.

“Shit...I’m cumming.” You warned, feeling him double his efforts. Every muscle went taut with blinding pleasure as that coil finally snapped. You felt weightless, and yet the firm body still driving into your depths made you feel sublimely solid. And whole. More whole than you’d felt in the entirety of your marriage.

It was on the tail-end of your climax that Rio found his. His hips stuttered as he grunted and groaned, releasing himself into you and painting your walls. His fingers dug into the flesh of your inner thighs while his face burrowed into your chest and neck. It was as uninhibited as you’d seen him. And you were addicted to the sight. 

You both heaved with shallow breaths, the exertion of each of your climaxes literally taking the air from your lungs. The room smelled of sex and instant regret as you straightened in Rio’s arms. He separated from your body, eyeing you as he redressed. You shifted your dress back together to cover your bra, the mess between your thighs preventing you from closing them completely. 

Before you could say anything, Rio reached up and cradled your cheek. He played with your bottom lip, his thumb once again finding the appendage. His eyes took in every part of you, as if he hadn’t fucked you senseless seconds before. He licked his lips in that dangerous way that let you know his thoughts were on more than just money.

“Business is good?” He asked, warm palm still pressed to your cheek.

“Yeah, it is.”

“Cool, cool.” He nonchalantly replied, hand leaving your face as he stepped back from your debauched body. “I’ll see you soon, yeah?”

“Yeah.” You said with a nod, pushing your dress further down over your thighs, a lame effort to protect any modesty you might’ve still possessed. He smirked at the action.

“Might wanna clean up the mess.” He said with a cheeky upturn of his lips, hands gesturing to the remaining fragments of ceramic that still littered the floor but eyes locked solely to the spot between your legs. The place he knew he’d left a part of himself.

You bit your lip and nervously played with the hem of your dress, feeling his eyes bore into you. Despite still being fully dressed, you felt naked to him. Bare. Exposed. Vulnerable. You hated it.

He retreated, facing you as he walked backwards towards the front door. You watched him from over your shoulder, still unsure of what to make of the whole situation. 

“And lock your door from now on. All kinds of madmen running around these streets.” He quipped, eyes lighting up at his own joke.

He was gone as fast as he’d arrived, causing havoc and then leaving without a second thought. The door closed with a crisp click at his exit, the house now feeling bare without his foreboding presence.

You didn’t move from your spot. You remained on the counter, Rio still leaking from your walls and your dress still disheveled despite your best efforts. Your mind raced with thoughts, each one riddled with panic. His unexpected visit left you with more questions than answers, all of which were tinged with fear. What did this development mean for you? Did it actually mean anything? Or was he simply taking what was so obviously laid out in front of him?

Did it matter?

No. It didn’t.

Because although he may have indulged your craving, your appetite was far from being fulfilled.

#rio good girls #rio #good girls rio #good girls nbc #nbc good girls #rio x reader #rio x you #rio imagine #rio fanfiction #rio fanfic

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Little Bones 7

Warnings: non-consent sex and rape, anger, humiliation, control, violence, threats.

This is dark! (biker) Thor x chubby!reader and explicit. 18+ only.  Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Series Synopsis: You’re a city girl stuck in a small town, but Birch isn’t as sleepy as it seems.

Sister series to Smalltown Bringdown and When the Weight Comes Down

Note: Here’s the finale for Thor’s part in our Birch story! Yay! But is it yay? We never known with his BDE (Big Doofus Energy). But anyway, here we go.

Thanks to everyone for their patience and feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 Let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!

MASTERLIST

Chapter 7: Baby, eat this chicken slow, it's full of all them little bones

The morning light was pale as it slipped in between the curtains and sent a shiver through you as an immovable warmth blazed against your back and clung to your body. The night ended as well as it could have, which was poorly. Your drunken outburst settled in your gut in sour alcoholic regret.

You shifted your legs, thighs tender from the last of Thor’s irritation, and carefully sat up so that his arm fell away from you. He grumbled and rolled onto his side as he tickled your spine.

“Where’re you going?” he asked groggily.

“Coffee,” you said curtly as you touched your forehead.

“Mmmm,” he hummed and the bed creaked as he turned flat onto his back and stretched.

You stood and went to your dresser. You pulled out a night shirt and swooped it over your head, your head pulsing with your unthinking excess. You glanced back at Thor, his thick torso naked above the messy blankets as he laid with his eyes shut and arms wide. His blonde hair fanned out around his head as his chest rose and fell steadily.

You left him and went to the kitchen, tiles cool beneath your feet and the air toasty as the radiator sent off waves of stolid heat. You measured the coffee and fed the machine water. You tiptoed into the hallway and took your purse from the shoe rack and searched out your emergency bottle of Advil. You swallowed them dry and went back to stand at the counter and listen to the grind.

You watched the trickle of the dark brew as it began to spit into the pot. You hung your head and leaned on the linoleum top, fingers tapping as the stream continued. You heard his yawn and his footsteps on the hardwood before they met the tile. You didn’t bother to look over and instead opened the cupboard to pull out a mug.

As you set it down, Thor came up behind you and reached to grab one of his own. He held himself flush to your back as the porcelain clinked down beside your own and he pressed against you until your hips were at the counter. You sighed and focused on the trickle of coffee.

He hummed and nuzzled your head as he drew a hand back to feel along your thigh. He brushed his fingertips over your ass and squeezed. 

“Please, I’m hungover,” you moaned, “I just want coffee--”

“I’ll be gentle,” he cooed, “besides what better to relieve some tension?”

“Don’t you ever have enough?” you scowled as he lifted your night shirt and gripped your hips, fingers tracing the line of your curves.

“Of you? Never,” he said, “last night… you know I like your teeth, kitten, but there is a time for them to come out. That wasn’t it.”

“What do you want from me?” you gritted your teeth as he continued to feel you up. You realised as his arousal grazed your ass that he was still naked, “why can’t you stop? I never wanted--”

“I’m good to you, kitten,” he intoned, “a man like me, we aren’t nice too many.”

“Nice? Is that what--”

“You goad me,” his voice deepened as he pushed his hand between your legs, “you walk a very thin line, kitten. I’d as soon grab you by the scruff.”

He bent and dragged his lips along your neck as he spread your cunt and flicked his middle finger along your clit. You hissed and gripped the counter. His touch rippled through you and you closed your eyes in futile resistance.

“But I pet you nice,” he coaxed, “don’t I?”

“Thor--”

“Mmm, that’s exactly what I want to hear,” he grazed your skin with his teeth and nipped.

You held your breath as he added another finger and played with you. You still felt the night before but the new sensations dulled the lingering ache. You quivered as he slid further back and teased your entrance, rocking his hips so that his hardness rubbed against you firmly.

You tensed as he poked a finger inside of you then another. He sank down to his knuckles and curled them, his hand against your clit as he squeezed. His hot breath seeped below your shirt as you own hitched. He shoved another finger into you and you gulped as he stretched you.

You heard how wet you were as your walls clenched him hungrily. You hated that your body responded to him so eagerly even as that voice in the back of your head kept whispering back at you to stop.

He urged you back against him and tilted your pelvis, his other hand kneading the flesh along your thigh. He trailed around your ass and stroked himself as he angled his tip along your cheeks and bent his knees to poke against his fingers.

He slid his fingers out of you and kept them on your clit as he pressed his cock along your entrance. He eased into you slowly as he drew circles around your bud. You trembled and bit your lip as you hung your head and he bit into your shoulder as he sank to his limit.

He rocked slowly as the coil twisted around his fingertips and your walls clung to him. You spread your hands flat on the counter as he moved you against it, hips hitting the curled edge of the linoleum.

Your helplessness turned into desperation to get off. You leaned back into him as you stood on your toes, back arching as you welcomed each cloying thrust of his hips. Your voice fluttered from you and echoed in your head. You muffled yourself with your palm and he tore your hand away.

He swirled his fingers faster and you breathed through your nose as you held in the rising glee. You growled as you came, legs shaking and cunt gripping him tightly. He took your orgasm as a cue and sped up, the impact of your hips growing painful against the counter.

You felt another climax about to erupt inside of you but your nerves spiked in another way as an unexpected knock sounded. Thor grunted but never wavered as he kept fucking you. He snaked his thick arm around your neck and forced you against him entirely, nearly taking you off your feet as his other hand stayed between your legs.

The knock came again, louder and impatient. Thor’s bicep pressed to your throat as your head lolled along his shoulder. He growled and his flesh slapped harder against yours as he chased his own release. Tap, tap, tap.

“One second!” he called to the door and choked on his voice.

He rammed into you hard and you felt the sudden flow inside of you. He didn’t slow as he coated your walls, not until he was spent and oversensitive. He shuddered as the knocking became constant and he let you slump against the counter as he slipped out of you. He inhaled sharply as it made him wince and he slapped your ass.

“We have company,” he said as he grabbed the paper towel and wiped himself off. 

He turned away and tossed the crumpled rectangle into the bin. You watched him stomp through the living room and curve back around to the door as he snatched up a throw to knit around his waist. You squeezed your thighs together and pulled down your night shirt as he turned the latch. You focused on pouring your coffee as shame bubbled in your chest.

“If it wasn’t snowing, I wouldn’t have waited so long,” Loki complained as Thor opened the door.

“It wasn’t that long,” Thor grumbled, “what is it?”

“You asked me to come here first thing. Do you not remember, brother?” Loki snipped and you sensed him peeking over at you, “though I might understand why your mind wandered.”

“I recall,” Thor swept back into the living room as Loki stepped out of his boots.

“Good morning,” he slithered and you looked over at him.

“Coffee?” you asked as you held up the carafe.

“I prefer tea but thank you,” he continued on after his brother and you huffed quietly. 

You put the pot back on the burner and slowly parted your legs. You ripped off some paper towel and wiped away the cum before it grew sticky on your skin. You quivered as you brushed your sensitive cunt and did your best to clean up.

You took your mug and sneaked out of the kitchen and down the hall as you heard the men’s voices. You didn’t so much as look at them as you escaped to your room. You kept the door open a crack as you searched out some clothes and flung them on the bed.

“Well, I was thinking perhaps you wouldn’t have to remain,” Loki ventured, “your organization will need you back as soon as this snow clears.”

“You hate this place,” Thor argued, “so why--”

“I hate your little band of brutes worse,” Loki interrupted, “besides, you’ve done what you needed. You’ve come to agreement with the locals and now you can be off to your usual… affairs.”

“And what about yours?”

“My business has always been cleaning up after you. You will need one here with the acumen to secure the deal and all its complex facets.”

“These men don’t sign contracts,” Thor scoffed.

“That is not what I mean. You know my skills beyond legal tedium,” he replied, “you are far too distracted to see to it all yourself.”

“Hmmm,” Thor hummed and silence rose. 

You took a gulp of coffee and clunked the cup down. You grabbed your clothes and hurried across to the bathroom and shut yourself in. You rinsed yourself with tap water before you dressed and listened again as their tones drifted through the small apartment.

“I suppose you make sense,” Thor conceded, “Heimdall hasn’t stopped calling these last days, or at least, I think. The service here… but I should be back.”

“Father, too,” Loki added. 

“Father, too,” Thor agreed, “well, let us hope this storm passes soon.”

You emerged from the bathroom and crept down the hall. Loki stood as you looked into the living room and checked his silver watch. “I will leave you to your… recreation,” he smirked at you as he raised his chin, “but I will make arrangements for my prolonged stay as you ready for your departure.”

Thor nodded and waved him away. He leaned on his elbow as he rested his chin on his knuckles and Loki sent you another grin before he strode away. He pulled on his boots and left with a lilted “goodbye” to both of you.

You waited as the conversation replayed in your head. He was leaving. At last. You struggled not to smile and instead neared and took Loki’s former spot in the slouchy chair.

“You heard all that?” he asked the redundant question. You nodded and his blue eyes flicked out the window. “Well, we’ve got some packing to do.”

“We?” you echoed, “I… what?”

“You think I would leave you here?” his mouth curved, “kitten, this little town isn’t our end. It’s our beginning.”

“I can’t just leave. I have a job, I have an apartment, and--”

“And? You can have all those things if you come with me. Better even. We have a national archive, I know one of the curators, and I think you’ll like my place--”

“I’m not going with you,” you interrupted, “you’ve done enough. I won’t leave because of you.”

“Oh? You think it’s your decision? And what will you do otherwise? Will you drive home to your mother? She’s got a job of her own and I don’t think she has any room left in her life for her daughter. Not a daughter old enough to take care of herself. To be in the care of a man rather than her parent, yes?”

“I don’t need you to take--”

“You do need me. You don’t realise it because you’ve not seen what I could do to ruin your life. Truly. I’ve been rather generous and I’ve shown you only some of what I can do. I can give you everything or I can take everything,” he sat up and stretched his arm over the back of the couch, “you don’t want to see what I can take.”

You paused and stared at him. All light was gone from his blue eyes and his expression was void of any of his usual gaiety. You sat back as his words struck you. A sudden realisation chilled your blood.

“How do you know about my mom?”

“I’ve always been rather serious about you, kitten,” he said, “so why wouldn’t I want to know everything about you.”

You thought of Bucky’s girl and Steve’s. You used to pity them and now you were them. You pitied yourself and knew then the true extent of their futility. 

As in all things, there was no denying Thor in this. But you wanted to, so much. You wanted to scream, you wanted to hit him, you wanted to run and never stop.

