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muffinpink02 · 18 days

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Taking Your Crown

Alexia has booked you for a special night.

Warning - smut, fingering, anal play, choking, strap, bdsm play, fluff & after care

‘Ping’

You heard a notification come up on your phone, you looked at the screen.

“Gold Package Booking’ 9pm - 9am Tonight”

You raised your eyebrows in surprise, this was the most expensive service you provided. You looked over the details, not that there really was much detail, there never was. Not in your line of work.

You did look at the tick box that they had to fill out before submitting, their “wants and needs”. And surprisingly they had ticked many of the options.

Foreplay (Yes),

Penetration (Yes),

Giving (Yes),

Receiving (Yes),

Praise kink (Yes),

Pain threshold - (High),

Toys - (Yes),

Anal play (Yes),

Air Restriction (Yes),

Bondage (Yes),

Orgasm denial (Yes),

Sensory play (Yes),

But what really made you smile was seeing that it was a woman who had booked you. You had women book you before but they weren't your most regular customers. Maybe 1 in 30 bookings would be a woman, but most of the time it was men, rich men. Business men, famous men, men in oil, men in tech, men in law, men in government, you had even had a Prince once.

But you never had sex with them, that wasn’t part of your services, not for the men. That was the ‘silver package’, The silver package included many things but nothing that involved you and the customer having any sexual intercourse. Not even kissing, you hardly really touched them. The ‘gold package’ was only for the ladies. And the only package that included sex.

With the gold package she had the option to pick your outfit, and this particular woman had picked your personal favourite. It consisted of your leather thigh high boots, the heels stood just short of 6 inches. A fitted black leather corset, that showed off your breast perfectly. She requested for your hair to be tied back in a slicked back ponytail.

You studied her safe words, her ‘do’s and don’ts’. This was always sent over beforehand so you didn't have to break character during your session, or constantly ask if she was okay, unless you felt you needed to. You began to get yourself ready for your night ahead, starting with a long hot shower. You couldn't help but be intrigued on who she was. The customers that booked you had to have money, you weren't cheap, and the company you worked with was a very high brow type of organisation. Only the rich and famous were able to be a member of your place of work, and sometimes not even all of them were allowed to join. It was a very exclusive club. You had to be somebody, and even then you weren't always guaranteed to be a member.

You had to book months in advance to see certain ‘workers’ and you were one of them, you were one of the best after all. Even, you didn't find out anything until that day, like the message you got this morning. Giving the customers the discretion they paid for.

After your shower you got yourself ready in the customer's desired outfit of choice. You got in your car and made your way to your destination, but not before covering yourself with your long brown trench coat of course. This view wasn't free.

You pulled up to the gated fence. “Good evening, Miss Porsche.” The security guard who had been working there since even before you, smiled politely, opening the gates for you. ‘Miss Porsche’ wasn’t your name, he didn’t know your name, it’s what he called you as that was your car of choice.

“Hey, Frank.” You nodded and smiled at him as you drove through the gates. You didn't know his name either, he just looked like a Frank and he never corrected you.

You drove up the pathway to the main entrance of the Victorian manor, parking your car in your usual spot. You climbed the old wooden staircase, passing large golden floor length mirrors that draped the walls, mirrors that you had seen yourself in many times, in many different positions, from an array of sex parties.

You made your way to your room, you unlocked the door and got yourself ready. No one but the cleaners was allowed in your room. Everyone who worked here had their own private rooms, giving the customers full privacy. No one entered or left at the same time, it was a tight clock.

You made sure the room was perfect, you had scented candles lit, making the room smell of vanilla and coconut, the lights dimmed low. The room was a naturally dark room, a four pillar wooden king size bed sat in the middle of it. The oak pillars stood tall giving it a royal feel to it. The small fire burning gave the room the perfect temperature, you wanted to keep your guest comfortable after all, there was nothing worse than a cold room when having sex. You looked over her checklist once more, smirking as you read it. You had a feeling you were going to have fun with her.

That's when you heard a knock on the door. Show time.

“Enter.” You called out.

The door opened with a young woman standing behind one of the “Toys” Both their faces half covered with masquerade masks. The ‘toys’ were like house butlers but half naked, they greeted the guests on arrival and escorted them in and out of the building. They confiscated phones or any kind of device that could record, you wanted your privacy to. They were in charge of taking the customers to change out of their clothes and into something more appropriate, and into the robes provided. They were young apprentices, shall we say. They got the name ‘toy’ because they were ‘played’ with constantly by workers like you in the best kind of way, of course, they were like shiny new toys, hence the name. You and other workers taught them the ways of your work, they were literally learning on the job.

“You, come in.” You pointed at your partner for the night. She hesitantly took a step forward into your room.

“Leave us.” you said to the ‘toy’. She took a step back, closing the door behind her.

You locked the door, giving yourself and your guest privacy. You turned around to see the blonde woman standing straight ahead, her body looked rigid, most of them did when they first entered.

