#aidas smut

[azsazz]

Creep

Kinktober Day 14: Aidas x Reader [Stalking]

Summary: Anon Req: CC men, do adias lurking on reader in cat form and when she attempts to shoo it away in the rain, he appears in front of her (they're at her apartment door) and brushes muddied water from himself "is that really how you treat a guest? Not to mention royalty?"

I kinda veered from the og request but I tried to get most of it down.

Warnings: Smut, oral (F receiving)

Word Count: 3,520

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The streets are cold but you look warm.

All bundled up in your winter gear; the fur-lined hood of your coat pulled high over your head. The thick, knit cap settled upon your head and the scarf wrapped tightly around your neck, the bottom of your face huddled inside of it to keep the wind from brushing across your face. The only skin exposed are those piercing eyes of yours, accentuated by the rose of your cheeks.

It might very well be his presence that makes the alley grow cold. It is, but Aidas likes to think that the darkened, damp passageways hold an other-worldly sort of chill. It doesn’t feel like a cold he’s known before, it is one he isn’t used to in the existence of this plane.

He can see the way it overcomes your body. Aidas wishes the iciness in the air felt like more of a caress, a brush of snowflakes across pink cheeks instead of frozen claws dragging down your spine, but he doesn’t know how to wield his power for anything other than destruction. 

He could crumble the brick walls in the alley but he finds himself wanting to break yours down one by one. He knows you’re hiding something, the way your pretty eyes keep flickering up and down the alley. It’s dark, and if he were a stupider male he’d think it was an anxious movement, checking your surroundings to make sure you’re not being trailed by the drunkards crowding the streets. But he prides himself in being intelligent. And handsome, but that’s besides the point.

You don’t notice the glowing iciness of his feline eyes, so pale they nearly glow in the darkness. His white fur reflects off of the moon, but you don’t notice that either, from the way that he’s tucked himself beneath the cold metal of the dumpster. It’s leaking something in the corner that he’s stayed far away from…after he’d stepped in the sickly green puddle. 

Gross.

Aidas doesn’t know why you’re here, what has summoned him to the very spot you’re occupying, when it doesn’t seem like you yourself know how you’ve ended up here. The suspicious looks you’re throwing around are enough for him to creep from his spot, pad after you with that preternatural silence he only feels in his feline form. 

You don’t notice. Not right away. He’s good at staying hidden, even more so at blending in, though his arrogance doesn’t allow him to keep concealed for long. As you walk down the long streets, he finds himself wanting those jewel-like eyes on him, not on the passerby and the avenue ahead.

He licks his jowls before mewling. It’s an innocent sort of noise, a beg nearly, and it tastes sour in his mouth. He’s never begged for anything in his life. People beg him, to allow them softer sentences for their crimes, the abhorrent things they’ve done to be sent to his plane of Hel. And not once has he ever given in to any of those pleas.

Your steps falter, halting. The ground is cold, slick with snow that has melted against it. Aidas can feel it in his paws, the ice pricking through his pads. He doesn’t care, it doesn’t affect him, as the cold is wafting from his presence. 

Your breath puffs white clouds into the chill as you turn. He sits, straightens his spine and lifts his chin. It might look like he’s preening to you, but to him, he’s showing off, showing you his confidence, the little white kitten sitting so harmless before you.

Aidas really does feel like preening when you turn those gorgeous eyes on him. You’re suspicious, brows furrowed as you scan the alley, before resting on him. He watches the frown melt from your face into one of awe, and you’re approaching him with a newfound sort of confidence, no longer is the caution draping your shoulders down.

“Hello there, little kitty,” you coo, crouching before him. You stick your hand out for the white animal to sniff, so it doesn’t think that you’re anything dangerous. “What are you doing out here all alone? It’s pretty cold.”

As you say it, Aidas watches the plumes of breath puff from your lips. He could shift right now, tell you that it’s his presence that’s making the streets this cold, but just as you think he doesn’t trust you yet, you also wouldn’t trust him. 

He needs to wait you out, play into your little game.

So, Aidas mews in response, creeping forward to nudge his head against your hand. You’re awfully warm, hands shoved deeply into the pockets of your coat have kept the warmth underneath your skin. The way you turn your hand to scratch behind his ears feels good, and his back arches in pleasure.

Before he can realize what’s going on, you’re lifting him into your arms, a soft smile on your face. He blinks up at you with crystalline blue eyes, head tilting as if in confusion, before the cat rests in the crook of your arms, seemingly wanting to come home with you as badly as you want him to.

“Yeah, you want to come home with me, little guy? Alright, let’s go.” 

Little guy? Aidas would hiss, but he doesn’t like to lean into his cat-like tendencies when he’s in this form. Despite the fact that he finds himself purring into your chest. He stops when he realizes.

The warmth of your body is comforting against the chill of the outdoors. So comfortable that he shuts his eyes and revels in it, allowing you to take him back to your apartment.

He doesn’t realize he’d fallen asleep until you’re placing him down to shuck off your winter gear. He mewls tiredly, already missing the loss of your warmth. He blinks, looking around, tail flicking somewhat impatiently when you don’t acknowledge his mew, instead heading into your kitchen to wash up and fetch a damp towel to clean his paw off with.

Your touch is gentle against his paw. He wonders if he shifted right here, right now, if you would let him bend you over your couch and claim you like the primal part of him wants to. But Aidas doesn’t change, he doesn’t want to scare you away.

Not yet.

You carry him into your room, placing him on the bed where he curls into a tiny ball. You coo at him and it should annoy him, how you’re coddling him, a demon for Solas’ sake, but he enjoys it, because when he switches forms, you won’t be looking at him like that.

He doesn’t follow you into the bathroom like he wants, and you come back changed into a comfortable shirt but no pants. It makes his back curl, and he squeezes his eyes shut, willing the heat creeping towards his cock away.

“Okay, kitty. Time for cuddles,” you coo, scooping him from his spot as you shuffle under the covers. You place the white cat across your stomach, and he scooches up, resting his head between the valley of your breasts. 

He purrs loudly when you begin to stroke his white fur. He’s soft and loving, and the noises he’s making helps take your mind off of the weariness you’ve been feeling lately, when you go out and feel eyes following your every move.

The kitten’s rhythmic purring and its warmth against your chest sends you into a peaceful slumber.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Iciness wakes you.

You blink, the room still filled with darkness, letting you know that it is not yet morning and still have time to sleep. 

It’s freezing in the room, but the fireplace is still raging with flames in the corner of the room. Your nose is cold, and the covers are tucked all the way up to your chin, but you’re still shivering.

The heat at your back doesn’t help much either.

And something doesn’t feel right. Where there was a warmth across your chest of a cat you’d fallen asleep with, it’s no longer there. 

“Aidas,” you whisper, rolling over as you seek him out. He could be pressed against your back instead, so you’re careful as you do so, but your tiredness leaves your body in a rush as you’re met with those bright blue eyes of the kitten you found, only in the form of a fae now.

You screech, trying to shove yourself away from him. If you scream loud enough perhaps your neighbor will call the Aux. Maybe they’ll even make it to your place before the male in your bed kills you.

Aidas has no intentions of doing that, though. He rolls, pinning you to the bed with his hands around your wrists and his hips planted firmly against yours. Your gasp gets stuck in your throat at the feeling of his full cock heavy against your cunt. The only thing stopping him from entering you is the thin fabric of your panties, but as you struggle against his iron grip, the feeling of the crown on his cock pressing into you has you nearly biting through your lip.

“Who are you? Where did you come from?” You whimper, forcing your body still. The air in the room had plummeted, but his body is hot against yours. The pale blue of his eyes nearly glows in the dark, and whispers of his bright blond hair tickle your cheeks as he leans in further.

“Is that really how you treat a guest?” He says, and the liquidity of his voice sounds just like that of a purring cat. His chest rumbles with it, sending shockwaves down your body, collecting between the apex of your legs. The muscles of your thighs jump and Aidas sinks further, a rolling tease that forces the whimper from your mouth. “Not to mention royalty?”

“It is when I don’t know who the fuck you are or how you’ve gotten in my room,” you retort harshly, but the feeling of his taut body against yours attempts to negate the threat lining your voice. He’s much too handsome to be here for anything less than sex. Will he take what he wants from you and more? Why does the thought of him taking exactly what he wants from you causing your cunt to tremble?

The stranger on top of you stares you down, and while it should make you uneasy, it makes you flush. Those piercing eyes remind you of something so familiar, kind of like the kitten you’d rescued from the frozen streets.

Your kitten. Where the fuck is your kitten? Anger lances your body and you buck, struggling anew, but your strength seems to be no match for the male bolting you to the bed with his own body.

“Where is my cat?”

The corner of his mouth quirks at the corner and the beauty of it stuns you for a moment, body falling lax. “You mean you don’t recognize your little kitten?” he all but purrs, leaning down to lap at the sensitive spot of your throat much like how the kitten had lapped with scratchy tongue there. It feels much more sensual now, and your chin tucks away as your eyes flutter shut, giving the stranger more room to work. “I am him, kit.”

“How—” you struggle for breath, “How is that possible?”

Kitten licking across your jaw, Aidas continues. “The first rule about Lunathion, kitten, is not to allow anything inside of your home. Especially, a Prince of Hel.”

Your body fights a shiver creeping up your spine. A Prince of Hel? This male on top of you is one of the Princes of Hel?

All of the warmth leaves your body, replaced by an ice cold dread only he can conjure. But still, your fingers curl into the skin of his tight hips, keeping him pressed firmly into you.

You’ve heard of the Princes of Hel, all seven of them, but you hadn’t known how often they had wandered this plane of existence, nor that they were capable of shifting into animals, let alone such a pristine, innocent looking one much like this one can.

“Which one are you?” You breathe. It’s shallow, as if you might be scared taking too deeply of an inhale of his exquisite scent might drive the last of your self-control from your body. The hot press of his cock at your slick entrance is a jarring reminder that he may be here to hurt you, but there will be pleasure involved first.

Your question seems to strike him, though, confusion crossing his features for a flicker of a second before they’re turning feline again, smile pulling high at the corners and his blue eyes gleaming. You’re not afraid of him, not as much as you should be for a female in front of a Prince. He can smell the sweetness in the air, of your arousal cut with the sharper scent of your fear, and it is utterly delectable. 

“Aidas,” he offers with a roll of his hips. “Prince of the Chasm.”

“Aidas,” you echo, but it’s more of a moan. Your fingers glide across his smooth skin of their own violation, tracing the hills and grooves of muscle packing his lithe body. 

He growls at your name on his lips. Never has it sounded so perfect, so powerful, than it is now, a plea for more on your tongue. 

Aidas’ mouth is hot and claiming as he crawls down your body, removing the shirt you’re wearing as he goes. The fabric reveals the curve of your breasts, which he takes in hand, brushing over your pert nipple with a flick of his tongue while he massages the other, drawing a sharp inhale from you. He’s never tasted anything so euphoric, so addicting. Lust roils through his body as if he’s been hit over the head with it, his light touches turning more forceful, teeth nipping, pulling at the bud of your nipple as he leans back, taking it with him.

You cry out, hips lifting off of the bed to follow him. Your fingers find his silky locks, fisting them as he manhandles you, does so as he pleases with your pliant body. It feels like roles are being reversed, like he’s going to be worshiping you instead of how you should be worshiping the Prince of Hel trailing down your body.

His fingers hook around the waistband of your panties, tugging them down your legs with an ease that threatens to snap your thighs shut. Before you can, he’s shoving his shoulders between them, draping your legs over his shoulders as he settles between your legs, taking in the sight of your perfectly pink cunt, fluttering for him. The wetness glimmers in the moonlight streaming through the window, and he licks his lips at the sight.

Goosebumps break out across your skin, the iciness of the room attempting to cool your smoldering body. You want to whimper, cry out for him to put his mouth on your cunt because you can feel each exhale of his breath against your keening cunt yet he doesn’t make a move to devour you.

“Say my name again,” he commands, and you don’t hesitate.

“Aidas!” You cry as he dives forward, slick tongue slipping between your folds. 

It’s as if he knows exactly what to do with it, drawing a stripe up with the tip of his nose leading the exploration, the flat of his tongue following. He eats you out like a man starved, swirling his tongue around your clit in a way that makes you see stars. When he breaches your cunt with the tip of his tongue, fucking it in and out of you, a noise you’ve never made before escapes between your lips, and it spurs Aidas on. 

“Please,” you beg, your nails scratching against his scalp as you grab his hair for something to hold onto. Your thighs squeeze but it doesn’t deter him, burying his face so deeply into your cunt that he can hardly breathe. It makes your back bow from the bed, legs wrapping around his neck to keep him pinned as you grind your cunt against his face, chasing the heat coiling your gut. “Aidas, please. Mph, I need to cum!”

He doesn’t pull away from your clit to respond, instead, he suckles harsher, thumbs digging into the meat of your thighs for a delicious bite. The temperature in the room plummets until it’s hard to breathe, your chest splintering with ice as you struggle. Not even the heat eclipsing your body can help, until he pulls back on his power and you’re cumming with a shattering cry.

Waves of pleasure roll from you. Aidas allows you to grind against his face as he works you through your orgasm, until you’re nothing but a panting, whimpering mess because even though you’ve come down from the best high of your life, Aidas isn’t done yet. 

He’s pressing up onto his knees, stroking the head of his cock through your orgasm that drips down your thighs. He doesn’t give you a second to breathe or prepare, shoving his cock into you with a guttural moan until his hips meet yours.

You hiss at the stretch, hands planted at his hips as you writhe, struggling against the press of his girth. He feels incredible, stretching you wide for his taking, but you’d been unprepared, the surprise and stealth of his probing a shock to your system.

His hand finds your throat, curling around it with intention, though there isn’t a forceful pressure behind it. Aidas is showing you what he could do, if he so pleases, and the feeling of his large hand wrapped around your throat and his cock teasing your cunt in long strokes has your eyes rolling into the back of your head, a desperate mewl escaping your lips.

“That’s it, kitten. Take my cock like the good girl you are.”

Your response is so pretty, the noises you make and the wildness lacing them. The way your nails claw into his skin, raking red marks down his chest and back, the ice of his power leaking into the hot wounds.

Hooking his hands beneath your knees and lifting them to your chest, he pistons his hips deeper, harder as he finds that spot that has you going wild. 

You curse, grappling for him, trying to hook your hands around his neck. “Kiss me, Aidas, please.”

His hips falter. He hadn’t been expecting you to want to kiss a demon. He’s afraid that if he gives into the urge to lie down and fucking claim your lips, the last part of him he hasn’t allowed himself to take, he’s afraid he might never leave, might never leave this little apartment that in no way compares to his palace in Hel, might never leave the warmth of your bed, of your cunt.

“I—” Fuck it. He just needs a taste, swooping down to capture your mouth against his.

The feeling explodes in his head, drifting throughout his body like lightning. The feeling of you, your mouth against his, sharing your breaths with him, sharing your body with him. He can feel it in every push of his hips, how accepting you are of him, of the demon who’d lied to you, who’d been trailing you, pretending to be the kitten he doesn’t often take the form of.

He feels your cunt constricting around his cock, holding on tight as you cum. You must be feeling what he is because the softness of your lips and the taste of your moans has him slipping over the edge as well, his orgasm wracking his body almost violently.

“Well, that—” you wince as he slips from you, mourning the loss already. Warmth trickles down your legs but Aidas doesn’t care, doesn’t want you clean from his cum because he’s pulling you close and tucking you into his side. “I’ve never had sex with a demon before.”

Aidas’ raucous laughter startles you. His fingers tighten around you and you’re breaking out into a grin, admiring the beauty of the male beside you. 

“You could have referred to me as a Prince of Hel or even a cat, kitten, but you chose a demon?” He presses a kiss into your dewey brow, enjoying the way you nuzzle your hot cheeks into his chest.

You shrug, bashful. “It seemed like the right thing to say, especially with that tortuous tongue of yours.”

“Not my cock?” He questions playfully, and you hadn’t expected a Prince of Hel to have this sort of humor, to be this…well, soft. His hand trails down between your thighs, running through the mess of cum. It makes your breath catch in your throat and your breasts push against his skin. You’re not quite ready for round two, but you want it more than anything.

“Your cock,” you whisper lowly, batting your eyelashes. The gleam of your eyes has his throat working around a swallow, and you like that. A lot. “Is so much better than that.”

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•

Kinktober Taglist:@bunnymallowo@jeannineee@icey–stars@hannzoaks@harrystylesfan2686@azriels-shadowsinger @alysena2 @dream-alittlebiggerdarling @impossibelle @glitterypirateduck @reading-moongirl

#aidas #aidas crescent city #aidas smut #crescent city #azsazz #azsazz kinktober 2023 #sarah j maas #aidas x reader

[nothanksehh]

The Rooms - A 5 Part Series

Hi all! I have been wanting to do more writing lately and I got an idea for a short series of absolute smut. Hardly any plot. Many big o's. These pairings are with my four favorites from my favorite books, these groups answer the question, "If you could put four people in a room and do whatever you wanted with them who would you pick?"

A Trial of Lust- Rhysand, Azriel, Cassian, Lucien X Reader

You find yourself wandering the streets of Velaris at night on your way to Rita’s. You never expected to run into the inner circle, let alone find them on their free night.

A Banquet of Lakes- Rowan, Dorian, Manon, Fenrys X Reader

It's a beautiful time of year in Terrasin, you can't help but want to find a lake to take a swim in. It becomes an even more beautiful day when you are found by those who want to picnic near your lake.

A Game of Kings- Ruhn, Ithan, Aidas, Tharion X Reader

Playing card games in small towns has always made you happy. When a card game goes wrong, what will you do to distract your opponents?

A Lesson in Riding- Xaden, Sawyer, Liam, Dain X Reader

You had always heard that Dragon Riders know how to ride well. You couldn't help but want to venture out of the Healers Quadrant and experience it for yourself.

A Taste of Obedience- Casteel, Kieran, Delano, Reaver X Reader

You knew that being good was something you were not good at. One day your friends decide they have finally had enough and decide to give you a taste of the good life.