You got to your feet and turned away from him. “Did you want coffee?” you asked in resignation.

He was quiet for a moment. He understood and he knew you did too. That was your white flag.

“Just a touch of milk,” he replied.

You went into the kitchen and filled his mug. Yours was likely cold by then, you thought as you stirred in a cloud of milk. You replaced the carton in the fridge and stared at the machine. Your eyes crawled over every inch of the kitchen in a silent farewell. 

You never liked this place; not the apartment, not the library, not the town. You always told yourself you would give anything to leave, to make it anywhere else. You regretted those naïve wishes. It should have been good enough. It was but now you couldn’t hold onto it.

Your fingers closed around the mug and you felt the heat through the porcelain. You furrowed your brow and let go of it. You turned and neared the other end of the counter. Your eyes rested on the knife block and you reached shakily to free a blade from its slot. You gripped it tight and turned it to catch the light.

If you killed him, you wouldn’t have to worry about him ever again. And if he killed you...

What were you thinking? What were you doing? You shook as you eyed the knife but could not bring yourself to put it back. There was only one way away from this man. Any cell would be freedom compared to him.

You tucked it into the back of your jeans and took the cup of coffee. You went into the living room and found Thor on his feet, his jeans low on his hips. You handed him the mug and watched him as he thanked you with a smile. He sipped as his other hand lingered along the top of the denim.

“Enough milk?” you asked, the air thick in your lungs as the handle of the jeans poked your back.

“Just perfect,” he assured you.

You stared at him as the hate roiled inside of you. You hated him. You really did. It didn’t matter if he could get you off, that he could be nice, he wasn’t nice. He was one of those bikers. Hell, you could be certain he was a killer. You weren’t crazy, he was.

You reached behind you as he turned and set down the mug. You pulled out the knife and cocked your arm back. You were knocked back as he spun and kicked you, his own hand flying up from his waistband. You fell onto the floor and the knife clattered away from you.

He knelt with his knee on your chest and pressed the barrel of his gun to your head. He leaned all his weight on you until you couldn’t breathe. You croaked and slapped at his leg as you gasped for air. The metal was hard and unyielding against your skull.

“I see you’ve made your choice,” he said as your eyes crossed in an effort to look at the gun, “the hard way it is.”

You closed your eyes, certain it would all end with a bang. He pulled the gun away and suddenly the weight was off your chest. As you peeked out from under your eyelids, he grabbed you by your neck and thrust you up to your feet. He had you dangling from his grip as he walked you across the room.

He slammed you into the wall so that your head spun. His blue eyes seared as he snarled and leaned in.

“Don’t you worry, kitten, I’ve got a nice little cage waiting for you,” he sneered, “but for now, this will do.”

He wrenched you forward then shoved you back against the wall. Your head bounced off it and left you in a daze. He let go and you fell to your knees. He grabbed the back of your shirt and dragged you into the hall. He tossed you into the bedroom ahead of him and moved swiftly to take his belt from where it was coiled on your dresser.

He got down to straddle you under him as you batted at him weakly. Your were senseless and stupid from his assault. You thought of the knife on the living room floor and wanted to sob. He wound the belt around your neck and pulled it tight. 

“You better get used to wearing a collar, kitten,” he snarled as he leaned in, his nose brushing against yours, “or you’ll choke from it.”

💀💀💀

END

#thor #dark thor #dark!thor #thor x reader #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #series #little bones #birch #biker boys of birch #mcu #marvel #au #biker au #biker!au #loki #steve rogers #bucky barnes #sequel #threequel

[winterscaptain]

dead man’s hand.

Aaron Hotchner x Fem!Reader

a/n: our 52 pickup ajf episode! i dunno about yall, but i was so excited to get my hands on viper in this universe. he’s ridiculous, and i think he deserves to be absolutely put to shame by aaron “BDE” hotchner. 

a joyful future fic, but requires little context. 

words: 5k warnings: canon-typical misogyny, language, improper comm conduct, emily prentiss: lesbian icon™

summary: your first case back to full duties after your injury at the septarian ranch just had to take you undercover, didn’t it?

masterlist | a joyful future masterlist | requests closed!

You’re happy to be back in your usual plane seat, just to the left of Aaron, with your notes in your lap. With your arm in the sling, you were relegated to the table, in Derek’s usual spot beside Rossi, to discourage you from slouching. It was Hotch who suggested it, of course, but that didn’t help your pride. 

Though your sling is gone and you’re back where you belong, your shoulder still twinges a little from time to time. 

As it happens, a twinge hits you right as Rossi asks, “How does our unsub go from loser of the year to Don Juan?”

While Spencer answers him, Hotch glances over at you. You wave him off. I’m fine, Hotch. 

He sighs and you both tune back in to Spencer. “...Don Juan was an ironic reversal of sex roles and when -” Spencer looks at Hotch, finding something in his face that usually made you laugh, but stops Spencer in his tracks. “Th-That’s about it.” 

You suppress your smile as Hotch refocuses the group. “Something must have happened between the last prostitute and Vanessa Holden, making him change his victimology.” 

“Could the unsub have known Vanessa?” Jordan’s question almost surprises you. She’s still settling in, but you’re learning she doesn’t hesitate to freely share her opinion. 

Hotch hesitates, as if waiting for someone else to answer. You oblige him, leaning around Dave a bit to see her better. “It’s unlikely.” 

Derek picks up your thought. “Yeah, sexual sadists attack anonymously”

“They have to sever a personal connection and see their victims as objects to perpetrate this level of torture.” Spencer softens your quick rebukes with a little closed-mouth smile. 

You spare a glance for Hotch and he raises his eyebrows for a split second before they drop back down. Your elbow makes contact with his arm, and you press into him for a second. Be nice. 

He huffs a light breath through his nose as Prentiss and Rossi bounce off each other. I am being nice. 

Then, as though your silent sidebar never existed, he jumps back in. “The victimology is so different, we’ll treat them as separate unsubs and see what overlaps.” He makes assignments, finally rounding out by assigning Derek, you, Jordan, and himself to the victim’s family. 

+++

Todd’s initiative continues to take you by surprise long after you land. She takes command of the situation at the precinct, and there are a couple of times where you can feel Hotch shift his weight. 

He’s uncomfortable. 

When Jordan leaves the room, you turn to the side and he leans in. “If you’re going to pull her, do it quietly. Something tells me she’s adverse to public criticism.” 

He nods, just a little, and you return to your former posture. 

The house is where things get really sticky. 

“Mrs. Holden,” she says, “we can’t begin to fathom the loss you’ve suffered.” 

You nudge Hotch with your shoulder (ouch) and he uncrosses his arms. Loosen up for a minute, would you?

“No, that’s right. You can’t.” Mrs. Holden’s tone is sharp, and you can’t help but feel for her - the stuff Garcia sent over was awful. A daughter, dead, and forums full of people saying you had it coming. Ugh. 

“But, um…” Jordan steps up, and you narrow your eyes a little. 

What is she doing? 

“I lost my older sister in a car crash.” You can feel Derek’s brow furrow as he checks in with Hotch. Aaron has yet to move and, as usual, his face gives nothing away to anyone except you. Something’s wrong. “And it was really hard on our family because she was the responsible one. She was the one that my mother always counted on to watch over us.” 

Your eyes flicker to Hotch’s profile, and you find his mouth a touch tighter, his eyes infinitesimally narrower.

Uh oh. 

We know that look. 

Again, what is she doing? 

“And when she died, my mother wouldn’t let the police in. If she didn’t let them in, then my sister wasn’t really dead.” Jordan leans in closer, as if her next words are a secret. “This man is a monster,” Aaron straightens with an inhale, and you feel yourself wind tighter and tighter as he does. You have no idea what you’re upset about yet, but you’re sure it's something. “...and we can catch him, but we need your daughter’s help.”

The mother turns on Derek in an outburst of pre-emptive anger. He very kindly de-escalates the situation, ever the voice of reason and empathy. Hotch takes another breath as Mrs. Holden turns to invite you further into the house. Jordan checks in with Derek before following her, almost smug. 

Aaron’s brows are drawn when you look at him again. Derek asks the question you’ve been waiting for. “Did you know that about Jordan?”

“No,” he says. “And neither did she. According to her file, she’s an only child.” Hotch walks away immediately, letting his implicit accusation hang in the air between you. 

You share a look with Derek. 

+++

“The information about Vanessa Holden being the responsible sister, where did you get that?”

You try to stay a little ahead of them, but Derek has no qualms about openly eavesdropping, turning over his shoulder. 

Her tone is matter-of-fact. “Some of it was online, and some of it was just an educated guess based on birth order.”

Still facing forward, you squeeze your eyes shut for a moment, as if bracing yourself for impact. 

“A guess.” Hotch’s question is flat and hardly a question at all. You almost cringe. Derek hops up beside you, much less interested in snooping now. 

Shit. You’re in it now, kid. 

‘Kid.’ Gimme a break she’s like...two years younger than you.

Yeah, but on this team, it’s dog years. The divorce alone had to be at least a decade.

“And in the process, you lied.” 

There it is. 

“That mother was shut down. I needed to salvage some rapport.” The note of defensiveness in Jordan’s tone pulls a sigh from you, and you can almost anticipate Hotch’s response. If pressed, you could recite it verbatim. 

“I don’t know how you did things in counter-terrorism, but we don’t make it a habit to lie to get the job done.” They stop walking, but you don’t, pulling Derek by the sleeve of his Henley before he can hesitate. 

“Let’s wait by the car,” you tell him. He gives you an expression that only says yikes. You reply with one of your own. 

As you approach the back door, you hear, “I got you in the door, didn’t I?” from Jordan.

Oh babe. Put the shovel down. This hole you’re digging for yourself is becoming unmanageable, and we’re all going to have to deal with his grumpy ass for the rest of the afternoon if you don’t quit. 

Derek leans against the door of the car, and you follow his lead, leaning against the back bumper. 

“Not only do you represent the FBI, you represent this team - ”

Ah, so it's the “representing the team with integrity” speech today.

 “ - to the press, the police, and to the families who are struggling with some of the hardest times of their lives. If you get caught in a lie, the trust we depend on to help solve these crimes disappears.” You inhale, sharp. It’s been a minute since you’ve heard that tone. “Do I make myself clear?” 

Yikes. 

Jordan, looking significantly chastised, answers, “It won’t happen again.” 

“No, it won’t.” 

Alright, that one pulls a smile from you and you do your best to bite back your laugh. Derek’s in the same boat. You both hope to recover by the time they get back to the car. A fit of giggles will do you absolutely no good at this point. 

“When we get back, I want you to prepare a press release about the unsub. Do not release it.” His phone rings, and he reaches for it, adding “From now on, everything goes through me.”

He passes you without meeting your eye, talking to Rossi over the phone. Jordan approaches you, and asks, “So how bad did I just screw up?”

You take a breath before answering. “Well, Derek would tell you on a normal scale of one to ten, probably about a six.” 

“I have a feeling that’s not the scale we’re using.”

You shake your head and open the door. “On Hotch’s, that was about an eleven.” 

The three of you slide into the car. You take the seat behind Derek, sparing Aaron from having Jordan in his peripheral vision while he’s trying to focus on not crashing the car. 

+++

“Hotch,” Emily says, getting your attention and Aaron’s. You both turn. “Of the self-described pickup artist classes in the area, there’s only one guy who encourages his students to dress like, uh..” she searches for a word for a second, “space cowboys.” 

A laugh escapes you, but you recover quickly. You glance at Hotch, an apology in your eyes.

Emily’s tone matches your mirth. “Are you ready to meet Viper?”

+++

The four of you lurk at the back of the room, listening to Viper’s sermon while trying not to laugh out loud again. 

“...and women, while they won’t admit it, want to be hunted. They need it.” 

You look up at Hotch. You’ve got to be kidding me. 

He doesn’t look at you, but the twitch of his mouth gives him away. 

You turn your attention back to Viper, who’s assertions are so far gone from reality you can’t even believe people paid for this. He goes on and on about the ideal mate, what women want, etc. etc. etc. 

This guy has never gotten laid in his life. 

Hotch nudges you with his shoulder as if he can hear you thinking, and you drop your eyebrows, setting your mouth in a tight line that could give him a run for his money. 

Emily’s losing it beside you, too. She and Derek have shared more than a few glances, and there’s no hiding the incredulous look on her face. 

“If you are smarter and more interesting, you will be a better predator -”

You keep your face from screwing up in a wince, but only just. Poor choice of words, there. 

“- because this is the jungle, my friends, and your prey wants to be caught.”

Derek doesn’t shift his gaze as he asks, quietly, “Would you listen to that language?”

You lean around Emily, whispering, “He’s training serial killers.” 

“Great,” Emily says. “We’re dealing with a rampant narcissist and misogynist who's turned himself into a snake oil salesman.” 

Yeah, that about sums it up. 

You both look at Hotch, who’s still watching carefully. “Just one more thing he has in common with our unsub.” 

At the end of the lecture you all stay where you are: four dark and intimidating figures irresistible to someone with an ego as big as Viper’s.

When he inevitably advances on you, Aaron introduces the team present and explains the situation in an even, measured tone. He doesn’t have to change a single thing about his presentation for the Viper to size him up and compensate accordingly. He doesn’t even acknowledge you or Emily in his futile effort to make Aaron feel small, counting on his own peacocking to do the job. 

That was your first mistake.

“So you think this - what did you call him - unsub took my class?”

