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jenscx · 7 months

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MY DARLING — jang wonyoung x f!reader

you were just living a quaint life in a bookstore, until a stranger barges in on a rainy day, evidently changing your life.

TAGS — very fluffy, princess!wonyoung, slight angst, jealousy (tiny), commoner!yn, flirty wony

WORDCOUNT — 3.9k

the 10th of august, 1820. you sigh at the raindrops splashing against the glass windows, tinted with a slight hue of blue. the bookstore was rarely this quiet but with everything going on in the royal castle, perhaps it was to be expected.

“no customers yet?” you whip your head up, frowning. eunbi, the owner of the bookstore and the one who had raised you, stood at the top of the flight of creaky, wooden stairs. you shake your head, “aren’t the nobles trying to popularise reading? i don’t think it is working too well.”

eunbi laughs. “sure. the literature we sell here isn’t too demanding of their literary skills. and the nobles only flock to poetry, maybe it’s time we expanded our small library.”

your eyes brighten at the thought of an increased variety of books. even though you adored the selection here, it was starting to get quite boring. the constant romance themes evident in every single book was rather… annoying.

“hm, perhaps we should close up for the day, it’s rather late and the rain is heavy. i don’t think anyone else will bear with the storm just for a quick read,” eunbi suggests and you comply immediately, packing up the stacks of papers standing tall at the counter. you were just scribbling on them to rid your boredom.

“i’ll be upstairs if you need me,” she calls out before heading up once more. you sigh again. just as you were about to close the curtains shut, the door slams open and you almost squeal.

a mysterious hooded figure stands before you, heaving up and down as quick breathes escape them.

“uhm, apologies but we are closing for the day,” you say. the figure turns and you roll your eyes. their cloak was dripping rainwater all over the mahogany wood floors that you had just polished that morning!

“terribly sorry for the intrusion,” they (you raise an eyebrow at the feminine voice) mumble, “i needed a place to get away.”

“right, i don’t really care because you are ruining my flooring, so could you take that damn cloak off?”

the person immediately does so, revealing the white fitted bodice that clung to the woman’s skin, almost translucent and you feel a blush creeping up your neck.

“you are… soaked.”

“yes, quite obviously.”

you turn away from her, eyes avoiding her own narrowing gaze as she was quite literally the most gorgeous girl you’ve ever seen.

“i’ll get you a cloth to clean yourself up with,” you mutter while the girl nods and proceeds to walk along the shelves.

if you weren’t so distracted by her apparent beauty, you would be more conscious of how familiar she looked.

moments later, you return with a cloth, and the stranger was peering at one of the many books that lined the shelves.

“fan of jane austen?” you smile when she jumps slightly at your sudden voice, “that is one of her most popular pieces of literature; pride and prejudice from 1813. though we do have earlier pieces such as ann radcliffe’s the romance of the forest, 1791.”

the woman nods, “aren’t you quite acquainted with books? any suggestions?”

“hm, perhaps persuasion by jane austen if you’re a fan, but do read most of her writings, it’s incredible.”

“what about playwrights? anyone that you’ve taken a liking to?” she asks.

you think for a while, “elizabeth inchbald. i thought lovers’ vows was spectacular. shame i couldn’t see it, sometimes i wished i was born earlier.”

“i always thought that it was too controversial and morally ambiguous for people to adore it. thankfully i’ve found someone of my own,” she says, a twinkle in her eye that you can’t help but feel your heartbeat race at. she daps at her neck with the cloth and you evert your eyes.

“a-anyway, what brings you here? you’ve distracted me from closing up.”

she places the book back into its original position and furrows her brows, “do you not recognise who i am?”

you tilt your head and lean on the bookshelves, “no, not particularly. am i meant to?”

“yes, but i’d rather you stay unknowing. if we were to be… friends, could i ask that you never try to find my identity?”

“could i at least know your name? or something to call you?”

“of course, i haven’t introduced myself. you can call me wonyoung.” wonyoung, you think, it’s a pretty name.

she flashes a gleaming smile at you, “could i know yours?”

“y/n,” you reply, “what brings you here?”

wonyoung’s posture slackens and you take the time to admire her luscious black hair that was tied into a bun with small curls and waves. you unconsciously swallow your saliva as wonyoung answers you.

“just running from my responsibilities. quite lucky of me to end up in a quaint bookstore with you, to be frank.”

your eyes trail down from her face to her collarbones, mouth going dry at the sight of her neck. god, you think, clenching your eyes shut.

“you all right? your cheeks are… flushed,” you spot a hint of a teasing smile on her face.

“how old are you?” wonyoung asks suddenly.

“i’m eighteen this year.”

“oh, i’m eighteen as well.”

you grin, “what responsibilities could you have at eighteen? we’re the same age, yet i’m just working at a bookstore.”

wonyoung shakes her head, almost sullen, “you have no clue how hectic it is back there. if here is shallow water, when i go back there, i’ll drown in the tsunami.”

“how poetic.”

“impressive, isn’t it?”

you giggle first and wonyoung’s laughter joins soon after. her laugh is melodic and soothing, a breather. it’s like you’ve just found your oasis.

and maybe she’s found hers.

your night is spent alone. no wonyoung to fill the empty spaces of silence apart from the occasional footsteps outside of the bookstore. you spent all day with her, or rather the rest of the day until she deemed too late to reach home. no matter how hard you try, your mind ends up wandering and you dream of rosy cheeks with a bunny smile.

you awake the next morning with a letter at your doorstep, addressed in neat calligraphy.

dear y/n,

i could not tell you how much i enjoyed yesterday, it was an eye-opening experience. i am definitely the luckiest person ever. i can’t believe how lucky i was to enter your bookstore and meet you. i hope we stay acquainted forever. send your reply to this address, i will wait for it.

sincerely yours,

wonyoung

if it were from anyone else, you would have found it desperate, or creepy. but even after a day of meeting wonyoung, you were enchanted.

hence, you quickly draft up a letter, perhaps she could see how much desperation there was in the messily scrawled handwriting for you to see her again.

it took almost no time for you and her to communicate daily through letters. even though you only met her three weeks ago, it felt like you’ve known her forever. wonyoung was your everything. and maybe you were her everything too. she was the part of your routine you looked most forward to.

eunbi had questioned you about your sudden enthusiasm and happiness. after all, she had been your caregiver since she had taken you in and you were never this dreamy.

wonyoung would sometimes drop by during the evening and you would spend a few hours together before she had to leave. it was the highlight of your week. a few hours would be all you could have, until a letter arrives at your doorstep.

my darling y/n,

how have you been? i found that book you’ve been raving about. i must extend my apologies for reading it beforehand, you were just too excited about it that i had to read it for myself. anyway, would your bed be free tonight? could i spend the night at your bookstore? my parents finally gave me permission to do so. i do hope you’re free, if not i’ll be missing you terribly.

sincerely yours,

wonyoung

you almost crumple up the letter in excitement. wonyoung was finally sleeping over? it was a joyous celebration. you swiftly write back, hoping that the letter would reach her in time. it always did, surprisingly. you weren’t sure if the post was meant to work that fast. you were counting down the seconds for when she would arrive and when the grandfather clock struck six thirty in the evening, a knock resounded on the door.

“wonyoung!” you squeal, rushing into her arms and burying your face into the crook of her neck. physical touch had become common between you and her, initiated by her at first but mostly done by you now. you could not resist feeling the warmth her body gave off.

“good evening, yn,” she breathes out, “i almost tripped on the way here. i was so exhilarated when i received your letter.”

you grin, quickly locking up the doors and closing the curtains. wonyoung lingers around you, a bag of clothes at her feet, you presume it contained her sleepwear.

“darling,” you feel a shiver go down your spine at her voice, “shall we head up?”

you nod and interlock hands with wonyoung, dragging her up the stairs and heading into your bedroom. your bed wasn’t tiny, but with wonyoung’s height, her feet would be dangling off the edge since your mattress was wider and not lengthy.

“you can change here, i’ll just look away,” you say.

“what if i want you to look?”

your cheeks heat up and you cover your eyes, “shut up, you flirt.”

“my sincerest apologies,” wonyoung says slowly, “do you not like it when i flirt with you?” you roll your eyes. she would always ask questions which she knew the answers to. wonyoung just wanted the satisfaction of you saying it out loud.

“i like it,” you mutter, embarrassed.

“you’re adorable,” she laughs and starts to untie the laces on her corset to reveal her shift under. you take this as your cue to turn away.

a few minutes pass and wonyoung finally says, “i’m done. you can turn around now.”

she was adorned in a long light blue night rail with lace linings. you still thought she was the prettiest girl to ever walk the earth.

wonyoung flops onto your bed and you join her.

“blow out the candle, won't you?” wonyoung requests. without the light of the candle, you can only see her face that is illuminated by the moonlight.

you both slip under the sheets, facing each other. your eyes trail along her features and your fingers ache to trace them.

“how was your day? you never answered me in your reply.”

“you were genuinely asking? i thought you asked as a formality,” you chuckle at her affronted expression.

she rolls her eyes, “of course i was genuine! i’m always interested in what you have to say.”

“why are you being so cheeky today? so many flirtatious remarks,” her long arms wrap around your waist and you giggle.

“i’m just naturally like that,” wonyoung smiles, “and you like it, don’t you?”

you nod shyly.

“i do.”

“then i’ll stay this way. be whatever that you like.”

“i like you,” you confess.

wonyoung blinks slowly. your words and sincere tone seeping into her heart as a large grin overtakes her face.

“and i adore you.”

your night, unlike the first, was spent wrapped up in wonyoung’s embrace. warmth covering your body and a smile across your face the entire time you slept. it was the most peaceful night you’ve had. yet, as all things go, it was just the calm before the storm.

something had been bothering you, wonyoung could tell. after that night spent together, you and her were inseparable. but the more time you had together, the more it seemed like you were drifting away in your thoughts.

“darling?” you turn around in her embrace, “are you all right?”

“yes, i’m totally fine. couldn’t be better than being here with you.”

“i feel the same but, are you certain? it just feels like something is bothering you. if anything, could you tell me?” wonyoung asks. your body visibly tenses up and even in the dark, she could still see how your face was contemplating.

“why did you ask me to never search for your identity?”

wonyoung suddenly unwraps her arms from around your waist. you miss her warmth instantly.

“why are you bringing this up now?” she counter asks.

you frown. “just remembered it. i was reminiscing the first time we met.”

“ah.”

“also because eunbi has been asking me about you and i don’t know what to tell her. i realised i don’t know much about you and i want to change that,” you explain.

wonyoung’s breath hitches.

“eunbi? have you mentioned my name to her?”

“no, i wasn’t too sure if i should have… wonyoung, seriously, what’s this whole ordeal with your identity? can’t you just tell me?” you ask.

you decide not to mention the fact that you have actually questioned eunbi about wonyoung. the amount of warning signs about her identity had been increasing daily and you weren’t so certain about how much you could trust wonyoung anymore.

“you’re lying,” wonyoung states.

“what?”

“you know my identity.”

“wonyoung, love—”

she separates herself from you immediately and sits upright. your bubble of tranquillity bursts and the peaceful future you’ve created for the two of you was ruined.

“i told you. i specifically told you not to go looking!” her voice raises, “and you still do? and i know you’re lying to my face! you know that…”

you can’t stand it anymore. “that you’re the princess? of course i do! how could i not remember your face and name plastered everywhere? are you not aware of how influential you are? the media has been going insane at how your birthday ball was going to be the highlight of this century! but this doesn’t mean i love you less!”

“it’s not about that! you betrayed my trust. how could you? it was the first thing i’ve ever told you; don’t go looking for my identity! and i… this isn’t going to work out. i apologise, but i have to leave,” wonyoung hisses and quickly jumps out of your bed. you can only stare in silence as she packs up her clothes and leaves out the door.

you sit there on your cotton sheets, stunned at how the evening’s played out. a sigh escapes your lips and your heart aches at the forlorn expression that wonyoung had.

you couldn’t believe that wonyoung had just left like that. you thought she would at least hear you out and it wasn’t as if you yourself had gone looking for her identity! her name was basically on every single piece of news article, how could you not know? and wonyoung wasn’t a popular name.

perhaps everything will be normal in the morning. wonyoung’s letter would show up at your doorstep, apologising for how she acted and you would still forgive her.

needless to say, you were wrong. there was no letter, and definitely no bouquet of tulips that normally accompanied the letter.

“i saw the princess stomping out, did you two have a fall out?” eunbi asks. you nod, sulking.

“she found out that i knew she was the princess and she wasn’t too enthusiastic about it.”

eunbi thinks for a moment. “aren’t you going to try to chase after her? wouldn’t it be right?”

“why should i? she said we weren’t going to work out.” repeating those words brought a new level of pain.

your caregiver laughs, “that’s exactly what sakura said as well and she ended up grovelling.”

you raise an eyebrow. “who’s sakura?”

“some foreign lady. anyway, are you going to write to her or not? her birthday’s coming up soon.”

“her birthday,” you repeat, “i could just go to her birthday banquet.” eunbi blinks, “i did not mean that but sure.”

you have a newfound sense of confidence. wonyoung couldn’t do anything if you just went to her banquet, right? well, she could just order for the guards to take you out but it was open to commoners. there was a dress code but wonyoung had gifted you a pretty expensive dress recently.

“august 30th, it starts at eleven in the evening,” eunbi informs you, “you do know your way to the castle? i have other plans that night.”

“yes, of course. thank you for the idea!” you smile. as you head off back into your room, thoughts of seeing wonyoung again run through your mind.

the day had finally come. your hair was parted in the middle with your bangs curled that occasionally twitched your eyes. your bust was pushed up ever so slightly by a tight fitting corset. you had a low cut violet gown and white gloves that extended up to your elbows.

the closer you got to the palace, the more your confidence dwindled. what if wonyoung orders for the guards to escort you out? it would be ironic for you to show up at her banquet, where she would have to reveal her identity. you shiver at the thought of wonyoung’s distrustful gaze.

what happened to staying together until death parts you two? wonyoung had been so romantic with her words, maybe it was all faux.

you shake your head. you couldn’t think of that! now, you just had to reassure her that her identity revelation would not change anything. and maybe you could even try to revert to the same relationship status as before. once you enter the ballroom, you’re surrounded by nobles and commoners alike, all dressed to the nines. you scan the room, hoping to see wonyoung.

“goodness,” one of the more fashionably dressed nobles say, “dukes from high society are starting to court her already. i heard that many are offering their whole family wealth for her hand.”

your face falls. of course there would be people wanting to court her. wonyoung was so angelic and there would be no reason for rich dukes to not throw themselves at her.

“good evening, my lady,” you spin around, facing an older woman with a rather disgruntled young man, “could i ask where you are from?” luckily, eunbi had trained you beforehand.

“miyawaki y/n,” you lie through your teeth, “i’m not from around here, just passing through to visit the princess.”

“splendid! i am from the house of lee and this is my son, heeseung,” the woman exclaims, “i thought you were a perfect match for him.”

your eye twitches.

“ah, yes.”

“i’ll leave you two to get acquainted, hopefully by the end of this ball, you will be dancing with each other.”

“my lady will not be dancing with anyone,” your heart leaps. an arm links around yours and you almost instinctively lean into the familiar warmth.

the woman stands rooted to the ground while heeseung quickly scurries off.

“m-my sincerest apologies! i did not know,” she bows. wonyoung waves a hand at her and turns to look at you instead.

before the crowd starts to gather around you, wonyoung turns her head and swiftly drags you by the wrist through the many nobles.

“wony— princess!” you shriek.

she pulls you into an empty room, away from peering eyes and eavesdroppers. her gaze on you is heavy with emotion and you can barely get a chance to identify them before she speaks.

“what on earth compelled you to come here?”

“i just wanted to see you. you ran off rather quickly last night, much like that heeseung boy.”

“y/n, you can’t just show up here looking like that. i… i told you once you found out who i really was, we could never truly be together,” wonyoung sighs.

you frown, “so you weren’t going to try anyway? were you just going to love me when it was convenient? what happened to all those sweet promises you’ve made to me?”

“i can’t keep those promises if the public found out we were together,” wonyoung clasps your hands together.

“so you were just loving me for the hell of it.”

“i sacrificed lots for you.”

“but you still can’t be with me.” you take wonyoung’s silence as her answer. there’s tears welling up in your eyes and wonyoung’s gaze darts to them instantly.

you tear your hands away from hers to wipe your tears falling down your cheeks.

“this has been… eye-opening. since we were never going to work out anyway, i should take my leave. sorry for taking up your time when you should have been spending it celebrating. happy birthday.”

your heart aches. the beats slow down but you feel like it’s been crushed into little bits, which were then thrown into molten lava and rebuilt. then crushed again by wonyoung.

“wait a moment, don’t…”

“i should have know it would have ended up like this. i’m deeply sorry again, your highness,” you say coldly, bowing.

wonyoung’s mouth is open, almost like she wants to say something. but you can’t be with someone who contradicts herself every time.

“darling,” the nickname slips out and you feel sobs wreck your body, “don’t cry, wait, please.”