#acotar smut #throne of glass smut #crescent city smut #fourth wing smut #from blood and ash smut #rhysand smut #cassian smut #azriel smut #lucien smut #dorian smut #rowan smut #manon smut #fenrys smut #ruhn smut #ithan smut #aidas smut #tharion smut #xaden smut #sawyer smut #liam smut #dain smut #casteel smut #kieran smut #delano smut #reaver smut

[99liners]

love is war — a. daiki

pairings: aomine daiki x wife!reader

extra characters: akashi seijuurou, aida riko

genre: heavy angst, marriage!au.

words: 1.835

warnings: bad break up, too many feelings, mentions of sex.

[disclaimer: i do not own the original animated picture, it was uploaded to wallpapercave by apple3d]

your hands shook for the first time that day as you stood there in the kitchen, the apron loosely hanging to your tired form. your left hand on the white onion that you just peeled, your right hand holding the knife, the nails of which carried the remnants of the aforementioned onion’s shell. your hand shook as you kept thinking about it, about how you just have had enough.

turns out marrying aomine daiki was not the difficult part, the hardest part came afterwards — staying married to him, cause God bears witness to how many times you have just wanted to scream and shout out of sheer hatred. 

hatred not for him but his sport, his career, and now that you think about it — hatred for a part of him, too, cause basketball was not just a sport for him, it was his entire life which you have always whole-heartedly supported but sometimes, just sometimes, you want to headbutt him and then maybe, just maybe wrap your small (compared to his) hands around his neck and squeeze with all your might to watch the life fleeing through his eyes. 

but guess we are not ready for that conversation yet.

shaking your head, you continued with cutting the onion, although you almost did cut your finger but it was a near miss. after you were done cutting the carrots and the beans, you moved the pot filled with water on top of the stove at high flame.

the sound of the door opening did not do much to faze you and you gently continued with putting the chopped vegetables inside the pot, now that the water was shimmering a bit. the surrounding soon filled with the familiar sound of daiki’s practice bag dropping to the floor, followed by the unlacing of his shoes and his socks dropping on the floor to which he is not going to pay another look to. 

his footsteps were soft and almost rhythmic as they resounded louder with every step that he took because he was taking those steps towards you only. you knew very well what exactly was going to happen next but nonetheless you kept playing ‘don’t do it dai-kun’ in your head like a mantra and there, just when you were in the middle of chanting that mantra, it happened.

his sweaty figure hovered behind you, so close to your back that you could feel his breath on your shoulder, his hands were swift, much like in basketball as he wrapped them around your chest, his right hand falling in place — on your left breast.

“mhm, here are my favourite pair of tits.”

the smirk that must have formed on his lips is unmistakable. 

‘so you have other pair of backup tits?’ you would have replied on a regular day but you kept quiet.

daiki noted your silence but continued, “and no, i do not have any pair of backup tits, yours are enough.”

he expected you to reply now maybe but you kept quiet.

and then came the familiar grinding, his lower half grinded against your ass, his boner becoming more and more prominent.

and that was it, that is what it all took.

“leave me alone dai-kun,” your voice was exceptionally low. in your mind however that was mellow cause what you expected to do was burst out, have a meltdown, break things even maybe but aomine daiki’s sheer presence just proved that you were his wife first and y/n second and you hated that, hated yourself for that. 

daiki chuckled thinking nothing of it and inched his fingers near your nipple to stimulate it but your hand on his startled him. your small cold hand on his usual hotter one is what it took for him to finally understand that something was amiss.

“what’s wrong?”

“wow, the fucking nerve you have.”

“excuse me?” daiki was startled again and took a step back.

you turned around after your hand instinctively lowered the flame of the stove, “have you seen the time?”

“yeah. it’s late i know, and?”

“and what dai kun?! and fucking what? i am fucking tired. it is 12 in the middle of a god awful night and you are coming back now. i was late tonight as well and just wanted to come home to my husband but i got what i always get, fucking loneliness creeping and lingering in this ‘shared’ apartment.” 

your tone change at the ‘shared’ word surprised you even. you did not mean to sound that rude. 

“babe, if work is getting overwhelming and you have to put in more hours, it is fine. i will understand if you do not want to cook. leave it, we can just order something,” daiki offered you a gentle smile, his hand advancing towards you but your maniacal laugh shocked, nay, scared him. it was bone chilling. you do not even talk in a louder tone and here you were laughing an almost sadistic laugh.

“wh-what’s wrong?” daiki stuttered, probably the first time in his life, wait the second; counting the time when he proposed to you because he was shit scared out of his mind. 

“of course you would not mind if i do not cook one night, aomine daiki and maybe if i stop cooking altogether, that would not bother you as well. you know what, i should stop waking up at four in the morning to prepare your bento boxes and attending your matches, taping your broken bones and taking your parents to their monthly doctor checkups. oh and also, definitely stop fucking you.”

daiki was not sure what was happening nor did he have any idea how to respond to your outburst, “baby, if it is getting hard at work, it is okay if you want to take a break or something.”

you had not noticed but you were crying, you cannot just be angry, if you are angry you obviously are also crying because that is the only way you know how to vent out.

you shook your head, “and they told me talking would fix things. my fucking ass,” you sniffled, wiping your tears as if in a hurry and pulled your shrug closer to your form as if a cold draft just passed through you, “i am leaving, dai-kun. since you would not really notice if i stopped doing any of that, i don’t see the point of even standing here anymore,” your hand reached out inside the pocket to bring out your phone.

daiki watched you in horror, like in that match when kagami passed through daiki’s defense using kuroko’s misdirection overflow. back then it took two people to faze him but here, tonight, you were doing it alone so effortlessly.

“can you pick me up?” your soft sniffles rang like bells inside his head, it was as if everything around him was moving in slow-motion.

he meant to ask you who had you called or maybe where you were going or how long were you taking a break for but you beat him to it.

“akashi kun is coming to pick me up, you will receive the divorce papers first thing in the morning,” you rushed to the bedroom after noticing his star struck expression, your tears free falling but you hardly cared about them as you hurriedly stuffed in your clothes inside a suitcase.

daiki took a while to process everything but was quick to follow you to the bedroom, “babe please, we can talk. i swear i will listen to everything you have to say.”

“you just listened dai kun, listened to everything i had to say. i am done now. i am not even sure if i want to see you again.”

daiki never knew that words could hurt so deeply cause that last bit struck him, struck him deep almost like it gnawed away a huge portion of his heart. a heart that he did not even possess for years now cause he gave it to you, in its entirety.

there was a car honk outside and he just watched wordlessly as you walked out of the apartment. how the hell did akashi come so quickly? or maybe its daiki who has lost track of time cause by the time he ran downstairs to try and stop you, you had already ascended akashi’s mercedes and left.

there, you were gone. his iris lit up with only the red from the tail-lights of the car, it was blurring at first but as the car went further away, it became smaller and smaller till it was only a small speck. you were only a small speck, or smaller cause he could not make out your figure in the passenger seat anymore. you were too far from him, too far. the only sound he heard in the lull of the night was the thud of his knees and the slight crack of his bones as they met with the sidewalk.

︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶༉‧₊˚.

“are you sure about this?” akashi’s voice lacked the usual confidence and luster.

you nodded at once, “yes. i am sure. it is way past the final quarter, i should accept my defeat and move on,” you tried to make a basketball joke to lighten the mood.

akashi’s words died down in his throat as he just offered a small nod and kept driving. an hour drive later, you arrived at aida riko’s house where akashi left soon after helping with your luggage.

you watched his car driving away, a part of you wished that he went back to daiki and maybe checked up on him. you have never seen daiki that upset but the other part of you just could not be bothered to care.

riko ushered you back inside, the warmth of her house filled you with that same emptiness as you started crying again, your blurred vision moved from one corner to the other as you noticed the christmas decoration. it was christmas eve and although the decorative lights were turned off but you could just feel it in your bones how good and bright they would be shining around the tree, a feeling you could never experience in your own home in the past three years. it was just four walls and a roof, an apartment at best, where daiki resided for an hour or two, or less maybe if he skipped the foreplay and just fucked you and then even skipped the shower afterwards to leave again for practice at the crack of dawn. 

“i am sorry, i must have ruined your christmas,” your voice cracked and you repeated yourself just to make sure you were audible enough.

riko was quick to hug your shaking form, her hand rubbing soothing circles on your back, “never ever think like that again.”

you tried to stop crying but you could not, instead you just hugged her form and kept crying for what felt like hours cause her arms always felt like an older sister’s would.

︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶༉‧₊˚.

feedback is deeply appreciated.✨

masterlist | knb masterlist | rules | ask box

- jaimie

© 𝟫𝟫𝓁𝒾𝓃𝑒𝓇𝓈, 𝟤𝟢𝟤𝟥. 𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐒 𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐕𝐄𝐃.

#knb scenarios #knb oneshots #aomine daiki x reader #aomine x reader #aomine scenarios #aomine angst #aomine oneshots #aomine smut #knb smut #anime x reader #anime scenarios #anime oneshots #anime angst #anime smut #❃―「jaim writes」 #knb x reader #akashi seijuurou #aida riko #Kuroko no Basuke #Kuroko's Basketball

[lamnwar]

MASTERLIST

All NSFW work has been properly labelled as mature content in accordance to Tumblr's community guidelines; I'll still specify for minors not to interact (MDNI 18+). All NSFW work is done with aged-up characters (even when not explicitly specified). ALSO please read the warnings before proceeding thank you :)

HEADCANONS ♡

SFW

Various

THE KNB CHARACTERS’ GO TO DRINK // (an alcoholic’s) headcanons

Part 1 | Part 2

A SOAPY STORY // KNB Headcanons

TALL AND GORGEOUS // KNB Headcanons

BLUSHING AND STUTTERING // KNB Headcanons

KNB CHARACTERS AS BENDERS // KNB Headcanons

AREN'T THEY LOVELY? // KNB Headcanons

SWEET DREAM, MY LOVE // KNB Headcanons

IN MORPHEUS' ARMS // KNB Headcanons

ALWAYS BETTER WITH YOU // KNB Headcanons

WISER (OR NOT) // KNB Headcanons

HEY THERE, LITTLE THING // KNB Headcanons

わからない - 我不知道 // KNB Headcanons

HAPPILY EVER AFTER // KNB Headcanons

Aomine

HOLD ME FOREVER // Aomine Headcanons

THE BEST BOY // Aomine Headcanons

Kise

THE BEST BOY // Kise Ryōta Headcanons

Imayoshi

TALL AND GORGEOUS // Imayoshi Shouichi Edition

NSFW

Various

YOU KNOW I'M BIG // KNB Headcanons

LOVE 'EM LIKE THAT // KNB Headcanons

GETTING CAUGHT // KNB Headcanons

FICS ♡

SFW

Various

I Can't Remember // KNB Characters x gn! Reader

Aomine

Stargazing // Aomine Daiki x Reader

Fine Line // Aomine Daiki x Reader

We’re just hanging // Aomine Daiki x Reader

Flowers // Aomine Daiki x Reader

It's you, dummy // Aomine Daiki x Fem! Reader

Midorima

Sunkissed // Midorima Shintarō x Fem! Reader

Akashi

Clueless Little You // Akashi Seijurō x Fem! Reader

Curious Thing // Akashi Seijurō x gn! Reader

Always There For You // Akashi Seijurō x gn! Reader

Murasakibara

Loss and Win // Murasakibara Atsushi x Fem! Reader

Kiyoshi

Summer Rains // Kiyoshi Teppei x Fem! Reader

Forever? // Kiyoshi Teppei x Reader

Kagami

It just makes sense // Kagami Taiga x Reader

Doubts // Kagami Taiga x Fem! Reader

Nijimura

When Our Spring Comes // Nijimura Shuzo x fem! Reader

NSFW

Aomine

Dragon Girl // Aomine Daiki x Fem! Reader

Look at You // Aomine Daiki x Fem! Reader

Liquor Kiss // Aomine Daiki x Fem! Reader

Kise

Surprises // Kise Ryōta x Fem! Reader

Like my hair, sweets? // Kise Ryōta x Fem! Reader

Midorima

You’re Something // Midorima Shintarō x Fem! Reader

Akashi

Two steps ahead // Akashi Seijurō x Fem! Reader

Never Again // Akashi Seijurō x Fem! Reader

Surreal // Akashi Seijurō x Fem! Reader

You're My First // Akashi Seijurō x Fem! Reader

Murasakibara

Speak Up // Murasakibara Atsushi x Fem! Reader

Kiyoshi

Thursday Nights // Kiyoshi Teppei x Fem! Reader

Up to Expectations // Hyuga Junpei x Fem! Reader x Kiyoshi Teppei

Kagami

Till The Rain Stops // Kagami Taiga x Fem! Reader

SCENARIOS ♡

Kise

Friendly neighbour-ly activities // KNB scenario

DRABBLES ♡

SFW

Putting oil in Murasakibara’s hair

Barman! Aomine

Kissing Kiyoshi at the club

Ryōta is your sun <3

The 3 things Taiga loves!

NSFW

Flustered and horny! Midorima

Birthday boy! Akashi

Aomine's first time seeing tits!

Baby making with husband! Kiyoshi <3

Aomine vs. Your blue silk robe

#masterlist #knb #kuroko no basuke #knb x reader #knb fic #knb headcanons #knb fluff #knb scenario #knb smut #generation of miracles #aomine daiki #akashi seijūrō #midorima shintarou #kise ryōta #kuroko tetsuya #murasakibara atsushi #kagami taiga #kiyoshi teppei #hyuga junpei #momoi satsuki #riko aida #aomine x reader #akashi x reader #midorima x reader #kise x reader #kiyoshi x reader #murasakibara x reader #gom x reader #kagami x reader #knb drabbles

[noirflavoured]

OPEN  TO:  m  /  f    —    40+  pls. BACKGROUND:  you’re  my  best  friend’s  single  parent  ,  i’ve  been  obsessed  with  you  forever.  lately  ive  been  flirting  with  you  hoping  you’ll  give  in  to  temptation. 

   “  ah,  yes  ...  we’re  going  out  but  only  for  a  few  hours.  nothing  crazy  ...  ”  her  tongue  wine-stained.  “  why  ?  you  want  me  to  stay  here  with  you  instead  ?  ” 

#& MUSE: aida woolf. #indie rp #indie smut rp #indie open rp #open starter

[azriels-angels]

Hii! I haven't read Crescen city yet but I know what it's all about. I see that in the 25 days you have fics with Adias

The prince Adias is from the CC?

yes!!! he is one of the seven princes of Hel in the CC universe. this is what he looks like:

#prince aidas #crescent city smut #crescent city

[lustbitten]

ask game for @reiignonme still accepting !! ( ask box link )

a soft giggle slipped from aida's lips as she leaned forward, lashes fluttering as she glanced up at the other woman, her mouth making contact with the other's tit, lips wrapping around the perky bud before her as her hands moved up to rest on peyton's waist, holding her close as she continued her movements. the little giggles turned to groans as she squeezed her own thighs together, the intimacy of their closeness causing aida's own juices to soak the fabric beneath her.

#[ reiignonme ; aida + peyton ] #reiignonme #ahhh no gifs since it's already into the smut lmao i hope thats ok! #from the queue

[fallengirlbossyohane]

Aikyan and Rikyako's Alone Time

A few weeks have passed since me and Kyan came to terms with our feelings, and I’ve honestly never felt this realized in my life. It’s as if I’ve achieved the greatest ambition known to the human kind, and naturally I’m truly proud of that. But, there’s still a missing piece that would complete the full picture once for all. We may have said it jokingly, but… I genuinely want to get more intimate with her. 

Now that we’re finally official, it shouldn’t feel so awkward, and yet I find myself blushing whenever I think about the more sexual side of our relationship. Plus, I’ve been feeling… clingy, and I’m somewhat afraid that she’ll think I’m becoming annoying. I miss her like crazy when she leaves for work, but I still haven’t mustered up the courage to say it out loud — to neither her or myself. The aching in my heart when she works overtime or has to attend those obnoxious school meetings hurts so much I’d describe it as worse than physical pain — but, that’s just for me. 

Click.

Wait — was that the front door, just now? Is she back? I really hope so. I’ve been thinking of… making the first step tonight. I’ve even dutifully prepared beforehand thanks to Aina’s expertise, and I’m confident it’ll be the perfect first time. The two of us went shopping earlier this morning, and after much convincing from Aina’s part, I purchased a set of “high-quality” (that’s how she labeled it) red lingerie, not without feeling ashamed and humiliated as I nervously walked to the counter. An overall new experience I’m sure I’ll never want to try a second time. 

“Baby, I’m home.” I hear Aikyan call out from the other side of the wall, and — Gods, I sincerely can’t resist it when that pet name rolls off her tongue. I hate how something so stupidly simple can make my heart flutter as if I were a teenage girl in love. Even if these walls drown out most sounds, I’ve learned to recognize the sound her coat makes when she hangs it, or how the numerous papers in her bag shuffle around as she sets it down. Of course, I’ve also duly learned her step-pattern, and I’m pretty certain she’s making her way to our room. 

The door gradually opens, and a thin strip of yellow light illuminates the dark room. I see a pair of curious dark eyes furtively peeking from the tiny crevice. Oh, does she think I’m already asleep? Once she notices me patiently observing her from the bed, her eyes widen in surprise, but her gaze soon softens. She steps inside and gently closes the door behind her, as she motionlessly advances until she reaches the edge of the bed. I smile softly at her from the bottom, and she complies with an entertained grin. From the corner of my eye, I see her right hand beginning to rise, and in a couple of seconds, she’s lovingly running it through my hair, stroking it a few times and patting my head with affection. A contented purr almost escapes my lips.

“Hey, it’s pretty late. Why aren’t you already asleep, hm?” 

“I wanted to wait for you. Plus, I had something in mind for tonight…” 

Seems like I managed to catch her attention with that statement. Her ears perk up at the news, as she eyes me with interest, and she doesn’t look reluctant. That’s a great start, at least.  

“Ah? And what would that be?” 