With one hand in his pocket and another on his belt, Aaron replies. “He copied your ‘the camera adds ten pounds’ routine verbatim.” 

Viper has the audacity to look pleased. “Yeah. That’s a good gag.”

“If you could just give us your attendance lists, it might help us find him,” Emily says. 

You nod. “Any information you can provide would be helpful.”

“No.” 

Your eyebrows shoot to your hairline, and Emily beats you to a response, her tone appalled. “No?”

He’s decidedly smug now. You’ve never seen a face so well-suited for a punch. “My clients expect a certain amount of confidentiality. I won’t compromise that.” 

“We can come back with a warrant.” Aaron’s quick, flat rebuttal almost makes you smile. Viper ignores him, shifting his slimy attention to you.

You watch Viper take you in from head to toe, resisting the urge to squirm under his gaze. With a deep breath, you straighten your shoulders and ever so slightly put more weight on your right foot, keying you in to Aaron. When Viper meets your gaze again, he looks more than a little annoyed. 

“Be my guest, but keep in mind, the money I make doesn’t just pay for my fabulous lifestyle,” he turns to Emily again, “it also keeps very expensive lawyers on retainer.”

You redirect, hoping to catch him off guard. “What club did you go to last night?”

It doesn’t work. He eyes you up and down again. It’s disgusting. 

“It’s a legitimate question,” Derek says. “You seem to know a lot about our investigation.”

He turns on Derek, and you settle in for the show. “Two things to learn about me. First, I outwit alpha males like you for fun and sometimes profit.” You snort, but he doesn’t spare a glance at you. “How often do you have to rely on your badge to score, baldy?”

Aaron huffs a laugh, and it’s so quiet you’re almost sure you made it up. 

“Second,” he continues, turning to Emily again. “Last night, I was at Club Aqua and I have a stack of tax-deductible drink receipts to back up my story.” 

She shrugs, unimpressed. 

Emily Prentiss, you are my hero. 

You really tune in when his gaze finds Aaron, still standing a good two or three inches taller than Viper in far more expensive shoes. “Now, you might not want to believe that my style works.” You can tell Aaron’s trying to keep from smiling, his head tilted down at a condescending angle. “And here, in this harsh light, you have the advantage.” 

He has the advantage in every light. 

Shut up. 

It’s true, isn't it?

Viper steps up to you, uncomfortably close, and you do what you can to keep the grimace off your face. “But meet me on my turf…” He laughs a little and turns to Emily. It’s revolting. “The things I could make you do.”

The things Aaron could do on any turf, any time, any light -

Quit! Focus! 

Aaron steps between you and Viper. You gladly take advantage of the distance, moving just off Aaron’s shoulder. “If you have any questions, give us a call.” 

Viper’s eyes don’t move from Emily as he takes Aaron’s card. She sizes him up for a moment before turning around, still completely unimpressed. 

Down the hallway, she keeps pace with Hotch. “Please tell me we’re not giving up on that guy.” 

“We’re just getting started.” 

You can tell he’s irritated and tense, but there’s an air of smug amusement that colors his countenance. The lawyer has tricks up his sleeve, it seems. 

When you leave the building, you turn on Derek. 

“What the fuck was that?”

To everyone’s surprise, Aaron, putting his sunglasses on, answers. “Compensation.”

You try not to dwell on that implication for too long, barking a laugh with Emily.

+++

“Hey, Hotch.” You turn around, exposing your half-unzipped dress and bare upper back. “Can you zip me up?” He crosses the room and zips your dress, doing his best to avoid savoring the warmth of your skin under his fingers as he links the hook-and-eye closed. “Thanks.” You turn and he’s a little closer than you expected, looking at you with a peculiar, unreadable expression in his eyes. 

There’s silence for a moment and neither one of you moves. No matter how often it occurred, close proximity to Aaron always did weird things to your heart rate. You take a deep breath to steady yourself and return to the locker for a set of loud silver bracelets. 

“You’d tell me if you were uncomfortable with this, right?”

You clasp two of the bracelets around your wrist and turn back toward him. A little laugh leaves you. “I’m fine, Hotch.” You wordlessly hold your last two bracelets out, unable to secure them with your non-dominant hand. With a fond sigh, he crosses over to you and takes your wrist.

“Emily told me you’d both be alright and she’s handled people like this before, but this guy…” He trails off with a bit of sigh. 

“I’ve handled worse than him. Guys like Viper were a dime a dozen in college,” You shrug, watching him deftly handle the tiny clasps in his large hands. “Plus, you’ll be in my ear the whole time.” He reaches past you for your necklace and you turn around so he can put it on. He smells incredible and you can't help but close your eyes for a moment. 

“I have a good feeling we’ll be able to get somewhere tonight.”

You turn around again, smiling up at him. “I agree.” Thinking for just a second, you add, “Hotch, did you consider putting Jordan on this?”

“I did,” he says, his fingers reaching for the bridge of his nose. “Emily suggested it as well. I’m just not confident in her ability to complete surveillance in such a high-risk environment.” 

“Because of her mistake today?” You pass him and close the door to the room, ensuring the exclusion of prying eyes and ears. 

He removes his hand from his face and looks at you, playing at exhaustion. Of course.

You let all your breath out through your nose and you carry on as if you were explaining to a child. “She can’t recover if you don’t give her an opportunity.” You lighten up, adding, “Do you remember how many times I screwed up my first couple of months?” A wry smile crosses your face. 

He huffs and crosses his arms. “That’s different.” 

“Why? Because I was a NAT?” 

“No, you -” He takes a second to collect his thoughts, his brow furrowed. He gestures with a sharp, open hand as he speaks. “You made mistakes, but you never misrepresented yourself. I’m concerned about her conduct in the field.” 

“Send her out with us tonight.” Your appeal is casual, easy. “Emily and I will keep an eye on her and make sure she keeps her nose clean.” All things considered, Jordan isn’t much of an issue. She’s just green and (you’re sure) accustomed to a decidedly less-upright unit chief. 

“Are you comfortable with that?”

“Of course. Give her a chance, Hotch. We’ll be fine.” 

He nods, ready to leave the room, but then looks down at your wrist with a small, almost amused, frown. “Is that…?”

“The Dead Man’s Hand? Yeah.” You turn your wrist, revealing a pair of eights and aces - both clubs and spades, with the queen of hearts between them - inlaid in the silver. “I figured it was appropriate, if not entirely tasteless.” 

“Clever.” 

+++

You can tell Jordan’s forgotten about the comm in her ear when she leans over and whispers, “How do you do it?”

“Do what?” You keep your eyes on the crowd, lips barely moving as you keep a demure smile on your face. A guy without a chance in hell catches your eye and you break him with just a quick softening of your eyes and a wider smile. Luckily, he’s so flustered he doesn’t think to approach you.

She takes a fake sip of her drink. “You and Hotch get along really well, and I haven’t managed to get on his good side once since I’ve been here. How do you do it?”

“I have no idea.” There’s a small crackle in your ear, and you know Aaron tuned into your private channel to hear you better and talk to you alone. For his benefit, you add, “I’m not sure he has a good side, if that helps.” 

You hear a scoff and have to hide your laugh in your drink. 

Jordan shakes her head. “You’re kidding, right?”

“What?”

“He definitely has a good side -” 

“Thank you,” Hotch says into your ear. You cough to hide another laugh. 

“- and you’re on it.” 

You open your mouth to reply, but catch the eye of someone who looks unfortunately familiar. “You’ve got to be joking.”

Hotch’s chuckle in your ear warms you, and you hear a crackle as he switches back to the team channel. “20 on Viper,” he says. “Keep an eye out for our unsub.” 

Emily wilts beside you, and you can’t help but laugh. You pull Jordan a little off to the side so you’re able to hear Viper, but he doesn’t feel closed in. “You always want to give guys like this an out - if they’re backed into a corner and feel trapped, they close off and get defensive.” 

A crackle in your ear. “Is that so?”

Jordan nods and you can’t reply to Hotch with any degree of subtlety, so you settle for rolling your eyes. 

“Well.” You hear Viper from over your shoulder. Jordan cringes, and your brow pulls in a question. “Lucky me.”

She answers, narrating through a squint. “He just put his finger in his mouth and pulled it out a little too slow.” 

“Ugh.” You take a fake sip of your drink. “I hate this guy.” 

“I thought you said you could handle him?” Aaron’s voice in your ear almost makes you jump, and you almost turn around to smack him before realizing he’s not even there. 

Bastard. 

Emily sends some sort of wisecrack flying over Viper’s head. She’s so charming, you can’t blame him for immediately falling head-over-dick for her. 

“...So, affection, sex, emotional committment, it’s all just for fun?”

Against your will, your thoughts wander. You’re still listening, tuned in to his linguistic profile - the pattern, the rhetoric, the cadence, sure - but your heart pulls when you hear Emily list those three things. A sigh leaves you and of course you’re thinking of Aaron. 

You’re such a child. Don’t be an idiot. 

“You okay?” 

Of course he’s asking. 

You turn away from Jordan, looking out on the rest of the club so you can answer. “I’m fine.” 

“Need a break?”

You are feeling a little boxed-in, and as long as he’s offering… “Yeah, actually. That would be great. I just need some air.” You turn back to Jordan. “I’ll be right back - stay with Emily.” 

“But wait,” she says, holding your arm with gentle fingers, “we shouldn’t split up.”

“I just need a minute outside, Jordan, I’ll be alright.” You smile at her, small and warm, and escape her grasp. Slipping out one of the side doors, you prop it with a doorstop and lean against the wall. Your eyes fall closed, and you take a minute to breathe in the cold air. 

You hear your name in your ear, and you yank your earwig out. It's still close enough for you to hear the team if anyone needed you, but Aaron’s voice in your ear at this very moment isn’t helping with the whole “take a minute” thing. 

“Hey, I’m talking to you.” 

I thought I took that damn thing out - oh. 

Aaron rounds the corner and leans on the wall beside you. “You okay?”

You nod. “Fine. My shoulder’s just bugging me a little.” 

“Any more lies you want to share before I call you on them?” 

“No.” In fairness, your shoulder was bothering you, but it wasn’t the thing bothering you. That thing, in fact, was standing beside you with his kevlar on, waiting patiently for you to continue. “I’m just out of shape, is all.” You tilt your head a little. “And my shoulder really does hurt.” 

He guides you off the wall so you’re standing in front of him, your back to him. “What have you been doing in PT?”

“Muscle work, mostly. Keeping things loose so it heals without limiting my mobility.” You roll your shoulder, ignoring the flood of pain that zings down your fingertips. 

Warm hands find their way to your shoulder over the fabric of your dress. You picked something long-sleeved and high-necked, figuring the angry scarring from your still-healing gunshot wound would adversely affect your objective. You take deep breaths as he works at the muscle, releasing the little knots that built up through the day. He finds a bit of scar tissue, and a little yelp leaves you before you can stop it. 

His hands soften, but don’t stop. “Hang in there. Just a little more and it’ll take some pressure off the nerve.” He trades his thumbs for the tips of his fingers, walking over the knots with a methodical practicality that pulls at your chest.

You nod, knowing he’s right. Lo and behold, a few seconds later, the knot releases, sending a flood of warmth, followed by pins and needles down your arm. You flex and contract your hand in and out of a fist a couple of times, hoping to rid yourself of the sensation. 

“It’ll stop in a second.” He rubs his hands together, warming them up with the friction before passing over the back of your shoulder with a firm, steady pressure, all the way down your arm to your fingers. The heat of his hands really does help - your nerves calm almost immediately, and you can feel your pinkie for the first time in days. 

A little laugh leaves you. “I dunno why I keep going to PT when you’re right here.” You turn and offer him a soft smile. “Thank you.”

“Feeling better?”

No. 

“Much.” 

He offers you a small smile in return. “Good.” 

+++

You’re changing back into your work clothes with Emily and Jordan, pleased to find them full of laughter. 

“When you asked him if he practices his routine on a sex doll, I almost lost it.” Jordan looks over her shoulder at Emily as she clips her holster back onto her belt. 

“I did lose it, are you kidding?” You laugh. “I can’t believe I missed it!” 

Emily shakes her head, smiling. “You know, as much as I hate what that guy stands for, I still read ‘five ways to get noticed’ in Cosmo magazine.”

“Because it makes sense.” You look at Jordan, waiting for an explanation. She redeemed herself tonight, and you’re actually looking forward to hearing what she has to say. Though she doesn’t explain what she means, she does thank you both for vouching for her. 

“Absolutely.” Emily looks past Jordan, at you, and you nod in agreement. 

“Of course.” 

A knock sounds, and Aaron’s voice shoots around the corner. “I need you all out here, the unsub’s kidnapped another victim.” 

Shit. 

+++

You’re on Aaron’s six, waiting for the go. He calls the first team into position and holds up his hand. When he drops it, you fall into step, just off his right shoulder. Derek breaches first, tackling the unsub to the floor. 

Aaron kicks down the front door, and you breach from the other side of the house. There’s shouting everywhere, but Aaron’s presence centers you, giving you a mission and a focus. 

Keep him safe. 

He releases you with a wave, and you drop down next to Spencer on the floor. You cut the tape holding Austin’s hands together. She falls into Spencer, still terrified and sobbing. He looks at you and you nod, spotting her as he helps her to her feet. 