“my love, please look at me, please don’t walk away, i was a fool. i wasn’t thinking at all,” wonyoung rambles out, “please stay and listen, which is ironic, i realise but i can’t believe i thought i could ever live life without you. i need you. i was just scared of what they would say, but it doesn’t matter to me anymore. i realised that you’re my only light and i will never find someone better than you. it was all my doing, i never meant to hurt you like this. i’m the one who should be saying sorry.”

wonyoung stares at you, affection and longing in her eyes. so that’s what it was.

“i’m not forgiving you just yet. you still hurt my feelings.”

“of course. i’ll grovel for eternity for your forgiveness.”

you sniffle and slap her cheek lightly, not enough to even hurt.

“i hate that you can make me feel like this.”

“like what?” she asks, looking down at you.

“like everything’s okay.”

“is everything not okay?”

a smile overtakes your face, tears still dripping down your cheeks but you feel contrary.

“don’t ever do that again,” you fling your arms over her shoulders and instinctively, her hands go around your waist.

“i adore you, and if i were to ever hurt you intentionally, please just execute me on the spot,” she whispers into your ear, making you giggle.

“executing the princess is illegal, i would be given the death sentence as well.”

“then we would be together in the afterlife at least.”

“you are such a dork.”

“only yours.”

(to my darling y/n,

i hope everything’s all right back at the bookstore. could i drop by sometime later? maybe we could even read belinda by maria edgeworth. i’ve heard it is quite a worthy read. your wedding gown is gorgeous, for your information, i reckon i’ll sob at the alter. as always, do tell me about your day later. i will be counting down the minutes until i can see your beautiful face. i love you.

forever yours,

wonyoung

to my princess,

of course you can drop by. i’m expecting more books to arrive later in the afternoon. unfortunately for you, i’ve already read belinda but i will reread it with you if you want. i hope you’re doing well back at the castle; how’s the wedding preparations going? tell me all about it later. i’ll be counting down the minutes as well. i love you too.

your darling,

y/n)

#jang wonyoung x reader #wonyoung x reader #ive x reader #ive

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bless-my-demons · 11 months

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Redamancy: Chapter One

Jasper Hale x Reader

Series Summary: What happens when your soulmate is a vampire that struggles to maintain a diet of trying not to kill you? Common sense says run for the hills, nothing is worth your life - but my heart is whispering why not, what’s there to lose?

Warnings: Use of curse words

Notes: I was nervous to start writing from Jasper’s POV, but sometimes you just gotta send it and hope for the best. POV changes in italics at the beginning of their sections!

Word Count: 823

Series Masterlist

• January 24th, 2005 • Forks High School •

Jasper

Another boring day at this high school which means another tally added to the long list of days spent amongst hormonal teenagers for almost no reason.

Almost.

I understand the importance of learning to curb my hunger, to be able to assimilate into society as easily as my coven members. I crave the ability they possess to just exist in public without any hint of the monster that lies within. I’ll give it to Carlisle, not many places could I be immersed in an environment flush with humans, but also have the ability to blame my awkwardness with them on teenage hormones while I adjust. I’m not too keen on taking the risk with literal children, but the risk forces me to maintain a tighter grip on the bloodlust raging inside.

I still don’t like the experimentation of it all.

At least my adopted brothers and sisters are close by whenever I need. I hate that I’m not sure of myself yet, like I’m still in need of the crutch they provide should I need it. This is a never-ending war crawling under my skin. I should be strong enough to control this, I’m nearly 160 years old. I’ve commanded humans and vampires alike, why can I not command my own urges for blood?

I'm deep in my own mind walking alongside Emmett as he talks my ear off about his Jeep and the modifications he contemplates making tonight to kill time, and as we pass the front office to our high school, I nearly miss catching the door before it could crack me across the face.

Once I gain my bearings after the momentary shock of being caught in my thoughts, I let the door drift shut and look to the culprit-

Thoughts are foreign to me all of a sudden.

I immediately stop breathing in shock, my back goes rigid, and blinking becomes a thing of the past as my eyes connect with the most gorgeous girl I’ve ever seen.

I’ve never seen such a beautiful person, human or vampire, in my life. My eyes are greedy as I drink her in. From the white converse, worn overalls, the chunky sweater underneath to ward off the early morning chill, to her beautifully messy hair hastily clipped up in a twist at the base of her head - she’s a breath of fresh air and I’ve been submerged for over a century.

But what really catches me off guard is her scent. She smells like fresh lavender and something else so decadent I can’t quite put my finger on it. I can feel the beginnings of flames licking down my throat at just the microscopic inhale after releasing the door from my death-grip moments ago.

The scent of this bewitching girl had me in such a trance, enough that when Emmett delivers a clap to my shoulder to shake me from my thoughts, I didn’t even realize he was chuckling at my expense.

“Oh god I’m so sorry! I was so focused on my schedule that I didn’t even see you-“ she immediately began apologizing.

“No need to worry, doll. It’ll require a little more than a door to take me out.” I immediately interrupted her nervous rambling. Did I really just say that?

“Jasper Hale.” I stuck my hand out for her to shake, trying to start this introduction all over on the right foot.

I noticed her glance to my outstretched hand and back up to my face as her warm hand slid into mine.

“Y/n, Y/n Y/l/n.” She replied, still looking a little surprised. She squeezed my hand a little before allowing hers to slip from mine.

Just from the small amount of skin to skin contact with this beautiful girl, everything inside of me roars to life. I’m worried that if I glance at my hand, I’ll see the skin crawling from where the heat of her hand lingers.

Surprise, worry, anxiety, embarrassment, self-deprecation, awe - the emotions a rolodex scrolling in rapid succession in the forefront of my mind. The shock of meeting her momentarily throwing my supernatural ability for a loop. I haven’t had such shit control over the emotions surrounding me since I was a newborn vampire.

I’ve never had such an interesting reaction to something, or rather someone, before - it scares me slightly. I can only gape as Y/n turns and makes her way quickly to class.

Reader

Can someone die from stupidity?

I’m at my new high school for less than an hour and I’ve already made the biggest fool of myself. I almost just took out the most attractive human being at this school by complete accident.

After introducing myself to Jasper Hale, I hastily turned around and booked it for my first class in the hopes to avoid further insult to injury.

Smooth, Y/n. Real fucking smooth.

#jasper hale x reader #jasper hale #jasper whitlock #jasper whitlock hale #jasper hale x female!reader #female reader insert #twilight #twilight fanfiction #romance #slow burn #redamancy series #bless-my-demons

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h0unds-of-h3ll · 6 months

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Season of the witch

Elvis Presley. One of the biggest and most handsome musicians comes through your sleepy little town you couldn’t help yourself from giving him your potent honey pie. Little does he know it’s laced with your love sex pollen.

50s Elvis Presley x Witch! Reader.

Word count: 9k.

Warnings: Elvis becomes obsessed. To the point where he’s a munch. Sex pollen. Witchcraft, little talk of religion. Manipulation. Dubious consent. Talk of being eaten out, teeth. Heavy emphasis on breeding. Little coercion. Making out. Stalking. Slight noncon. You literally put him under a spell so he’ll be your pet. Titty sucking. Period sex. He has mommy issues and calls you mama a lot. Talk of drugs.

A/n: The only reason why I wrote this is because it’s inspired by one of my favorite movies The Love Witch, the scene where she poisons Wayne and he becomes so madly in love with her. Wanted to write this for Halloween too. So have a very devilish night imagining yourself as a witch in the 50s and having a 22yr old Elvis being bedeviled by you.

It was cold, very cold for a Halloween night in the Deep South. It had just rained and poured the night prior. The streets flooded with water, and puddles grew. The gold and brown dead leaves fell into the wakeless puddles. The sky overhead was dark with storm clouds; it was barely 5 o'clock, and it looked like midnight. It was so depressing, just as you liked it in your little town.

You made a honey pie for him. For Elvis Presley. You’re not sure how the governor arranged for him to perform at the little banquet. Your town needed the money and the praise. The once-booming oil town has now dwindled into a pass-through town to get to the interstate. Nothing was there; a couple of restaurants and a grocery store were it. A few antique mom-and-pop stores—nothing to stop at. The town's population barely broke two hundred this year. Full of old Bible-thumping seniors. The governor presumed if he got Elvis to perform then newcomers would realize how interesting the town is and would get people to move. Balance the old with the young.

Children were a phenomenon; the only time you saw kids was when it was their grandparent's turn to babysit. The youngest people who lived there were you and your friend Eileen, who was a few years older than you. She was actually the one who introduced you to your way of living. The art of witchcraft. She taught you mostly everything she knew, specializing in love. The most dangerous part of crafting. She even taught you how to make the love potion in the pie. The pie that he’ll eat.

Eileen said that she’ll meet with you at the hall. A stuffy run-down chapel that no one used, that was built in the 20s. It was a bit ironic that the governor chose Elvis, he wasn’t known for his godly beliefs but for his rather devilish dances. The governor came to realize the only way he could change the town was to shift the focus of religion, so people would feel comfortable living here.

Eileen had introduced you to a cult a few towns over that allowed you to express yourself better. To allow your blessings to become stronger. The cold nips at your legs and the pad between your thighs make your skin even more sensitive. Your black stockings didn’t allow any warmth. The dark wool coat with fur-lined on the inside was your only heat source. Your black jean dress had a white long sleeve under it to give you a little bit more heat too. The wool socks under your boots helped a bit too. Your cheeks and nose are painted a dusty pink.

The pie was in a plastic round Tupperware bowl. Surely he'd only need one bite for it to hit, you made absolutely no mistake in making the pie potent. Not wanting for your only chance of him falling in love with you go to waste. Oct 31st, 1957 you were going to make Elvis Presley fall madly in love with you.

The chapel breathed with people. The seniors in town didn't bother coming. They were actually repulsed by the notion of Elvis coming here. However, the hundred or so people who did were in a two-hundred-mile radius. You're not sure how they knew he was coming but they were here. You shuffled past all the different giddy girls, trying to find Eileen. She'd most likely be in the back eating the crackers that they stored for commission.

From the amount of people who came it looked like the second coming of Christ. The governor decided to make a row of food outside for the people who couldn't get in. Handing out plates full of homemade meals. You knew that you had to hide the pie in the back closet. How you were going to make Elvis eat it would be the most important question. Maybe since you and Eileen were huddled in the back he’d walk past and you’d be able to convince him. That was a big maybe.

Your attention went back to the governor who looked at you. The governor was an older man, named Henry. Late in his 40s with dark black hair now turned gray. He was tall and wasn't ugly in the slightest. His family was politicians, founded the town even though it was his right to become governor when his legacy was passed down. His lineage extends to the church along with the police. His Father was the priest of the chapel until he died a few years ago. The only reason why you knew this was because you had a fling with him. He was cute and the town was little so why wouldn’t you? It was only until you realized that the love pollen only amplified their deepest subconscious was what warded you off of him. He was nothing but the son of Satan himself. Coming home and finding him doped up to the point where he’s incapable of thinking because the only thing he could think about was you. Thankfully, Eileen helped you reverse the spell but something still in him yearns to be with you. You learned from your mistake and made the pie far less potent.

As you stood in the long line you listened to women chatter amongst themselves about Elvis and where he was. Holding onto your plastic bowl you moved in with the crowd, slowly but surely. The table the governor was sitting at was right by the chapel's door. He smiled as he handed over another full plate.

“Thanks for comin’.”

Finally making it to the door he holds his hands out expecting you to give your pie to him with a smile. His dark blue eyes are holding you frozen. You see his smile falter when he realizes it’s you. His face drains.

“I never knew you liked Elvis.”

He crosses his arms, giving you a shocked face. You shrug your shoulders.

“You never asked, Henry.”

He nodded, his eyes falling to his feet thinking for a second before he looked back up. Excitement etched into his face.

“Say, why don’t I take you out tonight. We can go back to my house, get fat off some candy, and watch old cartoons after the show?”

You give him a sheepish smile, patting him softly on the shoulder. His eyes light up at you touching him. You almost feel bad for letting him down.

“How about a different night?”

His face falls and he nods.

“Yeah, that’s fine.”

He sniffles as tears well up in his eyes.

“Jus’ miss you is all.”

You blink a few times, trying to regain your mind. You hear women gossiping about you behind you.

“I know, I’ll see you around though.”

He wipes his eyes with the backs of his hands, his eyes lingering on you far longer than they should’ve.

The church pews were gone so the floor was open. There were people stuffed into corners and billowed out the doors in lines. As you made your way in you were hit with overwhelming heat from all of the energies combining together. Your wool jacket almost made you sweat.

You weaved your way through the back, getting glares shot at you. Rubbing arms with others as you went behind the curtains down the hall to the familiar door where you and Eileen hid during Sunday mass for free food. Relieved to find that no one was in the back it made it easy. Everyone was too focused on the front. You positioned the plastic bowl on your hip and knocked three times.

You stood there looking back and forth to make sure that your coast was clear and it was. Your stomach aches with a tight squeeze. Menstrual cramps settling in. You wonder for a moment if Elvis would still fuck you if you bled. The thought made you nervous, and the fur of your jacket dampened. Goddammit, Eileen, where were you?

You raise your fist to knock again before you hear a muffled voice.

“Password?”

You roll your eyes popping your hip out that has the tub on it.

“Eileen I don’t have time for this.”

Pleading doesn’t help.

“Whose Eileen? Only a witch burns here.”

After thinking carefully about what the password could be, it finally dawns on you. Witch. Eileen and her play on words are going to be the death of you. She was a highly intelligent individual, which was one of the reasons that drew you to her.

“Salem, final answer.”

Groaning the answer, she smirked behind the door.

“What year?”

Pushing your sweaty forehead against the wooden door, you shut your eyes tight. A sinner sweating in church—how comical.

“1692 through 3, let me in. I don't have time for this; he can be here any minute!”

You take your head off the door once you feel the momentum shift, and it reveals Eileen. A petite, long-haired woman whose face was practically bone, with striking green eyes, beams at you. Mouth stuffed with cheap saltine crackers—you don’t know how she enjoys those things.

“You know there’s a feast outside.”

Remarking on how strange it was that she’d rather eat cheap crackers than a home-cooked meal. She chews slowly, the tub of crackers in one hand as you walk into the small closet. Kicking the door behind you closed with the heel of your boot. A light bulb dangles in the middle, illuminating the room. Bibles and crosses line the shelves. Your skin erupts with goose flesh. The smaller woman shrugs.

“Half of the stuff out there will poison me, I know those old bats target us.”

She smiles softly, her voice muffled as she finally swallows.

“Like you with your own poison.”

She wiggles her eyebrows and smiles as you grow flustered.

“Be more quiet, Eileen! It’s like you want us to get caught!”

Scoffing, you turn around, reaching high up, and place the tub on one of the shelves next to a bible. You discard your coat over the top of the plastic. Turning back around, you watch her stuff more crackers into her mouth. Half the tub is gone.

“Do you think it will actually work this time? I mean, not like what happened with Henry; he’s a wreck out there.”

Sighing at the end of your sentence. You wanted Elvis to be in love with you; sure, so did every woman and girl in the world, but you didn’t want him to be devastatingly obsessed with you. Eileen shakes her head. For the first time in minutes, she puts the jar on one of the shelves and swallows thickly.

“Honey I watched you practice; I even asked the superiors what they thought, and they even encouraged your attempt. Yes, y/n I think you’ll be fine.”

“Promise?”

She sticks out her pinky, and you wrap yours around it. There’s a screech of feedback into a microphone and a roll of thunder as it begins to pour rain.

“As you may know, my name is Elvis Presley.”

Big, heavy policemen were situated in the front and center of the stage, holding women who threw themselves at Elvis, back into the crowd. He was only a couple of feet above the regular ground. A few managed to slip through and got to Elvis. He’d laugh and shake it off, singing the rest of Hound Dog. As the men got distracted, you and Eileen held hands and tucked yourselves by the front left of the stage. Some girls shot you dirty looks, but it wasn’t anything you hadn’t already seen before. The people in the room were stuffed so tight that you couldn’t stand still without touching elbows with someone.

He shifted his hips back and forth, his black trousers hanging loosely on his skinny hips. His orange shirt clung to his sweaty skin, and the dark brown wool jacket did him no favors. His black hair was slicked back so much that you could see the globs of gel. He’s struggling with the cord of the microphone, moving around so much that it keeps getting tangled. Throwing his head back and standing on his tiptoes, he takes off his jacket, and the girls scream at the action. One of them manages to grab the sleeve and drag it off the stage, and a couple of them fight over it. He restrains himself from laughing hysterically. His leg starts jumping. His eyes run over the vast group, and they fall on you. Eileen squeezes your hand, smiling at you. His eyes linger on you as he sings, then he looks away, breaking your spell, and walks to the other side of the stage. It wasn’t more than a second but it felt like hours.

Thunder booms throughout the sky, and the lightning makes the artwork on the windows glimmer. The storm outside grows. The song finally ends and he’s a huffing mess. He sips on the glass of water by the rest of his band. He sets the glass back down on a stool and stands in the middle again in front of the microphone.

“Never been much of a Halloween guy, but y’all are makin’ me change my mind.”