“Well, if you come here, then I can show you properly~” 

A bewildered look appears on her face, and the faintest hint of crimson colors her cheeks. She then lets out a throaty laugh and lays comfortably on the bed next to me, her hands wasting no time as they start to wander. She stealthily gets closer to me with a clear intent, as hot puffs of breath directly hit my neck, sending a million shivers down my spine. Kyan tenderly plants a pleasant kiss on my upper-neck and coyly smirks in my skin. I react with an unsolicited but satisfied hum. Fuck, this is getting bad. I’m supposed to be the one in charge here! When she does things like that, though… it makes me weak in the knees and everywhere else. 

“You’re getting me pretty excited saying that.” 

“I-I know.”

“So? What do you have to show me?”

I remain completely silent, intimidated by her (not so) unusually assertive behaviour, as she expectantly smiles at me, and a remarkably bright idea appears out of nowhere. I anxiously grab her hand, the thought of what I’m about to do making me shudder with both excitement and concern. I then gently place it on my chest, firmly keeping it there in case Kyan wanted to tear it away, and impatiently stare at her with a glimmer of uneasiness, scanning her expression for any signs of eventual disgust or anger. But, no. She just smiles. Wide and genuine, and all I see is another woman who’s madly in love but also afraid to mess everything up — just like me. In that moment, I understand that there’s absolutely no need to be scared — we’re in this together, and working as a pair will surely contribute to making this function in the best way possible. 

“Are you… sure you want to…?”

She doesn’t even consider completing the sentence, and instead leaves it hanging in the air, but we’re both painfully aware of how it would have ended. And yes, I’m sure. I’m so sure that I don’t think I’ve ever believed in something with so much passion and devotion. She probably has already figured out the answer by herself, but I know she demands to hear it out loud.

“Let’s do it.” 

—

“Fuck, Rikyako, you… where did you even get this thing? It makes your body and curves look so… ugh, I don’t even know how to say it!” 

Aikyan looks pretty frustrated at the moment, as her gaze doesn’t move from the red lingerie tightly wrapping my body around like a present, and I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t funny or cute in the slightest. Just because this is a very special occasion, though, I won’t laugh at her. I’m awfully tempted to, yes, but I won’t. Instead, I’ll answer her question, which seems like a much more civil thing to do. 

“Ah, Aina helped me pick it out. Do you like it…?”

“It’s outstanding on you, baby. Guess pink isn’t your only color. So, little Ainya helped, uh? How kind of her.”

“Listen, I adore Aina, don’t get me wrong, but please don’t bring her up when we’re about to… h-have sex…”

My tone gets shy as I go on, and I barely manage to blurt out those last few troublesome words without whispering them under my breath. She shifts closer to me, moving the covers a bit so that we can have our own comfortable space, and as she “harmlessly” rests one hand on my thigh, I feel my head getting lighter — even more so when she begins to purposely stroke my inner-thigh. Once again, while getting on top of me, she leans closer to my ear, biting it ever-so-gently. This time, a quiet moan finds its way out of my lips. 

“Hey,” She starts, her low voice vibrating against the shell of my ear. “… just because you look good with it on, it doesn’t mean that you shouldn’t take it off. Actually… want me to help with that?”

I silently nod at her proposal and embrace her even tighter, nervously resting my forehead against her shoulder. Her hands gently caress my body all over with care, her slender fingers slithering under my bra as she begins to tenderly knead and fondle my chest. The feeling leaves me pathetically whimpering in her shoulder, which does a good job at muffling my cries of pleasure. Kyan finally unhooks my bra after I beg her to and tosses it somewhere in the room, resuming her “massage” with more vigour. 

“You’re so beautiful, Aida… your skin is so soft, too…” 

Her dark eyes are glazed with pure lust, and she seems totally out of it, but I’m sure that if I’d have a mirror in front of me right now, I’d look even worse than her. It’s the effect that stupid smirk and those stupid dominant ways of hers have on me. She suddenly sticks out her tongue and brings her head lower, proceeding to roll it around my nipple teasingly, never actually licking it. I desperately grab her black locks, inciting her to get on with it. She doesn’t protest much and agrees, eagerly sucking on it, keeping her hand busy with my other breast in the meanwhile. 

“A-ah~ like that Aikyan, ngh…” 

At this point, I’m panting in the air and moaning without any shame, waiting for that moment, when her exquisitely long fingers will finally be put to a better use than simple hugs and pats. I lovingly stroke her head in an attempt to tell her just how good she’s making me feel, and she purrs contentedly against my chest. She then releases my breast with a pop! and leaves a long trail of kisses until she reaches my neck. Kyan begins playing with the waistband of the lower part of the lingerie, amusedly chuckling to herself when I noticeably shiver under her touch.

“Ready, baby?” 

“Y-yeah.” I respond breathlessly, my eye-lids feeling so unusually heavy that I let my eyes close for a few moments. She pulls the (very wet) garments down with a swift move and leaves them hanging around my ankles. I’m now very aware of the cold temperature in the room, but her hand getting dangerously close is quick to make me forget it. 

I audibly gasp when two of her fingers circle my clit in a painfully slow manner. Her pace remains the same for a few seconds — just enough for me to get accustomed to the new feeling — before she speeds up her movements and adds more pressure, making me hiss at how amazing she is. She even begins to suck on the delicate skin of my neck, leaving behind some pretty evident hickeys. Aina will never stop teasing me about this, if she ever finds out.

“Like that, Rikyako?” 

“H-hm…”

“Want me to go faster?”

“Ah… y-yes, please…” 

“Good girl.” 

Good girl? Where did you even learn that, Kyan? I won’t complain — it heightens my perception of pleasure, so… 

I’m now clawing at her back, running my nails across the soft fabric of her shirt, daring to tear her shirt into shreds from the sheer strength I’m putting into holding onto her for support. As her fingertips press down on and rub my clit over and over again, making me squeeze my thighs around her arm, I can only whimper right beside her ear, letting her know how good she is with her fingers. My body is getting hotter with each passing second, making sweat trickle down my skin, and my vision is pretty much blurred, but it doesn’t matter. All I can focus on is Aikyan’s soothing voice.

“Are you close, baby?”

“M-mhn…”

“Go on, close your eyes and come for me, Rikyako.”

“A-Aikyan…!” 

I bury my face in the crook of her neck and let out an obscene, drawn-out moan, cheekily biting her neck and praying to the Gods it won’t leave teeth-marks. Waves of white-pleasure violently crash down on me, one after the other, making my limbs tense up as I erratically grind against Kyan’s wrist in an attempt to make it last longer than intended. I’m quick to ride it out, my whole body going limp in an instant, and I allow myself to sink into the sheets. As that certain post-orgasm tingling sensation begins to fade, leaving me in a blissful state of relaxation, I let out a sigh and loosen my deathly grip on her clothes. Kyan nuzzles the top of my head and caresses my inner-thigh, whispering sweet nothings in my ear.

“Are you alright? Do you need some water?”

“No, thanks. I’m fine.” 

My voice sounds breathless, drained of all energy, but I’d say it’s understandable — I’ve just had the most mind-blowing orgasm in my entire life. Plus, tiredness is slowly getting the best of me, making it hard to move my body or even string together any coherent thoughts. Kyan lays besides me with the proudest smile on her face, holding me close to her chest, reminding me of a puppy who needs attention. I give in and get lost into her Red Rose-incense scent.

“I’ll need to cover up this… bite, tomorrow. Fuck, that hurt…” 

“Yeah, sorry about that… but, in my defense, I was getting railed by a certain someone, so —“

“Ok, ok! I get it, no need to word it like that… also, you seem pretty tired. Sleep well, hm? I’ll wake you up tomorrow morning, so don’t worry.”

“Well… I don’t think I can go to University like this; I can’t even feel my legs…”

“I-I see… then, how about we go out on a date somewhere? We can have a good time and all. I’ll even pay.”

“Hm, sounds good.” I then snuggle closer into her breasts. Comfy, five stars — would recommend (if I weren’t so jealous of other women… or men, too. Anyone in general, really). “Sorry, Aikyan… I’m falling…” 

“It’s ok, you need some rest. Goodnight, Rikyako.” Kyan’s chuckle is the last thing I hear before I succumb to a pleasant slumber. Night, Kyan. I love you.

#cnrk #rikako aida #aika kobayashi #smut #fanfic

[darklydeliciousdesires]

Dirty Bliss - An Alfie Solomons/Reader One Shot Story.

Here we are then, everyone. The first winning submission from my new Tell me your Fantasy feature is here, this from @liliac-dreamer​, their fantasy as follows - 

Now, we all know the mad baker gives massive public-place-sex vibes, BUT! To me he mostly gives off possessive/territorial vibes, so... Is there any way you can mix these two things together? (maybe one of the people he's dealing with tries to get too close and he NEEDS to show you're already spoken for? Maybe he let's them overhear something? 😉 )

I hope this lives up to your little fantasy, darling! :)

Words - 1,666

Warnings - Smut below the cut, minors DNI!

You can always feel when Alfie is on edge. It isn’t just the fact that his muscles stiffen like lead, or that his jaw clenches and he begins grinding his teeth. His entire being seems to seethe with palpable annoyance, just like he is now, sitting next to you within the private box at the Royal Opera House, tension coursing through him. There’s a very specific reason why, too, why he cannot enjoy Aida, one of his favourite operas.  

Albert Ross is that reason.  

The business associate, a fellow figurehead within the organised crime world, has never made a secret of his desire for you, no matter how perilous such might be, to openly covet another dangerous man’s wife. Especially when that man is Alfie Solomons.  

“He’s fuckin’ undressing you with his bleedin’ eyes,” he hisses in your ear, the sound of back teeth grinding in fury audible as his eyes dart between the stage and Albert.

Resting a calming hand to his thigh, you stroke, hoping to settle him. “He’s only looking, love,” you remind him. “I’m not about to go dive on him, you know that. And he’d be even more of a stupid prick than we know he already is if he tried anything with me.”

Alfie rumbles a quiet laugh, his hand covering yours. “Ain’t that the truth, treacle.”

It seems this notion is entirely negatable, though, you discover after excusing yourself to go and powder your nose, wanting to ensure that your visage is indeed perfect. The toilets up there for the private box guests are a single room with one lavatory, able to be locked from the main entrance door rather than housing multiple sectioned cubicles, but since you are only there to quickly check your face, you do not bother clicking said lock.  

About ten seconds after placing your compact back into your small, beaded clutch, you wish that you had.

“Evening, you lovely little filly.”

Turning to Albert, you lift your chin, not wanting the small flare of nerves you felt within grow to show upon your face. “Mr Ross.” Straightening, you push your chest forward, willing yourself to radiate confidence and nonchalance over his intrusion. “This is a ladies’ only bathroom. I shall have to ask you to leave.”

Albert sucks a breath over his teeth, making a show of pondering your words. “I know, Mrs Solomons. It is, however, the only place I could get you alone, to reveal to you my intentions.”  

“I care not for them, excuse me.” Stepping forward, you swerve around him, the man catching your arm in a firm grip.  

“Not so fast.”

Snatching your arm back, he hangs onto you. “Get your fucking hand off me!”

“No,” he tells you firmly, closing the space between you, his eyes radiating entertainment at your biting reaction to his advances. “Won’t be doing that, not until I’ve had a piece of you, you pretty little thing.”  

“Now, now, old son,” you hear Alfie speak, pushing open the door. Horror fills Albert’s eyes immediately. You aren’t the only one who wishes they’d locked it behind them on entry to the facilities, something Alfie does after stepping in. “You heard the lady. Get your fucking hand off her.”

His words are delivered quietly, but with all the frost of an arctic chill, Albert releasing you from his grip immediately, his mouth floundering. “Alfie, mate. It isn’t what it looks like.”

His eyes widen as he stands at your side, his chest barrelling. “Oh, do forgive me for not having my glasses on, because what it looked like, yeah. Is you putting your dirty fucking hands on my wife. And what it sounded like, right, was you telling her you wouldn’t remove ‘em until you got a piece of her!” Turning to you, he amps up the slight theatrics of his retort. “Apparently, I need an ear trumpet as well as a new pair of specs, my darlin’.”  

“Alfie, please, I...”  

“No!” he bellows, reaching into his jacket and pulling out a gun. “You’ve said quite enough for tonight, sunshine. Now, what you’re gonna do next, yeah, is fucking stand there against them sinks, and watch me get a piece of what you wanted.” His face falls, Alfie chuckling. “Oh yeah, that’s right, Albert. Ain’t nobody who teaches a fuckin’ lesson like me.”  

The blaze of arousal you feel melts down your spine, puddling between your legs, turning to kiss Alfie’s neck, his soft beard tickling against your nose. “Yeah, take your dress off, love. I want him to get a full view of that’s mine and mine alone.” He reaches with his free hand to assist, lowering the zip while you smirk at Albert, arousal radiating from your every pore.  

To fuck in front of someone else has always been somewhat of a turn on for you, but to do it before a man who has presented himself as an adversary, while your husband keeps him there at gunpoint, well. It is not your typical Friday night, that’s for certain. Once your gown is removed, you take it to hang upon a brass peg mounted onto the tiles, Alfie moving to close the wooden lid upon the toilet, seating himself, arm still raised, his pistol pointed at Albert.  

Crouching before him, your smile widens, Alfie’s eyes flitting to yours for a second, grinning. “This is gonna be a good time, treacle. A right memorable trip to the opera.” Unzipping his trousers, you pull his rapidly thickening cock free, taking him into your mouth, your lips gliding down the thick, vein ridged shaft. “Oh yeah, sweetheart,” he encourages, his free hand coming to rest gently on your shoulder. “That’s it, my darlin’, fuck!”  

You can only imagine the look upon Albert’s face at being forced to watch, hearing Alfie chuckling softly with amusement between his gruff grunts, your mouth working him, leaving little trails of red from your lipstick all over his flushed cock, precum wetting your tongue as you moan around the thick of him. You work him so well, you can feel his thighs tremble, his cock twitching a little in your throat, Alfie reaching to gently grasp your jaw.  

“More of that later, my love,” he speaks, winking at you. “Don’t wanna spend myself before Albert here gets to watch the main act.” Standing up, he pushes your hip in indication he wants you to turn, facing Albert, his face set in a mixture of arousal and chagrin, while you take Alfie’s cock and guide him to your glistening apex, sinking down with a soft sigh.  

“Mmmm, there’s no better cock in the world than yours,” you hum, turning to kiss him, all smouldering embers as you begin to bounce upon him.  

“Yeah, look at that, Albert,” Alfie moans, his arm tightening around you, hand then reaching to grasp your breasts in turn. “Look how beautiful she looks split around a great, big cock. And you were hoping it’d be yours. Nah, son. Not tonight, and not with my missus.”

The sight of someone watching has thrill meeting fire, the heat misting, biting pleasure warming your veins as you chuckle, Albert’s face reddening more.  

“I think he likes it,” you purr in tease, turning to run your tongue up Alfie’s cheek, your husband beginning to move beneath you, doing an excellent job of bouncing you upon his long, girthy cock.

“And who wouldn’t like watching a woman as fuckin’ sublime as you getting fucked, eh, my sweetheart? He’s just sour that it ain’t him doing the fucking though, ain’t you, Al?” The man remains quiet, looking at the floor. “Oi! Chin up and answer me, you cunt!”

“Yes, Alfie. I am.”

“Yeah,” Alfie chuckles, panting as he kisses your shoulder, “bit of truth never hurt no one, did it? Except maybe you and your pride. As it should.” He continues to laugh, his tongue touring your throat, gun still primed as you circle your hips on him, your walls fluttering as the sound of your sex fills the room, the wet squelch of him cutting into you deeply, your flesh smacking together. “God, fucking ‘ell, my love. You bloody don’t half know how to ride a cock. Yeah, fuck, that’s it.”  

His encouragement spurs you on, your eyes never leaving Albert’s, watching the humiliation dance in his irises, your mouth dropping open as you feel Alfie’s fingers reach to begin rubbing your clit, his lips peppering kisses against your spine.

“Mmm, fuck, darlin’,” he pants. “Let’s get you comin’ hard all over my cock, yeah?”

The tempest of fervid heat begins to wind within you, coiling hard, the pleasure rolling and coursing as you pant, his fingers rubbing at your bud tightly, the press firm as he strokes your slick, his teeth sharp at your shoulder.  

“Fuck!” you cry, breathless as it catches you, wailing ferally as he tips you into the glittering abyss of your release, Alfie staccato beneath you as his cock twitches and then fills you with thick ribbons of cum, everything that was frenzied beginning to slow, catching your breath.  

“Well, Albert,” he begins, panting hard. “I hope that taught you a thing or two over just what the fuck I will and won’t tolerate. Now, if I ever see you in my neck of the woods again, the belly of the Thames will get what my dogs don’t finish from that festering bag of bones. You fuckin’ understand, yeah?”

“Yeah.”  

“Good. Now, get the fuck out.” Albert tears a path from the room, and you get up quickly to go and re-lock the door, save anyone else coming in and witnessing your near nudity, snickering into your evening glove covered hand.  

“I think I enjoyed that,” you laugh, Alfie pulling himself back into his trousers as he stands.

“I know you did, you mucky mare,” he chuckles with affection. “Had you wailing louder than the bird out there on the stage, didn’t I?”  

Yes. He most certainly did.  

#alfie solomons #alfie solomons fanfiction #alfie solomons smut #alfie solomons x female reader #alfie solomons x you #alfie solomons imagine #tom hardy #tom hardy fanfiction #tom hardy smut #tom hardy x female reader #peaky blinders #peaky blinders fanfiction #peaky blinders smut #ddd tell me your fantasy feature

[aconflagrationofmyown]

A Whole Man is Hard to Find -chapter seventeen

-Summary: Rosey conducts a series of interviews with those who know the Captain intimately but through wildly differing association, a prostitute, his quartermaster and his doctor. Meanwhile above decks Captain Presley deflowers a new river with the support of Johnny Cash. Both lovers live for the few moments they can steal at the end of the day to savor each other.