Tracking back to Aaron, you shadow Rossi as they finish clearing the rest of the house. You hover by the final door as Dave and Aaron reassure the unsub’s mother that she’ll be taken care of as they clear the room for hidden threats. 

In fact, there’s nothing except a sick woman and the machine keeping her alive.

“It’s a dialysis pump...It was issued ten months ago.” Dave looks back at you, and your lips press into a thin line. 

You look at Aaron. “Our secondary trigger.” 

+++

Jordan climbs the stairs to Aaron’s office, and you attempt to hide your interest as she knocks on the door and steps in. Of course, you can’t hear them, but you watch him call her back after she hands in her report. 

You recognize the look on his face - it's an expression you’re rewarded with when you’ve done something right. In fairness, it doesn't look much different from the one you get when you’ve done something wrong, but you’ve learned to pick up on the subtle differences.

Jordan leaves his office with a little smile. When she passes you, you offer her a, “Well done,” as you stand and climb the stairs yourself. 

With a knock on Aaron’s door, he beckons you in without looking. You stand a respectable distance away from his desk, waiting for him to finish whatever he’s working on. He knows it’s you, and has no issue keeping you waiting.

The composition of his desk has changed in the months since the divorce. Haley no longer smiles at him from the frame by his pen cup. That frame sits on the low shelf by his law volumes, the white veil over Haley’s face unable to mask her joy even from across the room. 

There are more pictures of Jack than before, both old and new. 

Eventually, he looks up, and you hand him your report. A smile plays at your lips, and another dances around the corner of his eyes. 

“That was kind of you, Hotch.” 

He shrugs. “You vouched for her work.” 

“Is that all it takes to win your approval, these days? My good word?” Your voice is laden with fond amusement. He rises to it, and if you didn’t know better you’d think he wasn’t smiling. When he answers, his tone is light, almost playful. 

“Yes.”

+++

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#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner #hotch x reader #hotch #aaron hotchner imagine #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds #tali writes fanfiction #tali talks cm #a joyful future #a joyful future fanfic

[peralta-guaranteed]

part 1 of ficlets for that awesome triple-ask I got:

Amy hearing a story from one of Jake’s exes of how amazing he is in bed and she can’t stop thinking about it

The extremely inebriated girl that has plonked herself down on the barstool next to them, declaring them to be her ‘best friends!’ after helping her out in the bathroom earlier, gasps loudly.

“You’re a cop?!” She squeaks at Amy, and she almost feels like shushing her, but this is Shaw’s - half the people here are probably in her line of work, anyway. 

“Is that a problem?” She asks instead, while Kylie next to her - the one who found the girl trying to reapply her lipstick while leaning against a toilet stall door, thinking it was a mirror - snickers.

“Naaaah. Cops are. Hot.” Her head’s lolling as she grins, then leans over to whisper in an almost conspiratory way, and Amy’s hand is already hovering in case she topples over. “I dated a cop once.”

“That’s nice.”

“Yeaah. JAKE!” She suddenly yells, as if she’s been trying to remember the name for a while instead of just now, and Amy feels like someone dropped a bucket of ice down her back.

“Peralta?” Kylie pipes up next to her.

“Yes!” The drunk girl points at her excitedly. “Perlalto! Jakey P...” She grins as she hiccups. “He was such a, a goof! A goofball. A golfball.” She giggles.

Kylie giggles too, while Amy shoots her a look. 

“But!” Drunk girl continues, and leans forward again, and this time Amy has to grab her arm as she sways back and forth. “Between usss? Besties?” She smacks her lips. “Best. lay. ever.”

“Really.”

“Kylie…!”

“Yah!” The girl yelps again and giggles, humming with her eyes closed as she softly sways. “mh-mh-MH! His hands. Like, everywhere. And, oh, OH! Everyone told me he was a cocky bragger.” She giggles as she tries to sip the water Amy got for her, scrunching her nose when she realises it’s not alcoholic, then grinning again. “Cocky was definitely right.”

“What do you mean?” Kylie asks before Amy can kick her to shut up, but the look on her friend’s face tells her she wouldn’t stop even if Amy punched her, probably.

“BDE!” The drunk girl shouts again, catching the eyes of a few bystanders, before she giggles some more. “BDE, I tell ya. You think he doesn’t need to put much work in when he’s got so much to offer.” She sighs, almost dreamily, and Amy can feel herself blush. “But he does. Oh he does.”

“Alright, that sounds nice-” She tries to placate her, but is interrupted by waving hands.

“And kissing?! Sooo much kissing. So good.” Another hiccup and sip of water, so at least she might be getting a bit better. “Like… like fire and ice. Electetrictitity. Zoom!” She tries to imitate the sound of a lighting bolt maybe? Amy guesses. Kylie cannot stop giggling, so that doesn’t help her attention.

“Alright. Electricity. Okay, how about you drink your water, sweetie? You said you came here with a friend, let’s try to find her so you can go home.”

The girl nods and drinks her water, because Amy’s mom-voice is well patented and works on drunks as well as on kids. But before Amy can get up to actually look for her friend, she’s grabbed by the upper arm again as the girl leans forward and pretty much slumps into her arms.

“Ooone more thing.” She grins, hiccups, giggles. The usual routine. “That- that mouth?” Another deep hum. “Not just for kisses. Mmmhoooh no.” She makes a face that Amy sadly thinks is very close to the face she probably made when that mouth was working on her, and she quickly pulls her up from her slump into standing.

“Alright, let’s find your friend.”

-*-

“Well, that was interesting.”

“That was incredibly mean.”

Amy slams the cab door shut behind her while Kylie shuffles down the backbench to make space for her, grinning. They’d waited until the drunk girl and her luckily much more sober friend had gotten into their own cab and driven off before waving down their own.

“Oh come off it, Amy.” She snorts. “She was so drunk, she probably won’t even remember talking to us at all tomorrow.”

“Maybe.” But I will , Amy thinks. And I have to work with him.

It was hard enough doing that and not lose her focus all the time without the added bonus of wondering whether the girl’s proclaimings were true or just alcohol-fueled. Without staring at his hands typing at the desk next to hers, hands she’d been fascinated by for a while anyway, without peeking at his grinning lips as he talked to Charles and thinking about ‘electricity’ and ‘not just for kisses’. Not thinking, as hard as she could, about ‘BDE’ every time he walked past her (a term she had to google after that night, but would have already guessed the meaning of beforehand). 

There was no point in wondering, she scolded herself. No point in thinking about things she’d like to prove true or not, because they’d never happen. They’d resolved their… thing. They were friends. Professionals. And a professional friend should not be thinking about their professional friend’s potential abilities in bed, no matter how great they’d been said to be.

-*-

And then an impromptu undercover engagement happened, and the locker room happened, and she learned that electricity was very much the tamest description that girl could’ve found for what Jake’s kisses felt like.

She learned that his lips, soft yet insistent, perfectly molding to hers, sent more than just fire and ice down her back, mixing with another jolt of that electricity when his tongue slipped into hers on their fourth kiss, finally, tangling with her own and pulling a moan out of her that he couldn’t help but grin at even while he continued making her toes curl with his kiss.

She learned that his hands, pressing between her shoulder blades, gliding over her hips, holding her close while roaming all over her, were worth the weeks of fascinated staring. And she could only imagine what else those two features could do.

  And then four kamikaze shots happened, and she definitely learned about those hands. What they really feel like sliding her dress up her thighs, pressing his thumbs into her hip creases. Unhooking her bra with a swiftness that surprised her, cupping her breasts and softly rubbing her nipples immediately. Only waiting for another soft moan to interrupt their ongoing kiss to dip his head and lather his mouth’s attention on them too, while his hands travelled back down, slipped under her panties and firmly gripped her butt as he lifted her up and closer to him, to that wonderful mouth sucking and biting on her chest.

She learned about BDE, too, when her hands finally managed to slip into his jeans and wrapped around far more than she was used to. Really understood the meaning of it when she rolled a condom on him while his still wonderful hands were working to pull all her concentration away from that to between her legs, making sure she was more than ready and wet enough to let him slowly, carefully push into her, almost calculated movements until he was finally hip to hip, her legs wrapping around him and crossing her ankles in an attempt to hold him for just a second. 

She’d groaned deep before he even started to move, feeling fuller than she ever had before, and she whined softly when he pulled out in the end, a feeling of loss she was sure she’d crave again soon enough. 

  And now, on their third date, after the drunken awkwardness of the first one and the sober awkwardness of the second - both of which led to a hurried removal of clothes and a heated meeting of skin - she can't help but think about how she'll finally find out if the drunk girl's last promise will hold out as well, as his soft kisses travel down her stomach. 

They'd gone far slower and calmer than the last two times, but his hands had lost none of their appeal as they stroked over her skin, hooked around her panties and slid them off almost teasingly slow before leaning in for another sensuous, but still electrifying kiss. 

And now she can feel those hands travel from her knees down her inner thighs, spreading her legs as wide as they can while he kisses and nips along her lower belly, over the small patch of trimmed hair and down between her folds, eliciting a soft whine. His thumbs rub up and down the crease of her hips, barely an inch from her hot and needy parts that his lips kiss and glide over in exploration. 

She can't hold back an even higher pitched noise when his tongue finally connects with her clit, pressing and swirling at just the right speed to already send her legs shivering. They squeeze close together around his head as soon as two of his fingers push into her, a mere shadow of the stretch she's already started to love after only experiencing it twice, and she's clenching around him and and gripping his hair tight when they start moving, synching up with the speed of his tongue and lips wrapped around her until the mix of it all breaks her in the best way imaginable, has her shaking and squeezing around all of him with a shout. 

He grins at her in that insufferably sweet way he has when he's finally travelled back up her body with soft kisses again, softly stroking her through the aftershocks until her breathing evens out again. Grins and then dips down for another thundering kiss before spreading her legs again and pushing into her, that very welcome stretch much less of an adjustment after he's worked her up like that. She wonders, briefly, if that's why he became so good at it - to avoid hurting the girl he's with, make sure it's just as enjoyable for her as it clearly is for him.

-*-

She lies in a sweaty huff after he climbs off the bed to clean up, and wraps her arms tightly around him when he returns to snuggle into her side. 

"Happy?" he grins at her again, but this time she answers with her own grin and a kiss. 

"Drunks and children really speak the truth", she mumbles without thinking, and feels his pecks against her neck stop. 

"What?" he lifts up to look at her, and she can already feel the embarrassed blush creeping up the parts of her neck he was only just kissing. 

"Nothing." But the jig is up, as are Jake’s eyebrows.

“That’s a very weird ‘nothing’ to think about after sex.” He pokes her side, making her twitch away for a second. “Please tell me the explanation involves a drunk and not a kid.”

“It’s not- just- Kylie and I helped this drunk girl at Shaw’s a while ago.”

“Okay?” “And she… uh… she kept going on about what it’s like dating you.”

Jake’s entire face freezes, and there’s almost a hint of panic in his eyes. Considering the amount of horrible first dates she remembers him having before her, it’s probably justified.

“And that’s what you had to think about after-” He almost whines, and Amy is quick to calm him down with a soft hand to his cheek.

“Nonono, not in a bad way! She was just… very drunk. And very.” She coughs for a second, the sudden awkwardness in the room almost palpable. “Explicit.”

“Oh no.” Jake’s head drops down against her shoulder, hiding his face from her as best as he can, but she can feel the heat of his blush against her skin now. “Thank god you didn’t mention that before we- oh Jesus, I would’ve been so worried.”

“What, why?”

“Because it would set up expectations!”

Amy has to hide a surprised giggle at his childlike, exasperated voice travelling up from her shoulder. 

“None you didn’t fulfil.”

“I definitely wouldn’t have if I’d known about it from sheer nervousness.”

“Oh come on.” She shakes her shoulder enough to make him look up at her, and god, he really is blushing - and genuinely looks worried. “Why are you being shy about this?”

“It’s awkward!”

“I figured you’d actually get quite an ego boost from all the girls walking around talking about your BDE in New York bars.”

“BDE?”

“Oh please, like you don’t know that term.” She rolls her eyes, careful not to admit that she kind of didn’t.

“No, but like… isn’t that about attitude and not actual… physical-” Now it’s his turn to cough as he lifts his face away from her shoulder, still avoiding her eyes.

“Well in your case I guess it’s both.”

She grins as he blushes some more and rolls away from her to lay on his back, his hands covering his face with a groan - the perfect opportunity for her to climb onto his hips and lean over him, the grin on her face turning into a softer smile as he peeks at her through his fingers.

“You should be proud about your reputation, Peralta.” She jokes as he groans again. “You must’ve made a lot of ladies very happy.”

“Wasn’t that many.” He tries to defend himself as her fingertip slides down his sternum.

“Mhm. Sure. Anyway…” She leans down to bite a hickey into that spot right under his ear she’s already learned will make him whine in a higher pitch than she’s ever heard. “You’ve definitely made one lady very happy lately.”

“The only one that matters.” He finally seems to calm down from his embarrassment as his hands leave his face to slide up and down her thighs. 

“Cheesy.”

“Mh.” He grins now, hands making their way to her butt to tip her up and over, landing her on her elbows and their faces only inches apart. “The only one who gets to talk about me like that in the present tense, not the past.”

“I’m not going to talk about our sex life with anyone, Jake.” She scoffs, but he wiggles his eyebrows.

“You say that now, but I’m already looking forward to 4 Drink Amy’s next appearance and her rant about my BDE.”

He laughs and pulls away as she pinches his neck, then reaches up for an apologetic kiss she gladly returns.