He swallows, wiping his face with the back of his hand. He rolls up the sleeves of his dress shirt up to his elbows. His voice is quieter with the crowd roaring.

“What am I goin' to do with all you women?”

He licks his lips, his fat bottom lip tucked between his front teeth as he revels in the roar.

“Huh?”

Egging them on, you just watch amazed- speechless at how he has a hundred people at his will. Similar to how Jesus willed people together.

He cups the microphone in his big hand and drags the stand with him as he walks to the side of the stage, farthest away from you. The girls claw at him over the policeman's shoulders. He crouches down on his knees.

“Shouldn't ask this in a holy house, but I'm sure God will forgive me for it,”

“What d’ya want me to do to you after the show?”

He pushes the mic over to a young girl no older than sixteen in a white dress. She's a mess.

“I-i can't say that!”

She shrieks and it makes him smile, shaking his head. He stands and takes away the mic.

“Y’all got some dirty minds.”

He walks to the middle of the stage leaning over to a girl whose face is red and she's hyperventilating. Her big eyes almost came out of her head as she stared at Elvis. She almost weeps as he asks her the same question. She's paralyzed and can't speak.

“Cat got your tongue, darlin’?”

He smiles wide, amused by his joke.

“Or do I?”

You watch as she turns white as a ghost, her body falls lump and the girls behind her hold her up. She fainted from just talking to him. It's a hassle for everyone to part and an officer to lift her up and escort her out. Elvis shakes his head again before moving over to the side you were on. You stare at his creased leather shoes. They're polished but the creases make white lines across them. The laces aren't matched on both of them either.

“Gon’ do one more ‘fore I gotta start doin’ my job again.”

A few boos were shouted. The others screamed suggestions for him to play. He smiles before crouching to you. A cop in front is sandwiched between you two. You can see the sweat beaded on his forehead and trickle down the base of his throat. The lightning struck and a few girls jumped but you were too enchanted with his eyes. A shade of blue you’ve never seen before. It’s a staring contest between you both. Testing to see whose will is strongest. His eyes held the fire burning in your stomach. He made the fever boil your skin. He made you undeniably horny. The longer you stare the more time you commit his gaze to memory. His plush lips part and he asks the question.

The room is hot as hell itself. You can’t hear from the storm and the women, but the metal mic is placed in front of you. His hand is mere inches from your face, he has a couple gold rings on his fingers. You want to taste the sweat. Suck on those long digits until the diamonds weigh heavy on your tongue. Without hesitation, you speak into the microphone proudly. Staring him straight in his eyes.

“I want you to fuck me after the show.”

The room goes quiet. The heavy pattering of rain is the only thing heard. Gasps spread throughout the small chapel. A few applauded your bravery for saying what they wanted to say but couldn’t. His dark blue eyes with dark lashes go wide. Blinking profusely at what your voice told him. You just a little nungen wanted to fuck him. Shocked to find that a little girl had thoughts of a grown woman. His mouth is parted as he breathes heavily, removing the microphone from you back to the front of the stage. He just stares at you enamored. For the first time in years since he started performing he’s speechless. That bold dominant act of a man is gone and replaced by a blushing boy.

He regains himself with his deep chuckle, which brings your thighs to dampen with slickness. You shift your thighs together to satiate the pulse of your throbbing clit. Eileen beams up at you like a child given a bag of candy. She doesn't need to say that you did it and that your plan is working, you know it.

He leans between the cop, close to your face to where you can smell his breath. Peppermint and cola.

“Meet me in the back, and I’ll make it happen.”

He finishes the show as a heaping puddle in the middle of the stage. The last song was Crying in the Chapel which you deemed the utmost respect. The cops start to push people out of the chapel, and the doors opening makes the sound of rain louder along with the raging whip of the wind. Most people dashed out to their cars, and others had to wait beside a designated corner to be picked up. Eileen squeezes your hand once more. Leaning her lips to your ear she whispers.

“Make sure he eats at least a crumb.”

She presses a quick kiss to your cheek before she leaves. The curtains had closed around the stage so you couldn’t see Elvis but you knew the only way out was the side of the stage where you stood. A few lingered and watched as he left, giving a sheepish wave. You absentmindedly tried to walk straight past the cops but their arms struck out and hit you in your stomach pulling you back. Confusion writes across your face.

“I need to go back there.”

The cop smiles and laughs.

“Yeah, you and every girl in here.”

You shake your head.

“You don’t get it Elvis gave me permission to meet him back there.”

He gives you an incredulous look not believing you. You rub your temples and sigh, becoming frustrated before you have to pull out the card you dreaded most.

“Listen, I know the governor and he trusts me enough to be back there. I have my jacket and a pie I made for the banquet in the storage closet. I just need to go back there and get it, that's all. I’ll come right back and it won’t be more than a minute.”

It’s quiet and you’re not sure if your half-true story would work. You’re more worried that he’s left already and thinking that you stood him up. Finally, the cop shrugs and shifts horizontally to allow you to pass as you do you smile. He grabs your arm before you can get too far.

“No more than three minutes.”

“Yessir.”

He lets go and you continue to walk to the door that Elvis had walked behind. You’re not sure where you’ll find him. There are only three different rooms in the little hallway, one of them is a unisex bathroom, the other is the pastor's office and the other is the storage room. Some of Elvis’s band walks past you talking about what they're going to do after the show. They don’t even care that you’re around them as they shuffle out the back door at the end of the hall. You go to the closet and open the door not expecting to find the man of the hour there. Your stomach drops and your body burns with goosebumps. Cheeks heating up flustered.

Absolutely floored. He’s eating the pie. The lid is discarded by your jacket. He’s sitting on the edge of a square table, Eileen’s cracker tub empty by him. He takes his thick index with a chunky golden ring and swipes it through the last syrup and crumb of the pie. His legs are spread out wide, and the black slacks cover his wide thighs. He sticks the pad of his finger between his plump lips and his cheeks hollow out. He places the tub by the crackers and leans his head back. He closed his eyes and groaned deep in his throat.

You can’t even begin to fathom what’s happening. You don’t know why he would choose your food in the back. How he chose the closet rather than the pastor's office. Why did he eat the pie when there’s a feast outside but then the realization hits. None of the visitors brought food and only the residents brought some so the visitors ate all the food outside waiting so he had none. From the mere viewing of watching him eat, he was ravenous. Dread fills you as you realize he’s eaten the entire goddamn thing. Realizing someone was in the room with him he stared at you, his eyes half closed as his gaze ran over you. He licks his lips and wipers his hand on the top of his trousers. He leans back, putting his hands behind him.

“Did you make this?”

His voice is hoarse and a deep gravel within his chest. Blood rushes to your cheeks. Could he tell that you were that inconspicuous? That he could taste the pollen? No. He couldn’t, could he? You nod, incapable of speaking. Your throat is dry from anxiety.

“It’s really good. Should be a baker or somethin’”

He breathes heavily, his cheeks and neck a bit pink. His face is still glossed with sweat.

“I wanna know what you cooked in it. Jus’ something I ain’t ever tasted before.”

Your eyes nearly pop out of your head. You’ve stood in the same spot in front of the closed door.

“It’s a secret. An old recipe that uses natural oils.”

You hoped and prayed that your answer wasn’t as suspicious as it seems. He nods his head before standing.

“‘M sorry for eatin’ all of it. Didn’ mean to, I just burn through so much energy out there. Can’t help myself.”

You smile shakily.

“Oh.”

He scratches the back of his neck, grinning. His face is becoming more red with the blush creeping up his neck. He stands in the middle of the room only a few feet away.

“Which led me to eatin’ your pie. Hope you’re not angry or nothin’”

You shake your head, wringing your hands anxiously. You can’t look at him so you look at his shoes. His smell has taken over the room. Your hormones being amplified because of your period makes his scent intoxicating. From the way he’s acting it seems like how you smell is making him antsy too. He’s tapping his foot.

“Made it for you.”

As soon as you mutter the end of your sentence he walks to you. He reaches out and takes one of your hands and it makes your heart stop. You look up at him with wide eyes. The height difference makes him overlook you, he cranes his head down peering at you. Your knees go weak looking in his eyes. He smiles wide, pearly teeth and squeezes your hand. Your back is up against the wooden door as he holds you against it with his waist. His torso pressed firmly against yours. You can feel him. Feel how solid his cock is.

“You did? I appreciate that honey.”

You wish he would kiss you, touch you more but he doesn’t. He just holds your hand, his grip makes the metal of his rings pinch your hand. You watch his mood shift in his eyes to a much darker tone. You can see the sweat bead and fall down his sculpted face. Feel the heat radiate off of his vast body.

“Pretty little thing.”

His voice has dropped an octave lower and it’s nothing more than a mumble but you hear it. Before he leans in there’s a banging by your head. It slams three times over.

“Ready to go!”

His touch leaves and your heart aches. A sheen of sadness wedges it into his eyes. He realizes that this might be the last time he sees you before he leaves for Memphis.

“Gimme your address.”

He pushes out hurriedly. It’s not a question, it's a demand. You start stuttering an unfamiliar speech impediment summoning.

“I-I don’t have anything to write on or with.”

He nods solemnly but he doesn’t take no as an answer. He removes himself from you entirely and scavenges throughout the small room. He finally grabs one of the Bibles and a pen tucked inside the book. He hands both of them to you and you take them. As you open the front page you write your address and name on the front cover. It’s strange since it’s like giving him your autograph. As you write your address he’s hovering over you watching you etch your way into his heart. The man on the other side pounds on the door once more.

“There’s a cop out here asking ‘bout some girl. You gotta open up!”

Elvis’s hand softly graces your shoulder, urging you to finish.

“Just give me a damn second!”

He bites back through gritted teeth. You jump at his sudden outburst. Finishing suddenly with a period. He smiles hugely seeing you done. He kisses your cheek and you’re stunned at the softness of his lips against your skin. You give him the book and turn around to watch him leave. As he touches the door handle he pivots.

“I want to know your name.”

You’re taken aback not understanding why, but you say it nonetheless. He nods his head, saying it to himself, committing it to memory.

“I like that name, it suits you.”

Warmth spreads over you at his compliment. You stare at his broad back as he opens the door and leaves. You listen to the rain, as the familiar cop is stunned to see Elvis so close. Before he walks into the small room watching you melt.

“I told you three minutes.”

“I know, he just took longer than I expected.”

Sitting quietly in the back of one of the officers' cars. After the rendezvous with Elvis, you watched as the cops took people who lived in town back home. Serving as a transportation hub. You waited for your turn. The cop didn’t say a lot during the ride, only a few questions about where you lived and about Elvis. You shivered every time you talked about the musician. Not only was it freezing in the car, but your furry coat couldn’t keep up. But you were riddled with the fact that he had eaten the entire pie. You traced your fingers over the plastic tub in your lap. Not only did he do that, he has your address. Will he visit you tonight? Will he visit you at all?

It’s dark outside as you pass through streetlights. Your stomach twists and fills with butterflies as you think about him being in your home. Something that you imagined for so long is now coming true.

“Is this it up here?”

The cop asks and you nod, he parks and watches you walk up the sidewalk and into your house before he leaves.

The rain manages to soak you for the few minutes you walk in it. Your house is grim when you enter. Dark and cold. You take off your jacket and place it and the tub on the island in the kitchen. Opening the drawer below the sink you take a box of matches and light the candles you had scattered around the house. The soft glow allowed warmth to spread. The smell of pumpkins started to flourish throughout your home.

Turning on your little box television to a random black and white cartoon. The last thing you decided to do to get settled in was to play a record. Your collection has grown over the past few years. You had more Elvis albums than any other musicians. Making a vital point to buy one whenever a movie of his would come out or a listening party would be announced. Making Eileen drive you to the nearest record store since the one in town wouldn’t have it until a week later. You’ve arranged his albums to be the ones in the front. Knowing that you were more likely to play those than any other. The record player itself sat between the columns. You touched the covers as you shuffled through. Deciding to put loving you on since it was fairly new.

You start to sway your hips to the first song that plays. Slipping off your boots and socks you walk to the back of the house where your bedroom was. You unbuttoned the oval buttons on your dress and folded it onto your dresser. Left in the long sleeve and little cotton panties. You opened the drawers, mumbling the words to yourself as you listened to Elvis’s singing. You grabbed a new pair of panties and a nightgown. Shedding the rest of your clothes you take the new ones with you into your small bathroom and draw a bath.

The hot water fills the tub and the room becomes a sauna, you place the clothes on your sink and grab the towel from the cupboard. You stare at your naked body in the mirror. Your body is already damp from the rainwater and the condensation that fills the air. Your nipples are already hard from thinking about him. God did the pollen work on you instead of him? You run your hands over your sides, up from your hips to the swell of your breasts. Imagining his hands instead. His song plays as you sway to his voice. Talk to me like that. Sing to me. Tell me you love me. It thunders outside and lightning flashes through the window above your bathtub.

You sigh, skin flushed from the heat. You step your foot into the hot water and turn off the faucet. Slipping deeper into the water. Completely relaxing into the oasis. You wonder what his lips will feel like on your own. What his mouth will feel like between your legs. Would he care about the taste of blood on his tongue? You close your eyes and dream. Surely you won’t have to dream any longer. You reach up, and the droplets of water run down your chest. Taking a tiny jar of essential oils you let it drip onto your neck and spread down. Cleansing and releasing your energy. You put the jar back where you got it from and lounged in the alluring water.

What if it didn't work? You ask yourself as insecurity wedges itself into your thoughts. He seemed awfully engaged in you at the chapel, but what if that's as far as it'll go? Your heart aches at the thought you did all of it for nothing. Maybe you should've learned from what happened to Henry and cut your ties. You don't hear the knock on your door, because the record is too loud. You think about how fitting it is that lonesome cowboy plays.

You hear the incessant pounding on your door like one of those cheesy horror movies where the victim runs to the house to escape the villain. You thought it would go away but it doesn't, it just gets louder. You groan, opening your eyes to stare at the white tiled wall.

“Just a second!”

You yell out and you blush as you remember him yelling that out earlier just to have a little more time with you. There's a dreadful ache between your legs as you dry off with the towel. You need something to fill the emptiness, that void that's growing oh so apparent. You need him.

You don’t drain the tub, as you put on your panties. Not caring if you bleed into them, Eileen knows a remedy to get the stains out anyway. The nightgown is dark red with the lace around your tits and thighs black. You smile as you remind yourself of a skimpier Betty Boop. You can't answer the door looking so promiscuous so you throw the fluffy bathrobe over it. The banging on your door grows, along with Elvis's slow love ballads.

Opening the door you're instantly hit with a massive gust of wind and emotions. It's him. He looks like a kicked puppy. He's sopping wet with water. His orange shirt is now a dark brown. His hair is messy and scattered along his face. His once dark blue eyes are now pale gray. He's heaving for air. As you stare longer you realize he didn't drive a car. He ran here with the Bible you wrote in his hand.

“Elvis! I-what're you doing here? Why are you in the rain?”

Your brain runs too fast for you to comprehend his presence. The faint glow of your candles from inside is the only light shining onto his face.

“Had to see you. Ever since the show, I can't stop thinkin’ ‘bout you. I-I don’t know what’s wrong with me, I've never felt like this before.”

His voice is sheepish like he’s afraid to admit what he just said. As he looks at you he’s almost brought to tears by how pretty you look. If you don’t let him in he’ll sit right down on your porch in front of your door and wait until you do.

“I mean come in, you’re going to catch a cold standing out there!”

You grab onto his forearm and pull him in, opening the door wider for him. He winced at your touch. It’s too much for him, he’s too sensitive. You shut the door behind him and he stands in front of it like a statue. He sets the Bible down on top of one of his records, he smiles. He stares down at the floor, he can’t look at you. You wring your hands nervously. He’s not the same man you saw at the chapel, he’s softer, fragile.

“Let me get you some clothes, and warm up the bath. I’ll be right back hon don’t go anywhere.”

You turn to leave and he catches your hand. His eyes are glassy and his lips pout. His hand is strikingly cold, and his eyebrows are furrowed.

“Can I go with you? I don't want to be alone again.”

You nibble on your bottom lip, contemplating how you are going to fix him. God the pie worked. It worked too well. You nodded your head. You were going to have to call Eileen for her help, you can't have a human puppy always following you, especially since it was Elvis.

“Why don't we start by taking off your shoes and socks, yeah? Don't want you to leave a trail behind you.”

He nods, he's already made a puddle by your door from just standing there.

“Yes, mama.”

Your heart pounds in your chest. For some reason, your body burns alight at the name. He’s bent down and untying his shoes.

“What did you call me?”

You ask softly, not believing your ears.

“Mama, I hope that’s fine I just I lov-,”

He stops himself and chews on his bottom lip cursing himself for slipping up.

“I just like ya so much that I wanna call you mama..you make me feel so different, so-so special like my own mama does and I just- I can’t help calling you it.”

He’s rambling now, trying to justify the newfound feelings he’s having. Feelings that are too big for him to have. Too potent and unfamiliar. He’s had girlfriends that he’s loved, sure, but never so much so as he does about you right now.