-Warnings 18+: usual universe warnings apply with this addition of caning, mentions of past female rape, past murder and talk of Syphilis and the use of the archaic word “sodomy”. Along with current smut, which mostly includes gratuitous descriptions of sweat, sweaty balls, men being very hot when they’re sweaty so long as they’re Elvis and -it’s a lot of sweat porn ok?!

“Beaumont.” Aida acknowledged from her place on the floor, arm deep in the Captain’s personal trunks.

“Overton.” Rosey snickered at the stand off, keeping her pistol raised all the same. “What’re you in here for?” she repeated.

“So the captain didn’t send you back after all.” Aida ignored her, “My, my, isn’t he gettin’ brave now, defyin’ the colonel every which way.”

The power of her sneer nearly swayed Rosey. “A change of plans,” she diverted, “the Captain can do that.”

“Oh can he?”

“Yes.”

“That's new. He never could before.”

“He’s not beholden to his partner.” Rosey took aims to measure her language lest she commit an indiscretion, “They are, after all, just partners. Equals, there was a change of plans, that’s all.”

“Equals.” Aida savored the word as she rose to her feet before letting out a grating cackle that made Rosey flinch, “I’ll give ya credit for your ignorance, child, s’not like you’ve seen what I’ve seen.”

“No, no I suppose that I haven't seen what you’ve seen.” Rosey conceded, her voice dripping with disdainful accusation.

“No, how could you?” Aida hemmed her in against the door and Rosey felt torn between shoving this witch off or making an ally of someone who knew him so well, “Word on the boat is you’ve been kept quite remote on that little plantation, and sure, sure, he’s tidied himself up real nice for you, hasn’t he? How would you know what kind of man he is?”

The urge was strong to spit back in Aida’s face the proof that she had known him longer than she, that Rosey had ridden atop his young shoulders in peacetime and held him nowadays aboard while he cried his memories out. She wanted to protest that she knew him well. But those were not things due to Aida, the Captain had been upset she’d even seen them in the bath together, how much more would he object to their history being exposed. And besides, these were things to prove Rosey knew him, but Aida was right, she knew precious little *of* him. “I know the kind of man he is with me, and he’s a good man.” she murmured instead.

“Is he?” Aida wasn't sneering, she looked intrigued and Rosey’s heart thudded in fear of a misstep. Vaguely she recalled Elvis having told her in their early days that he had a reputation to maintain, to keep folks in line. Being a feared man didn’t deter him from tossing gifts into the crowd or holding babies or patronizing school charities. Rosey figured that admitting he was good to her could hardly damage his reputation. But the way Aida’s maimed eyes kept searching hers made her frightened of betraying him.

“Incredible the lengths men’ll go to for virgin cunt.” the woman declared at last and Rosey flinched at the language. “What’ll it last ‘em? A minute? Fifteen if he’s got willpower? And then poof, done, gone, you’re just like anyone else to him, after he’s done.”

“What were you snooping for?” Rosey didn’t dignify this sad prophecy with an answer.

“Oh, just some things-“

“Of yours?” Rosey snapped, the weight of her still clutched pistol reminding her of her worth and her dearness to him.

“You could say I have a stake in them.” she shrugged.

“What do you mean by that?” Rosey pressed her scornfully.

“You seen any photographs laying about? Or buried under all them books he hauls?” Aida asked her and while Rosey contemplated how to play her hand when she’d not only never seen photographs aboard or even imagined he’d possessed some, Aida went on while turning back to the trunks, “Id’have thought he’d make certain to have at least something in his arsenal if he’s gonna be a brat. ‘Stead it looks like his partner has everything required to sink him and Elvis hasn’t got anything but a stuck up girl-child to defend himself with.”

“Why would the colonel sink his own partner?” Rosey maintained, choosing to leave her place by the door and take a seat on the bed, sheets still thrashed and unmade from his devouring a few hours before. Her legs clenched at the memory.

“You’re good.” Aida proclaimed and some stupid and starved part of a Rosey actually preened at being praised by such a hardened individual. “You’re real good. What’s your deal with the Colonel?”

“I haven’t anything against the man, he’s just tiring.” Rosey insisted.

“No, I mean, what did he offer you to come along?”

Rosey pondered this line of questioning with a perturbed heart, realizing she either had a chance to spin a lie here or else get caught in one. “Who says we’ve got any deal?”

“Do I need to name your predecessors for you?” Aida asked, sitting back down on the floor with shameless confidence in the Captain’s prolonged absence, “Let’s see, of course there was Aida first,” she chuckled that harsh chuckle of hers at this self narration, “and then there was a Polly and a Tamara and we can’t forget the pretty, pristine Lucilla who had him turnin’ himself inside out to please her, all for not, all of them unable or unwilling to stay when the colonel yanked his chain. All of them reportin’ dutifully to the colonel on his wakings and his habits. And those ones were just the ones he made promises to, that promised him back. There was Etta, though she lasted all of a sneeze ‘cause the colonel was against her.”

“Is this your way of telling me you’re his spurned lover?” Rosey asked, amused.

“Ha,” the woman shook her head, “there ever been a woman spy who hadn’t had to play lover?”

“You’re a trash spy.” Rosey found it in herself to jest, “Look at your work,” she gestured to the clutter on the floor, “and halfway in you just spill it out that you’re a spy? Aida, I had some hopes you hated me but I trusted you didn’t think me a fool.”

“Didn’t say I am.” Aida smiled that awful smile of hers, wider than ever this time and Rosey noticed her gums were shiny and silver. “Said I was.”

Rosey kicked her leg out boredly and hummed. “During the war?” she ventured.

“Mm..” Aida just shrugged. “He really not paying you anything?”

“I’m not acquainted with the colonel.” Rosey summarized, “I’m here at the Captain's disposal, he’s the one who pays my wages. And you knew that already.”

“Lord girl.” Aida rose to her knees and began repacking the half emptied trunks, “Whatever it is you’ve done back home, won’t be worth sticking round here to escape. Trust me, they’ll string you up alongside us all if not worse. The world out there’s got a particular distaste for whores, they’d look kinder on a murderer.”

Rosey didn’t protest either title. “Leave the stuff be,” she commanded “with the way you’re cramming it back in -he’ll know someone’s been going through it. Trash spy, you are.”

“Mm, alright.” Aida dropped the books she held back to the floor. “Weird feller he is, to keep this but no photograph apparatus. Colonel must have it.”

“What on earth is that?” Rosey asked her, pointing to that something on the floor that looked akin to an oversized musicbox and had as its extension a wand at the end.

“A hysteria treatment.”

“Hysteria?” Rosey savored the word carefully, only having heard of it from books.

“Yeah, real handy for the uptight ones,” Aida leared accusingly at Rosey’s prim pose, “the ones so proper they’re liable to get strangled with their own collars.”

“How does it work?” Rosey ignored the barb, soothed by red hot memories of indulging the captain in ways that could never be dismissed as prudish.

“It vibrates.” Aida picked the thing up by its box and plopped it in Rosey’s lap. “Crank it.” she goaded as Rosey fumbled with her new burden and carefully began to turn the lever. It was a steam mechanism of sorts, that was obvious from the hissing sound alone and the way the wand’s

outer skin began to pick up in rotational spins, powered by the cord tethering the two women to each other. When she was satisfied as to its pace, Aida took the wand and held it to Rosey’s exposed shin and the girl felt her whole leg rattle from it.

“Hellfire!” Rosey snatched her tingling limb up and away from the device after a moment's indulgence.

Aida laughed at her again. “Husbands pay him a lotta money to hold this to their wife's frigid cunts.” she explained, discarding the wand on the scattered heap of books and neck clothes as she rose to her feet, “And plenty of women risk divorce just to feel it again. Reckon it turns ‘em hysterical, ‘stead of the other way ‘round.”**

Rosey thought of the bathtub -their first tryst- and colored, a grimace forming as that sweet memory became tainted with the knowledge that everything the Captain did with her had been done by him to multitudes before her. As transactions, no less.

“Don’t pity him, girl.” Aida warned, “That money keeps him soft and happier than most, and it keeps you spoiled and fed.”

“I only pity those who do it without alternative.” she muttered. “Captain Presley’s put that behind him.”

“Ha, right behind him. So close behind him it’ll snag him by the britches before the year is out.” Aida shook her head, “You’re a foolish idiot talkin’ him into a rebellion.”

“It’s no rebellion when it’s between partners.” Rosey sneered.

“I keep forgettin’ the whole ‘equals’ part.” Aida admitted with mock regret before continuing, “Bit hard to do if you’d seen what I’ve seen. If you’d seen one of those equals let the other cane his bare backside like a green school boy over a tiny defiance. Equals my ass. How much trouble have you gotten him in that he’d risk this much?”

Aida had approached Rosey during this sickening divulgence and Rosey fast felt her power in the situation escaping her but was too rattled by it to wrestle back her rightful dominance.

“I suppose you’re real proud of yourself for standing by during such an event.” Rosey managed to spit while shrinking against the wall. Her hands began to sweat, she tossed the hysteria box off her lap and gripped the sheets beside her to dry them, feeling for her discarded pistol “And for a man who gave you so much. You’re not even mad for him.”

“An event? It was a weekly pastime some years, that cane saw more of him than it did the pavement.” Aida puzzled, “He’s really told ya nothin’, has he?” that revelation brought Aida more amusement than Rosey could ever imagine so hideous a face could express while Rosey felt sick at the idea of how much harm one stupid piece of wood could inflict, “Are you sorry for the dog that’s made to do a party trick before it gets a bone, Miss Beaumont? Do you give a dog a bone when he refuses? Mad for him, hmph.”

“Why’re you telling me all this.” Rosey asked, shame and anger battling inside her.

“Stop that.” Aida ordered and shortly after Rosey felt a sting to her cheek as she was slapped. Too stunned to respond in kind she sat there with a gaping mouth as Aida inspected her reaction.

“Stop what?” she hissed, palm to her her tingling cheek.

“Actin’ like you ain’t starved for details.” Aida smirked, “Clever girl like you, must’ve found Miss Etta most boring -so much talk, so much talk, so little history actually said. You’re downright panting to snoop yourself, don’t deny it.”

“I-I-I’m not!” Rosey defended, “I’m not denying.” she amended.

“Prove it.” Aida smirked.

Rosey knew this was a test that a normal child would have passed years ago, school bullies or debutante rivals would have buffeted her so that a manic, washed up prostitute’s goading would have little effect. But Rosey was no normal child, sheltered and so little buffeted in the gentler forms of cruelty, she knew only the hard scrabble, hard edged tests of life. With a sinking feel of doing wrong yet a pulse quickening excitement for daring it anyway, she looked about the room for a prompt. Her eyes fell to the bindings the Captain had used on her bosoms, and beneath it the masculine costume Aida herself had loaned her.

And she recalled his blush.

“When you loaned us that garb,” she began and no matter how hard she tried to be brazen she couldn’t manage more than a hushed whisper, “you mentioned…equipment. You asked if he wanted the ‘equipment’ with it.” She looked up to find that Aida was holding her peace, more restrained than Rosey had ever seen her and far from being comforting it made her feel like she was about to be sprung upon by prey. “I want to know what that was. What you meant. What you use it for.”

-‘Depraved things’ -the captain had called them sternly, but he’d stuttered and hardened all the same at the mere suggestion of them.

“How did he respond when he saw you in ‘em?” Aida pried and Rosey thought maybe she’d misjudged her, and she was merely a lonely gossip shut up in this dark hold for too long. Rosey caught a glimpse of herself in the future. “Did he find you arousing?”

Rosey wasn’t about to divulge that but the rosy blush that earned her his nickname was quick to answer for her. “What’s the equipment?”

“A wooden cock.” Aida replied with commendable bluntness.

Rosey hadn’t even contemplated the existence of such a thing. Her marveling face must’ve said so.

“Attached in the common place on the wearer with a harness.” Aida was eager to share and Rosey felt unsettled again at the knowledge that cruelty and degeneracy were the only two subjects that seemed to bring the woman joy. “Plenty a’men like bein’ with men that way but there’s those that like a woman to take ‘em thataways, too.”

“So they-“ Rosey couldn’t help herself, the curiosity too burning to be tamped down, “-they…suck on it?”

Much to her surprise, Aida looked a little puzzled herself for a brief moment before replying, “Well, no, not usually. They pay me to fuck ‘em.”

“In the mouth?“ Rosey persisted, annoyed at the splitting of hairs between taking and being taken orally.

“No, in the ass!” Aida was equally annoyed until she realized by watching Rosey’s bewildered expression that the girl wasn’t playing dumb.

“How does…how does anything fit up there?” she balked, certain Aida was having a laugh at her expense. From the stigma of sucking a man that she had learned from youth, she naturally assumed it was because it was associated with acts performed by sodomites and was the one way men could pleasure each other without a cunt. “How large is this wooden -object?”

“Girl,” Aida smirked, “we’re talkin’ cock, wooden and otherwise, goin’ up the back way. A throat ain’t got nothin’ on the squeeze of a tight ass.”

An array of emotions and wonderments hit Rosey all at once, converging in her mind to fill her with that tantalizing tingle of newly acquired knowledge mixed with a substantial amount of shock and concern over the likelihood of the Captain having engaged in this activity. Which further exacerbated her curiosity as to why he would find the mere suggestion of a renewal of that type of indulgence arousing. “Does that not hurt?” she asked.

“Like hell if you ain’t prepped right.” Aida’s graying tongue flicked at her lips and Rosey felt a pang of dread in her stomach.

“How does one prepare for that?”

“Stretchin’ the rim out.” she shrugged, “All my clients pay for that -after all, if they’ve got time and money to pay a woman to bugger them, you can count on it that they’re much too delicate to take it raw.”

“But if you’re just, out and-“ Rosey bit her lip to try to find a kinder word but it was ugly business no matter how one put it, “if one was out hawking oneself?”

“Beaumont,” Aida lifted a tattooed brow at her transparency, “you can count on it that the Captain done felt like his insides were getting scraped raw most times. Ain’t no oil in a back alley or bent over a barrel, but sometimes, sometimes it must’ve been good. He’s got a lingering taste for it, or maybe he just likes pain.”

“You’ve done this, for him?” Rosey asked dismally and wished she hadn’t even before it rolled off her tongue.

To her surprise Aida answered, “No. reckon he took enough real cock to keep him staggerin’ well into the weekday most times.”

“But not anymore.” Rosey noted once more while raising her chin, and as if noticing her shift in mood, Aida began to retreat towards the door.

“No, not anymore.” she agreed before spitting out, “Gone a whole year without sellin’ ass and he already misses it. Some folks are born whores.”

“Say that of him again and I’ll blow your brains out.” Rosey promised, and by then she had retrieved her pistol.

“Keep your eye out for those photographs.” Aida responded tersely, making as if to go.

“You’ve a claim to them?” Rosey leant forward in the cot, persisting in pressing the issue.

“Mm, yeah, I do.” Aida eyed the pistol warily.

“What- what kind of photographs am I to be looking for?” Rosey asked, exasperated and curious only for her own sake. And his. “If he had such an apparatus there could be all manner of prints! And I’ve heard with the mechanism that some may be undeveloped-“

“These are developed.” Aida laid her hand in the door knob, “Older, too, you’ll tell by the style.”

“I’ve never seen one in the flesh! How am I to discern style?” Rosey protested. “What kind am I looking for?”

Aida stared hard at her before her mouth twisted, “Oh, you’ll know what kind when you see them, Beaumont.”

Rosey’s hands had turned from clammy to frozen in her attempt to disguise her panicked breathing. “Beyond the photographs, what is it you want?”

Aida stood by the door of the small room and swayed, side to side like a considering crow and Rosey gave her all the time she needed.

“I know you wanted me to catch you.” She insisted gently.

“Hmph.” Aida grunted, contemplating a confession it seemed, or else another mode of attack. Rosey would never know.

A knock rang out from the other side of the door and Aida’s hand flew to her own mouth, signaling with a finger to the lips for Rosey to be silent. To play that the room was empty. Rosey wouldn’t be caught abetting a woman as displeasing to the Captain as Aida and chose to ignore her.

“Enter!” Rosey answered instead, clear and assertive.

Aida was forced to move back from the opening door as the formidable bulk of Sister Rosetta entered, looking first at Aida and then down to the spilled trunks, then up and across to Rosey on her rumpled cot.

“Miss Beaumont,” ever the stickler for etiquette, Rosetta ignored the intruder for the time being and addressed herself to the one she was seeking, who also happened to be the lady of the boat, “Dr. Nicholas informed me that yesterday you charged him with a meeting this afternoon to review…certain questions you had?”

“Oh, yes, yes I did.” Rosey recalled her fiery stipulations for allowing the doctor to stay aboard. She didn’t miss the way Aida watched this interaction with avid interest.

“He’s asking a time, ma’am.” Sister Rosetta prodded, she was being awfully respectful and Rosey wondered if the woman knew of her recent marriage or was merely setting an example for Aida. Either way, Rosey appreciated it.

“How about, a umm, an hour from now?” Rosey calculated, “We ought to be on our way by then, and the more nauseating swells should have subsided. Nothing like going over numbers when the boat’s rocking.”

“I’ll see to it he’s conscious by then.” Rosetta replied with deferential irony and Rosey filed that remark away for later. “Exactly what are you doing in here, Overton?” she asked the old prostitute next.

“I was returning her clothes to her.” Rosey spoke up and Rosetta, in line with her newly found deference for Rosey Presley, accepted this fib with narrowing eyes but tight lips. “And, as that’s done with,” Rosey went on after a burdened silence in which Rosetta’s judgmental stare impressed upon her the need to do…something, “you may go, Aida.”

Aida did not exit in haste, she slipped behind Sister Rosetta’s considerable bulk and gave a searing, lasting, parting look of what Rosey feared bordered on conspiratorial camaraderie before shutting the door behind her.

Rosey sat on her cot and fought the urge to fidget on the cot, to kick her leg and scuff her boots under Rosetta’s unwavering observation. That hideous, vibrating apparatus was still lying sideways on the floor.

“Child?” Rosetta broke the silence at last and Rosey ground her teeth at the sudden absence of all respect and deference, merely parental concern remained and no small rebuke in it. It had been a show for that whore, then, and nothing changed. Nothing ever changed, Rosey would always be stuck as that cloistered little girl who grew up to be a stunted young woman.