And maybe, despite the really wonderful fulfilment of those drunken promises, this is the part she likes the most and expected the least - that ease and fun they already share, that probably none of the other girls got to see from him. The feeling of not having to put up a bit of an act, of lying in bed with… a friend, really. 

There’s nothing cocky or goofy about the Jake that smiles at her from below her now, just pure comfort and joy as they laugh away the awkwardness with a few more quips before settling into each other’s arms, and Amy thinks to herself that of all the things she’d talk about on a drunken rant, all this would probably be what she mentions most, instead of BDE or hands or mouths - these feelings that only Jake has made her feel, in the short time they’ve been together now.

#B99 #Brooklyn 99 #Peraltiago #Jake Peralta #Amy Santiago #my writing #ficlet #fic #fuclet #kind of

[riversofmars]

Negotiation

So @rocketoo7 and I had a chat and agreed that there is just not enough fanfiction of River Song kicking ass in hand to hand combat. So here you are, literally just River fighting off bad guys and the Doctor & Fam watching adoringly/terrified/a little horny. Recreating this awesome bad ass scene from the most recent episode of Star trek: Discovery because, you know, Georgiou and River have the same BDE. Writing action is hard so I sort of did this as a quick exercise to practice, it's no great work of genius but it was fun. Anyway, enjoy! :D

Ship: River/13

Rating: T (I guess?)

Word Count: 1600

AO3

Negotiation

“So what’s the plan, Doc…“ Graham asked as the Fam crowded together behind the Doctor. The were in a sort of bar in the far-flung reaches of the galaxy. What had been meant to be a lovely walking tour ending with a pint at the pub, had turned into a bit of an unfortunate situation that involved guns and a band of bandits wanting to steal the TARDIS. 

“Working on it…“ The Doctor retorted drawing herself to full height attempting to shield her friends from the guns pointed at them. 

“You always say words beat guns, this would be a great moment to prove that theory.“ Yaz quipped. 

“I suggest you show us to your ship.“ The bandit leader, an unpleasant looking fellow with greasy hair, said. 

“Well, that wouldn’t be much use because you wouldn’t be able to fly her.“ The Doctor retorted, trying to reason. 

“That’s our concern, not yours.“ He shot back, annoyed at her back-chat. “Get a move on.“ He pointed towards the door of the bar. 

“Why would we show you to our ship when you want to steal it and leave us stranded?“ Ryan asked. 

“Because you want to live.“ The bandit snarled.

“Living, yes, big fan of living, maybe we can come to some sort of arrangement where we just, you know, drop you off somewhere along the way?“ The Doctor intervened, trying her best to sound positive. 

Suddenly there was a discharge of energy, like a flash of lightning but it wasn’t a shot as the Doctor had expected.

“Did I interrupt a critical moment of diplomacy?“ River Song looked around the room at the shocked faces all round, immediately guns were pointed at her and ignoring that fact, she gave a little wave to her wife who seemed frozen to the spot. 

“How did you get in here?“ The leader of the bandits barked at her. 

“Oh you know, just your standard vortex manipulator, cheap and nasty time travel but it’ll do in a pinch. And when one’s wife is being held at gunpoint? It makes for a great entrance.“ River retorted in amusement and winked at the Doctor who shook off the initial shock. 

“Did she just say wife?“ Yaz asked and exchanged confused glances with Ryan and Graham. They had seen a lot of things travelling with the Doctor but having someone teleport into the middle of a stand off claiming to be the Doctor’s wife… that was new. 

“You know her?“ The bandit leader looked back to the Doctor.

“Ah well, see you got yourself into a bit of a tiff now. That my friend River…“ The Doctor caught River’s affronted glance and corrected herself. “And when I say friend, I mean wife, and unlike me doesn’t mind hurting people, shouldn’t like that, kinda do…“ She shrugged giving her wife a little wink. 

“Glad to see some things never change.“ River smirked. 

“Well, you know I like a bad girl, me.“ The Doctor grinned. 

“You can show me just how much when we’re done here.“ River retorted smoothly. 

“Are you flirting?“ The bandit leader interrupted, annoyed at being ignored. 

“Sorry, it’s been a while. She was a white hair scotsman last time we met. Back to you, you were saying?“ River turned to the bandits almost patronisingly. She was already formulating a plan. There was seven bandits in total… shouldn’t be too difficult. 

“I want that device.“ He pointed to her vortex manipular.

“When I say, you hide behind the bar, okay?“ The Doctor spoke softly and turned to the Fam. They nodded uneasily, before returning their attention to the face off between the mystery woman and the bandits. 

“Hand it over.“ He insisted. 

“What, this?“ River lifted her wrist that the vortex manipulator was strapped to. 

“Hand it over or you die.“ All guns were on her now. 

“I don’t respond well to threats.“ She shook her head disapprovingly. 

“And I don’t respond well to surprises.“ He squared his jaw.

“Oh, then you’re gonna hate this.“ River smirked and gave the chair next to her a kick, knocking it right into him, knocking him over.

“Now, Fam, right now, take cover.“ The Doctor exclaimed and Ryan, Yaz and Graham didn’t need to be told twice, they dove behind the bar and watched the mystery women swipe her arm across a nearby table throwing glasses at the men coming towards her. They turned from the flying splinters guarding their eyes just long enough for River to grab a bottle and smash it over the closest attacker’s head knocking him out. She ducked an oncoming punch and rammed her knee into another bandit’s gut.

“Okay, who the hell is she, Doctor?“ Yaz exclaimed watching the scene in front of them in shock. 

“Long story, people usually need a flow chart…“ The Doctor retorted, looking on uneasily and admiringly in equal measures. 

River ducked a blast and threw herself into the shooter, she knocked his arm with the gun up and smashed her elbow against his temple. As he fell to the floor she kept hold of his arm and took the gun, shooting a man coming at her from the right. 

“See, boys, when you let me have a gun, things are almost over.“ She taunted with a smirk. She jumped onto the edge of a table to her left flipping it over, knocking out another bandit with the other half of the table flipping upwards. She landed and steadied herself from the little stunt when someone lunged at her from behind and put her in a headlock, forcing her to drop her gun. She rammed her elbow into his stomach, then knocked her head backwards into his face. He let go groaning in pain. Probable a broken nose, nothing too serious. Behind her, the lead bandit pulled his gun on her. She whirled around pulling the man with the broken nose in front of her and used him as a shield. He took two of his boss’s shots before he stopped firing. River grabbed a hunting knife that was strapped to the bandit that was limp in her arms now and threw it, catching the bandit leader in the shoulder. He let out a strangled cry of pain and dropped his weapon. Plenty of time for River to drop the dead bandit and pick up her gun again. 

“Oh mate, that was like stealing sweets from a child.“ She grinned slightly out of breath as she headed towards him.

“River!“ The Doctor shouted as one of the others slowly got back to their feet but River was ahead of her. She only half turned to fire, she barely looked, but struck them down. The leader of the bandits scrambled for his weapon but River stepped on his wrist and held the gun to his head. 

“Remind me. What was your negotiating position again?“ She asked in amusement.

“I think he got your point.“ The Doctor drew her attention as she got up from behind the bar, all the other men were either dead or unconscious. 

“Did he? Because my finger is rather itchy.“ River chuckled. 

“You bitch.“ The bandit leader spat. 

“Sounds to me like he hasn’t learned his lesson.“ She stepped off his hand but only to deliver a kick to the side of his head and knock him over. 

“I’m going to hunt you down. You’re gonna wish you died here when…“ He groaned in pain.

“Spare me the empty promises, that implies you’re gonna walk out of here alive.“ River pointed the gun at his head. 

“River.“ The Doctor tried to get her attention. 

“Not now Sweetie.“ River huffed.

“I really think you’ve made your point.“ The Doctor insisted more firmly. 

“You’re no fun at all.“ River sighed and used the hilt of the gun to knock him unconscious.

“That was…“ Ryan didn’t really have words. They looked around the room taking in the destruction.   Broken glass, thrown over tables and chair, seven grown men flat out. River meanwhile pocketed the gun. It would be a nice addition to her collection and a lovely memento of this trip. 

“Fam, meet Professor River Song.“ The Doctor grinned as River walked up to join them. The three of them didn’t know what to say. There was a lot of information they had yet to process. 

“You’re welcome.“ River smirked.

“That was… quite the safe. Very impressive.“ The Doctor had to admit as she came to a halt in front of her.

“Oh, you were watching?“ River smile innocently. 

“Very carefully.“ The Doctor couldn’t help but admit. 

“I bet you were.“ River smirked. 

“Worked up a bit of a sweat haven’t you. You look a bit flustered.“ The Doctor observed, brushing back her curls a little. 

“In my defence, so do you.“ She replied in amusement, running her hand along the Doctor’s coat collar.

“Right, okay, we get it.“ Yaz interrupted the flirting, unable to watch any longer. “Beating up bad guys is a turn on. Now, can we get out of here before they wake up?“

“Wouldn’t want me to have to do it again, would we.“ River sighed and winked at the Doctor who blushed. 

“Let’s go back to the TARDIS.“ The Doctor agreed and they crossed the room, stepping over the bandits. 

“So, what sort of a professor are you?“ Graham asked trying his best to sound casual and ignore the destruction all round.

“Archeology.“ River replied cheerfully. “Love a tomb.“ 

#river x thirteen #river song #river song being river song #bde #doctor who #thirteen #thirteenth doctor #13 #fanfiction #space wives #yowzah #star trek discovery #Hand to hand combat #action #is so hard to write #river x the doctor #jodie whittaker #Alex kingston

[oh-for-fic-sake]

Under His Eye

Masterlist

You and Henry move in to your new district and Henry wastes no time in putting his foot down these commanders need to know who the new boss is around here!

Warnings: Swearing, handmaids tale patriarchal bullshit, BDE Henry? A/N: so here is the first of my Handmaids tale au, just for reference your driver is Jai Courtney, guard is Chris evans. This is more to set up the story a bit of info ect mostly just seting things up! I took some liberties with the new Gilead arch-types I hope they make sense...Any way enjoy Taglist: @promptandpros​ @isitmine​ @runawayolives​ @two-unbeatable-beaters​ @thatgirly81​ @angelofthor @iloveyouyen​ @sofiebstar​ @thefangirlsblog​ @tinabean37​ @viking-raider​

You sighed looking out the window as your driver-Jai moved the large black car through the streets two black moving trucks and another three cars holding a Martha- Molly and your handpicked guard for the household Chris then just a few of Henry's loyal soldiers who would help oversee the district followed drawing the attention of the locals. Handmaids ,Martha’s ,Aunts, wives and guards alike they all looked. All wanted to see the newcomers. They couldn't the windows were blacked out, for your privacy Henry had said but It wasn't, he liked getting the first look not them. It was rare someone moved home in Gilead. If they did it was because they either got in trouble...Or they got a promotion. Not you, not your husband. Henry was a commander, a son of Jacob but he was more then that he was what they now called an apostle. An elite commander who had proved to be the best of the best on and off the field, he had been an angel- one of Gilead’s best soldiers and was pulled from the front lines after yielding incredible results, not that he really believed all of this shit! God no he did what everyone did in the god forsaken place. He survived. In doing so he worked his way up into the top ranks there wasn't many above him in Gilead now. He was used to bring order in to unruly areas, unruly commanders. And he wasn't idle no he spared who he could ,saved who he could usually women...He spared you saved you from a fate worse then death. You looked from left to right down the road and Henry moved a large hand to yours on the seat between you. He gripped it lightly smoothing his thumb in circles across your skin. You sighed again at him. Curling your slim fingers around his weakly, you hadn't wanted to move not again you wanted a home to settle and just live. "Love...Stop worrying everything with be fine, I'm sure you will make friends here...We will be here for years this time not months" you looked over to him and rolled your eyes at him making his lips twitch in a grin revealing his immaculate teeth. "Friends you mean the lesser wives? Who have probably never seen a Royal blue? And will want to scratch my eyes out at the sight of me?" He laughed a deep baritone sound at your little jab. Yes it was true being a royal blue wife was rare and the regular Teals didn't like it. A fertile wife of an apostle? Yes there was only four of you in Gilead. You were called Royal blues allowed to wear darker and brighter blues then your teal counterparts, darker to show your higher ranking and brighter to show off your fertility...Red was taken. Henry turned to you taking you in he knew how you felt about the move. You didn't want to leave again but it was necessary this district had it all! And the powers at be had enough for so many sons of Jacob this district was in all honesty taking the piss. Suicides? Bombs? Handmaids going insane?, wives reading? Sex out side of the ceremony? To many infringements in such a short time Henry was here to cleanup house and he started with the top. These commanders had no idea that he was coming this was his turf now and he was going to 'tear shit up' as they used to say. He smiled leaning over to his staring little wife kissing her cheek making her blush and go shy. He pulled back and spoke. "Well if they were ever stupid enough to do such a thing you know I'd handle it y/n" you cast him a shy glance and smiled at him you'd be the first to admit you were lucky to have your husband. He was a fine man even with that fuzzy face, the kingstach hid a perfect jawline and dimpled chin strong and defined. His bright blue eyes that were always playful and warm when he gazed at you, yet cold and biting frightening to others. He had his curls looser today one or two skimming his forehead. You couldn't help staring at him...You did at least once a day still in awe of the man. He was masculine strong in every sense of the word he had not dropped his training since being and Angel of the faith he kept it up going for a run and works outs each day. The training he had kept him wide and built more so then the eye's and guards he was just...An incredible male to behold. "My little wife you wouldn't be over come with sinful thoughts now would you?~" you giggled looking away blushing as he teased you bringing your hand to his mouth kissing your palm. "Sinful husband? No I am merely appreciating the good lords handcraft. You are an angel~" Henry scoffed at your teasing and moved his hand tickling your side making you squirm and giggle batting away at him. "Come here you~" you squeaked as he pulled you over to his lap still tickling you before moving in to kiss your lips fully. This is what you loved to the world he was a big scary Apostle but to you? He was your big teddy bear how you had found the love of your life in this wretched place you didn't know but you were thankful for it! You were treated as an equal in the comfort of your own home, sure you followed the laws....Well you did follow most; you didn't read ect but he was adamant that ha healthy sex life determined a healthy marriage and since you had proved fruitful you had no real setbacks now, which was a god send. Henry as it turns out was a randy boy~