He finally slips off his shoes and socks and stands upright. He trails behind you as you walk back into your room. He’s mesmerized by all your decor and art. The makeup scattered on your vanity. The frame of your bed. Your clothes. The smell of your perfume. Everything you like, he loves. He keeps asking you questions about your interests and the various cult things you have strewn about. You answer every question given honestly. It’s the least you can do. You didn’t realize how difficult it was to find clothes in your own wardrobe to fit him. The record finally stops and scratches on repeat.

You hand him a baggy white shirt and some checkered boxers he can change into. You show him the bathroom, and as you enter he’s only seconds away from following. You sit on the edge of the tub, sticking your hand into the water to see if it’s cool enough. You turn on the faucet to warm it. As you wait, he sits on the toilet by you. He stretches his long legs out as he watches you. He takes off his rings and places them on the sink with the clothes you gave him.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone as pretty as you.”

He mumbles and it makes you blush. He thinks you’re pretty. Not only that but he thinks you’re incomparable.

“You don’t mean that.”

You shake your head, as you reply he finishes taking off his rings, and one of his hands cups your jaw. Making you look him dead in his uncanny eyes.

“What’s there not to like mama? I like everything ‘bout you and I don’t like it when you don’t see what I see,”

He runs his thumb over your chin.

“It ain’t right thinkin’ that you ain’t pretty.”

You nod. He shakes his head.

“Say it.”

“I’m pretty.”

He smiles, but it’s cold. There’s no mirth behind it. The water is finally hot enough for him to get in.

“It’s ready.”

He nods and removes his touch from you. You go to stand and he holds onto your hand. Giving you puppy eyes.

“Don’t want you to leave.”

You didn’t feel right leaving him, but you also desperately needed to call Eileen and ask her how to make him human again. You chew on your bottom lip, wondering what the right thing is. Finally, you smile at him.

“I’ll be right outside by the door. I just have to call a friend and ask her when the storm should pass.”

His eyes linger on you and he finally lets go.

“Alright, don’t go too far mama I’ll miss you.”

You give him a soft smile and walk outside the door, closing it behind you. Walking back to the front of the house you stopped the record from scratching again. Putting the plastic back into its sleeve and by the Bible.

The old rotary phone stuck to the wall is right next to the door and the player. You hear him take off his clothes, the wet smack of them hitting the floor makes your thighs burn. You dial Eileen’s number, cradling the phone to your face. She needs to pick up, if she doesn’t you’re not sure what you’ll do. The line is dead until she finally picks up.

“You’re going to have to hurry, I'm with Jim.”

Eileen says hurriedly. Jim was her latest fling and the superior in the cult. You sigh in relief at her static voice. You curl the cord around your finger as you think.

“Elvis is here. In my house.”

“That’s good!”

Eileen says ecstatically.

“No, not good. It’s Henry level bad again.”

“Oh.”

She whispers into the phone, her mood instantly changing.

“How much did he eat?”

You rub your temples as the memory of him in the chapel comes back.

“The whole thing.”

She whistles low. Your anxiety grows as the morbid thoughts come into play.

“Well, you’re not going to like how to reverse it.”

You’re happy to know that you can even reverse it.

“Really, how?”

“Mama..”

Elvis whines loudly. It’s a high-pitched whine. You listen and hear the water splashing around.

“Jim told me how to reverse it, and Elvis is going to need to taste your blood.”

“My blood!”

You shriek at the incredulity of this all.

“How am I supposed to get him to taste my blood?!”

Eileen is quiet on the other side of the phone for a few seconds.

“Are you on your period?”

You're taken aback as to why the question matters. And then it hits you. He has to eat you out. A shiver runs up your spine.

“Mama..”

Elvis whines out again.

“Yes, why?”

You can hear Eileen talk to Jim before she's rushed to hang up.

“It's going to help you out, trust me. Oh! And before I forget he's going to have to taste his semen and your blood together. It's a love spell after all and lovemaking is the best solution to get it out of him. Bye, y/n!”

The line goes dead after, and your mouth falls open in shock. Not only were you going to have to make him sleep with you, but you were going to have to make him eat you out after. You placed your head on the wall, putting the phone back into the case. Listening to the wailing man in the bathtub moan out Mama for the third time.

It was strange seeing him in normal clothes. They were all too big for him, so they hung loosely on his body. He nursed a glass of warm milk to sip on as he sat beside you and watched the old black-and-white movie play. His gold rings gleamed brighter with the candles. Your couch could only seat three people, and he chose to sit in the middle, closest to you. His arm stretched out behind you. A quilt was shared between you both. He smelled like you. It finally felt like things had died down and simmered. It felt like when a teen girl had a boy over at her parent's house just to watch movies. You couldn't help yourself from going over what Eileen had said. Make him fuck you and eat you out after.

You've only spoken to him briefly since he got out of the bath. He only asked for a warm glass of milk, and the rest was quiet. There's a sensual scene playing on the TV. A woman is arching her back as the man thrusts into her, it looks as if it was made in the ‘30s.

You feel the soft brush of his lips against your ear as he whispers.

“I think I could do that to you better than he can.”

Finally, after everything, you let go and surrender yourself to him. Not caring for the consequences, just relishing the moment. You crane your neck to the side, looking at him. His eyes are glossed over and his pale blues trail over your face. The tip of his nose is mere inches from your cheek. His middle finger swirls over the top of the glass. His lips are damp from the milk. His eyes burn into your stomach, directly into your womb.

“You think so?”

You ask and he nods, his voice dropping, and he takes a sip from his glass. His Adam's apple bobbles as he swallows.

“I know so.”

He leans forward, placing the glass on your coffee table, and sits back, spreading his legs out wide so his knee touches yours. When you look at him, you can’t resist; you take the blanket off of his lap and yours. You swing a leg over his lap and sit down on his broad thighs. He looks up at you as you lean down. His hands squeeze the sides of your thighs, and his rings are cold on your legs. Your robe is parting so he can see your cleavage, and his eyes flick from your tits back to your eyes. The woman moans in the program. You can feel how solid his cock is—warm, hard, and right between your weeping legs. His lips are parted, and his hot breath fans across your cheeks.

“Can I suck on them, mama?”

He whispers to you. You nod, shifting back so you’re sitting down fully, face to-face with him. Your robe and night dress are riding up your thighs. Taking the sash in your hand, you slip it through the rest of the robe. The sides fall open, you shimmy it off, and it falls onto your floor with a soft thud. Your nipples are already pebbled; the nightdress didn’t leave much to the imagination. He stares at the peaks. His hands leave your thighs, and they shake as they hover over your tits. You’d be shocked if he was a virgin from his rampant lifestyle, but now it looks like he’s never even touched a woman. He can’t touch you; he’ll burn. You perched on his lap, which is enough for the blood to rush to his lower abdomen. In all honesty, he’s not sure if he’s ever felt this hard- not since he first hit puberty.

He feels your tiny hands touch his big ones and place them on your tits. He doesn’t grope; he just holds them there. The warmth in his palms makes the buds perk up even more.

“Oh.”

He mutters. You wiggle your hips on his length, and his head hits the back of the couch. His eyes roll back. He slips the bands of your dress off, and the garment pools around your hips. The bareness of your body makes you shiver. He pauses, admiring from afar. He likes the swell, the curve, and the color. He likes all of it. All of you. He cups the sides of your chest, pushing them together and watching them fall. You’re too sensitive for his bemusement.

“Elvis, please..”

You urge him by pushing his hands firmly onto both of your tits. He nods, and a hand drops onto your lower back, leading you closer to him. Your stomach pressed against his. He takes one of your breasts, his mouth parting as he licks over your nipple. You arch your back to his face like the actress did on the screen. He takes the rest of it into his mouth. The wet softness of his tongue sends a wrath of fluttering to your cunt. Your hands squeeze his shoulders as his teeth graze the sensitive nerves. He gropes your hips with his free hand, encouraging you to grind against him. His eyes are closed, and his grip on your waist is going to leave a bruise. His rings bite into your skin. He nibbles on your nipple; it makes you jump and moan out his name, long and slow.

His hips jut up into your pussy, making you bounce when you come down. You feel dampness seep onto the lips of your cunt. He hits his head back onto the couch. He moans deep in his chest. He’s panting.

“Did you-?”

You ask quietly, not trying to upset him, and he nods.

“Yeah, I think so.”

He admits it absentmindedly. You smile softly, and before getting up, you press a quick kiss on his temple. It’s sweaty, but you can’t care. He watches you like a wolf as the dress falls off of you and down on the floor over your robe, leaving you in your little panties that have a dark patch under them. He adores how you look in the soft light of the candles and the TV static. The rain pours on. He lifts his hips up, slipping the boxers down his long legs. His cock springs up between his legs. Your expectations were exceeded. He’s uncut, thicker than you imagined, and what he lacks in length he makes up for with girth. The head is a ruddy color, and purple veins pulse along the side. It’s painful how hard he is—pins and needles shooting at his nerves. Even if he just came, he’s still rock solid. Cum is dripping out of his slit and down his length. Pooling at his balls.

Yours–his shirt, hangs over his taut stomach, touching the base. He crosses his arms and lifts the shirt over his head, leaving him bare on your couch. There’s a mountain of clothes on the floor, along with the blanket. The sight you imagined for so long made your clit throb. His legs spread out, his heavy dick in the middle of his thick thighs, and his arms spread out along the edge of the couch. His inky hair scattered messily along his face. But most of all, the way he looks at you, hungrily as a man starved.

You tuck your fingers under the band of your panties and take them off. His cock twitches at seeing you bare, he wets his lips.

“Can I make love with you mama?”

You smile sheepishly as you walk over to him. Sitting beside him, you cup his face. Scratching softly at his cheeks.

“Of course.”

You press your lips to his and it feels like fireworks burst within your soul. Getting a kiss from Elvis was a milestone in your book. His lips were soft, and his tongue tasted like milk. He was slow at first, letting you be in control, but as your tiny hands wrap around his broad shoulders and pull at the hair at the base of his neck, he loses himself. He becomes hungry, pushing his fat tongue into your mouth. He grabs onto your hips, making you lay down on the couch. Your head is by the end table. He moans into your mouth when he feels your soft thighs around his skinny waist. The groan vibrates into your chest, making you squirm. His body feels like a sauna, making you sweat. His body is sticking to yours. He leans back, his knees touching your ass. He takes his cock into his hand, jerking himself off a few times. Not that he needs to, but so he can keep whatever composure he has left.

His lips finally leave yours, letting you both regain your breath. It’s only then, as he looks at your pussy, he realizes you're bleeding. An inexplicable wave washes over him. Adrenaline and hormones beat into his heart. He needs to fuck his kid into you. Needs to breed you and fill you up. A brutal,l primal hunger grows within him.

“I don’t think I can go slow.”

He admits it to you, and you can’t even answer before his tip works its way into your tight cunt. His mouth falls open, and you squeeze his shoulders. Blood mixed with your slick starts to coat his length. He doesn’t wait for you to relax around him, he pushes his way to his base in one swift thrust. Your head hits the table.

“Fuck!”

You yell at his roughness. He grabs at your hips, pulling back out. His eyes stare at where he enters you. He’s obsessed with the way your pussy clings to him. How tight you are when he fucks into you. His balls hit your ass as he thrusts into you. He watches your tits bounce. You’re already overstimulated from being on your period but the heavy weight of his cock, pounding into your cervix makes tears well up in your eyes. Strangely enough, you feel that familiar wave in your stomach begins to build.

“Gon” make you a real mama.”

His grip on your hips tightens, his rings burying into your flesh. The lamp on the end table starts to wobble every time he snaps his hips into yours.

“Gon’ breed you ‘til you can’t even walk no more.”

As you look into his eyes, you can’t find the sweet boy that once was there. He’s possessed by an animal. Hell-bent on making you his forever. His teeth are gritted as he continues his rampage. You weekly moan with every hit of his intrusion. You can’t help how badly your body craves this. The first time all night you finally felt content. He’s fucking the bad energy out of you, and what confuses you the most is how he’s doing that when he is the bad energy. His chest is glazed with sweat; he’s dripping on you. His lip curls up, and he takes his hand from your waist and puts it on top of your clit. The weight of it was enough to send you over the edge. Your body starts to shake, and your pussy tightens around him to the point where he can’t move.

“That’s it, mama.”

He swirls his thumb lazily on your clit, watching your body wither on him. His thighs are becoming soaked with your cum. He watches you relax, your back flat on the couch. Your chest is rising and falling rapidly.

“Are you done?”

You nod weakly.

“Good.”

He takes his thumb into his mouth and sucks on the blood that coats it. His eyes roll back into his skull as he starts his rhythm again. You can’t take his beating on your cunt, you plead with him to slow down but he doesn’t, he can’t. The loud slap of his body smacking into yours fills the air. Tears fall down your face as he goes as fast as he can. Your nails cling to his back. Clawing red stripes down it. He’s bound to be hurting in the morning, along with you.

After one of your nails makes his back start to welt with blood, he lays his hips against yours and releases. His cum hits right against your cervix, and you feel pleasantly full.

His balls draw up and then relax as he lets his load go in you. His grip softens into a caress. He doesn’t let his dick slip out of you as he lays down on top of you. His weight is pressing you deeper into the couch. The rain finally slows to a soft patter. It’s finally calm, and the tears on your cheeks are dry.

He’s drifting off to sleep, his arms wrapped tight around your waist. Cradling you to his chest. You run your fingers through his damp hair, watching the rest of the movie. It’s only when he whispers, I love you into your chest by your heart, that you realize that you forgot to break the spell. All you can wonder is how long his love will last.

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gorgeys · 8 months

Note

Do you still make fanfics? If you do please do Carla smut

PORNSTAR ★ carla roson

Carla Roson x fem!reader

Part 2 of So Naive

You still don't understand that you belong to Carla, she intends to prove it to you and Guzman...

Warnings: SMUT - top!Carla, bottom!reader, semi-public sex, dub-con, shoving, grabbing, hair-pulling, hickeys, biting, brat taming??, pet names, mentions of murder/mutilation, degradation/praise, choking, finger sucking, non-con pictures/filming, begging, fingering

Word Count: 4750

Note: i'm so sorry this took so long! i lost motivation for writing for a while but i'm temporarily back!

also i literally changed tenses in the middle of writing but i was too lazy to fix it and the ending is a little rushed bc i didn't want it to get any longer than it already was, hope you enjoy!!

Carla checks her phone as she enters Guzman’s house. She’s definitely late. Too late as she notices the last text from you was sent over an hour ago when you had arrived at the party. In one hour you could have been anywhere doing anything. She hates the thought of it.

The horiffic image of you and him had been replaying in her mind all day. His hands all over your body, his lips against your skin, the way you would sound for him. It was like a constant nightmare that she couldn’t put to bed. She was hoping you could help silence her thoughts.

She headed for the kitchen to pour herself a drink, craving a light buzz. She only downed half of it when she noticed Samuel approaching her.

She turned her back toward him, hoping he would get the hint, but he quickly tapped on her shoulder. Carla obnoxiously rolled her eyes before turning around to greet him.

It was more than obvious he had developed a hearty crush on her since Marina. He always ran his hands in his hair, trying to perfect it before he went to approach her. He’d be too smiley while talking to her, and he’d take a step too close which always resulted in Carla escaping the situation as quickly as possible. She couldn't understand how Samuel never noticed her grimaces or eyerolls or the hundreds of signs she sent him to give it up. Carla hated everything about it.

But you seemed to love it. You’d always tease her about him, calling Samuel her boyfriend and pushing her to go talk to him. She was pretty sure this whole thing had even started because of you, that you had mentioned to Samuel that Carla was interested in him in the first place. You always loved a little white lie.

For some reason you just loved to be a nuisance. You loved to watch Carla squirm when you flirted with the guys. You loved watching her become so irritated and red, grinding her teeth so hard she could start a fire. You loved flustering her in the middle of class by sending her some dirty pictures, watching her eyes go wide as she quickly hid her phone in her skirt. She’d always give you the craziest look, wondering if your antics would ever end. And you loved forcing her onto Samuel, watching her struggle to get away from him just to spend another moment with you. Of course, you never let her, always ditching her with the pretty boy and leaving her wanting more.

You were such a brat. Everyone knew it. Your parents were unbelievably rich, valued much higher than the regular Las Encinas family, so you always got want you want. Of course you used that to your advantage more times than not. It became your entire reputation.

Carla was your perfect match. Everyone was always willing to give her everything she wanted, from her father to her ex-boyfriend. Everyone but you. Carla hated it sometimes, but all those other times, she loved taking what she wanted from you.

“Hi, Carla,” Samuel said with a big, dorky smile.

“Hi, Samu,” she dryly said, placing her drink on the counter. “Have you seen Y/N?”

“Yeah, I just saw her out there,” Samuel said, pointing to the the door he had just entered through. “But-”

“Thanks,” she quickly said, giving him a grateful pat on the shoulder before walking past him in that direction. She paid no mind to how he called after her as she walked through the doorframe.

Her eyes scanned the large living room where most of the students had gathered to talk and drink. It was quite crowded and she almost didn’t see you. Almost.