“I’m glad you came by Sister, I’ve a complaint against you.” Rosey spoke up, daring this due to the sting of repeated losses of authority, first to Aida and now to her.

“With me?” Rosetta repeated, seemingly astounded.

“Yes.” Rosey smoothed her hands out on her lap, “It would seem a confidence I trusted you with a few nights gone, a confidence I would have kept to myself if not so shaken, was repeated to the Captain in its most gruesome and twisted manner.”

“By me?” Rosetta repeated, eyebrows raised nearly to the band of her exquisite turban.

“There was no one else to insinuate what he now believes as gospel truth.” Rosey pointed out icily, “He is under the impression, Sister, that he forced himself on me the other night.”

“Unsuccessfully!” Rosetta protested, “He knows he was unsuccessful. There’s no harm done.”

“The harm is in the intent!” Rosey cried out, “And in the fact he believes himself capable of it! He won’t even-“ with effort Rosey reined in her narrative to the details proper to be shared, “he would barely trust himself alone in his own room with me. And while that has been surmounted by vows and begging on my part -he is…tentative.”

“Not a bad thing.” Rosetta pointed out, chin lifted, “A man that -hungry, a man like that oughta be tentative. And that night should have proved it to you.”

“What occurred that night was not unwanted.” Rosey enunciated, near to a rage, “And I would not have him think otherwise. I did not tell you otherwise. I confided my wants to you and admitted my sins, that I wanted his babe! His love! And you took that, took that temperance of mine and told him he was a brute?”

Rosetta swiped her hand over her brow a half a dozen times as if battling something quite heavy before deciding on a course of action and hauling up the rickety chair to sit in front of Rosey, amidst the wreckage of the trunks. “You think well of him.” she noted and before Rosey could more adamantly rephrase this moderate sentiment, she held her hand up for silence, “And it’s well that you do. And it is well for him, too. But with such a man, it is well for him to know what he is capable of, and to not think too highly of his own restraint. Not when we are speaking of something as heavy as this.”

Rosey did her best to listen and give such a statement it’s due weight and consideration, but peeved at continued insinuation of her own naïveté felt compelled to retort, “Ma’am, I’ve seen a woman forced, my own sister in fact, I don’t need to be told about heaviness. I’m telling you now, I object to saddling a man, however volatile and, and, and hungry as you call it, with the taint of such cruelty. He would never.”

“You think I care about the act?” Rosetta scoffed but gently added, “Child, there’s sins and then there’s harm. And then there’s bringing a child into a world not fit to care for it. And that’s what I object to. That’s what he objects to. And that’s what deserves heaviness and fear from such a man, and you should fear it too.”

Rosey swallowed hard, the shift in Rosetta’s tone becoming softer than she’d ever seen and it took her unawares. In vain did she summon back her old ire, instead like a helpless student, she waited for more.

“Don’t be so eager for a babe, girl.” Rosetta murmured sadly, “Not in times such as these. Even good men betray you, and even the ones who don’t -they’re not promised tomorrow to provide for you. And in your case, without him, there’d be no Captain Presley to buy your child and bring him up as his own.”

Rosey tapped her boot on the floor rhythmically as an assorted pattern of clues formed in her mind and suddenly it was quite plain, all those hours teaching him math in her presence and watching her watch him frolic with the captain and her so very angry at the colonel for threatening him- “Cal is yours.” Rosey realized, “He’s your son.”

Rosetta pursed her lips and nodded, more vulnerable looking than Rosey had ever seen her stoic face, “And it would do him no good to know.” he mourned, “For I had a man, and he was a good man with ivory skin, blue eyes and a wife, and he told me he’d come back for me. That was a whole war ago.” she noted, “And the only man who came was Elvis, bought us both out of our debt. Freedom ain’t sweet when ya can’t eat and when the color of your skin affects your child’s chances. If you were to have a bastard, you’d be nearly in the same case as me.”

Rosey leant forward and tentatively laid a comforting hand on the stalwart lady’s knee, “I’d no idea. Not when I was teaching him -and you, right there, holding your tongue. I cannot fathom it.”

“One day,” she murmured, “you’ll love someone enough to hold your tongue, even if you want to claim them. And what kind of parents would you be? A man of pleasure and a murderess? This isn’t a just world and it’s certainly not a kind one, you’d never get to keep your child. Promise me, never a child, if I could spare either of you that, I would, that’s why I’m sayin’ what I am saying.”

“I can’t make that promise.” Rosey gasped, heartsick and persuaded, “I-I can’t, it’s not for me to make. Not alone.”

Sister Rosetta received this with grudging admiration for Rosey’s loyalty to his headship over her.

“There was a woman aboard, little over a year ago,” Rosetta’s tone turned dreadfully measured after her brief vulnerability and Rosey braced herself, knowing the tale was worth heeding if so circumspect a woman took to divulging secrets, “she was wealthy as was her husband. And the Captain had a fear that she had begotten a child off him.” Rosetta paused as if weighing her narrative once more, “He was most careful about that, you see, with his work, such as it was, most careful. It was paramount to him. But with this woman it was feared. Some couples are harmless, some women are needy, and some are depraved. They all pay the same. But,” she folded her hands again and again before rising and speaking to the door, “but this particular couple, they were crueler than most. Thwarted his precautions knowingly. Seemed to delight in it, like it was a lark to taint themselves with him. It’s a common thing paid for, a sort of abetted cuckolding with the husband engaged. It wore on him, Miss Beaumont, years and years of seeing marriage so demeaned and him being the instrument for it but -never to such ends as this. I don’t know what Etta tried, and I don’t know what Aida planned, but when these helpers failed he came to me.”

“What -what did he want?” Rosey begged. “What did he intend?”

“I don’t know.” Rosetta sounded like a jaded witness, “But he told me of it, told me he was begging God to finish that woman, anything to prevent a child of his to be raised by such degenerates.” Rosetta turned back to her, looking over Rosey’s head, “He gave himself back to God that night. And stuck to it until you came along. The next port of call he sent me to their room to deliver a telegram that had come in. It read of an emergency, the couple demanded a ramp be lowered before the boat had fully docked, they were eager to be off. Considering his passenger's request paramount to an order, the Captain lowered them a ramp.” Rosetta locked eyes with Rosey as the girl guessed a million endings to this harmless tale, “That was the only time Captain Presley has ever lost passengers while unloading. Crushed them between the hull and dock.”

Rosey found her mouth had gone dry when she tried to swallow her shock, choking on her own emotion, Rosetta went to the wash basin and brought her the pitcher, encouraging her to drink.

“Don’t you ever think that man takes the prospect of a child lightly.” Rosetta ended her caution quite simply and Rosey gave the pitcher back with nerveless hands.

“You think he-“ she could not say it the first try, which was ironic enough considering what unaccounted and horrible things she’d laid to his account when she first met him, “-killed them?” she whispered.

“Court ruled it was an accident, Me. Cash was an advocate.” Rosetta acted suddenly as if she was arguing against her own narrative, “And since then the Captain became a most revernat disciple of the gospel of his youth. There’s nothing more to be gained from guessing. Till you.” she added, “Now it bears some worth in repeating. Just, bear in mind when you’re fooling and he’s suggestible -he don’t take it lightly, child. He don’t take it lightly.”

Rosey repacked the trunks when Rosetta left her, unable in her rearranging to help herself from snooping in some small way. There was nothing very remarkable save a large assortment of knives that looked as motley as possible with different inscriptions and initials on them, suggesting other owners. There were strong ribbons of silk, too, 10 times longer than needed to tie up even Rosey’s long mane of hair, and clasps too, cosmetics of coal and rouge in tidy little containers. And a hairbrush that looked innocuous enough until one examined the phallic handle. Rosey nearly dropped the thing in startelement that she was holding something with veins and ridges so similar to the real thing while being pantomime.

It felt disloyal and she dropped it back into the trunk. It thudded dully on the wooden bottom and still no photographs were to be seen. A single cameo was wedged amongst books and when she cracked its decaying hinge open she found a picture of Captain Phillips looking ten years younger and without a lick of gray. Wartime portrait. She tucked it back in place and threaded the strange assortment of thin silk shifts and a large corset, as if for a big boned woman, around the more delicate things and stacked the books as best she could manage.

This done she went to her meeting with the doctor, such as it was with a table set up in a closet beside the Boilers that held pitchers and hoses in case of a fire in them, foggy and lost in early memories of the captain. Not the sunlit frolics of childhood that were dimly returning to her the longer she stayed with him but that dreadful first night they met. She wracked her brain for the little details she’s once worried to shreds in her fear of him but had since been smoothed out like so much jagged ivory in a near completed sculpture. She recalled the way he shoved through the New Orleans riff-raf with unblinking authority and the way he’d snapped his fingers and bought her with only mild protest from other bidders. She thought of his playful refrain to her these day “No murder, Rosey!” and realized with an ache that he may not have meant it so lightly. He was begging her off a path he had been down. The more she thought of him in those early days and the fear he elicited in her, the more she realized him capable of the tale she had just heard.

“Just once I wanna hear Old Beaumont’s daughter say ‘cock’ while grinding back on mine.” he had been so mean with his words that first time, goading and venomous at her for her lofty origins. Or was he just used to speaking like that to highborn ladies who got a thrill from a working class man soiling them?

It was more of a wonder that he was capable of love now, and hated himself as faintly as he did, with such a history. Each new little discovery of it that she made was like pricking her fingers on hidden pins in a seemingly complete cross stitch. If she could run above deck now and hug him and have him lave her pricked fingers with his tongue and promises -she would.

Instead, “Good afternoon, docter.” She greeted and closed the door of the closet behind them.

She took the seat on the far wall, which was only about three feet apart from himself with a rickety board serving as a desk. Rosey laced her hands around her ink pot atop her accounting books with admirable poise and gave him a smile. Dr. Nick’s smile wavered but he returned it all the same.

“To be perfectly honest, Miss Beaumont, I am confused by this, uh, interview, shall we say?” he admitted as she laid out her papers and asked for a list of drugs and medicines used in the captain's care. “I am not beholden to you or owe you any information, the art I practice is guarded by oath and the law of this land states no boat of this size can traverse without a doctor, i am thus immune to any threat you may make or change you may attempt. You are a purser, ma’am, and I am a physician. I suggest we keep to our respective callings, the better to pass this trip in a harmonious manner.”

“I am indeed a purser,” Rosey dipped her pin in the ink with methodical precision, “and as such I am to make an account of what comes and goes in our revenues. I am not here to play chemist sir, I am merely here to ascertain to what purpose we spend nearly 40 dollars monthly on Mercury. salts?”

“Pah.”

“The boat pays for that, sir.” She reminded, “Another ten for opiates, another thirteen for -“

“You are new to book keeping, yes?” Dr. Nick interrupted.

“No, I am not at all new to it.” Rosey answered truthfully.

“Book-keeping in a brothel, then?” he guessed, “Just as you would pay for lye or salt marsh to seed your fields, this vocation requires a vast array of…fertilizers. Stimulants and relaxants and numbing drugs -the human body can only sustain so much on its own power, Madame. I shall spare you the details but there are illnesses to treat as well. Rife amongst such work.”

“Spare me no details, which illness is which drug curing, Doctor?”

“The Mercury -Aida ingests that morning moon and nightly on my orders.”

“That’s why the entire woman is turning silver, I suppose?” Rosey shuddered and noted it down.

“An unfortunate side effect.” he conceded, “Along with vomiting and wasting, the disease can be attributed for the rest of her symptoms, the mind and vision. The rotting of brain matter and soft tissue that you have no doubt smelled. She is not alone, half the boat relies on Mercury to keep the rot at bay.”

“How long?” Rosey asked, “How long must they be on it for a cure?”

“Girl, there is no cure for such filth.” he grunted, “We are talking of back alley, degenerate diseases, lowborn blood and the judgment of God on all such products of lust combining to waste them away.”

“And what are you treating the malaria with?” Rosey moved onto another Devine pestilence that she was certain the captain suffered from.

“I don’t recognize anyone with it.” he objected, “No swollen tongues or yellow eyes.”

“It can be chronic-“

“-no, not in my study of it, it can’t.” he shook his head with surety, “Syphilis, that’s what we’re fighting aboard, and the Clap. I suppose we should think of getting you on a regimen if you’ve been having -relations.” he muttered with what Rosey truly thought might be blunt concern for her welfare. “There’s no cure, but these medicinals they are -essential for any quality of life to be maintained and for comfort to be found at the end. Essential. Syphilis, It’s a spirochete you see, not at all like a bacteria, under a microscope it looks rather like a corkscrew drilling its way into each cell, siphoning off the life from it.”

Rosey swallowed thickly at that image and jotted down another column, “What symptoms was the captain experiencing that such a disease was suspected?” the difference between himself and Aida’s derangement were obvious, but perhaps that was just a matter of time.

“He runs fevers, he has sweats, he is fatigued,” the doctor rattled a mundane list of ailments boredly, “he engaged in sodomy. It’s clear.”

Rosey bit her lip at the recent revelation as to the details of that act and retorted softly, “He vomits, almost every morning, he vomits. Does that not sound more of cholera, at least?”

“Where would he have gotten cholera?” The doctor scoffed.

“He was abroad for years during the war!” she retorted heatedly, “And was held prisoner in Elmira of all places -do you not think that sufficient to contract an illness without contracting the wrath of God, too?”

“Was he kept there?” Dr. Nick showed grave surprise, “I didn’t know him then.“ He explained as if that were an end to it, nothing remarkable about having judged a patient’s case without any history given. “I was hired by Colonel Parker to help ease him in his vocation, and for the occasional assist when sleeplessness took hold. You’ve nothing against sleep drafts do you?” he suddenly asked in horror at her ignorance.

“I’m here to account, sir.” she managed in a horse whisper and marked the Mercury salts for two, all the rest having been discharged from service. She started another column for unaccounted drugs which she figured she could assume with some surety that the Doctor himself indulged in.

“We really ought to get you on something, it spreads you know.” he insisted not unkindly.

Rosey shifted in her seat and thought of her innocence still so resolutely intact. “I think you’ll find that won't be necessary, sir.”

Come evening they were still at it, tallying figures and dosages that ran like Greek in Rosey’s head to the lulling of the familiar boilers clang, making white noise beside them.

A grating scrape silenced them both as the jarring sensation of the boat catching on some unknown barrier below them cast the fear of God on them both. Not in all her time aboard had Rosey heard something remotely similar. Not even when the Captain sidled the great monstrosity up the docks. He parked his boat smooth as a dance master, a little bump and sway and they’d settle as the ropes tethered them.

Not so this screech, it reminded Rosey and the doctor both that they were in a floating cask. Following was a disorienting little tip where the ink pot began to slide towards her and she caught it, unnerved by the small but unmistakable turn the boat was taking.

“Have you ever-?” she broke the silence as they still stayed unbalanced like a buggy relying on a single wheel for a reckless curve.

“No.” Dr. Nick had his eyes searching the ceiling as the lamp above them stayed slanted to the side like their balance. “He’s makin’ the turn,” he surmised sounding a little awed, “we’re headed into the Missouri.”

Rosey wondered if she’d feel it when the water changed, beyond the boat righting itself after the turn. She wondered if the Captain would at least, with those keen hands and attuned senses. Would the current change? Would the depths affect his grip on the wheel? Was the strain of the boilers her imagination or was it like they were truly fighting for access into the giant tributary. Would the river gods let him in? Hand braced on the wall as her chair went slightly askew beneath her weight, Rosey let up her first little prayer in ages and it sounded strangely directed towards the captain’s talent instead of God.

Up above decks the Captain’s eyes smarted from kerosene fumes and hours of squinting into the pale lamp-illuminated river mists, they gathered like shrouds on the old Mississippi’s surface as the inky waves danced into the edge of the black sky. Elvis felt like it was a funeral procession of sorts, all black robes and white smoke like he’d seen in New Orleans

‘Don’t count me out yet, ole Miss,’ he thought fondly, ‘watch me come back to you old girl’.

Jerry was to take the evening watch and still refused to go down below to catch his nap, too anxious for the damn turn into the tributary like the rest of them who knew anything about anything. Elvis tried to comfort himself that if he ran them into a sandbank and drowned them all, first day of the job, he’d at least be responsible for killing General Sherman.

As it was Elvis sniffed away the smarting fumes and gritted his teeth at the gnarly scrape that wailed into the night as he toggled the massive wheel to his left, a little too much, too soon? Or was he too late to thread the damn needle? The current felt like a damn whirlpool keeping him at bay and he had to stick out a foot off his high stool to force the wheel straight on his course. It was unnerving the way it would have spun and spun them to oblivion if he’d let go the slightest bit.

“Ya got it, ya got it.” Cash’s rumble sounded steadying in his ear and once again Captain Presley gave thanks for the Divine intervention and kind suspicions of Mr. Binder who didn’t trust his investment that far westward without the Waterway Committee’s watchdog tagging along to guard it. The fact it was ole Johnny Cash from dear dead days gone by and more recent redemptive ones, only made it kinder. Between Rosey’s pardon and Cash’s presence, Elvis was ready not only to repay Mr. Binder generously but even to like the man. “Ya got it, don’t spook, man.”

Johnny kept the damn unhelpfully small print map up in the right half of Elvis’ view, thumb tacking it to the top of the wheel for the past half hour as Elvis’ glued his eyes to each treacherous little bend of the entry way he’d never probbed before.

“Which one is it, damnnit?” he hissed to himself as every little juncture was running together on the map and maybe he shoulda brought his glasses if he knew this was going to be more about reading for hours straight and far less about seamanship.

Cash reached over him and wiped the off the compass with his jacket cuff and that was all the rebuke Elvis needed for his small tantrum. “Instruments ain’t lyin.” Cash grunted.

“Either of you bastards wanna ease us into this whirlpool, be my guest.” Elvis had to get his anger out or else tip them and he felt better right away at the guffaws it inspired.