Your car rolled to a stop in front of a huge house a gated courtyard it was the largest on the street. It looked light and airy like one of those house posh people had on reality tv...Then again you supposed you were posh people now? You looked seeing a few wives come out into their gardens deciding now was the perfect time to inspect there precious flowers whilst stealing glances to the convoy. "I'm afraid I have to get to work right away...Introduce myself to the local government...I hope you like the house I had it cleaned already and it is mostly furnished hand picked by me of course~" you laughed at him as he wriggled his brow. "Mix and match then my love? Tell me will anything match of do I have to go shopping again?" Henry frowned at you playfully and swooped in for another kiss deepening it cupping your face molding your lips together in an obscene twist of tongues drinking one another in. You moaned softly as he moved crouching over you getting far to invested not that either of you cared Jai didn't he just sat there looking back rolling his eyes at the two of you hand on head. You grunted when he finally pulled away he had a shit eating grin as you whined embarrassingly and pouted at his teasing. "You are lucky we are in the car my love~" you moved up closer breath ghosting his lips taunting him and raised a brow. He hummed a quiet chuckle at you as you kneeled up beside him to be level with his eyes twinkling in amusement. "Luck is that what they call it now Mr Cavill?" He laughed wrapping you up in his arms moving to tuck his face into your neck groaning as he took a breath your scent was of the clean rosemary infused soap you'd began using. He loved the fresh scent just as your fingers began to wander he pulled back with a soft grunt. "Oh come now love your audience awaits we can't get away with having sex in the car...Jai wouldn't appreciate it~" Jai scoffed laughing from the front. "Don’t mind me Henry! Closest thing to action I'm fucking getting, by all means plunder away little hanky panky don't do me no harm ~" you rolled your eyes at his sarcastic reply you kicked his seat making him groan with a laugh you crossed your arms at the two chuckling men. They were close made brothers on the front line Henry had pulled him out as soon as he could he was a very loyal man and you cloth called him family. "Well you'll be pleased to know there is a jezebells here...Just don't fuck around be mindfull-" Henry began to warn Jai waved him off. "Henry fuck man! Consent is consent shit I don't need that lecture besides I will walk in there and have them biting at the bit to see my goods...They will be climbing the walls to let me in theirs they’d be-" "Alright Jai you have a penis well done!" Henry smiled as you cut off the sordid ramblings of a horn dog. He relaxed he knew that Jai would never force himself on a woman its why he hired Jai and Chris like minded men who protected women when they could.

Jai got out placing sunglasses on and moved to the door to let you out. The neighbors held there breath a you were helped out of the car. The bright blue of your dress was the first thing they noticed. You cringed a little at the titters and hisses of the women around the street, you knew what was going on they were asking each other why you were decorated in such a bright color. A lot of women didn't realize even wives had ranks well not out here anyway and as far a ranks got they didn't get higher then you hence why there is only four of you even apostles had to use handmaids. You tucked your hands in front of you demurely just as you'd been taught and turned to the car smiling. "Go in grace husband I eagerly await your return~" you finished with a wink that made him roll his eyes and shake his head at you. It always gave him a chuckle watching as you fell into the Gileadian wife so easily. You stepped away smirking as Jai closed the door and entered the car pulling away fro  the curb. You watched for a few seconds then subtly scanned the street that now had quite a few people outside. It seemed everyone wanted a look at the newcomers. You twisted on your heel your long flowy dress swinging delicately the blue satin almost shimmered making you stand out especially against the dreary back drop of the autumn street. You took a deep breath and stepped to the house making your way to the gate which the other guards had opened and was already carrying things into the house. Molly came and stood next to you as you looked up at the house. "They are staring" she said casually making you sigh closing your eyes feeling the envious and curious stares of your new found neighbors none approached you. Either to shy or frightened no one would come near you yet it wasn't done. Women do not make freinds with other women...Well not the elite anyway, teals were bitter they all had a belief that they would not be held to the same laws as the others and were very put out when they realized just what they had to give up. You held no sympathy for them, they helped create this world they made there bed they can lay in it! "Yes they always stare...Anyone I should be wary of?" She hummed nodding and moved alongside you tipping her head subtly to motion to the street as you made your way across the court yard to the house. Taking slow steps being sure to let the local have a good look, get there fill so they can gossip to one another because really gossip is all women had now. "Well not much in the way of neighbors...Only two you need be concerned about....Mrs Putnum across the road, nosy old bat just had a baby- well handmaid, her husband lost an arm fornication with said handmaid ...Blowjob literally cost him arm haha..Well half an arm at  any rate I just hoped she swallowed at least." You smirked Molly was another of your family though to the word you were the perfect household ruled by a strong patriarchal commander and his iron fist.

The truth was you were all a family you ignored each others slip ups and were free to do as you pleased within reason. You played your silly Gileadian roles, Martha, Wife, Husband and so on but you did not think you were better then anyone none of you really believed in Gilead or its ideals but abided by them on the face of it. Molly moved to look at you letting you enter the house first and continued talking quietly. "But seriously Commander Warren Mrs Putnums husband will probably try to kiss ass with Henry terrified of getting another reprimand...He will be a good tool for him...Watch out for her though because she is stuffed up the local matriarchs ass...One Serena joy Waterford...Up until recently she thought her husband ruled the roost...Snippy she is a shell of the woman she once was reduced to a angry frustrated baby obsessed house wife....She has a baby on the way...Again a handmaid" you nodded as you entered the home it was dripping in marble light and airy just as you'd thought it would be you smiled and turned to Molly. "Lets get begin shall we?" She smirked nodding ready to 'set up shop' as it were you left her to the kitchen and moved through the house alone eyeing the rooms appraising them. Henry had listened this time in selecting your home the rooms were classy and airy nothing really needed to be changed whites and accents of black and gold ran through the house some rooms had pale blues and pinks. It was nice elegant and free you liked it much better then your decadent yet dark home in the capital. You nodded and took a seat On a dark grey velvet love seat in front of a large open fireplace in the small den needing to take the weight off your feet for a few minuets the house was very large and it had taken you a good half an hour to really get your bearings. This would do, you could make this home.

Henry strode into his new workplace dreary old government office posh and smelt of old git, Jai smirked walking beside him he loved this! Henry knew he did its why he brought him Jai liked front row seats to these things. Both men argued over who got to come sadly one of them had to stay and guard you Chris was taking a back seat. Henry nodded to Jai and they both slipped into the 'court room' that in his opinion looked like they had read a bit to much harry potter. Henry stayed in the shadows watching them bicker they had the typical uppity cunts thinking they owned the place, the sniveling cowards who simpered choosing to be neutral in every debate and decision. Then the few who honest to god believed in Gilead regime...There were three one was about to get a very abrupt wake up call. He was going for particecution today under Henry's orders he scoffed watching as all the men panicked amongst themselves a few he knew by name. Warren little weasel of a man already had the fear of god...or more correctly Gilead put into him, Lawrence who had made an unusual appearance he was the only one who knew of Henry's arrival and a close friend...Well close enough that neither ratted each other out. Then there was Cush, well what can we say the man is another weasle used Gilead to gain wealth and fame...Very close to the Waterford's even before the war and then the other one he recognized one of the main reasons he was here. Waterford an original son of Jacob but all bark and no bite...Henry couldn't tell if Fred Waterford actually believed in Gilead or if he just wanted a title without the leg work but yes. Waterford was the one to watch one of Gilead's poster boys that was now pretty much obsolete now that the regime was up and running.Much like his and wife Selena pretty little thing, the perfect image of the perfect woman useful spreading the ideals but now fucking useless waiting around for her prize; A baby.

Henry smirked crossing his arms nodding to an older male a seat away from Waterford. Commander Feaver he was fighting with the Eyes and guards that were taking him to his very own cell ready for his salvation. Death by handmaid particecution. Hanged by the ones he had wronged and raped. A fitting end. "You can't be serious! Who? Who ordered this?!" The desperate man twisted screaming out for anyone to help him explain to him what was happening. But no one knew. Henry did. They didn't. The smiled creeping across Henry's face was wicked and sinister. He watched as others began getting nervous. "The orders from Commander Cavill Apostle of Gilead's righteous ruling government" The room went silent as Henry's name was mentioned, it seems his reputation proceeds him. The commanders looked panicked to one another Waterford was the first to speak. "What?! From the capital?! He's here why wasn't we told of his arrival?!" Henry smiled tucking his hands into the pockets of his woolen coat and placed a foot on the wall behind him as they now spoke quickly and panicked amongst themselves. "And what is he doing poking here-" Finally when a few of the  Commanders stood trying to speak hurriedly wanting to be out Of the building before Henry arrived and that was his cue. "Because as of now I am the one calling the shots in this district..." he spoke loud and clear there was a deafening silence no one moved or breathed. Jai followed casually behind zig zagging across the floor.the only sound was the clicking of his shoes on the polished wood floor as he slowly made his way down to the 'podium' he rested the heels of his palms on the wood leaning forward with a predatory grin

"Gentlemen you have all failed to maintain order! And as a result of your failings you are now all under my jurisdiction" "you?! They called you in?" "Yes I am an Apostle, a messenger here to teach and enforce his word upon all those in this rebellious district... I have a perfect track record of cleaning up the unruly districts...The capital decided to call in the Cavillry as it were~" he chuckled at his own play on words scanning the men now shaking in their boots looking to one another they were used to being the fish fish and now they all looked like fucking tadpoles! Henry took another breath moving around the podium shoving his hands back into his pockets. "I like any good leader start with the top...For those of you not aware of what that means well it is simple you are all in my district..As of now I'm running the show and in my districts we as commanders lead by example or you don't lead at all...bare in mind gentlemen the colonies are always looking for strong laborers and failing that the wall here is very bare~!" Now that caused a few shocked faces he smirked up at the old toffee nosed pricks and made a slow sweep immediately picking out those who looked a little too panicked he would have them looked into. Fred stood up trying to placate Henry with a man to man type of reasoning. "But surely Mr Cavill there should be consetions for us...Diplomatic immunity so to speak" he finished with a laugh he was confident. He shouldn't be. Henry tipped his head back and made a huh. He turned looking to Jai. "Waterford?" He saw the man flinch in his seat, Waterford did not like being known by name by this Apostle. Jai nodded to him with a sly smile fuck he loved being able to watch Henry shit shaft these cunts. Henry nodded humming then pointed a finger at the nervous man sitting on his little 'throne' "Well commander Waterford I’m not sure what kind of Gileadian circus your running here but I’m not her to play a fool, you are to refer to me as commander because that sir is what I am...I'm your commander, your apostle and you now answer to me am I understood commander Waterford?" Henry smiled he could feel the others tense as Henry slapped him down a few pegs swiftly dominating the 'bravest' in the room Henry tipped his head 'politely' to the furious man who swallowed harshly and gave a stiff nod. Good he can learn to behave. Henry opened his hands and clapped loudly pacing from side to side before them. "Gentleman this is how exactly the type of thing we need to stamp out Gilead would fall to ruin if weak willed leaders were left unchecked and that is my job...To remind everyone of their place...These types leaders of have no place in Gilead's elite, we are to lead with strength and honor obey the laws! obey his word and he will reward us..Those are now our values...I suggest to anyone here that believes in the cowardice of hiding behind diplomatic immunity step down as a commander immediately...This is your only warning because as of now there is no place to hide, you will find very quickly that your childish games will not get very far with me..." A hush fell over the room again Jai had to bite his lip it was the best bit! When they began to realize that the rumors were true Henry took no prisoners he came in and dominated he treated everything like a war, every room was a battle field and he was always armed. Not with a guns but with knowledge, he had balls of steel and he didnt mind swinging them around either he was untouchable and everyone fucking knew it. "But a particucution? For sleeping outside of the ceremony?" Oh? Waterford was going for round two? Trying to save face no doubt Jai had to look away as Henry smiled unamused but secretly thrilled. It was rare he got a second go at one Fred really wanted to be a big boy. Henry stood pin straight staring evenly to the now anxious commander. "She was pregnant and lost the child! Tell me is the death of and unborn child not the greatest sin! Would you allow that to go unpunished?" Fred was taken back and flicked his gaze to commander Feaver and frowned before slowly looking back to Henry. "I...we did not know that detail" "You wouldn't have commander information like that is above your pay grade" Henry snipped making another hit on Fred’s ego. His attention was brought back to the sniveling Commander Feaver whining and begging with the guards..Oh how the mighty fall~ to say Henry didn't love this would be a lie, in many ways he was like these men but he made the guilty pay not the innocent. His drive to have those in power that make the laws follow them was unshakeable its what got him here. Gilead central government mistook it for loyalty it was..They destroyed his home and he would make them pay for it until he took his last breath! "She wasn't pregnant! She wasn't! I swear!" Jai rolled his eyes and shifted his feet waiting for a more desperate man to go toe to toe with his brother in arms. Henry sighed and blinked slowly looking up at the restrained man. "She was at the Drs two days before there was a delay in the blood tests she had to do them again did she not?" Feaver nodded whimpering and went to speak but Henry held up a hand silencing him. He was trembling Henry wouldn't be surprised if the man pissed himself. "And these results showed that before your sinful coupling she was pregnant! After your Martha found you with her she was tested again and found to be not pregnant...Your fornication terminated her pregnancy! And for that harm the penalty is death!...now does anyone else have anything else to say?" Henry looked straight at Waterford he was daring him to speak up, the others watched slowly moving sitting back in their seats looking thoroughly fucked. Henry smiled and clapped his hands again this was going to be fun at least half of them were guilty of something he just knew it fro  the terrified looks on there faces. No? Good now take him away, we have other business to attend to!"