But there you were sitting in one of those fancy leather chairs, a drink in one hand. But you weren’t alone, not even close. Carla could already feel her face burn up, her neutral expression turning completely sour.

You were sitting in Guzman’s lap so comfortably. You were perched on one of his legs, facing the side. Your own legs were over his and hanging over his lap. Your free arm was draped loosely over his shoulder, your nails digging into the soft skin of his neck. His hands were all over you, one arm wrapped tightly around your waist, the other reaching to squeeze your thigh.

Maybe Carla wasn’t the murderer but in a few seconds she thought she’d become one.

She wanted to pull all of his teeth out just to wipe away his smug smile. You leaned in toward his face as you spoke, tightening your grip on his neck, and when he laughed, Carla felt he was already gloating his victory.

She wanted to slice all his fingers off when his hand began to travel downward from your waist to palm your ass. She nearly groaned when she noticed the skirt you were wearing. She knew that one very well. She knew it was the shortest one you owned from the amount of times her hand had wandered beneath it. You were basically sitting on him with your bare ass out.

And then, for the finale, she would make sure to cut his dick off. She saw the way he adjusted in the seat, slightly moving his hips up into your body. It would have been a miracle if he didn’t have the largest hard-on known to man. But the part that really made her swell with rage was that you could feel it and you weren’t doing anything about it. You were sitting on his dick like you were his girl. She hated to think about what could have happened if she hadn’t arrived at that exact time.

You raised your glass to your lips to take a long sip of expensive liquor. It was the perfect opportunity for Guzman to turn his head and find Carla standing stiffly in the doorway. He almost laughed out loud. The feeling of you sitting in his lap and her jealous glare was so triumphant. His smile doubled in size and doubled in arrogance.

Her eyes narrowed at him, a silent promise that he wouldn’t get the last laugh. If Carla’s blood was boiling before, it was on fire now.

But then, noticing Guzman’s attention had been stolen, you turned as well, instantly finding Carla’s eyes. You could feel her wrath even from across the room and you only fed off it. You were drunk off the feeling of power knowing you had La Marquesa tucked snuggly in your back pocket. It felt so good that you couldn’t help yourself.

Instead of being a simple tease like usual, you gave her a ladylike wave. And then you sent her a polite, friendly smile. It was innocent to the naked eye.

But friendly? She couldn’t bear you. You looked so fake and well-mannered. Two things you definitely weren’t. Especially when you were alone with her.

Carla couldn’t stand you acting like she was just one of your bitchy friends, like there was nothing more between you. No, she was everything for you. She owned you in every which way and she was determined for not only Guzman to see, but for you to accept it as well.

You and Guzman both directed your attention back onto one another although you were very aware of a seething Carla charging toward you. But only when she was at arms length did Guzman see her. He didn’t have enough time to react before she reached out and violently grabbed you by the arm.

“What the fuck, Carla?” Guzman shouted, outrage painting his face.

She was squeezing so tightly you could already feel the bruises forming, but you refused to go without a fight. You tugged your arm back and gave her a condescending glare.

She was done with your bullshit. She pulled your arm, twisting it in such a way that you spilled your drink all over the white rug.

“Carla!” You scolded. Her aggression surprised you a little. She always kept it classy in public, not a hair out of place. It seemed you had pushed her over the edge this time and you were enjoying it a little too much.

Carla didn’t speak but gave you the coldest look you had ever received from her hazel eyes. She looked ready to kill and you silently wondered if you would be Las Encinas’ next victim. You didn’t really mind as long as she fucked you first.

Deciding you had been difficult enough, you allowed her to take the glass from your hand and place it on the table. With another tug of your arm you were letting go of Guzman and sliding off his lap. He protested but you didn’t acknowledge him. He had finished his duty of keeping you warm until Carla rescued you.

In a blur you were weaving through the crowd, wobbling on your heels at the pace Carla was dragging you at, and then climbing the stairs. Carla opened the first door on your right and pushed you inside. You immediately recognized it as Guzman’s room.

You stumbled into the large room from the force of Carla’s shove, eventually losing your footing and falling onto the soft carpet. On all fours, you peeked over your shoulder to see Carla slam the door behind her.

But she didn’t move toward you. She just watched you, one hand still on the door knob and the other moving to sit on her hip. Now that you were alone, the look in her eyes was a bit less violent but still intense. She looked hungrier than ever.

“God, you look so much better on your knees,” she said, her eyes shamelessly devouring you. “Looking up at me.” Her lips twitched upward, reminiscent of a smile. These were the moments she enjoyed the most.

You pushed your hands off the ground and sat back on your knees. You gathered your hair on your far shoulder, giving Carla a better view of your long neck and devilish eyes.

“But I leave you for one second and you’re out there riding his dick in front of everyone like his little slut,” Carla hissed. She clicked her tongue against the roof of her mouth a couple times and shook her head disapprovingly, scolding you like a child.

You mocked her attempts to chastise you with a condescending laugh.

“Don’t be jealous that his dick is bigger than yours,” you said, looking over your shoulder to show your shit-eating grin.

She didn’t seem to take your comment lightly as her jaw noticeably clenched and her grip on the door knob tightened.

“I would watch what you say, princesa,” she said, tilting her head. Even if she was the Marchioness’ daughter, she had always called you royalty. The title fit you too well. “Things will only get worse for you later.”

She took a confident stride toward you, enjoying the way your smile slowly diminished. Images flashed behind your eyes of what “later” could possibly be.

The feeling in your stomach was so strange. You hated being dominated by anyone, but for some reason, when it was Carla, you felt an uncontrollable pulse between your legs. You were practically begging her to shut you up.

“I don’t care how big his dick is. I know he can’t fuck you how you like it,” she said, taking another teasingly slow step.

“That’s not what I was saying last night,” you said, that aggravating smirk returning. “Actually, it was right here, on his bed. You should have seen it, Carla. I was just begging for him to go faster, deeper.”

You imitated yourself, letting your head fall back and rolling your eyes into the back of your skull. You balled your fists at your sides, gripping onto imaginary sheets.

Carla’s next two strides were quick and put her right behind you. She dug her nails into your scalp and fisted at your hair, violently pulling your head back even further so you were looking directly up at her looming figure. You released an involuntary moan at the sudden pain, stretching your hands out behind you to brace yourself.

“I fucking warned you,” she said, her other hand cupping your chin to angle your face even further back. Your mouth slightly hung open at the sight of her. “But that mouth of yours gets you into all kinds of trouble.”

“And this mouth,” you started, voice strained by the way your neck was bending backward, “took his whole fucking dick,” you said with a sadistic smile. "Every inch."

That was the final nail in the coffin, her expression morphing into one of red hot rage

Your hand instinctively flew to the back of your head and a shriek left your lips when she pulled you up by your hair. She dragged you once more, this time to the bed, and tossed you toward it face first.

You quickly turned onto your back, leaning back on your elbows while Carla stood over you. She placed her hand on your bare midriff, the skin between your top and waistband, before she climbed onto you, straddling you with her thighs.

Both of her hands quickly moved to wrap around your throat, instantly crushing your windpipe and causing you to drop flat on your back. Her slender fingers felt comfortable there as you wheezed pathetically for air, her nails digging into the skin for good measure.

“Not so tough now, are we?” She hunched over you, ass up, as she brought her face so close to yours. She grinned like a maniac. If someone had walked in right then, they would have thought Carla was trying to kill you.

“You know he showed me all those fucking pictures you sent him,” Carla said, steadying the pressure on your neck. “The pictures meant for me. And in that fucking red set.” She scoffed at you, shaking her head. “You wanna be his cam girl? His pornstar?”

You threw your head back as your eyes began to roll into your head for real this time. Pain never felt so good as you felt yourself pooling under your skirt.

“Fine. Then I’ll treat you like it,” she said, one of her hands leaving your throat to grope your tit through your shirt. She moved her face downward, leaving a trail of warm breath against your neck, eventually finding your collar bone. She looked up at your twisted expression as she roughly bit down on your skin, earning a strangled noise from your throat. She smiled into your flesh before sucking on the spot mercilessly.

It was like torture as she made it a routine, moving her lips downward each time she bit and sucked your skin raw. You felt the blood rushing to where her teeth gnawed your skin, forming pigmented bruises. She never tired of hearing the shaky breath you released each time.

When her lips had chased your skin all the way down to the neckline of your top, she was quick to grab the hem with both hands. She pulled the top over your head with your cooperation, leaving you braless and bare beneath her. She exhaled a long, satisfied sigh.

“All for me, huh?” Her eyes shifted from your face to your chest and back up again. Still trying to catch your breath, you couldn’t give her a response. She sinfully laughed, basking in the sound of muffled music and your relentless heaving, before her lips wrapped around your nipple.

You groaned low when her teeth grazed the sensitive skin, your hands molding into the back of her thighs. Her other hand mimicked her mouth on your unattended nipple. You knew she always loved twisting, yanking, and rubbing your tits until you squealed and squirmed.

Eventually her mouth moved onto the smooth skin of your breast, marking you up yet again. You rolled your eyes, wondering where this sudden obsession had come from. She always liked to keep you clean and free of noticeable hickeys. You didn’t mind the change but you were beginning to grow impatient with the foreplay. She had given so much attention to your top half you just wished she would give something to your bottom half.

“My god, Carla, could you be any slower? At least he fucked me in the end,” you said in a raspier voice, pulling on the skin of Carla’s thighs.

Carla rolled her eyes back at you, momentarily detaching her mouth from your chest.

“So fucking loud,” she mumbled, speaking more to herself than you.

She wasted no time stripping her hand from your tit and pushing two fingers past your lips and into your mouth. She was content when her fingers slid in with ease and pushed down your throat. You didn’t mind sucking on her like a popsicle as she pulled them out and then pushed them a little deeper. Her lips quirked upward as she absorbed the sight before her. Each time her fingers disappeared into your head she could feel the spot between her legs heating up.

“Good girl,” she said, gently holding your cheek with her other hand. She leaned down to give your chin an appreciative kiss. “Bet he couldn’t go that deep,” she said following a particularly rough thrust. She chuckled lowly, not breaking eye contact.

She returned to your tits only for a few more seconds before pulling her head back to view the entire, perfect sight of you. The hickeys were already beginning to darken on your skin leaving you perfectly bruised and battered. That plus you bobbing on her fingers was a beautiful scene. One that had to be shared.

She pulled her hand from your mouth tantalizingly slow, allowing the saliva to create sticky strings between your lips and her fingers. She eyed them curiously, slowing her movements to prolong the strings before they broke. Then she carelessly rubbed her fingers across your chest and down the valley of your breasts, leaving a visible trail of spit in her wake.

“What a pretty slut,” she said, her eyes devouring you like a piece of meat, enjoying the slightly tired look in your eyes. She made you feel unusually small. “I wonder what Guzman would think.”

Without missing a beat, Carla reaches for her back pocket and pulls out her phone.

“Carla,” you whined like a child, turning your head to the side, and burying your cheek into the sheets. You were never camera shy but this moment of vulnerability was different. If you had known this was her intention all along then maybe you wouldn’t have let her fuck you up so badly. No one was ever meant to see you like this. No one but her.

“Come on, you didn’t have a problem sending him those pictures. What’s a few more?” she said while petting your cheek. She held the phone above you, just out of reach, where she could capture the entirety of your bare top half.

She hums in satisfaction watching your sweaty body under the lens. Your hair is cinematically sprawled across the sheets while the saliva coating your lips, chin, and chest shines under the dim lighting. Your neck is slightly red from Carla’s ironclad grip and your chest is adorned with darker shades from the excellent work of Carla’s teeth and lips.

“He’s gonna cream his pants when he sees this,” she says, sucking her lips into her mouth. She was getting a little too anxious looking at you. “Smile, cariño,” she says, her own grin decorating her face. She grabs your chin and forces you to look up at her and the camera. Your eyes are barely open but it doesn’t matter.

She snaps the picture before you can even react.

“Gorgeous,” she says, letting her free hand trail gently down your neck. She intentionally presses her fingers into a particularly sensitive spot, eliciting a groan from your lips. “I’m sure he’ll love it.”

“Carla,” you whine once more, throwing your head back in frustration and further imprinting your nails into her thighs. You hated how much she was ruining your plans. Guzman was just meant to be a distraction while Carla was supposed to make you cum all over her fingers. Instead, Carla was slutting you out to Guzman and you were nowhere near cumming.

“Shut up. You did this to yourself,” she said, her hand gliding past your chest and scratching your stomach. “You should have never sent him those pictures.”

Both of her hands move to the waistband of your skirt while still clutching the phone. She’s harsh in the way she rips the skirt down your thighs, creating some friction between the clothing and your skin. She slightly adjusts herself and bends your knees to fully remove it, leaving you in just a pair of lace panties.

She presses her palm against your clothed pussy and only laughs in yet another mockery of your state.

“Good god, you’re just dying to be fucked dumb, huh?” she says, beginning to palm the wetness that seeped through your panties. She situates herself in between your legs, allowing you to push your knees further outward, helping to aid the aching feeling inside you. Her sly smile widens, glad to have broken your hard exterior. “Already spreading your legs? You’re too easy.”

Her fingers push your panties aside and dip into your soaking pussy. She refuses to give your clit any attention as she swipes her fingers against your slit. A throaty sigh pushes its way past your lips, your hands finding solace cupping your tits.

“D’you want me to take this off for you?” she says, tugging at the waistband of your panties.

You hum in agreement, looking up at her through your eyelashes.

“Then ask nicely,” she demands, her eyes straying from your pussy to stare at you expectantly.

You can’t help but groan irritatedly. She knows how much it hurts your ego to ask nicely for anything, let alone this. She thrives off making you feel the worst before making you feel your best. You push away your pride in hopes of feeling that sweet release.

“Please, Carla,” you plead rather dully, breaking eye contact in a forced attempt to get what you want.

“I think you can do better. Look at me and tell me what you want,” she says, leaning her face down toward yours, forcing you to meet her eyes. She brushes her thumb against your clit for some encouragement. It seems to work as you let go of any last bit of dignity and look straight into her.

“Please, Carla, just fuck me. Take it off and fuck me with your fingers.”

The hidden desperation in your voice clicks something into place. You swear you see her eyes light up as she instantly obeys, removing your panties in a flash, leaving you completely naked beneath her. She moans loudly at the sight of your bare pussy, pushing her hair back so she has the perfect view. You spread your legs a little further, enticing her to reach out and feel you.

She does, now pressing her thumb roughly into your clit, and reveling in the starved noise you make. She watches the muscles in your face tense as she rubs consistent circles against your clit, enjoying each element of your expression. All the sucking and biting and teasing had already made you a swollen, soaked mess. It only made toying with you even more fun.

Carla gradually sped up her slow movements, earning increasingly louder squelches from your pussy and increasingly louder moans from your wet lips. She could feel her own panties dampening from your distraught noises.

“You even sound like a pornstar. Fucking whore,” she says, as your hips slightly buck up in pleasure. “You want me inside of you?”

“Please, please, Carla,” you beg, every sign of the brat you once embodied having faded into oblivion the second she laid fingers on your pussy. “Fuck, I need you inside of me so bad,” you say in one breath, practically moaning your words.

“Fine,” she says, slowing the rotations on your clit. You watch her rub your pussy with one hand and hold the phone above you with the other. She points it directly at your entrance. “Be a good girl for the camera, okay?”

She doesn’t wait for your response as she slowly begins pushing her finger into your hole. You can only assume she’s recording as your back arches off the mattress, feeling her slender finger dig so deep inside of you. The pleasure is almost instant when your pussy consumes her entire finger and you release a guttural moan.

“You say he fucked you but you’re still so god damn tight,” she says, her eyes darting between your pussy and the phone screen, making sure she’s capturing the perfect angle. Her exaggerated laugh rubs salt in Guzman’s wound. “Hold your legs up, baby. I want to see all of you,” she says. You immediately obey, grabbing under both your thighs and pulling your knees up to your chest. “That’s better.”

Another moan leaves your lips, feeling the stretch more intensely with your legs spread even wider. She takes it as a sign to pull her finger halfway out and then push it back in, slightly deeper. She does it agonizingly slow, building a steady wave of pleasure. She repeats herself, once, twice, three times, pushing in and out of you at a deliberate pace, leaving you a whining mess. You lose count as you grow impatient, wishing she’d thrust into you like a mad man as she had done many times before.

“Please, Carla, faster,” you beg, opening your eyes to look down at her. She moves the camera up your body, capturing your raised legs, bouncy tits, and blissed out expression.

“Sorry, what was that?” she teases, smirking behind the phone, forcing you to be louder for the video. Her attempts to soothe you with her thumb on your clit are futile.

“Faster, fuck me faster, please,” you whine, throwing your head back, hopefully out of view of the camera.

She doesn’t necessarily oblige but she does add a second finger when she pushes into your pussy again. You moan louder at the slight stretch, your insides twisting into a tight knot. She curls her fingers delightfully at the end of the thrust, only making the feeling even stronger.

She puts the camera directly over your face.

“Open your eyes, cariño,” she says. You listen, looking up at the camera, hoping she’ll reward you for following her command. “Who’s fucking you so good?”