“Fuck no.” Jerry chuckled nervously in back and Elvis hated him for the way he was just shy of talented enough to do this and thus could warm his hands around a hot canteen of coffee while Elvis’ numb and braised hands cramped on the wheel.

“Ease is the right word.” Johnny chuckled, “don’t let Lamar spook and gun us in.”

“I know, I know.” Elvis grunted as he felt himself get in a groove, the current finally splitting at the bow on either side like a welcomer instead of a barrier, “I-I think I’m in, I’m -I’m in somethin.” he added unsure, “Lemme me in sweet Missouri, lemme in Big Muddy.”

If one of the soldiers beneath them had been atop he might have laughed at the language or thought it pantomime but it wasn’t, none of the rivermen laughed, they just bit their lips at the necessary double entendrés and prayed the fickle water would listen.

“Mhmm, nice n’ easy you’re in, I feel what ya mean -tell Lamar not to spook.” Cash urged Elvis again as the boat began to tug into the bend as it ought, causing the deck and the whole dark horizon to tip to their right as they turned west.

“He knows!” Elvis bit back, knuckles white as the wheel tried to tug him fully to the side, his thigh working harder to pull him upright again.

“Does he? If it were me I wouldn’t trust a single fella who ain’t a professional lover not to gun it in, full steam ahead, right about now.” Cash admitted.

“Lamar don’t ya Fuckin’ do it!” Elvis grabbed the horn and hollered down to his boilers, “Make her swallow us whole if ya do!” and it was just in time too, the boat began to rattle and hum as if a few more scoops had been added and the bellows worked a few pumps beyond direction. “Quit pumpin’ so hard, damn you.” Elvis hollered again and his amplified voice rattled around the boilerdeck like Hades sending out a decree into the underworld, it made Rosey perk up across from Dr. Nick. “I tell ya when to add coal, fucks sake -no intuition for feelin’ it give, some folks…” Elvis trailed off in a grumble and let the horn fall with a clatter back in place.

The current of the Missouri runs southernly from its source in the great northwest and where it meets the Mississippi just north of Saint Louis, it forms a churning caldron of wrecks, tide pools and sediment. Enough steam is required to make the turn and keep one’s progress against a current that flows over eight miles an hour, yet too much steam and it will tip you right into the swirl of the conjoining streams.

“Sweet Jesus I feel like I’ve been turnin’ for hours.” he groaned, his shoulders burning from the strain, “Gonna run into the opposite bank this way.”

“How she feelin?” Was all Cash replied.

“Looser.”

“Looser bad or looser good?”

“When is looser bad?” Jerry asked with a snort.

“Looser’s bad when your fuckin’ wheel spins like a roulette wheel, ya idiot.” Elvis helpfully supplied.

“Yeah, never seen that yet.” Jerry conceded that he was a very good first mate and hadn’t allowed such a thing to even happen.

“I-I dunno man she’s loose but- but I feel her tug-“ Elvis bit his lip and tried to process both the instruments and the leading of the wheel. “-left.” he decided, “She’s tuggin’ left.”

“Then show her who’s boss.” Cash grinned and thumbed at the droplets on the map, squinting himself at the small type. “You plan to tuck us in before Kansas City for the night? Nice lil cove right about there.” He pointed at the map with his big blunt finger but Elvis had his tongue between his teeth and he leaned on the wheel spokes to pull the boat right.

“Just trying to get past this bend then I’ll think about goddamn coves.” Elvis grunted, “She won’t stop sucking m’bow to portside.”

“Want a hand?” Cash asked mildly.

“Fuck me it’s like asking the wife to fuck this mistress.” the captain muttured instead, switching from pleading with the river to begging his boat to go where it wasn’t built for, its high top decks -so spacious and regal for entertainment or speed- precariously teetering in the rough n’tumble of the backwoods river. “Ooooh hell she's tuggin’,” he exclaimed finally, “Lamar, Lamar! Gimme more now!” he yanked at his own controls, a stick that precariously opened the steam valves at whim so long as enough coal was supplied below, and the Proud Marie lurched into the turn with all the rage of an offended deity. “Cash? Wanna help?” he barked, wild haired and sweating in the gas light and looking more in his element than Johnny had seen him in ages.

“Bless me no, you juggle your own women.” he smiled instead. “Pay attention to that tuggin’, now. Don’t wanna die now we’ve threaded the damn thing.”

“Oh I’m payin’ attention, alright.” Elvis laughed. “But now she’s tuggun’ like the current’s suckin me ‘stead of pushin’, Cash.”

“How fickle is woman.” Cash mused while lighting up a cigar.

“Just think,” Jerry piped up encouragingly, “couple more hours of this then you can go lay on soft bosoms and catch some shut eye.”

Seeing as how it was already past ten in the evening, the thought of more hours was more tortuous than conciliatory. “Jerrah, how about you fuck off and make yourself useful. Light my cigar f’me again, damn mists keep puttin’ it out.”

“You can’t just breathe tobacco up here.” Jerry pointed out even as he struck a match and cupped it to the Captain's face.

The captain glanced at him, all sooty lashes and water speckled cheeks in the warm glow of the kerosene wick, “Watch me.” he puffed, as he felt the river give him a lane and he slotted in, pulling his wheel straight again. “This got me sweatin’ like a whore in church.” he whistled, no longer jealous of Jerry and his coffee.

“Works every time.” Cash agreed with a knowing smile and Elvis grinned back.

“We’re in boys, we’ve well and truly entered her.” he announced a mile in and half in, and had there been daylight, the mouth leading to the Mississippi would have been seen slowly shrinking behind them like a portal to the known world.

“Done so gentle, I'd bet she didn’t even bleed.” Cash patted Elvis' shoulder and he smiled back, fighting the urge to slump over the wheel and fall asleep now the day’s worst was over.

A few hours passed and the Captain did tuck them into a cove for the night, running the ropes out the hawser holes to secure them to the beached wreck of a more unfortunate predecessor on its banks. He woke Jerry where he’d slumped in his chair for his watch.

“Say hi to Rosey for me, EP.” he mumbled and Elvis didn’t begrudge him after having slapped him around a bit to thoroughly wake him.

“So you kept her aboard?” Cash asked him as they tromped down the multiple flights of ladders to the lowest deck, handrails and boot grips slick with mist and the single lantern Elvis held doing little to light the way.

“Cash, she killed for me.” the captain reminded in a dazed murmur.

“She’s really somethin’ then?” Cash made conversation as they creaked open the side door, an absolute racket of a sound in the otherwise sleeping boat, and stepped into the starboard side of the stables.

“Whadda you think?” Elvis sassed with smug awareness that Rosey really was something else.

“And ya love her?” Cash rumbled on in that easy way of his that would have you declaring shit you didn’t have figured out yet.

“Whadda ya think?” Elvis answered again and started weaving through the horses instead of going to his little closet and its cot and warm bosoms, “Hellfire, it’s a sea of horses down here.” he muttered as he walked down an aisle of where the tethered yet majestic creatures nipped at him with eager muzzles or else swished him with elegant tales, “Poor Beans, s’like berthing on a transport. Bullshit steerage accommodations for m’boy.” he bemoaned when he found him and Cash assumed Beans forgave all with the nearly amorous way the horse flung his head neck around Elvis’ and the two swayed in a cheek smashed embrace.

Removing himself from the equine reunion, Cash busied himself with going to the far side where the racks of loose hay puffed out between wooden slats and grabbed himself a bundle to replace Bean’s trodden supply. When he returned he found Elvis in discussion with someone, and after initially assuming it to be his tetched horse, Cash realized there was another fella down here with him, not one of the crew, just a sleepless soldier come to keep his horse company, or the other way around.

“Best cure for it.” Elvis was agreeing pleasantly to something the man had said and Cash assumed it was insomnia, “M’boy here’s always my first choice. Is your berth comfortable, got everythin’ ya need?”

“Yeah, it’ll do.” The man replied a few horses deep into the row and Cash squinted trying to make out a discernible facial feature in the gloom and all he succeeded at was recognizing yellow colored hair. “Sleep a whole lot better of they’d kept the female comfort aboard.” the man added with a joke.

“Ain’t fittin’ on a government boat, they says.” The Captain maintained a neutral tone and took to unsnarling one of the braids in Beans withers.

“I bet the rich bastard who ran this kept a few, ya know?” The man disagreed with a grin, “The guys have pooled together, we’ve got a decent amount of cash for anyone who wants to give us a tip to where we can find the maids. Can’t run a boat without maids.”

“You can.” Elvis replied a little harshly, “Leastwise they’re all men.” he added.

“Well, if we get desperate enough...” The fellow joked.

“If ya get desperate enough you’ll find yourself sucking lead outta my pistol ‘fore I let you mess around with my folks, that clear?” The captain crouched and yanked up the lantern he’d set on the floor and pushed it into the crowd of horses to make out the man’s face for future reference and illuminating his own. The man was nearly middle aged and was unremarkable really, in every way, except for the glinting brass uniform buttons running down the front of his navy blue jacket.

“Wh- shit me, you the captain?” the man asked in surprise, putting his hands up in a pacifying way, “Sorry sir, just kidding is all. It’s gonna be a long trip.”

It was indeed, nobody knew that better than Elvis and he decided the fellow was jovial enough, hell- if it weren’t for Rosey’s presence the captain would have taken such a joke in stride and he knew he was being irrational about it. He’d let rip with such humor himself at times and it didn’t mean anything, it didn’t and there was no use antagonizing his human cargo on the first day over a joke. The scuff of Cash’s boots behind him reminded him he didn’t need to be bowing up at everyone, mildness was the order of the day.

“Yeah, gonna be real long.” Elvis agreed and they exchanged tired smiles at each other, the fellow was missing a front tooth on his lower set and had a shock of golden hair that had turned a little straw-like from hard living. “You got a wife or kids?” he asked, stepping aside so Beans could munch on the hay Johnny brought.

“No, no I’m unattached.” the fellow replied, “It’s better that way I figure.”

“Whores don’t miss ya.” Elvis deducted with a conciliatory grin and the man took the offered olive branch with a knowing smile.

“I suppose they don’t.” the man laughed back. “You seem awfully familiar,” the man went on, “have we met? Did you used to work transport during the war?”

Elvis didn’t quite have the heart to tell the guy that even if they had met he was about as remarkable as a piece of straw and thus not memorable, a nice person didn’t deserve the insult so Elvis said instead, “Judging by your accent, I highly doubt I’d have been carryin’ you down river.”

“You an old Rebel then?”

“You’re a New Yorker?”

“I am.”

“Yeah, then, seems not.” Elvis shrugged, “Unless,” an awful thought struck him, “-you always been in the Calvary?” he inquired, his own interest peaked, knowing without a shred of vanity that his own face was not particularly forgettable and so when folks told him they’d met before he tended to believe them.

“No, used to be infantry.” the man was puzzled by this line of questioning, “Bought my own commission five years ago.”

“Shieet!” Elvis exclaimed, thinking he’d cracked it, “You ever guard at Elmira?”

“You were held in Elmira?” the guy repeated in disbelief.

“Uhuh, you ever guard there?”

“Hell no, a shit detail that.” the man was offended, “I was down chasing General Hood in Alabama.”

Elvis squinted at this dead end and stippled his fingers on Beans’ back, trying to think of an alternative meeting. “Hood was doing the chasin’, if I recall.” he snarked.

“And we were doing the killing.” the guy smiled back and Elvis let it be.

“Don’t leave the damn candle goin’ till it burns down,” Elvis warned as he and Cash turned to go, “the hay would be happy to catch and keep us from ever makin’ it to the Dakotas.”

“I won’t!” the man replied and as they walked down the cramped hallway that led to Hodge’s room and then Rosey’s, Elvis felt with the keen discernment of too much time spent in dark alleys that there were eyes pinned to his back in the dark hold, watching where he and his lantern went for the night. Elvis could curse the builder of this ship for all its lonely little cubbies, but he knew how to make use of them. Those eyes burned him all the way to his turn and he felt like scratching his shoulder blades, the itch was so strong.

Natural curiosity was a reasonable reason to give the man, but Rosey made the captain unreasonable, and before he turned he doused his wick and Cash stumbled straight into his back.

Instead of grumbling, his friend muttered, “lead on.” in a quiet tone that suggested he got the Captain’s ploy.

“You’re in here with Lamar,” Elvis opened the door to one tiny berth with double hammocks, “Charlie and Cal are across and I’m in through there to a storage closet.”

“Your girl got a gun?” Cash asked instead as he stood on his threshold, “I don’t like that sonuvabitch.”

“What do you take me for?” Elvis smacked his shoulder, “Course she does and not just any, I got her Stan Whatie’s lil ivory project.”

“No, hell, the Cherokee’s?”

“Mhmm, won it over cards.” Elvis said.

“I’ll be damned, you romantic bastard.” Cash marveled, “Don’t tell my June, it’ll heighten her standards and I don’t trust her standards on a game of cards.”

“I won’t.” Elvis snickered and bid him goodnight, creeping through the dark into the next room and fumbling between the cots till he thought he’d found Cal and placed a soft kiss on his forehead.

“You’re precious, ya know that?” Charlie’s voice murmured back instead and Elvis’ head reared back with a shocked snort before he turned to the other bunk and its far smaller and utterly unconscious snoozer and repeated the kiss on the forehead originally intended.

He then felt along the wall until he felt the small latch and he pushed it open to find Rosey in nothing but her nightgown, still burning the midnight oil with her nose in a Pharmakea encyclopedia.

“Baby.” he whispered in greeting, tip-toeing past the chair and the trunks to their cot and being pleased as punch by the happy little cry she gave as she flung herself up in the bed to receive his kisses.

“Elvis!” she acted as if it had been years and her love had grown in the meantime and the small kiss he meant to give turned into a full embrace and his intentions for keeping away until he could strip from his work coat and keep her nightclothes unsoiled were irreparably thwarted by her vigor. “Today was a year long, I’ve waited and waited.” she moaned into his mouth and he grinned pleased against her cheek and peppered it with kisses that smelled of tobacco, “You smell of kerosene.” she laughed once she finally released him and he grinned down at her happily.

“You alright, darlin’?” he asked as he began to unbutton his coat, “How’re them bruises.”

He nodded to her chest and she rolled her eyes before assuring, “They’re fine.”

“I wanna see.” he insisted, but made no motion to make her, just kept popping buttons on his leather coat and she rather shyly tugged the wide scoop of her neckline down to show the tops of her breasts, unsure if this was routine or if she was meant to be seductive.

“Aww poor bubbies,” he mourned at the still present marks of the bindings, “Hoist ‘em up a little, I wanna see the undersides.”

With burning cheeks, Rosey scooped a breast in each hand and pushed them above the covering of her linen gown. The flash of hunger that seared though Elvis’ compassion made her shift in want on the cot.

“You been puttin’ the oil on ‘em like I told ya?” he asked.

“Yes I have.”

“S’very important, don’t be lazy about it.” he insisted. “Poor pretty babies, can’t believe I hurt ‘em like that. Gotta put oil on ‘em.”

“I know Elvis.” she agreed, “And what about you? How was it? We felt when you made the turn!”

“Did ya?”

“Yes, and I heard you yelling at Lamar.” she smiled shyly and he didn’t know why she looked so pleased about it.

“Oh.” he exclaimed, “Sorry ‘bout that, didn’t mean to be so angry. He's just such a bull about these things and ya gotta just ease it in, insistent but not forceful, ya know?”

“Don’t be sorry.” she simpered breathily and licked her lips, “You sounded like you were-“

“Like what?” He asked, genuinely confused, as he tried to find a place to hang his coat, “We really need more pegs in here.”

“You sounded like -a lover.” she hissed the last part, knees drawn up to her chin on the cot and he could pinch her cheeks, she looked so cute in her bashfulness.

“Did I?” he hummed, turning towards her as he emptied his various pockets of knives and timepieces and the like. “And did that excite my lil girl?”

“Maybe.” she whispered.

Oddly, he sniffed the air at her answer and squinted as if the findings puzzled him, “You ain’t played with yourself though, have ya?”

“Why- no. No I haven’t.” she gaped in some surprise.

“See, I’d know.” He told her with surety, “When I’ve been above deck all day I get my senses cleared, ya see? And when I come back down I can sense anything.”

“Oh.” her cheeks still flamed.

“Who else has been in here?” He asked after another sniff and his face darkened.

“Oh,” Rosey startled, “Sister Rosetta, she stopped by to remind me of my meeting, and Cal too, for a bit.”

“An-who else?” he asked with the look and tone of a man who already knew.

“Uh, well then there was Aida” Rosey kept her voice light, “she came so I could return her clothes to her.”

“Why’d you return them?”

“We’re done with them.” she replied, puzzled, “Aren’t we?”

“No, no, not necessarily.” he frowned, “And what’s the rush to return ‘em? She ain’t goin’ nowhere?”

“I just- I didn’t think. Sorry.”

“I don’t want you near her, you hear me, Rosey?”

“I-I do. But it wasn’t…she just came by.”

“I bet she did.” he seethed and he undid his vest with savage jerks and Rosey swallowed hard.

“I understand. But -no harm done this time.” she tried to pacify.

“You don’t need to seek out whores for friends, alright?” he went on, “And you don’t need to listen to whores for nothin’ regarding us. If I wanted a whore I’d go get me one. Some things are left better untouched, lil girl’s brains bein’ one.”

“Is she dangerous?” Rosey asked.

“Oh she done a thing or two in her time.” He agreed mirthlessly, “And been done a thing or two back, I suppose.”

“The doctor says her brain is rotting from the illness.” Rosey crossed her arms uncomfortably at the recollection and the rather obvious proofs of the same that being around the woman gave. Even the stench of flesh rotting that lasted hours after she’d gone. No amount of perfume or douched lemons could contain it.

“Why was he tellin’ you ‘bout her case?” Elvis demanded again. “He don’t need to be tellin’ a lady like you ‘bout syphillis’n’shit.”

“Is that what’s killing her?” Rosey asked.

“Most likely.” he shrugged, “They injected the mercury salts into her eyes for it a couple years ago, didn't do shit to slow it. I take ‘em orally and they burn. A- a-a-and I ‘member thinkin’ while I was holdin’ her down for it: nobody ever paid us more for a bit a pain as I paid for that fuckery.”