#handmaids tale au #henry cavill x reader #henry cavill imagine #henry cavill fic #henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill x y/n #henry cavill x ofc #henry cavill x you #Commander!Henry cavill

[xmxisxforxmaybe]

ok! so i was listening to does your mother know that your out, right? and at the same tine a video of angelina jolie came into my feed, you know her being iconic. and so i started thinking 👀 a smut where like a 22 year old rami is like being cheeky and flirty with a woman older than him, she at first is indifferent to him, which gets him super nervous. so now she started to take an interest in him, which gets him even more nervous and her more confident. and she has super bde and don vibes

I was in the middle of a Papi/Dega request when this came into my inbox and captured my muse ... and I mean threw a pillowcase over its head and threw it in the back of a van and MADE me write this. Thank you, Anon, for this brilliant request.

* * * * *

Rami was captivated by her, and so were most of the men, and a few women, at the afterparty. Granted, he was new to this side of the acting scene having just finished a minor role in a fairly big stage production in New York City, so instead of walking up to the woman and jostling for a place in her queue, he stayed back and watched.

He felt out-of-place, not at all filled with the confidence he had in LA. Yeah, LA was LA, after all, but he knew people there, and he knew enough about how Hollywood worked to fit in.  

Here . . . for maybe the first time in his life, he was the odd man out.

As Rami turned away from the beautiful woman and shuffled over to the bar, a flash of a scene from his and Sami’s favorite novel, The Great Gatsby, popped to the forefront of his thoughts.

When Nick felt out of place, he got roaring drunk. Sounds like a plan to me, Rami thought, his 22-year-old self feeling more at ease knowing he was about to rely on good, old-fashioned liquid courage.

Rami ordered a beer and a double shot of tequila.

One tequila, two tequila, floooor, his mind sang to himself as he ordered another round of each, his initial wave of discomfort beginning to wane.

By the time he finished round three, he knew he had to talk to the beautiful stranger. Clearly, she was someone of importance, maybe even someone famous.

Rami stood up from his barstool, and wobbled, which wasn’t unusual. There was rarely a time in his life when he didn’t have a bruise or a cut from falling down or running into something. Sami had clearly gotten the balance gene.

Rami missed his brother terribly, never imagining they would be living in different cities. He looked to his left and sighed, wondering what Sami would say if he saw his twin, Rami Malek, high school flirt, afraid to talk to a woman.

Shoot your fucking shot, Ram. Why wouldn’t she want to get to know you? his brother’s logical voice sounded in his mind.

“Shoot my shot,” he said under his breath as he made his way to the more crowded part of the room and began looking for the woman.

He didn’t have to look long, and he also couldn’t believe his luck: there she was, standing alone and looking at a large fishtank that was in a darkened corner of the room, the only real light coming from the tank itself.

His balls in his throat, he walked quickly to where she was standing, reminding himself to put one foot in front of the other, lest he fall flat on his face.

His brother would be in stitches if that happened, and the entire family would know within the hour.

But Rami made it, right-side-up, and before he could lose all his nerve, he blurted out, “Nice fish, huh?”

The woman glanced over at him, a bit startled.

“Oh, yes. They are. I always lose myself in my thoughts when I watch them swim. I don’t know exactly why I find it so soothing.”

Rami just stared at her as she spoke, completely smitten. Her speech was so articulate, definitely that of a fine stage actress.

Or someone very, very wealthy, Rami thought, once again thinking back to his favorite novel.

The woman looked at him, clearly expecting him to reply, but he couldn’t find the words.

“Uh . . . huh,” he managed, still studying her face.

She was older than him, but by how much he wasn’t sure—at least a decade. Her face held a sort of vitality that was hypnotic. This was a woman who lived her life by her own accord, a woman who knew things, a woman who held the promise of things that were just . . . good.

“I do apologize, but have we met?” she asked, bringing Rami out of his stupor.

“Uh . . . uh, no. I don’t think we have. I’m an actor. I was in the production,” he finished lamely.  

She looked at him thoughtfully for a moment, then said, “Johnny. You were Johnny.”

Rami looked at her, taken aback that she made the connection.

“Yeah. Yeah, I was. I’m—” he faltered.

She raised her brow, encouraging him to continue.

“I’m surprised you knew that.”

“It’s my business to know, Mr. . . . Malek, I believe.”

Rami gave her the same quizzical look, and this time she laughed. In that moment, he thought that if he could only listen to one more sound for the rest of his life, it would be her laugh.

“Rami. My name’s Rami,” he said sticking out his hand.

She slid hers gracefully into his, but her grip was strong, professional.

“I’m Y/N Y/L/N, and I’m pleased to officially meet you, Rami Malek.”

No, no. If I could only listen to one more sound for the rest of my life, it would be her saying my name, he thought.

“Do you mind if I ask . . . what it is you do?”

“I do many things, Rami, but my connection to this particular evening is a financial one.”

“An investor,” he stated, nodding his head to indicate he was impressed.

“The investor,” she replied. “If I’m going to do something, I do it. When it comes to the theater, if I’m going to invest, I’m going to be the sole investor. That way, a production feels more like it’s . . . mine. I hope that doesn’t sound arrogant. I’m not an actor, but I love the process. This is as close as I can get to the stage without making a Bottom out of myself,” she said with a smirk as she referenced A Midsummer Night’s Dream.

Rami chuckled, and teased, “With jokes like that, I can see why you stay out of the spotlight.”

She laughed, and it was clear she was surprised she laughed so freely with this very young, very handsome stranger.

“Y/N!” called the producer of the play. “I’ve got someone I’m dying for you to meet.”

Before the producer could whisk her away, she leaned into Rami and said, “I don’t normally do this, but I’d like to talk to you again. Here’s my card,” she said as she reached into her clutch.

“Call me. And maybe next time you won’t need six tequila shots before you pluck up the courage to talk to me,” with a wink and a ghost of a touch along his jaw, she was gone, swallowed again by people who just wanted the privilege of being near her.

Rami looked into the crowd, gobsmacked that she had been watching him, too.

* * * * *

With a throaty laugh, she kicked off her heels as Rami backed her into the wall as soon as they were secured in her large apartment. Rami had never been in a place so luxurious, and normally he would have liked to have a look around, but the feeling of this woman’s body under his hands damn near made his brain short-circuit.

Over the past few days, he had learned that she was not just a decade older than him, but two and a few odd years. He had also learned that she was intelligent, passionate, sophisticated, and could make him harder than he had ever been in his entire life with no more than a casual glance. His near-constant erections were proving to be a very difficult barrier to overcome, considering the amount of time they had been spending taking in shows, dining out, and going to a myriad of high-society events.

When she asked him to come up for a nightcap, he had to discreetly adjust himself as he followed her into the elevator. And as soon as the doors closed, she grabbed his lapels, pulled him to her, and kissed him, a soft, sweet kiss that somehow still made his toes curl.

“Do you want that nightcap?” she breathed against his lips, ever the proper hostess.

“No, thank you,” Rami murmured as he moved her hair to the side and attached his lips to her neck.

She laughed, that sweet, soft laugh that made him think of a gentle rain falling in the morning.

“Then perhaps we should take this to the bedroom,” she said, pulling away and taking his hand to lead him down a long hallway and up a set of stairs.

His trousers were uncomfortably tight as he watched the way her ass moved in her pretty dress as she climbed the spiral staircase, quickly and eloquently since she had left her shoes by the door.

Rami glanced around the room and once again couldn’t believe that his life was currently real, that this was happening, that he was about to have sex with the most beautifully intriguing woman he had ever met.

They made quick work of each other’s clothes and she hummed with appreciation at his body. He was lean, but not from effort. Life in the city that never sleeps was difficult, and between looking for roles, rehearsing for the ones he did manage to get, and working odd jobs to earn enough money to keep under a roof, eating wasn’t much of a priority.

She, on the other hand, was fit, classically attractive if you will, but not in an overdone way. She did look closer to her age than to Rami’s, except for her confidence and her passion. She knew who she was, loved herself, and because of that, her confidence and passion shone, and quite literally, made her beautiful.

She turned down the bed in a rush, sliding into the middle of her cloud-soft sheets. Rami settled between her legs and kissed her with all the passion he felt, which was so much that it left her breathless.

“Drawer,” she husked out, waving in the direction of the nightstand.

Rami reached over and pulled out the box of condoms, quickly rolling one on.

She took advantage of his lack of balance and rolled him onto his back, grinning down at him as she lowered herself onto his covered cock.

Rami groaned, a deep rumble that reverberated through his chest. He wanted to watch her, but his eyes rolled back at the incredible sensation of being inside of her for the first time. He wanted to savor it, but she began to move, rocking her hips and pulling his hands from her thighs to her breasts.

Rami opened his eyes and watched as she squeezed his hands around her breasts and when he looked up at the way her head was tossed back in bliss and the way her bottom lip was caught between her teeth, all because she was mounted on his cock, he lost control.

And in an embarrassingly quick culmination of passion, Rami came inside the condom with a whimper.

Immediately, his hands covered his face as he groaned, praying to GOD that the bed would swallow him whole.

“I am so sorry,” he mumbled from underneath his palms.

“Sorry for what?” she said with a laugh. “For finding me so attractive that you stayed in the moment and gave yourself over to passion instead of disconnecting by reciting . . . what do actors recite? Lines from a monologue? I’m guessing it’s not the usual sports statistics?”

Rami lifted his hands from his face and looked up at her; his cheeks were red, either from his intense orgasm or from his intense mortification.

Before he could apologize again, she put her finger to his lips.

“Stop agonizing over a beautiful moment. Do you know how good that made me feel knowing how excited I made you?”

Rami finally gave her a small smile, though it was evident he still felt ashamed.

With a roll of her eyes and a sigh, she grasped the base of his cock where she felt the condom and let his softened dick slide out of her. Carefully, she pulled it off of him and moved off the bed to toss it in the trash.

“Now that we’ve gotten that,” she said gesturing to his limp cock, “out of the way, we can concentrate on real pleasure.

“Is there anything you know you don’t like to do in the bedroom?” she asked, her head cocked to the side.

“Uh . . . I don’t think so?” Rami said with hesitation.

“If you want me to stop anything at any time, just say stop. Okay?”

Rami nodded, his lips parted as he intently watched her.

“Your eyes are going to make you a star,” she said, her head still cocked to the side as she returned his gaze.

He blinked as he blushed, a slight red flush creeping up his neck.

“Well,” she began as she rummaged in her drawer until she withdrew a small tube of lubricant, “when you’re young, you’re awfully resilient. Not to knock men my own age, but they tend to have a lack of stamina. Nature’s fault, of course, but women, well we really don’t reach our sexual prime until our 30s, even late 30s I dare say.”

Rami listened as she climbed back onto the bed, settling between his thighs. He wondered if he should feel awkward in this position, but as he watched her spread lubricant on her index finger, he felt his cock twitch.

“So, what that means, is that women end up with a significantly less amount of time to have great sex because they finally feel attractive enough to get a partner who meets their standards and because they finally know their bodies well enough to make demands of their lovers.”

She paused and shot him a seductive smile as she pressed her finger to his perineum and started to massage him.

“Jesus,” Rami moaned.

“Undisputedly a man. God, however . . . I like the sound of that,” she said in a low voice as she slipped her well-lubricated finger into Rami’s ass and brushed his prostate.

“Ohmy . . . GOD,” he cried out, his thighs jerking, but her body stopping them from slamming together.  

“That’s better,” she replied in that same low, sultry voice as she bent to take his dick in her mouth.

Rami’s cock hardened instantly, and he found himself filled with an intense need to fuck this woman senseless.

“St-sto-stop,” he managed, and she lifted her head and slowly extracted her finger.

Rami was animalistic in his movements; he sat up and flipped her onto her back, burying his face between her thighs. He wanted her soaking when he slid inside of her again, so when she began to give him directions, he responded to every single command.

He didn’t feel shy the second time they fucked.

Or the third.

Or the fourth.

By the time the morning light peeked through her windows and he positioned himself at her entrance for the fifth time, he felt like he really had found god.

And she was a woman.