When you don’t respond immediately, she prompts you by driving into you a little harder.

“You,” you instantly moan out, your hips chasing her hand. You fight the urge to shut your eyes

“Who?”

“You, Carla,” you moan when she curls her fingers sharply, staring into the lens. When you notice her pick up speed with her thrusts, you begin repeating her name like a prayer, hoping it’s the key word.

“Who makes you feel good inside?”

“Who makes you squirt all over the sheets?”

“Who do you belong to?”

The answer is always “Carla.”

She’s still not fucking you nearly hard enough but it’s faster than how she started. You feel your pussy throb and her fingers hit the right spot each time. Your tits are slightly shaking as she increases speed while your spine forms a permanent arch. You allow yourself to be as loud as possible in hopes of pleasing her, in hopes that she’ll let you cum. All the while she captures each godly move of your body and her fingers.

But eventually, after what feels like a lifetime, she ends the video. She throws her phone across the room and smiles down at you.

“The only thing that will be as good as fucking you is seeing his face when he opens this video,” she says, her hands leaving your pussy to cup your face. She leans down and attacks your lips with a devastatingly smooth and wet kiss, her starved lips moving intensely against yours You can barely reciprocate with the delicate state that you're in.

You almost start to complain about the emptiness of your pussy, but she suddenly ducks down, hooking her arms under your thighs and burying her face between your legs.

“If I were you, I’d start praying. Pray to God that I’ll let you cum.”

why am i lowkey feeling guzman and carla threesome??

@hauntedfictionland @mjl877 @underratedax @androgynouscloudenemy @justyourwritter69 @blondetxxz @nessyishere

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rogue205 · 8 months

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Oh my god. What is with Disney these days? No one wants a “woke” Princess and it’s like they don’t even understand the word anyway.

Pixar does because look at Merida. She still got help from “a man” even if they were her little brothers. It was still “female empowerment” because her mother is actually the one who killed the bad guy anyway and it was because he was about to kill Merida. It wasn’t just “women strong!”. Hell, Merida refuses to get married and actually ends the movie that way but she never comes across as “ew, men” but that she simply doesn’t want to. I can relate.

But back to Disney. They changed Little Mermaid so Ariel literally did EVERYTHING including killing Ursula despite the fact that she shouldn’t even know how to drive a damn ship. 🙄 There was nothing wrong with Eric doing it!

And now we’re getting “woke” Snow White who is named as such because her skin is WHITE AS SNOW! But noooooo… she has to be a person of color too so Disney can have lazy writing and call everyone racist when we call them out on this BS. POC are just shields for them now although Rachel Zegler tried to accuse everyone of hate already. Lady, that’s not going to get people to see your point. And frankly, it’s not even about her. It’s about Disney and what they’re doing.

Also they’re apparently planning to change the Prince coming in to wake her up at the end. Like, what? And most of the seven dwarves are gone too. I think there’s only one now while the others are “normal”. They thought(and Zegler said) that the Prince was “acting stalker-ish” so that’s why they wanted to change him. Hah. They clearly didn’t watch “Once Upon a Time”. Now THAT is a live-action Snow White.

Plus there is a “deleted scene” comic which explains how the Prince even knew to come looking for Snow White. He was captured and locked up by the Evil Queen and witnessed her transform into the hag and poison the apple. He immediately went to find Snow when he managed to escape. All the live-action had to do was include something like this and then he isn’t “stalkerish”. 🙄

Frankly, their movie is not even Snow White anymore and I can tell already that it’s going to flop with all these unneeded and unnecessary changes. All it shares in common now is the name. Nothing else.

This is just my opinion. You don’t have to agree.

#I can’t even anymore #anti 2024 Snow White #Disney should be ashamed #they obviously don’t care though #anti disney #this is not ‘modernizing’ the princesses #or their stories #the stories actually are fairytales from different countries #and not creations of Disney anyway #my opinion #my rants

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just-a-torn-up-masterpiece · 5 months

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always there

masterlist

monica rambeau x reader

18+: fluff, mentions of grief, friends to lovers

a/n: fluff is not my strong suit :/ but i adore this woman so i did it anyway | wc: 1.5k

You were friends before it happened - long-time colleagues. You were there for her when she came back from the snap, hugging her so tightly after missing her for five years and you were there to comfort her with the loss of her mother.

Each time she needed to cry, you were there. Each time she needed to sit in silence, you were there. You had both experienced loss and pain and complete anguish; everything you knew had changed within the blink of an eye, your closest friend had turned to dust, half of the world along with her, and for half a decade you lived with emptiness.

You found a home with Maria with your shared loss. You stayed by her side through the empty space her daughter left behind and you stayed with her when the end rolled around. You promised her to never forget Monica and, if the time arose, to let her know her mother would always be with her in some kind of way.

Just as those times before, you were there for her when she changed. When a newfound surge coursed through her body with a foreign buzz of electricity. You helped her learn, to come to terms with the new reality that was thrust upon her. It takes an uncomfortable period of readjustment to make peace with the fact you’ve changed so greatly; hands that once were merely soft now held power.

She’d flinch away to begin with. Any time your own hands dared too close to hers she’d pull away before anything could happen, though your earnest reassurance was comforting it didn’t change her fear. She never wants to hurt you.

But Monica trusted you and your words of kindness through it all; you told her she wasn't dangerous and she listened.

—

Her head lay in your lap and your fingers absentmindedly played with a piece of her hair. Despite it all, she'd developed a new appreciation for sitcoms and her favourite played out on the television in front of you.

Monica had called you earlier in the day with tears straining her voice, the old shirt that belonged to her mother was soft against her skin but the pain of loss was just as sharp as ever. You were the only person she wanted to be there with her through her grief, the only one she would dare to let in when the empty space left behind consumed her.

“It’s okay,” you whispered when she opened the door to let you in - you'd discarded everything else to be there for her. She clung to you whilst cries shook her body and you knew you didn't have to say anything, you just had to be there. “It’s okay, I’m here.”

You scoured her cupboards for her favourite tea and you couldn't help but mirror the small smile she mustered when she took the mug you offered to her.

“Can we watch Bewitched?” she mumbled once the quiet of your company had soothed her. Her voice was muffled behind her cup and you could see the sheepish smile that quirked her lips in the way the skin beside her eyes crinkled.

“Of course.”

The sound of her laugh was enough to let you know you'd helped. Her body relaxed when she flung herself over your legs despite the discomfort you felt; she only muttered a teasing remark at the huff you let out.

“I’m literally an orphan, the least you can do is suffer a little cramp.”

You couldn't help but laugh at your best friend and she giggled at the shove you gave her at her comment but, of course, you let her stay.

—

“Wow, for someone with superpowers you're not much of an opponent, Rambeau,” you mocked, wiping the sweat that had formed across your forehead.

“Just takin’ it easy on you,” she smirked, letting the white glow take over her eyes for just a second.

“Scared your sparring partner’s better than you?” you joked, throwing a punch she easily dodged.

“Oh, I wouldn't be so sure of yourself,” she laughed.

Over time you'd quelled her fear of training with you. What had been a regular occurrence had dwindled to nothing and practicing your hand-to-hand skills with anybody else was nowhere near as fun.

But with her, reassurance is key, and now she almost resents the fact she’d rid you of your partner for so long.

However, her certainty faced its challenger once more when a spark of power knocked you off your feet.

“Mon, it's fine, I promise,” you uttered again as her shaking hand swiped a cloth across the bleeding cut that decorated the apple of your cheek.

“No, it's not, “ she signed. Again. You groaned at her stubbornness and let the quiet between you linger; you pushed down the way you wanted to wince at the sting and instead focused in on the softness of her fingers on your skin. The gentle way they held your jaw.

“Got any fun band-aids?”

“Of course,” she answered with a smile that pulled at her cheeks. “I keep them for you.”

The way your heart beat faster at her sentiment was laced with melancholic trepidation. You never meant to fall like this but Monica was your ray of sun.

“I’m sorry,” she spoke as a caring touch applied a bandage to your injury. “I’ll practice more - I’ll control it better. I can't hurt you again. I’m-”

“If the word sorry comes out of your mouth one more time I’ll make sure I win the next fight.”

“Fine,” she sighed and took the hand you offered. “I just don't trust myself around you.”

She masked the hidden meaning of her words behind a small smile when you gave her hand a reassuring squeeze.

“I think it might be impossible for you to hurt me, Monica Rambeau,” you breathed, feeling the heat of her body with how close you were. “Lunch is on you.”

—

You lay beside her beneath the darkened night sky and hung on her every word as she spoke.

You listened to her talk about the stars, looking over at her to see her hands move in front of her with each passionate mumble; you know that with each glance you take at her it's as though she placed them up in space just for you.

Her voice was the utmost comfort to you; whether it was voicing facts or aggravated rantings about the absence of her aunt. She's uttered her appreciation for you more times than you can count; the stability of your presence that never wavers. If you let yourself linger on the truth, you'd know you couldn't bear to be without her. She couldn't be without you.

“I’ve been working on something for you,” she announced, pulling you to sit next to her. You'd not noticed the comfortable silence that had surrounded you though you suppose that's just a perk of being so close to somebody. Even the quiet is enough to feel like home.

“You have?”

The way she nodded with a grin made your cheeks warm and the nudging of her leg into yours brought the painful wave of bliss to the surface.

“Mhm.”

Her hands glowed, fingers guiding patterns of light between you in swirls of pulsing electricity. Something about the soft buzz of it against your palms reminded you of her, of your stomach when you think of her laugh.

She let the power entwine itself around your hands, tickling against you with shapes resembling that of the night sky above you. She showed you incandescent glimmers of handmade constellations, white light glowing at your fingertips. The warming of your body when her hand brushed yours was overwhelming.

“If I could reach up there and give you a star of your own, I would,” she whispered. The earnest glint in her eye made it impossible to keep the bashful smile you gave her at bay. “Thank you.”

“What for?”

“For everything. For being here. For staying with my mom. For being you,” she spoke, sliding her fingers between yours as though it was the most natural thing in the world.

“Of course,” you returned. You couldn't imagine a time where you wouldn't leave it all behind for her. The stroking of your thumb over hers filled her with yearning. She loves you but she's scared to say it. How could you love her in return?

“Why’re you so good to me, hm?”

“Because you're you.”

Monica cupped your face in her hand with nothing but softness and her eyes were just as adoringly gentle; her thumb swiped across your bottom lip with a curious musing, aching to rid you both of the space that separated you.

“I love you,” she whispered with her lips ghosting yours, sighing against you when you closed that wretched gap that kept you apart.

Your lips slotted together as though they were made to be this way, her tongue was created for you to taste and just like a perfectly concocted elixir, it was sweeter than anything. You felt drunk on the feel of her; the hands she placed on your waist, the tongue she pushed past your lips.

Just like the stars that shone above your bodies that clung together, you know this moment will exceed you. The shared feelings will last longer than either of you could begin to comprehend.

And when she pulled away for you both to breathe, you ached to taste her again.

“I love you too.”

#monica rambeau x reader #monica rambeau #the marvels #monica rambeau x fem!reader #marvel fanfic

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tiny-maus-boots · 2 months

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Darkest of Nights pt 19

Happy valentine's day, nerds.

Beca

All in all it hadn’t been the worst first meeting of the parents. At least. She didn't think it went that badly. Beca didn't really have anything to compare it to since there had never been anyone in her life to warrant a meeting of the folks before now.

She had learned a few things from them, however. Important things that had eased her mind being in the heart of a vampire stronghold.

The first being that every vampire there had defied the council in some way to protect or hide werefolk, humans, and fae to escape the Blood Guard. That counted for a lot in her book and forced her to change the way she was viewing vampires in general. Not that she truly trusted any of them besides Chloe and Aubrey but they had a stake in this fight for their own freedom.

All of them were as good as dead if the Council were to find them now. The necromancer pondered this as she turned on the shower to a deliciously warm spray and stepped under it. She sighed as she considered everything else she had heard too.

They would be safe there but only for a time. The blood guard would track them down eventually and all those vampires were now just sitting targets. Einar promised that every last one would fight for their lives but would they fight for hers?

Beca didn't think so. It wasn’t anything against them really. They didn't know her, and they were scared of what she could do to them. What she had done to them already. It weighed heavily on her as she lathered her hair and worked out the grit, sweat, and dried blood.

It didn't hurt. The necromancer frowned and gingerly touched all over her scalp but she couldn’t find any wounds that had occurred during her struggle with Billy Bob Pimp. Or the blast in the crypt. Her fingers trailed down her neck to brush over the delicate marks where Chloe had sunk fangs into her. There was no scabbing, only the smooth, slightly raised skin of scar tissue.

The brush of her fingertips over the bite marks caused a rush of heat to burn its way from her neck to parts decidedly lower and she had to inhale quickly to stifle the moan before it could slip past her lips.

Beca leaned against the cool tiled wall and focused on breathing. That was new. Not exactly unpleasant newness, but definitely unexpected. When she was sure her knees wouldn't buckle under her, she pushed off the wall and hurried through the rest of her shower looking for wounds that had already healed to unmarred flesh.

Finally wrapped in a luxuriously plush robe courtesy of Chloe, she leaned forward and looked into the mirror. No cuts, no bruises, no marks. Except for Chloe’s bite she was back to her usual resting bitch face with none the wiser about what she had just been through. Nothing had changed but she knew she was a different creature entirely than the woman who had been abducted from her caravan days..or weeks before. Honestly she wasn't even sure how much time had passed. It felt like a lifetime.

“Beca? Are you okay in there?”

She pulled back from the mirror at the knock and tightened her grip on the soft white terry cloth at her neck like the literal robe clutching prude that she was. Beca shuffled to the door and opened it a crack to peek out. Aubrey hovered just outside the door full of concern and holding a folded stack of clothes.

“What’s all that?”

“Chloe’s wardrobe is a little more…colorful than your usual style but I did find some things you might v-vibe with?”

God, did she have to be so fucking adorable all the time? Beca smiled and opened the door wider. “Still figuring out what the cool kids say, huh?”

“I feel as though I’m speaking a new language comprised of words I already know but no longer understand the meaning of.”

Aubrey handed over the folded stack of clothes with a soft frustrated sigh. It was hard to reconcile this gentle and confused woman with the crazed ax wielding demon vampire she knew the blonde could be.

“Well you're doing great. And you look like you feel better.”

The blonde gave a slight nod and self consciously brought her hand up to the side of her face that had been burned. There wasn't even a hint of redness now.

“Thanks to you. You seem to have healed as well.”

Aubrey reached out a tentative hand and grazed a fingertip along her jaw, tipping her head to the light. A cool hand cupped her cheek and Beca leaned into it. It was an almost perfect feeling standing there together. The air around them shifted as Chloe’s body filled the space beside them. Her pale arms slid around Beca and Aubrey, closing the circuit between them. Now it was perfect.

Power hummed up around them without the intensity they had called up in the van. This was something much softer and it swirled and eddied around them as though they were caught in a current. Their connection wasn't just magic that flowed between them, it was a part of each of them bound together in a way mere bodies could never achieve.

And the Council would never let them have this. Not without a fight.

Beca sighed and pulled back only enough to look at the two vampires. Now that she had whatever this was she intended to keep it. And as much as she wanted to sink into Chloe’s bed with them and do things that absolutely would get them arrested in several states and totally murdered by the Blood Guard, she knew they needed to plan.

“Can we talk?”

Chloe’s arms dropped from around them in resignation and Beca felt a tiny stab of rejection through their connection. The redhead mastered her tone and smiled just as airily and bright as always and it made Beca wonder how many times Chloe had done that before for her. Always accepting the rejection and only offering a teasing smile in return.

“Of course Bec. I'm sure you'd like to set up some ground rules for us…”

Confusion furrowed her brow at that. Rules? Beca opened her mouth but closed it with a click as she eyed them carefully.

“Wait…rules?”

“For our behavior.” Came Aubrey’s prompt reply.

“For your behavior?”

She felt like a parrot just repeating back what she was being told but her brain couldn't seem to wrap itself around what was being suggested. Chloe took pity on her and gestured vaguely around the apartment.

“So you'll feel safe here with us. We won't bite. We promise.”

Beca couldn't explain the way that made her feel. It was in their nature to bite. To feed. To take because they could. And yet for her, they would resist. Had resisted for days even with her leaking blood like a sieve after every injury.

“Oh Chlo…” How did she even begin to explain to them that biting wasn't even on her list of concerns? Beca reached out and took Chloe’s hand in her own, drawing her in closer. “I don't need you, either of you, to follow rules to make me feel safe. I trust you. Safe words for kink on the other hand…well we can get to that later.”

Chloe’s smile was slow and wide and Beca definitely felt her heart do flip flop things she hadn’t felt before. The redhead gave her a quick peck on the cheek and nudged her back into the bathroom.

“Put some pants on, Necromancer, or that talk is going to happen sooner than you think.”

Beca grinned and shut the door on them so she could dress. Not that she needed the privacy but she also didn't want to tempt Chloe into mounting her. Yet.

When she came out Aubrey was predictably hovering with nervous tension by the door.

“If not our behavior then what do you wish to speak to us about?”