“You paid for that procedure?” she shuddered.

“She begged me, they said it would help. I-I-I hate her but -I couldn't just let her…rot.” he shook himself, “I'd rather someone shoot me ‘fore I get to that point. Why was he tellin’ you all this?” he argued again, brows knit and a hurt expression on his face, “Why you diggin’ into all this?”

“Elvis,” Rosey sighed and he took a breath too, as if aware he was tired and cranky, “the meeting was to discuss medications, you recall? We -our boat- spends an inordinate amount on medicines and opiates for our…so-called employees.”

“Yeah, cause this way a’livin makes you sick, Rosey.” His hands smacked his sides listlessly. “S’why Aida’s so doped up. Fuckin’ terrifies the shit outta me, and if I didn’t think God wouldn’t like, it I’d toss her overboard as bad luck. But no way around it”

“But you couldn’t have always felt that way,” Rosey reminded, “you were lovers once.”

The captain stopped what he was doing and spun round to face her with some alarm on his face, “That what she told you? That we was lovers once?”

“Well,” now that Rosey thought on it, Aida hadn’t explicitly said so, she’d just listed herself in a line of the Colonel’s erstwhile spies and remarked how seduction was integral to such a role, “no, she’s didn’t say so exactly-“

“-Well we weren’t!” he declared adamantly, as if for his own benefit as much as hers, “Doin’ shit to another body so folks pay ya don’t make ya lovers. It jus’ don’t, Rosey. No more’n me shoveling coal with Lamar makes us married.”

“Alright.” she replied just as adamantly in order to calm him and held up her hands while she was at it. “So y’all did…work…together?”

“I reckon you already knew that.” he muttered, yanking off a boot rather clumsily, “Why’re you so nosy tonight, anyways, hmm?”

“I-I just wanna know you.” she sighed.

“You do!”

“Know *of* you.” she clarified what bit of self recognition she’d come to realize this morning.

“Know Of? Wh- what’ve you been drinkin’ down here girl?” The captain laughed, “Gettin’ all philosophical on me. Ya know me, historically, biblically and a lil too well. I ain’t got any notion ‘bout takin’ you into sordid lil avenues of my life that don’t make no difference now.”

“But I think they do!” Rosey protested a little vehemently and he stopped midway through easing off with his workboot, hand cupping the scuffed heel as he stared her down. “I think it’s pertinent! All this stuff we don’t speak of! Why -you don’t sleep some nights and I dream terribly and -you haven’t even showed your interest to me since you learned who I was!” she managed to insert the most pressing aspect there at the end and felt proud of herself for carrying on through his stare.

“Lil girl, you gone tetched?” He asked mildly, stumbling over to the cot, one clunky boot on and his other a sock foot, laying his beautifully fashioned and wheel calloused palm against her forehead, “Why, I ain’t barely drank anything all day for fear of washin’ away the taste of you this mornin’. Not shown interest? -huh.”

“I mean -your own.” she pointedly stared down at his belt buckle, or rather, the prominent seam below.

“Rosey!” he laughed at her, “I’m dog tired a-and I -my interest has been shown. Sweet Jesus I ain’t got the brains for this. Not tonight.”

“So you can manage it dog tired with Aida but not with me!” she shot back and they both seemed to be equally surprised that she was harboring such expired jealousy.

“I can manage it fucked outta my mind with a gal who didn’t use to look the way she does now.” he growled and then went on in a mocking voice, “And it’ll cost ya only three silver dollars to watch, ma’am.”

Rosey sniffed and shrugged off the barb, figuring she deserved it, “Etta gave me a remedy for this.” she whispered hopefully instead.

“Oh I bet she did.” He eased off himself and stood straight again to work on his remaining boot, “And I’d rather eat fire ants, thank ya.”

“What’s wrong with it?”

“Oh it’s great!” He assured with a laugh, “For the first five hours. Then ya start thinkin’ bout amputation. If I catch you slippin Horny Goatweed in my tonics’n’shit I’ll take you over my knee girl, I ain’t teasin.”

“I won’t.” she swore, disturbed at the mere notion of slipping anything into anything he took.

He patted her cheek in acknowledgment before sitting down heavily beside her and setting to yanking off his grimy shirt, the pit stains dark and visible as he raised his arms and struggled with the garment.

“What’s this really about?” he asked softly as the fabric cleared his flushed face, his hair soft and mussed, grease defining each half-hearted curl at the nape of his neck.

“I’m bein’ silly.” she acknowledged with a shy smile.

“Ain’t no crime that.” he smiled back, “Not on my boat. Hell, there ever been a time you ain’t silly, girl?”

“Maybe not.”

“Didn’t think so.” he teased, leaning back against the wall in a slump on the cot’s sagging bedding. “Can’t I jus’ be tired, Rosey?” he asked again, “And I’ll let you be silly.”

“Fair enough.” she sighed.

“Well go on now, be silly. I done told ya you could.” he prodded with a finger to her rib and she jerked from the tickle.

“I know you don’t wanna talk about it.” she shook her head, “And you're tired so- so I won’t make you.”

“I don’t wanna.” he agreed but added sweetly, “I don’t wanna talk about mine but I’ll listen to yours, long as you need. What’s goin’ on up in that noggin? Too many figures, hmm?”

“Secrets more like.” Rosey mumbled petulantly.

“Lord, you got more?” he sighed and didn’t seem angry but she let out a scoff that he’d think she meant her own, she thought of the photographs.

“No,” she chose to leave it be, “no, I’m talking about more curatives.” she teased.

“Girl, just cool it.” he laughed, “I’ll lick ya again.” he offered hopefully and with a little twinkle in his eye that could almost pass for energy.

“What about turtle soup?” Rosey dodged, hopeful that a teasing reference to the first night they met and her naivete and his flustered concern for her eating the aphrodisiac back would rouse a smile.

It did. Predictably his mouth quirked and those pillowy lips looked twice as lush and full now set in a heavy thatch of two day old stubble. He let out a groan of playful aggravation with her preoccupation.

He gently grabbed her listless hand from her own lap and placed it on the rough denim covering his crotch. “You do what ya like.” he sighed, “Can’t promise nothin’.”

The seam was rough but not stiff, as if he’d worn those trousers into softness even at that most vulnerable juncture. As always with his package there was something to pet, even as she ascertained he was not fibbing, he was as soft and tired as he ever got and remained so despite her touches. Even in sleep he was stiffer. She let her hand cup the soft stones spilling on either side of the thick seam, far down between his legs, rubbing at their full undersides and wondering if they ached like her breasts when confined. He shifted on the cot, not in a restless movement at all, but rather as if to settle in for whatever she wished, his legs spreading wider. He even bent his knee and raised his leg to plant one bare foot on the cot, spreading himself as wide as a girl for her attentions, his tall frame cramped and folded by sitting sideways on their little bed.

His soft state inspired soft touches and Rosey found some stupid contentment stroking his sack through the worn denim, running the back of her knuckles up to his shaft that he had tucked nearly to his belt. She realized that despite her boredom with today she was tired too, tired of thinking and tired of mental exertions and ever since he’d taught her, she found this physical outlet far more relaxing than a sleeping tonic.

“I kneed a man here, between the legs, once.” she whispered like a child telling stories at a sleepover and squeezed his sack just the smallest bit. His eyes that had drifted shut while savoring her touches opened up in flutter.

He didn’t seem perturbed by that, by her need for violence, just drowsy from being petted. She should make him sleep. “You can smack me there…if ya like.” he whispered back, entirely serious and not even slightly hesitant. “If ya like -or, or pinch?” he added again as if he’d missed the mark oniy by sheer variety of options as she remained frozen in concern by the offer.

“I don’t.” she got out at last and he shrugged and let his eyes close again. “I-I don’t want anything but gentleness for you.” she expounded and he bit his lip and held his peace for a moment as Rosey mentally smacked herself at the realization he did tell her things, they did talk about…things. He just didn’t do it like a girl unburdening herself or a sinner in the confessional. He offered little insights freely like this one and she was too busy being horrified to notice them for what they were: confidences.

“Jus’ tonight, right?” he asked and meant for it to be teasing but it felt burdened.

‘Maybe he likes pain’ -Aida had said.

“I’d-“ Rosey weighed her options with this newfound awareness in mind, perhaps he would tell her more often what he wanted -like the first few weeks- if she remained a blank enough canvas for him to create on, “I’ll be whatever you want.” she settled for that and began palming him again, enjoying the way the fabric between his legs was still a little damp, either from mist or else his sweat from sitting at the wheel, legs unable to spread or air out. The way his shoulders were dry but the pits of his shirt could be wrung out suggested the same and some strange, torrid appreciation for his toil made Rosey’s mouth water.

There was an oil stain down at his inner thigh and she thumbed it thoughtfully and felt how the fabric was stiff from the stain compared to the rest. He made a soft little noise of contentment under her touches, his one hand busy in the most lazy way with petting her hair that fell all the way to her hip.

Touching. Being touched. God! she’d had so little of it in her life, and so much fear of it for so long and now she was leaning beside a man petting the damp seam of his trousers like a cat's neck. She wedged her hand under his thigh for leverage and bent herself to kiss at him there.

She could hear the staccato of his gasp even from there. “Rosey I-I ain’t even washed, sweet cheeks.” he warned softly.

“I know.” she answered and her voice was a moan, inhaling his pungent sweat, nothing clean about him and she rubbed her face in the pure distillation of his daily exertions like a cat in heat. “I want to smell you.” she told him and it made him swallow hard as she laid her hand on his thigh, the one spread out with his foot up in the covers, and spread him even further, that damned inherent flexibility of his being tested by the strain. His outer knee hit the mattress and it was Rosey that moaned at his ability and Elvis felt like he might shatter into fragments at the erotic pride that rushed through him at the thought of having impressed her.

“Sometimes it’s better, feeling rather than…being felt?” she tried to explain against the damp denim.

“I know!” he sounded more awake and enthused than he had all day, more than even this morning. “I-I know it’s -it’s glorious ain’t it?” and he pet her hair again with happy fervor until she rose up and knelt in front of him, beginning to undo his belt determinedly.

“You’ll wash in the morning.” Rosey decreed as she unfastened the buckle and tugged at the button holding in his warm belly.

“Yes lil’mama.” he agreed with hoarse meekness and drew up his other leg to make her efforts easier.

She opened the fly and tugged it apart, being hit by a wall of musk as he’d predictably poured himself straight into the denim this morning, sans underpants to collect the sweat. He was nearly steaming in that denim hammock. She envied the wash maids and their tasks.

She told him as much and laughed incredulously. “You’ve gone silly.” Elvis swore again.

“No, they treasure your sweat-soiled clothes, I’m sure of it.” she shook her head and reached out with the tips of her fingers to touch the dank appendage and its hammock of swollen stones, the dark curls of his wiry hair almost shiny from the sweat. “Those girls find your trousers -they fight over them i wager- and the winner holds them up and presses them to their faces like this-“ and she put her face to him like a girl kissing at the reflection of a still pond, her hands winding around his waist and digging into the damp back of his trousers, kneading sticky, plush flesh there, too. “-and then she licks at your trouser seams,” and Rosey underscored her point by doing the same to the imprint of his seam on tender pink flesh, “and she moans over the tartness she tastes and the rest of them hate her for what they can’t have. And if she’s really brave-“ Rosey couldn’t believe her own mind at this rate but face pressed to the Captain’s musky balls, she wasn’t truly in possession of any rationale beyond him, him and him, “-she’ll take them to the little closet with the feed sacks and she’ll prop herself up and she’ll touch herself to the smell of you. Wishing she could thank you for your hard work.”

“I haven’t any washer maids.” he whispered while looking down at her eyes with wide, guileless blue ones that were somehow playing a part with their projected innocence while being more himself than anything else about him. “I got rid of them all.” he says.

“Then I’ll have to wash them myself.” she murmured back, raspy and coy, “And I’ll be the one to thank you accordingly.”

The Captain sucked in a breath so hard at this predictable reply that his bottom lip went with it, pinned between his teeth ‘till the vibrant pink turned white under his cruel bite. “Can I watch?” he asked, his voice hoarse with hope. “Watch you be my lil washermaid?”

“So long as you don’t let maid know.” Rosey cautioned with a smirk and dug her hands deeper into his backside, pulling him apart absentmindedly until she felt his cock wag beneath her chin with the first ounce of interest shown tonight. She reared back and stared at the docile thing, twitching pathetically when she dug her nails in a little harsher once more. He sucked in a breath and turned his head to the side and Rosey took her hands out of his trousers to tug the front of his pants further down those sturdy thighs.

She’d no real intention of exciting him after all, only missed him and wanted to taste him before sleep. Tomorrow or next month or eternity was ahead of her to sort out why he responded the way he did. For now her duty was to put him to sleep where he belonged ages ago.

“A big man like you has got to be discreet,” she plotted with him and his face eased as they returned to their play, “the little washermaid wouldn’t know how to face the captain if he found her in such a degradi-“

“-uninhibited position, yes, God, yes!” he interrupted her with an appreciative rush and turned the subject sweet.

“You'll wash in the morning, I want to smell you all night.” she murmured again as she stood up and fully tugged his trousers off over his long feet, making him close his legs from their previous bend.

“Yes’m.” He murmured a little dazed and he looked like he was answering while asleep, the poor man was so visibly tired and she tenderly pushed his naked form to lay down the proper way, all the way flat, on their bedding.

She was not sure what it was about skipping a bath that made him seem more manly, more than he even usually was, but seeing his figure laying there naked on the ratty sheets, hairy and greasy from sweat and the stubble coming in thick -she palmed a breast at the sight of it, distracted from her debate as to keep her nightgown on.

“Strip.” his eyes fluttered in an effort to stay open but they flicked up and down her cotton gown and his eyebrow moved in a motion that was as eloquent as a hand waving it off. “You’ll be warm enough w’me.” he assured her of what she was already sure of.

Rosey drew the gown over her head and tossed it beside the Captain’s denims, only her long hair a covering over her shoulders as she stared down at him once more, savoring the beauty she was about to embrace before reaching high above her and turning the gas lamp out.

Plunged into darkness, she shuffled the couple feet left before her shins hit the cot’s edge and a large, warm hand cupped the back of her thigh and tugged her in. She fell atop him and wiggled till she was tucked into his side, her hand petting at the light fur on his chest and her nose nearly buried in the swamp of his underarm.

He grunted disbelieving at her choice. “How’re you feelin?” she asked, touching his forehead in the dark with the back of her hand, finding it a little clammy but not fevered.

“M’tired.” he replied and none of that had anything to do with Dr. Nicholas and his ponderous list of life

-threatening diseases the man beside her was supposedly harboring.

“You’re not holding off…making love to me…for fear of getting me sick, are you?” she whispered the concern of the day, finally.

“I-I told ya why I’m holdin’ off, Rosey.” he sounded a bit pained but not angry.

“You promise? You’re not just putting it off to spare me -something?“ She begged.

“There’s been nothin’ I was ever less inclined to put off, my girl.” he murmured tiredly as he turned on his side, mashing his face into her breast, giving an accentuating hump of his pelvis against her hip.

“All my life, I ain’t ever been the first choice.” she muttered and his arm tightened around her, “I’ve killed for other women, for Maddy, the ones who were chosen. Wanted, when others-“ she trailed off before picking up in a thin voice reedy with confusion, “-I was talkin’ with Rosetta earlier and I realized I-I was there. I was there for it and not even they wanted me. A dozen men, one woman, and I-I was left alone. I know I should be glad of it.”

Elvis stared at the blackness that somewhere shielded a face he longed to read, but that poor little voice told him a world enough of hurt. He clutched her closer and was going to ask what on earth she meant, who and when and what sort of want she referred to when Rosey added as through in a sob:

“Poor Maddy.”

He startled and turned to grip her in a hug, processing what he was frightened she meant. “That -child, that ain’t no compliment.” he begged her to understand. “Even some of the worst don’t go for -you were a child.”

“Was I? I don’t recall.” she whispered.

“Yes you were.” he declared it, made it truth, “Jus’ ‘cause you only recall it now you’re grown, don’t mean you weren’t a child back then.”

“I’d forgotten.” She repeated, numb in horror at the thought of what else was buried.

“You -you recall anythin’ more?” he asked what he was so very scared to know, hardly sure he could carry the weight of more but certain only a coward would make her carry it alone.

“It took ages.” she whispered, “My knees hurt somethin’ awful from kneeling behind the stove. Took forever for them all to stop.”

The captain crushed her to him and she gripped his back like a shield, “You can tell me, Little Cricket.” he soothed, “Can tell me anythin’ at all.”

“Can I?” she sniffled .

“Mhmm.”

“Then I will -if I recall.”

“Good girl.” He whispered into the damp of her forehead, placing an almost fatherly kiss there.

“So you planned on it, marryin’ me fully? Sickness and all, you swear?” she smiled at the pitch black hollow of his throat, grateful to have it out and trying to gauge with her hands whether a fever burned his life away even now.

“Rosey, I didn’t once plan on you.” Elvis admitted with an affectionate pat and promptly fell asleep.

Go ahead and scream and speculate and gush all you want, I love. Hope you enjoyed💋

**dialogue credit to Captain Smitty

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#elvis presley #elvis fanfiction #elvis fanfic #elvis imagine #elvis x reader #elvis #elvis presley fanfiction #baby elvis #elvis presely smut #elvis smut #elvis presley fanfic #elvis au

[azsazz]

Crescent City Masterlist

Lean into Me [Fluff]

Come Again? [Smut, Toys]

Catch Me if You Can [Kinktober 2023, Shadowplay]

Dinner for Two [Kinktober 2023, Breeding]

Creep [Kinktober, 2023, Stalking]

#crescent city #crescent city masterlist #azsazz masterlist #sjm #ruhn danaan #ruhn x reader #azsazz #ithan holstrom smut #ithan x reader #aidas x reader #aidas crescent city

[jjhhuibhhhj]

Unpopular opinion…

It seems as if everyone is annoyed at Bryce for not immediately sharing every detail of her world with the IC. Bryce did not read 5 ACOTAR books or know these people as we do. Her experience with Fae (rightfully) show that they are horrible. These people overthrew her enemy which must mean they are dangerous.