#Rami Malek smut #Rami Malek #thirsty thursday #Rami x female character #sort of x reader

[johannas-motivational-insults]

For the DVD commentary ask, my first thought was the BDE/“no toasters” scene from Chapter 3 of Satisfaction, because the idea of a “making of” commentary over that is very funny to me for some reason. But since that probably falls quite a bit too far on the NSFW side, my fallback was the scene from Chapter 20 of Demons where Catra decides to leave the Horde. That one is probably my favorite of the story so far.

omfg, that would be hysterical but I don’t even know what I’d say about that. Your easy pick is an excellent choice though so I’ll do that! (Commentary is bolded.)

I was so excited to finally release this chapter after so much buildup of Catra becoming disillusioned with the Horde and her identity in it. It was clear to me that Catra would not leave just because something bad happened to her, that would only make her more determined to stay and prove herself, so she’d have to see people she cared about getting hurt to make that mental leap. And so, this scene was born.

Eyes scrunching shut, Catra covers her mouth in an attempt to suppress a yawn. It leaks out through her fingers all the same, high and squeaky and embarrassing. Blinking the focus back into her eyes, she flicks them around in search of witnesses. Seeing no cadets looking her way, she sighs in relief and folds her arms back together. She scowls into the sparring circle, watching but hardly paying attention. Is she really supposed to give a shit about any of this?

Don’t forget this happens the morning after Catra has her big breakdown when it hits her that she’ll never have another chance to earn Shadow Weaver’s love or approval. She’s finally at a tipping point.

A few more moves and Lonnie is victorious, slamming her opponent on his back before rolling and dragging his wrist into a devastating arm bar. He taps out and Lonnie gets a modest amount of applause as she stands. Grinning with a sweeping bow, she offers a hand to her opponent, who takes it grudgingly. Kyle and another boy take their places in the circle and Lonnie shares high fives with a few cadets on her way out. She’s nursing a sprained ankle from a couple days ago, but you wouldn’t know it by the way she struts.

When Lonnie’s eyes lock onto hers, Catra groans internally. Of course Lonnie can’t just ignore the folded ears, crossed arms and twitchy tail that very clearly say ‘leave me the fuck alone.’ No, that’s like a homing beacon for Lonnie. She’s always gotten a kick out of getting under Catra’s skin.

Well, Catra won’t give her the satisfaction. As Lonnie sidles up to her, she extends a congratulatory fist. “Nice armbar, dipshit.”

Lonnie grins, bumping it with pride. “Thanks, bitch.”

I love these two so much. Anyone who reads my fics can probably tell but I am Invested in Catralonnie. In my head this ship falls under the category ‘brotps who hate fuck.’

She turns to the circle and they stand silently side by side, watching as the next fight gets underway. In theory, anyway. Catra’s zoning out, her lips sinking into a frown as she settles back into the numb, dark, heavy place she’s been inhabiting today. Grief, she supposes, though not in the usual sense of the word. She’s not grieving that abusive witch who tormented her all those years, body and soul. No, what she’s grieving is the end of their relationship, how it’s encased in stone forever, how she’ll have no more chances to make things right. No more chances to make Shadow Weaver proud, to earn a gentle touch and kind words, to earn her pride and her trust. But that’s bullshit, and she knows it. Those things were never earned, never given fairly.

Oh, she’s starting to get it...

Catra grits her teeth, glaring straight ahead. Today’s numbness has been punctuated by occasional bursts of anger, rage so blinding it makes her wants to tear her own skin to shreds to purge the feeling from her body. (*thousand year stare into the camera*) She rides out this latest wave of fury in silence, clenching her fists but keeping her claws sheathed to avoid making a scene in public. She takes a few deep breaths, pushing them out until the sensation releases her and she sinks back into the depths.

Shadow Weaver is gone. Catra will never get what she needs. It’s over.

Girl, you need to get you some therapy.

“What’s eating you?”

Catra jumps slightly at the invasive words, turning to find Lonnie watching her with those infuriatingly smug green eyes. Licking her lips, Lonnie cracks, “I know it isn’t Adora.”

Me @ y’all:

Catra’s eyes narrow and she gives Lonnie a weak shove, prompting a laugh. “Nothing’s eating me,” she growls. “I’m fine.”

“Then why aren’t you sparring?” asks Lonnie. “Usually you love the chance to beat the shit out of some dumb human.”

“I don’t feel like it,” Catra answers flatly, mouth twitching only slightly. She doesn’t have the energy to be indignant. She doesn’t give a shit.

Damn that’s when you know Catra’s really got it bad.

Nodding with an exaggerated hum, Lonnie remarks, “You’ve been weird all day, dude. Broody, like more than normal.” (Have I mentioned how much I love Lonnie??) Catra summons the strength to shoot her a withering glare, but she’s undeterred. “You snuck into the barracks after midnight last night, then you woke me up again with your snivelling at four in the fucking morning,” she says with a glare of her own. “You owe me an explanation.”

“I don’t owe you anything, assface,” retorts Catra, jamming a threatening claw against her chest. “And I was only snivelling because I inhaled something weird up on the rooftops.”

Lonnie tips her head with a condescending smirk. “Sure, Catra.”

Yes, this is in fact a hat tip to ‘Sure, Jan.’

“I’m serious,” insists Catra. “There must’ve been some kind of spill in one of the factories.”

“Uh huh.”

Catra turns away with a glower, shaking her head. “Whatever, fuck you.”

“You wish,” snickers Lonnie.

“Ughhh!” Catra smacks her forehead with a huge sigh of exasperation. “Fine, I’ll fight you if it will get you to shut up. For fuck’s sakes, Lonnie.”

Lonnie’s preferred method of therapy is to piss people off enough that they’ll fight her and I think that’s very sexy of her.

Chuckling deeply beside her, Lonnie slings an arm around Catra’s shoulder and gives her a playful shake. “That’s my girl.”

Catra would usually shove Lonnie away in this situation, but she doesn’t this time. She’s too tired to fight the contact and needs to save her strength for the actual fight. Besides, it’s not the end of the world. Lonnie’s arm is beefy but not so heavy as to be uncomfortable. The pressure is actually kind of soothing in a way, clearing Catra’s mind and lulling her into a state of calm. Not that she would ever admit that to anyone, let alone Lonnie.

BROTPS WHO HATE FUCK Y’ALL. Okay but honestly I love that I have this relationship to work with because having someone who’s really good at getting under Catra’s skin is another way to open up her character. Lonnie is not only a loveable character she’s a very useful one for a writer who tells stories primarily through character work and relationships.

A loud thud and a howl of pain pierce the air, snapping Catra back to the moment. Her ears prick up at the familiar sound and she moves toward it on instinct, only to realize she’s half a step behind Lonnie. Humans like to say that cats aren’t pack animals, she’s heard that one many times as a reason she can’t be trusted. Catra is no more an animal than anyone else here, but she thinks Magicats must be different from their feline relatives in that way. The urge to protect her pack is overwhelming and immutable. One of her squadmates is hurt, and she needs to be there to help. Now.

Anyone who says Catra doesn’t care about other people can fucking fight me and that’s a fact.

She and Lonnie arrive at the edge of the circle to find Kyle sprawled on his stomach, moaning and writhing, pounding the floor as he tries to hold back wails of pain. It’s not immediately apparent what the problem is from Catra’s vantage point, but Rogelio is already kneeling on Kyle’s other side, telling him to breathe and that he’s going to be fine.

Okay so I fucking went 16 chapters never specifying whether the rest of the squad understood Rogelio’s language because it wasn’t clear in canon and I wanted to see if they would confirm it one way or the other, and of course as soon as I posted chapter 17 (where I specify that they can) season 4 came out and implied that they know him well enough to understand via his tone and gesturing but they don’t understand the language. So mark me down as annoyed over that. Anyway that wasn’t something I wanted to retcon so I kept it for the rest of the fic.

The instructor, some lower tier officer Catra doesn’t really know, steps into the ring. Pushing Kyle’s worried sparring partner aside, he shouts, “Enough theatrics! Get up and fight!”

Oh boy, Shadow Weaver likes to use that word on Adora too. I don’t remember if this mirrored that intentionally.

Catra feels Lonnie tense beside her, hears Rogelio snorting at Kyle that his leg is broken and he’d better stay the fuck down. Cringing in anticipation, Catra peeks over Kyle’s body and immediately wishes she hadn’t. The sight of his unnaturally bent shinbone sends a shudder of sympathy through her bones.

The instructor must not have any reptile friends (likely) or he understands and is a complete and utter asshole (also likely), because he keeps yelling at Kyle, “Come on, don’t be such a princess! I said get up, you coward!”

The boys’ wailing and snorting is getting them nowhere, so Lonnie intercedes. Gesturing down at the deformed limb, she shouts over the din. “His leg’s broken! You really think that’s a good idea?”

The instructor’s mouth falls open and he peers down at Kyle and then back up at Lonnie, his face turning red. “Don’t talk to me that way, Cadet!” he barks. “You’re running laps for the next half hour.”

Okay, Shadow Weaver Lite.

Lonnie blinks, purging her face of emotion. “I’m just trying to help. You needed a translator.”

“The next hour!” he shouts. “Wanna push it more?”

Scowling, Lonnie shakes her head tersely and begins to push her way out of the circle of cadets. Watching her go, the instructor puffs out his chest and waves a dismissive hand down at Kyle.

“Someone take this weakling to the infirmary,” he orders.

Rogelio glares up at the instructor, though to be fair the asshole probably can’t read reptilian expressions either. Lucky Hel. Rolling his whimpering boyfriend to lie on his back, which results in another howl of pain, he grunts out an apology. Then, supporting the injured leg with one massive arm and the rest of his body with the other, he scoops Kyle up and carries him away.

Okay but the bridal carry is *chef’s kiss*

As the crowd reforms around the sparring circle, the instructor claps Kyle’s partner on the shoulder and declares, “Alright, let’s get a real soldier in here to fight this guy!”

I feel really bad for this kid tbh.

The cadets erupt into cheers and several rush forward to take Kyle’s place, which results in a couple of impromptu fights as they try to push each other out of the circle. Catra is knocked back into the crowd in the process, but she doesn’t react with her usual bared teeth and claws, too busy staring slack-jawed at the chaos. Never in her life has she felt more disconnected from her surroundings, not even when she wanted to be.

At one point in her life (okay, many points), Catra would have been clamoring along with the rest of them. For a chance not just to prove herself, but to avenge her injured squadmate. But she feels no need to prove herself to this incompetent asshole of an instructor, and it’s not that kid’s fault they’re compelled to fight each other like this. He clearly felt terrible about Kyle, anyway.

As Catra watches the scene play out, watches the instructor continue to egg the cadets on, only one clear thought forms in her head.

What the fuck is wrong with these people?

Seriously. How is it weak and cowardly not to stand and fight on a broken leg? That’s not how the body works. Then again, they also like to say that deserters are weak and cowardly. Maybe they don’t know what those words even mean. Maybe weak and cowardly just means having a mind of your own.

Catra’s eyes track Lonnie as she hobbles around the room with a red face and clenched fists. Though she isn’t visibly fuming in the same way, a similar heat smolders deep in Catra’s belly, filling her mind with treasonous thoughts. The whole thing is so fucking unfair. But that’s hardly some grand revelation. Nothing that happens in the Fright Zone is fair.

So what is she even doing here?

That thought in particular makes Catra blink. Hard. She knows why she’s here, she’s been saying it over and over, clinging to these words, this need. She needs to show them they were wrong, she needs to achieve what everyone thought her incapable of. If she leaves, she’ll never do that, and everything that happened here would be for nothing. But if nothing is fair here, rising to the top says nothing about her qualifications, only her ability to work the system. A system that’s absolute bullshit.

And who does she need to prove it to, anyway? These mindless idiots submitting to an incompetant authority figure? Her temperamental former boss who put blind faith in her one day and took it away the next? Her deceased sorry excuse for a mother? Her ex-best friend who left her alone to suffer, but has since come to understand her wrongdoings? No… the only person Catra really needs to prove it to is herself. But if the system is bullshit, there’s nothing to prove, only a painful void to fill with… something.

Honestly this is a rough feeling to deal with but at least now that the illusion has been broken she can go about trying to find that thing to fill it. And no that’s not a sex joke lmao, though I suppose it could be.

Scorpia’s words from last night filter into Catra’s brain through the distant sounds of cheering and shouting. If it feels like everything is for nothing, she needs to find a way to make something of her suffering so she can be at peace. Her eyes fall on Lonnie again, her ears recalling Kyle’s sounds of agony. If she can stop other people from being hurt the way she was, would that make something of it? Would that be enough to satisfy the longing deep inside her, to heal the yawning, yearning chasm Shadow Weaver created with her rejection and cruelty, with her refusal to provide validation and affection? Catra doesn’t know.

All Catra knows is she’s done with this shit.

Catra I am so proud of you bb I love you and you deserve better.

Anyway sorry I had less coherent thoughts for this commentary but this scene makes me emotional so I got a little meme-happy. I have had many experiences like this where I was just holding, holding onto something that was unhealthy or a lost cause and then something happened and a switch flipped in my brain, releasing me from that mind trap. I really wanted to get the feeling of that experience across and I’m proud of how it turned out. It’s a great payoff scene for that whole ‘return to the Horde’ arc for Catra. I didn’t want her to leave for Adora but I also knew she wouldn’t leave for herself until she witnessed the brutality and inequality hurting someone else.

#ask games #director's commentary #spop #catradora #fanfic #demons #writing #asks #ncamferdam