Beca took in Aubrey’s small frown of confusion and reached out her free hand to the blonde and led her to bed where Chloe was patiently waiting. It felt better touching them both and she settled in between them, content to just be held.

“Our plan. Which seems like a stupid topic when we're all canoodled up like this. How are you warm right now?”

Chloe giggled at Aubrey’s obvious discomfort at the question and Beca was surprised to see a faint blush rise to the otherwise porcelain skin.

“We fed while you were showering. Aubrey is just a little embarrassed about breaking the fridge.”

“It was an accident.”

“You were drunk.”

Beca's eyes went wide. “Do I want to know?”

“She thought the stainless steel fridge was a can of sardines.”

“It has no handle! I didn’t know how to open it! What kind of contraption has a sealed door with no discernible handle?”

It started as a Muttley snicker that turned into a full on belly laugh that she couldn't seem to stop. Every overwrought nerve she had released its tension and she laughed until she could barely breathe and her sides hurt.

And they let her. Without her needing to explain why her hysterical laughter had turned to uncontrollable sobs. They simply held her between them and weathered the storm of Beca’s emotions with gentle kisses and soothing caresses.

“I'm sorry.”

“For having emotions? Bec, you're totes allowed to have all of the feels right now. You've been through a lot, we all have.”

Beca rubbed her face with both hands and sat up a little bit straighter. Having a break down was a luxury they couldn't really afford. After a second she was able to pull her wits together and face Chloe and Aubrey who were sitting there looking at her like…

The necromancer lifted her head prepared to see at the very least the shadow of cringe in their eyes. But she only found compassionate understanding from beings she never before thought capable of any such thing. It almost started another round of inexplicable crying and she had to look away quickly and clear her throat.

“Thanks. For you know, whatever.”

Aubrey’s head tipped to the side as she considered Beca carefully. She was sure the blonde ws secretly reading her mind with that assessing gaze.

“What? Is…is there something on my face or?”

“I would like to kiss you now.”

It started a sputtering laugh out of her and Beca found herself subconsciously stroking a thumb over spot on her arm that Aubrey fed from. Chloe's gaze tracked the movement and her lips pulled into a slow smile.

“I think we both would like to kiss you now.”

Beca opened her mouth to argue that they needed to plan their next steps, to prepare for the war they would bring to the Council but Aubrey’s warm hand cupped her jaw and gently guided her forward into a gentle kiss. The connection between them swelled at the first brush of lips against her own and it stole her breath away.

She pulled back and blinked owlishly at the blonde as she tried to order her thoughts and regain her focus. The necromancer cleared her throat and opened her mouth again. This time it was Chloe that guided her into a kiss and once again she was swallowed by a wave of magic and emotion so intense she could only make a helpless needy sound until the vampire pulled away.

“Okay rude.”

Aubrey’s brow furrowed in confusion. It was clearly not the reaction she had expected. Beca could feel another laugh starting to bubble up and tugged Aubrey forward into a smiling kiss.

“I didn't tell you to stop, Horny.”

They could wait to plan. Right? The Bloodguard couldn't be that close to finding them that they couldn't take some time for them….right? Chloe’s hand slid over her thigh and flicked her tongue teasingly over the scar she had left on Beca's neck. Fire shot down her spine and settled between her legs. Well. She was probably totally going to die anyway so why not go out with a bang?

#beca mitchell #chloe beale #aubrey posen #pitch perfect #pitch perfect au #vampires #necromancer #mause writes

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slayerchick303 · 9 months

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*SECRET INVASION FINALE SPOILERS*

I just finished Home, and I have some thoughts:

Rhodey was in a hospital gown when he got out of the pod! I swear to all that is holy, if they have him been replaced by a skrull after his injury in Civil War, I will march on Disney headquarters! That would cheapen Tony's death, funeral, and Rhodey's amazing conversation with Sam in Falcon and the Winter Soldier. I said I'd freak out if they made the swap previous to FATWS, and I meant it!

Gravik's human face was a man he killed, so I'm assuming the same is true for G'iah. If she is indeed going to be Abigail Brand as leaks have suggested (meaning Abigail Brand is dead), I'm going to be mad! Like legitimately disappointed. Brand is one of my favorite parts of the Astonishing X-Men comics run. I ship her and Beast so hard.

When was Everett Ross swapped? It has to have been after Black Panther because he would've reverted to his skrull form after being shot and/or Shuri would've noticed while healing him. Has a skrull infiltrated Wakandan leadership?! How many? For how long? Because that's BAD. Imagine the havoc skrulls could wreak with Wakanda's resources.

The CGI in this was pretty good. Especially compared to other recent Disney+ titles. That being said, I hate a lot of how they used it. Giving G'iah a huge Drax arm?! Bad choices in multiple ways: A.) the big Drax arm looked so weird as did other things. B.) do they think Marvel fans are too stupid to get what they were doing if they didn't make her arm huge? They should've kept Emilia's arm the same size, only given her Drax's tattoos and skin color at most. We would've understood. C.) the clothing changed too! How does that make sense?

Is Gravik really dead, though? Is Raava? We don't know if Raava has super skrull powers, but Gravik had like EVERYTHING. That seems like it should make him pretty invincible.

How did people not clock how off Rhodey was? There was like an enormous change in his personality. Raava was a jerk!

So, Fury and Sonya only tranqed those secret service members at the hospital. That wouldn't automatically make them revert, right, or every skrull would be outed when they fell asleep. If all those guards were humans, they were legitimately the worst security detail ever. That one guy literally listened to SkrullRhodey pretty much out herself and did nothing. He didn't even warn the president Rhodey was acting uncharacteristically. Every member of White House personale will have to be tested somehow. Maybe check for purple blood?

I really thought Ritson would die at the end. I guess he's just awful (which is unsurprising). I'm glad he won't be president much longer, as Harrison Ford is taking over the role of President Thaddeus Ross in Captain America: Brave New World. That being said, part of me worries that President Ross might be even worse than Ritson.

I kind of loved Varra and Fury's ending. It redeemed the awful, "I guess we'll never know moment."

****EDIT:**** I didn't think about this at the time, but I saw someone else bring it up. G'iah has Captain Marvel powers now! Doesn't that mean she should be caught up in the entanglement mess Captain Marvel, Photon, and Miss Marvel are dealing with in The Marvels?! That's an ENORMOUS plot hole. Not to mention, G'iah is ridiculously overpowered now. People complain about how powerful Superman is, and G'iah is so much worse.

I enjoyed Secret Invasion, even if it wasn't the best Disney+ show. The comics are still WAY better. Regardless, I'm looking forward to The Marvels even more now.

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elliespeach · 1 year

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fantasizing about protective festival!ellie

warnings: 18+ explicit sexual descriptions, drug use, alcohol use, very Very brief choking kink, implied homophobia, mild possession, pet names

an: an offering until i finish part 2 of you belong to me i thought of this at work and knew she would be a festival girlie okokenjoy

she def tried to convince u to let her buy an airtag and stick it in ur outfit just in case she lost you in the crowd “you could just call me els” “what if ur phone dies” she pouted

she wore a simple button up that was unbuttoned with a sports bra underneath, her abs showing which made ur toes curl and loose basketball shorts. meanwhile u had to spend hours trying to find what to wear, always earning a “everything looks so good on you baby” as ellie watched u change for the 8th time

“absolutely not” she protested one of the more scandalous outfits u tried on, typically she wouldn’t care and actually liked ur skin showing to be able to flaunt you around “you know how these people are there, i don’t need you being ogled all night”

no bc watching her dance at the actual festival was intoxicating, grinding up behind you going with the beat of the music, grabbing ur ass and feeling u up in a way that felt hungry

also note she had a blunt resting in her mouth while she danced on u AHH

im also picturing her in a backwards worn out ball cap do with that what u will,, ok carrying on

u were only crossed, as when u suggested trying something a bit harder ellie def had something to say "idk babe u dont even take well to being too high sometimes" "fine but were doing shots!"

so u both were wasted, she guided ur hips with her hands to spin you around to face her the strobe lights started going crazy for the drop of the song that was playing

ellie hit the blunt while u watched not even questioning it bc she was so fucking fine while doing

she inhaled slightly and leaned in, grabbed ur neck face and blew the smoke into your mouth for u after u exhaled she wrapped her free arm around ur waist pulling u closer in

this time she kissed u and kissed u hard, still grinding to the music while doing so ofc

her hand wandering around ur back down to ur ass and when the kiss ended u continued dancing and ellie took a quick glance around

she saw a guy poking at his friend then pointing to u and her and immediately protective mode was activated

"cmon, i gotta go to the bathroom" grabbing ur hand and not even giving u the chance to respond "ellieeeeeeeee"

u guys were towards the back because "i dont wanna lose u in the crowd plus i think i would suffocate"

"els we just went to the bathroom" "i saw some guys staring at us, i didn't like the looks of it" she was very occasionally glancing in the direction where u guys came from, obviously worried

"lets go finish this and then go back" she suggested and brought u to the back of one of the food stands,, holding ur hand the entire time of course kinda too tight like she was white knuckling that shit

u guys passed it back and forth a few times before the redness of your perfect eyes, being crossed, and full on craving u overwhelmed her

"els!" u giggled as she sucked on ur exposed neck, marking every single square inch she possibly could before moving to ur jaw

ellie being ellie she lightly bit ur earlobe sending shockwaves thru u n feeling the surge of confidence ((and bc shes a cocky shit)) she goes "let those try guys come near you, you're mine"

immediate butterflies. immediate pulsing in ur pussy like oh my GOD and being so horrendously down bad u say "i'm yours"

instinctively u stretched ur arms over her shoulders and as soon as u started to move ur hands thru her hair in pleasure she threw the remaining blunt to the ground and literally picked u up

like hoisted u up so that ur legs were around her waist, one of her hands placed itself on ur back the other firmly on ur ass

this was all mid kiss btw

she spun around and crashed ur back into the back of the food stand and bc shes so strong she could hold you there basically by holding herself so close to you

she reached a hand down feeling ur pussy thru the very light shorts u had on "no underwear, huh baby?" all u could do was shake ur head the feeling of her touching u was overwhelming to say the least "and already so wet, tsk tsk"

u blushed but thank god it was dark bc she wouldve teased u about it and u wanted so badly for her to just kiss u again u leaned in slightly as if asking permission

"and so needy" "please, els" "what was that?" she paused her fingers on ur core and u whined "words princess, i need words"

sigh, anyway

leaving the festival she knew u were drained and let u piggy back most of the way to the car, she drove back home letting u sleep peacefully in the passenger seat

when u guys got back home she was fully prepared to carry u in but u woke up

but u were way to tired to get ready for bed so she undressed u, showered u, and put u in one of her tee shirts and ultimately put u to bed only to be interrupted by her coming to cuddle only a short time later

#ellie williams #ellie williams fanfiction #modern!ellie #ellie williams smut #ellie williams x you #ellie williams tlou #ellie williams hcs #festival!ellie #no bc i need her so bad #its not funny anymore guys

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fishyyyyy99 · 9 months

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OK, I seriously can't believe someone actually thinks this about season 4 of Never Have I Ever:

"In 2023, the message of the show suddenly turned into *"racism, white supremacy, patriarchy, and class inequity doesn't exist anymore. Devi did a Bollywood dance, got into Princeton, and a racist white guy said he loves her at the last minute, so everything is going to be okay (for Gen Z)."*

This is the opposite of the premise that the show started with in 2020, which acknowledged the brutal unfairness in the world."

Firstly, it wasn't a Bollywood dance. They danced to the Tamil dubbed version of a song that is originally Telugu. Tamil cinema is known as Kollywood, and Telugu cinema is known as Tollywood. Maybe people who comment so much on racism should learn a little more about not clubbing all of Indian culture together. As a Telugu woman who lives in Tamil Nadu, I'd like to say that I was really happy with the dance number. I was especially happy because it wasn't a Bollywood dance (season 1 just used Hindi songs, and that really annoyed me because Devi is Tamil).

The show literally acknowledged that Devi ("our little hothead from the valley") was happy in that moment. There was no claim about everything being okay forever. It's just that she is better equipped to deal with problems now. She will continue to grow non-linearly, just like she did throughout the show.

Of course, the show became less about dealing with intense grief as it went on - time heals. But they did portray that grief still lingers, despite that.

Also, the portrayal of familial relationships was great - Devi talking about how it's cool to live with three generations of women in her house, Nalini having to deal with empty nest syndrome, Nalini talking about her own struggle with having to start over in the US after being a top resident in India (but of course, the last season does not acknowledge how brutally unfair the world is /s) and how she was just trying to protect Devi from being devastated, Devi setting her mother up (showing how much she had healed and grown since season 2), Kamala being too attached to her family to move away and Nalini telling her that change is good (and even Kamala's coping mechanism of becoming overprotective of Nirmala), Kamala and Devi's sweet moments, the family's acceptance and joyous celebration of Nirmala finding love again, Nirmala calling Nalini out for being mean to Devi, and of course, the heartwarming scene of Nalini helping Devi pack and telling her she's proud of her. Devi's final monologue focused primarily on how much she cares about her mother. Did all of that mean nothing to some people?

Never Have I Ever is not an unproblematic show. But I still can't believe it's being reduced to this. I. Seriously. Just. Can't. Devi was so much more comfortable in her skin than when the show started, and was no longer obsessed with external validation. Her relationship with Nalini had improved greatly. She embraced her culture so much more. She was okay with not getting into Princeton, and realised that she'd always be connected to her father no matter what. I don't mind that she didn't completely give up on her Princeton dream. I don't think she needed to, to show that she had healed. She was able to tell her dad's story in a way that felt true to herself, and did not feel exploitative (she reclaimed her power from a racist white guy). She was truly happy when she prayed to the gods before leaving to Princeton. She was surrounded by people who cared about her and loved her, as she said. And she was happily in the middle of a fun game of Never Have I Ever before Ben showed up. She had learned to love herself and her life. The show having a happy (for now) ending does not equal them saying that everything is going to be okay forever. The world is still brutally unfair. Devi is just a little better at dealing with it.

I don't know who needs to hear this but Never Have I Ever had a TEAM DEVI ending! Just because Devi was not single at the end of the show/ended up with someone you dislike, it doesn't mean that the ending wasn't a win for team Devi.

TEAM DEVI FOR THE WIN! AND THAT'S WHAT WE GOT.

I'll acknowledge that there were issues with the show throughout all four seasons. But I can't see such an empowering show being dismissed in such a ridiculous way.

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thewriterg · 7 months

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𝐏𝐮𝐦𝐤𝐢𝐦 𝐬𝐩𝐢𝐜𝐞 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧’ 𝐧𝐢𝐜𝐞

pairing(s); tony stark x fem!reader, thor odinson x best friend!reader

summary; Tony knew he fucked up but what could pumpkin spice food not solve nothing he hoped —flufftober day; 9—

word count; 1.0k+

warning(s); reader not taking Tony’s shi, small argument, Medusa coded reader, fluff, pet names, kisses and language

playlist; moment by vierre cloud

A/n:—GIFs; @animusrox— Gif does not determine race!

“Goldie!? Hey! Where’s my girl?” Tony called out to the blonde who perked up at his set in stone selection ‘assigned name’ his steps thundering into the floor no pun intended as he approached the brunette billionaire

“Lady Y/n is not fond of you at the moment Stark I suggest you steer clear” Thor’s voice naturally loud and booming carried through the practically empty hallways and Tony fought the urge to thank him for staying the obvious

He knew you were pissed at him he had six different voicemails to prove it but he didn’t expect his meeting to run over, he should’ve seen it coming

“Yeah I got that, just give me a hint where she is blues clues?” The Asgardians face turning up in confusion at the connection a sigh falling from his pink lips shaking his head at the former playboy and the god of thunder began to think of a hundred and one ways to you as the answer spewed through his teeth

“Training room.” Thor began to walk away before Tony could respond but he wasn’t fawning over the thought as he headed towards the elevator down to the training area

Your hands were wrapped in white tape thin gauze underneath blotches of crimson seeping through your knuckles grazing the skin of your opponent as you spared with a shield agent and and Tony noted how close you were to not pulling your punched line you usually do when you trained with someone else and how your eyes flickered that dangerous white that made you look blind

The snakes in your hair nipped and hiss at the dirty blonde opponent their emerald green scales shining under the light

Throwing a kick to the man’s side causing his stance to alter before swiping your feet under his causing him to fall downward towards the mat your eyes changed back to their original color as you started down at your counterpart as he held back a groan in his throat

“Sorry about that Brent” You mumbled holding out a hand to the dirty blonde as he waved you off taking your hand to stand nothing to sweat about in his eyes he stepped out of the the ring grabbing a folded towel slinging it over his shoulder as he made his way towards the locker room a hot shower on his mind spotting Tony leaning against the door frame of the hall

“Tried to work as much steam as I could off her, good luck man” Brent clapped his hand on the billionaires shoulder before walking off just You and Tony in the room now as he watched you sigh stepping out the ring before turning to face the brunette the pythons in your hair got hostile at the sight of him your eyes turning blind white

“You have some nerve” Your head quite literally rang with hisses and defensive sounds a common misconceptions was that your reptiles had a mind of your own and it wasn’t completely true nor false but they structured off of your emotions

“Hey honey! Woah! Girls are mad at me too huh!? Woah! I know please just let me explain” He stepped backwards to avoid the snakes while you took a step forward that looked like they would make a man meal out of him

“Thirty seconds” You hissed the pythons doing the same their pink tongues out a slithering at him but slightly backing down nonetheless while you glared your eyebrows furrowed

“My meeting ran over and I know that’s not an excuse but I’m sorry even in technically it wasn’t my fault” The billionaire rushed out

“Fifteen” You growled

“And I will make it up to you anywhere you wanna go, anything you wanna do. What is it Tuesday?”