Although they do not physically torture her it is EXTREMELY CLEAR not just by their actions but actual DIALOGUE that they do not trust Bryce

Also, the IC just finished a war and for the first time in most of their lives are experiencing peace. We know from ACOTAR that Rhysand and friends will do all that is necessary to keep their world save even if that includes killing Bryce which could upon a portal for the big bad “Daglan/ Asteri”

Bryce realising she needs to escape and being reckless is understandable she left her mate and family behind and she doesn’t have time to win the IC’s trust. They clearly view her as a prisoner not a guest and have disarmed her. Bryce does not have one reason to trust them or even expect to them to be trustworthy.

I feel the people who feel let down by this crossover are let down by the fact that the CRESCENT CITY book centers around the CRESCENT CITY characters and isn’t more batboy smut.

There are definitely plot points that could have been dealt with better such as the information from Silene, everything about Ithan. The biggest issue I have with Bryce is her seemingly having this golden hamster wheel in her mind which happens to make perfect conveniently timed plans. Bryce does feel like a moderniser attempt at Aelin’s character. That being said constantly drawing comparisons between the FMC takes away from them so it isn’t something I feel I should do.

Ithan is so annoying to me especially his inability to stay on track or have any logical thought process. I don’t understand his undying loyalty to the wolves who abandoned and betrayed him. Sigrid tried to KILL HIM as well but he still yapped on about her and had no respect for his friend Cormac by not even protesting against the idea of resurrecting Sophie just to use her power to make himself feel better. He should have focused on the friends that are loyal to him which he even called his pack.

Also ENOUGH with the sunball references. Only so much benefits can be drawn from sunball which directly correlates with any real world benefit.

Tharion just feels like one big yap fest (lack of a better explanation to convey the boredom he perpetuates in me). Aidas and Appolion also could have spoken up about EVERYTHING about two books ago or at least in all their little encounters with Hunt.

Jesiba Roga and Fury 🤝 Mor and Amren

(Overhyped and underperforming)

I have religiously read every Sarah J Maas and all things considered I really enjoyed this book it might even be my favorite in the CC universe.

I enjoyed it more than Tower of Dawn, ACOSF and ACOFAS but I will not read the next book if it is about Ithan or Tharion.

I suspect Azriel is linked to Hel but Sarah definitely still has alot of loose threads surrounding him which is starting to feel redundant and an elaborate attempt at making him seem mysterious.

Things I would like so see in the Maasverse: the parasite being removed from the water and the Midgardians tapping into their raw power, better understanding of Bryce and Hunt joint ability. I also think Sarah could become one of the best fantasy writers of all time if she focused more on how the multiverse works (time differences, abilities (technicalities of it all). I would like to know what happened to Erilea because all the evidence points to it being a conquered world which will honestly just be depressing but we see that Prythian and midgard follow the same time sequence so perhaps Erilea is joined in on that time scape and Aelin falling through still happens relatively “recent”.

And I agree on how annoying the term “alphahole” is but lets focus on the real enemy “his luxurious length”. That just reminds me of ms Perky in 10 things I hate about you and Reginalds quivering member.

Let’s move away from the smut which was excellently balanced out in TOG in my opinion. I do think that Sarah amortised her credibility as a fantasy writer between TOG and ACOTAR by focusing more on the smut scenes and not the plot point. I am ready to be hated but I DON’T care about what Lorcan did or Cassian and the stupid headboard. I DO care about how the time differs between the universes, the different gods in all the worlds and how they link, each string on the harp and the different heritages.

#acotar #hofas #cc3 #cc3 spoilers #ruhn danaan #throne of glass #hunt athalar #bryce quinlan #crescent city #tharion ketos #ithan holstrom #nesta archeron #azriel #asteri #erilea #prythian #midgard #ruhnlidia

[aidaronan]

Aida Ronan's Stranger Things Fics - Master List

✨Newest ✨

🌻 Where the Sunflowers Grow (Buckingham) Where does a dead girl fit in a world that has already mourned her?

That's one of the many questions Chrissy has to answer after El brings her back. A recovery narrative first, and a romance second. Buckingham and Platonic Hellcheer. 🪓Who's Sorry Now? (Joyce v. Vecna w/ Jopper) When Vecna goes after Joyce Byers, it's a race against time for Jim Hopper and Jonathan. And it's a tumble through nightmares for Joyce, until she realizes that sometimes a person's horrors can also be weapons.

🚢 Steddie

Creature Feature - all my Monsterfucking

🧛‍♂️The Prettiest Boy in Hawkins, Indiana || Explicit 🌶️ || 19480 (for now?)

Six years after Vecna and Eddie's death, Steve is alone and managing a retail store at the new mall. El calls and tells him something is awake in Hawkins, and Steve vows to investigate. And then Something shows up in Steve's apartment and flashes sharp teeth. Featuring Vampire!Eddie, thousands upon thousands of words of saucy fangbanger kink, and what can only be described as two people who are absolutely fucked up about each other on a soul-deep level whether it's healthy or not.

👻(After)life || Explicit 🌶️ || 4812 words

When Steve wakes up from a nightmare screaming Eddie's name, he doesn't expect anything to answer. (Or Steve gets railed by Ghost Eddie, although there's actually a lot more to it than that because I've never successfully written pwp in my entire life.)

🖤In the Woods Somewhere || Explicit 🌶️ || 5526 Words Steve grew up hearing campfire stories about the Black Woods Monster. He just never expected it to be real (or for it to want to seduce him.)

🧛‍♂️Nothing Hurts (Like Your Mouth) || Explicit 🌶️ || 4125 Words It's the full moon and Steve's got an itch he needs to scratch. WereSteve/VampEddie mausoleum sex. Forbidden lust/love. Spice with feelings.

🐊Cassiopeia, Orion, Bootes || Explicit 🌶️ || 10780 Words

When Steve finds the flyer for Bayou Bobby's midnight swamp tours, he's excited to finally get the opportunity to do something interesting on his work trip to New Orleans. Until he finds out he's human bait for something that lives in the swamp. Something with claws and scales and eyes that glow red in the moonlight. (SwampMonster Eddie smut with a happy ending)

🕯️Blood, Sweat, Ambrosia || Explicit 🌶️ || 4431 Words When Eddie is reborn, he is reborn with hunger. How lucky it is for Steve Harrington that he gets to be prey. Also kind of a Christmas fic.

⚸ Blood and Water || Explicit 🌶️ || WIP Self-taught witch Edwina Wynn Munson just wants to graduate high school and get the hell out of Hawkins. A spell that promises new beginnings? Sign her up. Sacrificing blood and body to the goddess Dulcana, Eddie gets her new beginnings. But at what cost? As things turn deadly in Hawkins, Eddie realizes she's in over her head. She also realizes she's not the only witch in town. Together, she and Stevie Harrington have to figure out how to banish this hungry and possessive entity before it's too late. Featuring sex rituals, library-based pining, and gratuitously hot outfits.

Canon-adjacent and/or fix-it fics

☎️Anywhere, Anytime || Mature || 10,853 Words

Eddie wakes from a nightmare and calls Steve. Featuring endless banter, telephone calls, ADHD Eddie, clothes sharing, a slow-ish burn, hurt/comfort, a little pining, a love confession, and a Steve Harrington bi awakening. Podfic available.

🦹‍♂️Orta Recens Quam Pura Nites (Newly Risen, How Brightly You Shine) || Mature || 22507 Words

Eddie Munson is dead, and death is apparently nothing but blackness and water to your ankles. Eddie Munson is dead, and Steve Harrington is listening to his music and wearing his clothes and wishing he'd been able to stop it. My take on the Kas!Eddie trope. With a Winter Soldiery twist. Podfic available.

💸It's Not a Big Deal || Mature || 11708 Words

Eddie loses everything in the "earthquake," all of it sucked into the Upside Down and locked up forever. Steve starts buying him stuff. Featuring Steve as an accidental sugar daddy, Uncle Wayne as the best parental figure in history, and Steve giving D&D a go. Podfic available.

👑I'd Burn the Castle for You || Teen and Up || 3621 Words

Eddie calls Steve "big boy" and "pretty boy," and Steve keeps asking him why. The answer: "You don't wanna know." Except Steve does. Steve does want to know. A tender and loving fic with a side of Dad Hopper (a thing that is very greatunironic's fault.) Podfic available. Fan art!

🎲Critical Hit || Explicit 🌶️ || 7102

Steve shows up to play D&D. Eddie decides he can stay. IF King Steve recognizes the real lord and master of Hellfire. Featuring ring kissing, nerd sex, Steve being transfixed by Eddie's guitar-player fingers, and good ol' fashioned filth (of course.)

🎵Cut and Changed and Rearranged || Teen and Up || 10856

The real reason Steve never really dates anymore is this: the nightmares and the secrets behind them. In the middle of the night, reeling from bad dreams, Steve properly starts listening to the mixtape Eddie made for him. Featuring hurt/comfort, angsty Steve, Steve getting the love he deserves, bed sharing, Eddie in crop tops, the bi experience, and did I mention Steve getting so much love? This fic is a love letter to Steve from Eddie and from me. Podfic available.

🎡Like a Record, Baby || Explicit 🌶️ || 1866 words Three months after the world doesn't end, a traveling fair hits downtown Hawkins. When Steve and Eddie get stuck at the top of the malfunctioning Ferris wheel, Eddie has an idea for how to pass the time. Steddie: public blow jobs edition. (Okay maybe I can write pwp after all.) Podfic available. 🎩Wiggle and Flourish || Mature || 2456 words Eddie says his bedroom is where the magic happens. Apparently he meant that literally. Comedy and fluff. No smut. 🫂Like I Always Do || Mature || 5578 Words Russian torture, the Mind Flayer, Hopper. Steve goes through hell, and all he wants when it's over is to be with someone who will soothe away the aches. Hurt/Comfort with established sexual relationship. (No smut.) Podfic available.

🌌Every Single Time || Teen & Up || 2573

Eddie and Steve haven't talked about it yet. What they are. What they want to be.

On Hawkins' Senior Bonfire Night, maybe they will.

That universe? Alternative

⌛Life or Something Like It || Explicit 🌶️ || 9286

Eddie can't afford to move to Hawkins, but he wants to live a little when he can, while he can. Have some fun and move on. That was the deal he made himself before he decided to visit.

Falling for Steve Harrington is, therefore, pretty damn inconvenient.

A Steddie AU inspired by San Junipero.

✨✨Bonus: My Steddie Recs Collection

🚢 Ronance

🚘Porcelain Like This || Explicit 🌶️ || 3444 Words Nancy Wheeler likes sex and wants sex, and she doesn’t really see why that’s a problem. There’s nothing wrong with wanting to be desired, with wanting to feel good. And there’s certainly nothing wrong with wanting Robin Buckley. Featuring Nancy fucking Robin the backseat of her car. That’s it. That’s the fic.

#masterlist #fanfic #mine #stranger things #steddie #ronance #buckingham

[eclecticmuses]

Hello FitzSimmons shippers!

It’s that time of year again - it’s time for the FitzSimmons Secret Santa Exchange! The FS Secret Santa has been a wonderful part of our fandom’s history, and even though the show has ended I think it’s still a great way to celebrate the fandom and the holidays together. I'm sorry it took me so long to get this post out this year, time just flew by for me!

I will be using the tag #fitzsimmonssecretsanta for all of my posts regarding the exchange, so look out for announcements. You will also be using that tag when you post your gifts.

Important Dates:

Sign ups are open until Wednesday, November 22nd at midnight PST.

Participants will be notified of their assignments on Saturday, November 25th.

The first posting day for gifts is on Monday, December 25th. This gives you four weeks to work on your gift. A few weeks before December 25th, you will sign up to select a posting day so I can stagger the gifts throughout the week.

Read more to learn how you can participate in the Secret Santa Exchange!

In participating in the Secret Santa exchange, you will create a fanwork for your assigned giftee. This can consist of fanfiction, gifs, graphics, moodboards, aesthetics, fanmixes, fanvids, fanart, or any other creation. Fic must be at least 1000 words in length, and all gifts must be complete when posted (unless you plan to stagger out fic chapters).

Participants must follow these rules of the exchange:

Send your entry form no later than Wednesday, November 22nd at midnight PST.

Reblog this post to spread the word!

Create an original gift for your giftee following their prompt, preferences, and the guidelines of the exchange. Your gift must be at least 1000 words or an equivalent amount of effort in another medium.

Keep your ask box open with Anon turned on.

Send your giftee anonymous asks at least once a week (questions, compliments, quotes, whatever you like!).

Post your gift and reveal your identity to your giftee on your selected posting day!

To sign up for the exchange, please fill out the entry form below and email it to [email protected] (mused with a d and not an s like my Tumblr username!).

Tumblr username (please specify if you plan to change your url during the holidays so we can find you!)

Your prompt: (what you want your gift to be about!)

Your fandom talents: (what can you create for your giftee?)

Preferences: (for what you would like to receive AND what you would be willing to create - ex: I would like to receive a fic with smut, but I will not write smut for my giftee.)

Smut:

Ward/Will/AIDA:

Mentions of traumatic canon events (4x15, 4x20, 5x14, 5x22, etc.):

Other preferences for what you would not like to give/receive: (type of fanwork, triggers, issues, genres, tropes, etc.)

When filling out the entry form, please be as specific as possible. This helps me to best match people up, as well as ensures that you receive a gift that you’ll love! If you receive your assignment and still have questions about creating your gift, I recommend that you send your giftee anonymous asks for clarification.

If something comes up and you can no longer participate, please let me know ASAP. In the past, participants have disappeared from Tumblr, so I really want to ensure that everyone that signs up will receive a gift.

❄️Good Luck and Happy Holidays! ❄️

#Agents of SHIELD #Fitzsimmons #fitzsimmonssecretsanta #fitzsimmons secret santa #Leo Fitz #Jemma Simmons #it's the most wonderful time of the year! #I'm so excited to put this together for y'all again! #reblog for signal boost!

[noirflavoured]

*.      /      𝐎𝐏𝐄𝐍  𝐓𝐎  :        m  /  f  !    —    ideally  friend’s  father  /  mother  /  girlfriend  /  boyfriend  etc.  i  need  some  drama  !  bonus  points  if  they  have  already  slept  with  each  other. *.      /      𝐈𝐍𝐒𝐏𝐎  :        if  you  wear  no  panties  to  dinner  expect  to  get  fingered  under  the  table  and  fucked  in  car.

  “  wha    —    ”  she  mouths  in  a  desperate  whisper  ,  knowing  ,  she’s  not  allowed  to  make  a  sound.  they’re  seated  next  to  each  other  at  the  dinner’s  table  and  that’s  why  their  hand  has  the  easy  access  to  her  thighs.

#*. / 𝐌𝐔𝐒𝐄 : aida woolf. #indie rp #indie smut rp #indie bi rp

[azriels-angels]

Line Up: 𓆩♡𓆪 1. Preview of "Don't Call Me Angel"-Azriel x Mor's Sister!Reader Enemies to Lovers Series This is a teaser chapter of a series that I will be staring once the 25 Days of Lana Del Rey event is over :)

Preview 👼

𓆩♡𓆪 2. Snow On The Beach-Viviane x Kallias Angst → Smut

𓆩♡𓆪 3. Black Beauty-Ithan Holstrom x Reader Angsty Fluff

𓆩♡𓆪 4. Love-Feyre x Fem!Reader Fluff & Smut

𓆩♡𓆪 5. Violets For Roses-Tristan Flynn x Reader Angst

𓆩♡𓆪 6. Video Games-Azriel x Reader Fluff

𓆩♡𓆪 7. Once Upon A Dream-Prince Aidas x Reader Smut

𓆩♡𓆪 8. Groupie Love-Poly!Nessian x Reader Smut

𓆩♡𓆪 9. Radio-Ruhn Danaan x Reader Fluff

𓆩♡𓆪 10. Stargirl-Azriel x Bryce Quinlan's Sister!Reader Smut

𓆩♡𓆪 11. Breaking Up Slowly-Dankia x Reader Angst

𓆩♡𓆪 12. Summertime Sadness-Cassian x Reader Angsty Smut

𓆩♡𓆪 13. How To Disappear-Tharion x The Serpent Queen's Daughter!Reader Angst, Fluff, & Smut

𓆩♡𓆪 14. Lust For Life-Azriel x Rhysand's Sister!Reader Smut

𓆩♡𓆪 15. Happiness Is A Butterfly-Prince Aidas x Reader

𓆩♡𓆪 16. Sad Girl-Eris x Mor's Sister!Reader Angst & Suggestive

𓆩♡𓆪 17. Brooklyn Baby-Ruhn Danaan x Reader

𓆩♡𓆪 18. Young And Beautiful-Rhysand x Reader Fluff → Smut

𓆩♡𓆪 19. Tomorrow Never Came-Ithan Holstrom x Reader Angst

𓆩♡𓆪 20. Blue Jeans-Azriel x Reader Smut

𓆩♡𓆪 21. Summer Bummer-Tristan Flynn x Reader

𓆩♡𓆪 22. If You Lie Down With Me-Lucien x Tamlin's Sister!Reader Angsty Smut

𓆩♡𓆪 23. Yes To Heaven-Ruhn Danaan x Lidia Cervos Fluff & Smut

𓆩♡𓆪 24. Old Money-Gwynriel Fluff

𓆩♡𓆪 25. Don't Call Me Angel-Series Finale + Bonus Chapters

#azriel smut #acotar smut #crescent city smut #ruhn danaan x reader #feyre archeron x reader #nessian smut #rhysand x reader #ithan holstrom x reader #eris vanserra x reader #tharion x reader #tristan flynn x reader #cassian x reader #prince adias x reader #adias x reader #gwynriel #lucien x reader #crescent city #crescent city fic #crescent city house of earth and blood #crescent city house of sky and breath #hosab #hoeab #acotar #acomaf #acwar #acofas #acosf #a court of thorns and roses