“Wednesday” You corrected with a grumble

“Wednesday, I’ll get Happy to cancel everything for the rest of the week everything we can do whatever you wanna do” The brunette knew how to sweet talk you and deep down you knew it was working but you weren’t going to show him that

“I want to be on the jet by 6, France. No bags packed we shop when we get there” Tony knew deep down you really meant when you both got there you were going to shop and his credit card would be the victim

“Whatever you want honey” Your hands were brought into his before you took them away walking away from the billionaire as he watched the sway of your hips in your joggers being distracted he wasn’t quick enough to catch the towel you through at him that was once slung over your shoulder

“Six o’clock!” He called out to you just to get no response from you

💌💌💌💌

You walked out onto the walkway the jet set in stone less than twenty feet away from you Tony stood at the stairs to the entrance of your flight as you walked the way your pump hitting the concrete with a click a dark green trench coat on your arms and over your shoulder the cold air multiplied as the sun began to set

Once you approached the front of the stairs you ignored the pale hand held out for you loading the jet yourself with no help and you missed the small borderline grin the billionaire gave you before loading into the jet behind you sitting next to your frame

“Gonna sip something nice with me?” When you turn to face Tony you expected to be a flute of champagne thrown down your throat what you didn’t expect was the familiar coffee cup of your favorite coffee shop to flood your senses its sweet smell clouding your judgement

“Pumpkin spice everything nice huh?” That was one of the things that kept you in trouble when it came to Tony that shit eating grin and terrible timing sarcasm

“What’s not gonna be nice is the meeting with your bank you’re gonna have” You mumbled trying to hold a smirk back from etching its way on your face and the brunette couldn’t hold back a chuckle his chocolate eye gazing over your features

“Yeah I plan on it honey”

#🦇𝐒𝐏𝐎𝐎𝐊𝐓𝐎𝐁𝐄𝐑;𝐆 #tony stank #tony stark x reader #tony stark x fem!reader #thor odinson #thor odinson x reader #thor odinson x you #avengers x you #avengers x reader #fem!reader #spooktober #flufftober #angstober #kinktober #fluff #romance #i love you #thewriterg #2023

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zuffer-weird-girl · 1 year

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Hii^^ I don't know if you still take requests, but I keep imagining a scenario where the angel convinces Kai to take care of his skin with her (I don't know how he does it, but it works)

So, Kai has a face full of clay when suddenly Pops or some subordinate finds him.

Ok, you guys know that a lot of bussines man actually do skin care and manicure right??? Just imagine this douchebag doing this, he would be so annoyed while sitting there-

"No."

"Come on your skin is begging for some"

"No."

"But-

"No." He said more firmly while writing something on paper, soon putting it aside in a pile with more force than he needed to.

Huffing while crossing your arms over your chest, you still had the guts to glare at him, soon receiving a more menacing glare from those golden eyes.

Honestly, you were the only one, probably, on the whole Japan that had the courage enough to glare at the soon successor of the mafia... and even sometimes to make him scared.

But right now? You both were standing your grounds. Neither of you were backing down so easily.

"Kai there is nothing wrong with-"

"Is disgusting, it stays literally glued to your skin, the smells of it is terrible and why the hell would we waste cucumbers to put on eyes? Is just ridiculous." He sighed "go bother someone else."

"So that's how is going to be?" You murmured on that tone of voice you knew affected him... and just by looking how his hand stilled it was starting to make effect.

"Exactly." He spoke back and when he went to look at you he froze.

Puppy eyes... teary puppy eyes..

"Alright... I just wanted us to spend time together... you're always so busy..." You faked a sniffle

"Don't do that." He growled.

"Ok, I will leave you in peace now, since I'm such a bother..." turning your back you could heard his chair screeching, meaning he had stood up abruptly.

"(Y/n) stop that right now-"

"Is fine... I will going now... maybe setsuno will accept this." You smiled at hearing his footsteps.

"(Y/n) don't you dare-!"

"Have a good day... Chisaki." You snickered at hearing the audible gulp coming from behind you.

"I think I brought everything..." You mumbled while checking the basket while in your bed stood a very pissed off Kai with a scowl on his usual neutral face.

"I am starting to think you're the devil in disguise." He muttered while you sat in his lap with a bright smile while he scowled, refusing to touching you... yet.

"Hah? But I thought I was a angel?" You blinked with a lil pout, only to have a fit of giggles when he scoffed.

"Never thought I would ever be emotionally manipulated by the person I am suppose to trust." He grumbled while you carefully slid... whatever that thing was to hold his bangs back as he glared at you even more "If you were on the yakuza I would have chopped three of your fingers off."

"You wouldn't." You hummed while kissing his forehead, snickering at his pale cheeks heating up "You love me too much for that."

"Love is a strong word to use, especially on this case." He growled as you stood up to grab the inumerous products of skin care as he mentally rolled his eyes at your stubbornness.

"It would be good if you actually admitted your true felling for a while honey." You showed him a packet and wiggled it front of his face "Come on, look at this one! It has the scent of lavender~"

his death glare intensified at you singing the last word... you knew he had a soft spot for lavender.

"Akuma." He groaned as you cheered in victory.

"So as I was saying, maybe if we put aside the part pf the drugs maybe Kai's plan would be-"

"Enough Kurono." Pops lifted his hand up "You do know well I don't agree with that. And please don't try to change my mind just because you want to be in good terms with Chisaki."

"Worth the shot..." The white haired man shrugged before stopping abruptly on his steps when he saw the man in front of him had simply... stopped "Boss? Is everything alright?"

He sneaked a peek over the old man shoulder and his grey eyes widened at the sign.

Chisaki Kai. A man feared by many on the undergrounds, merciless killer, heartless leader of the yakuza.... was sitting on the edge of the bed while reading a book with his face full of what he could be believe was clay mask before seeing you coming in after and murmuring something to him which resulted the man to sigh and put his book aside just to close his eyes and tilt his chin up for you to take it off slowly.

"After this is a peel off mask." They heard you say from afar.

"Just why do you enjoy seeing my suffering again?" He muttered monotonously as he accepted a towel for him to rub his face.

"Well, it does get rid of dead skin and black spots over the nose but if you don't-"

"Don't start the manipulation again alright?"He growled "But must I have this stupid headband of a bear on?"

"Yes! You look adorable!" You checked your phone on the drawer "I even took some pictures"

"You did what now woman?" They could see you gulping before yelping at Chisaki manhandled you to the bed while he stood on top. "Delete this atrocity right now!"

"I can't! Is my precioussss" You laughed hysterically while they saw Kai holding back a smirk before blushing a bit when you pecked his lips.

"Ah!" Pops clapped his hands loudly, scaring the shit out of both of you "Young love! What a delight!" Chrono snorted while Kai cursed under his breath the elder that was making fun of him.

"Get out both of you." He growled before glaring at kurono who just double over in laughter at seeing him being ordered around by the guy that was wearing a bear headband.

"No." Pops muttered simply with a smile before looking at you "My dear I couldn't help but to overheard about this mask, would you mind borrowing me one? I might get rid of some black spots on my face."

"Oh, there is actually a honey scented one that-"

"DONT ENCOURAGE HIM (Y/N)!"

#overhaul x reader #chisaki kai x reader #bnha villains x reader #overhaul #chisaki kai #bnha villains #zuffer writings

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duskyashe · 10 months

Text

CAMP NANO DAY 1

Calling All The Monsters part 4 chapter 1

[First] [Previous] [Next] [AO3]

=============‹«⟨·•★•·⟩»›=============

Jason was more than ready to get this over with. Unlike the others, he'd known he wasn't fully human for years, pretty much ever since he'd come back from the dead. Looking back on it, he'd even known the others were slowly changing, too, he just hadn't had the words. He hadn't known there even were words for the feeling of slowly finding his footing among others that were just as inhuman as himself. Well, other than relief.

As soon as Dick confirmed when and where the kid was willing to host tutoring sessions for all of them ("He said he wanted to work with each of us individually, first, but that he was willing to work with groups of up to three at a time if B was more comfortable with that," Dick said with a thoughtful frown, cowl held loosely in one hand. "Personally, I think the first meeting should definitely be two of us, but the rest should be played by ear, but it's your call, B,") Jason was nearly vibrating out of his own skin in anticipation. Answers to all his questions about himself, from his first fully conscious thought after his dip in the Pits to a reaction he'd had to something just last Tuesday, were just out of his reach and he could feel his frustration and impatience building in the back of his throat. Grimacing, he swallowed the urge to vocalize his feelings before taking a deep breath. It was only an hour more before Condor and Starling would be meeting up with their new tutor, he could hold out that much longer. He could.

"You alright there, Jay?" Steph asked as she entered the cave. Her long blonde hair was braided tightly against the crown of her head in preparation for getting in costume.

He shakily let out the breath he'd taken and nodded in her direction. "Just anxious," he said, meticulously going over his guns yet again. He was mostly suited up, himself, just needing to mask up and slip his gloves on. He'd initially had his gloves on, but cleaning his guns was easier and more grounding barehanded, so off they'd come.

She gave him a searching look. "You really believe Phantom, don't you?" Steph asked after a moment.

Jason paused his movements and let out a sigh. "Yeah. Yeah, I do," he replied, setting his cleaning rag to the side and finally looking directly at her instead of just from the corner of his eye. "Look, I'm pretty sure it was fairly obvious to B, Dick, and Alfie, and maybe Tim saw it, too, but I didn't come back from death the same as I was before. And I don't mean "the trauma of my death changed me"," he said with finger quotes, rolling his eyes at the same time. "I mean I literally didn't come back fully human. At the latest, I've known I wasn't fully human since shortly after everything that happened with Tim, but it's far more realistic to say I've known, at least on some level, ever since I first came out of the Pit." Jason sighed and ran a hand through the tuft of white hair that liked to fall into his eyes. "Looking back, almost every single fight between me and another member of the family, except Damian, started because I either misunderstood something someone said or took insult where none was meant, because I reacted based on instinct and emotion first instead of logic, and while I've gotten better at thinking crap through before I respond, interactions between all of us for the past year and a half have been noticeably less tense and have resulted in a lot less bloodshed. That's not all on me, and neither is it all on the Demon Spawn finally starting to get a clue."

"Alright," Steph said, the gears in her head almost visibly turning. "Putting aside you knowing years ahead of us that it was possible to start out human and end up not, what do you mean by almost every fight between you and a different family member except Damian? Are you saying the fights between you two were that different than all the others?"

He blinked at the blonde in incredulity for a moment. "Steph… Damian's from a warrior culture," he said slowly, praying he didn't need to spell it out for her. She just blinked blankly back at him and he let out a soft curse under his breath. No luck. "Out of the entire family, only four of us have been trained by the League of Assassins, and B didn't exactly keep up with the cultural practices after his stay with them. Cass may have picked up on a lot of those practices from her sperm donor and whatever other trainers he allowed her to train under, but she didn't have all of them and didn't really understand what she had picked up or how to actually apply it. I was the only one who, in Damian's eyes at the time, was cultured and spoke a familiar language. He saw me as someone who was reliable, and a part of me saw him in a similar light due to my own experiences with the League right after my resurrection. Fights with the Demon Spawn were more like training spars while fights with pretty much everyone else were basically honor duels." How has this not come up before now? Are the others just as clueless about this crap? Jason wanted to shake some common sense into some of his siblings, maybe scream a little in frustration. If the only ones who knew anything accurate about his and Damian's relationship were literally just the two of them, he was going to be so disappointed in his family…

Steph looked like she was going to say something more on the subject when Bruce and Babs entered the cave, Babs heading to the Batcomputer while Bruce walked over to the two of them.

"I had a feeling you two would still be down here. Steph, go get changed, I'll help you with your hair pins before you head out, okay?" Bruce asked. Steph gave a sloppy salute and skipped off to the changing rooms, though Jason could tell she wasn't going to let their conversation drop that easily. Bruce took a moment to watch Steph go, and Jason got back to cleaning his guns as he waited for his father Bruce to say his piece. "Are you alright, Jaylad? You usually aren't this anxious before an op, especially an information gathering one like this."

Jason finished rubbing down the last part that needed attention before quickly reassembling his guns. "At the beginning, back when the Demon Spawn first came to live with us, did any of his interactions with the family stand out as different to you?" Jason asked instead. He switched to checking his hidden ammo pouches, making sure everything was topped off. He wasn't expecting a fight tonight, but he needed something to keep his hands occupied.

A hand, scarred and familiar, caught his attention as it came to rest on his own. "I've always known yours and Damian's relationship was special to both of you. You both got each other in ways the others are still trying to understand. And yes, I'm aware a large part of that is due to your time with the League, I'm not as blind to your dealings with your siblings as you all seem to think I am," Bruce said with a chuckle. He brought his other hand up to gently raise Jason's head, making eye contact soon after. "I'm grateful you were able to give Damian a small slice of his first home when I couldn't, Jason. While I wish neither of you had ever been in the situations that lead to you both being with the League, I'm grateful those experiences were able to bring you two closer together as brothers."

He stared at Bruce in shock for a moment before clearing his throat and looking away. "Damn it, B, warn a man before you bring out the emotion talk," he said, stalwartly pretending his eyes weren't misty.

Jason saw Bruce smile out the corner of his eye as his father patted his shoulder with the hand that had been on his cheek. "My bad, sorry about that. Finish getting ready then meet by the Batcomputer for a quick briefing," he said before walking away.

As Jason finished checking his ammo pouches and slid his gloves back on, he couldn't help but smile to himself at the faint, almost tangible, warmth in his chest. Things had really changed in the past year and a half, and for the better, at that.

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Danny was both excited and nervous for what this evening would entail. He'd been obsessively going over everything he'd ever been taught about the various non-human beings that called Earth and its various pocket dimensions home in preparation for this night. He didn't know who he was meeting with first, nor did he know how many of Batman's clan he was meeting with, so he and his Fright had probably gone a bit overboard with potential lesson plans. He just wanted to give the Bats a good first lesson about their various species and the instincts and abilities that are a part of them.

He was waiting at the rooftop shrine where he met with Raven, once more sitting cross-legged about a foot above the roof. It had been almost two weeks since he and Raven had set up these lessons, and he was eager to get started. The current plan was that for the initial lessons, if everything worked out during this first one, Danny would be meeting each publicly known member of the Batclan at that exact shrine for basically what boiled down to essentially bookwork before eventually moving on to hands-on training with their current and future abilities at a different, more secure location. He had to admit, it was a pretty good system for having been developed at the drop of the hat between two beings who didn't even know each other yet.

A sudden burst of flame on the corner of the roof drew Danny's attention to Condor's arrival. Y'know, Danny thought with eyes wide with awe as the hooded form of Condor stalked out of the fire with a predatory grace, little tendrils of fire chasing after him, if we'd known Condor literally appeared in a burst of flames at times, lich would have been the last thing we thought of. It's so freaking obvious he's a phoenix that in hindsight I feel like an idiot.

The faint rustle of feathers against fabric had him turning around just in time to see Starling drop down from on top of the shrine and land in a stooped crouch, feather headdress flowing in the breeze as her head tilted ever so sightly to the side, the hood of her own costume shading her face enough to make the florescent red lenses of her full face mask stand out starkly.

"We aren't late, are we?" A soft, almost lyrical voice asked from behind Danny, brimming with power and potential but holding nothing but eagerness and nervousness. Condor's voice was most definitely masculine, but it was almost impossible to tell if it were tenor, baritone, or bass as it seemed to be all of them at once. It was captivating and bone chilling all at once.

Danny looked over his shoulder, more sure in his assumptions of the species of these two vigilantes than ever before. "Not at all, you're right on time. Shall we begin?"

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HEY EVERYONE!!! So sorry for the wait, I meant to get this chapter finished and published back in May, but, well... That obviously didn't happen (⁠^⁠～⁠^⁠;⁠)⁠ゞ also, you may have noticed something different about this part (⁠ ͡⁠°⁠ ͜⁠ʖ⁠ ͡⁠°⁠) yes, that's right, part 4 of this series has been broken into chapters!!! This will mainly come into play on AO3, as part 4 will be a multi chapter fic over there (as well as actually have a title (⁠；⁠^⁠ω⁠^⁠）) but I thought it was important to acknowledge it here, too!

#camp nano 2023 day 1 #camp nanowrimo 2023 #danny phantom #batman #dpxdc #finally continuing this fic series!#fanfiction #Calling All The Monsters part 4 chapter 1

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