“Take off your robe.” You said it softly, but with a dominant tone.

The blonde took a deep breath and removed her robe down to her waist, she was nervous to take it completely off. But that's why you were there.

“All of it.” You demanded.

She took another deep breath and allowed the clothing to drop to the floor. You smiled.

You took a good look at her body, she was stunning. She was wearing a beautiful, very expensive looking red laced set that complimented her olive skin perfectly. You could tell she worked out, her muscles in her back alone were impressive. Your eyes drifted down to her pretty perky arse, her red thong sat neatly between her cheeks and fuck, it was perfect. You had the urge to slap those perfect cheeks and watch them jiggle, but that could wait, you had 12 hours to play with her.

You could see she had tattoos scattered across her skin, her blonde hair flowing down her back was covering parts of the art. Her muscles were tensing beneath her skin, you could see she was nervous, you wanted her in many ways, but nervous was not one of them.

You stepped closer to her, gently touching her shoulder, she jumped at the contact.

“Oh we don't want that, no need to be nervous around me.” You purred.

You finally stepped in front of her, and you nearly lost your own nerve. Even with the mask you knew who she was. The women standing in front of you was none other then Alexia fucking Putellas. Fuck.

You didn't have many celebrity crushes, you weren't really one to obsess over the latest hot new movie star. But, you were a sucker for a female footballer. And in some sick twist of fate, the one you lusted over most was standing half naked right in front of you. Ready to be dominated.

You prided yourself on being a professional, you have seen many faces that you recognised in this room before, faces you saw in films, in music, even in politics. You had never batted an eyelid. You would even use it as part of your play with them. Use it as a tool to either put them down or build them up, depending on the service of course.

You were a little taken back when you recognised her, you nearly faltered, nearly. But you were a professional, this was your job, but god, this was going to be hard.

You stepped closer to the Spaniard, you put your finger under her chin and lifted her head slightly, making her look at you. “You’re a pretty little thing aren't you?.” You smirked.

The blonde casted her hazel eyes to the floor, a small smile at her lips. “Thank you.” She said quietly.

You were a bit shocked to see the footballer so timid. On social media she seemed a lot more confident, but you knew more than most people, that not everyone was the same in and outside of the bedroom.

You looked over her body one last time, before you left her where she stood. You sat on the end of the king size bed, spreading your legs wide.

“Come here my pretty pet.” You point to the space between your legs.

Alexia looks between your legs and back up at you, almost scared to be caught looking. She starts to walk but you stop her.

“No. Not like that. On your hands and knees, crawl. You’re my pretty pet.” You smirked devilishly at her.

She looked a little taken back but she got on her hands and knees like you said and crawled to you. Her perfect arse swaying as she did. You felt a little excitement in your stomach at the view, but you knew you had to keep it professional. Crush or no crush. She was still your guest.

You looked down at the girl between your legs, she kept her head down, you watched her hazel eyes look everywhere but at you. Even behind the gold mask you could see she was still nervous. You gently placed your hand on her cheek, she leaned into your palm instantly. You were definitely going to have fun with her tonight.

“I like the name 'Pretty pet' for you, you are so very pretty. Are you going to be a good, pretty pet for me?”

She nodded. That wouldn't do. You grabbed her chin, her cheeks were squashed between your fingers pushing her lips out.

“When I ask you a question I want a verbal answer.”

“Sí. Yes, s-sorry.” She stuttered.

You roughly released her face, leaning back from her.

“You’re not the queen in this room, do you understand?”

“Yes.” She nodded.

“Good. In fact you will refer to me as Miss Queen.”

“Yes, Miss Queen.” She nodded.

You smiled. “Good, I like an obedient pet. Let's take this mask off you. We don’t need it anymore.” You untied the mask and removed it from her. Finally seeing her full face, she was even more beautiful in real life.

You take your time looking at her, this stunning woman in front of you was specifically here for you, for her pleasure.

With this kind of job it was easy for it to get to your head. You have someone paying thousands to specifically spend a night with you, just to fulfill their own sexual needs. But you had learnt from early on that it wasn't just a sex thing, it was almost like a therapy session for your guest, something they needed. Fantasies that society made them feel weird for wanting, so they seeked out their pleasures privately. It was a safe space for you and them, a place where nothing would be used against them. And if you were rich and famous then it was the perfect space for you. And you were there to provide that service for them.

You smiled down at the girl below you, you caught her eyes on your sex, her hazel eyes locked with your own, she looked embarrassed to be caught red handed.

“Like what you see, pretty pet?”

She nodded. “Yes, very much Miss Queen.”

You hummed. “My thighs need some attention, give it to them.”

“Yes, Miss Queen.” Alexia shuffled closer on her knees. She started to place gentle kisses on your skin, your leather boots covered half of your thighs, only giving her lips space closer to your pussy, not that you minded. She began to use her tongue, slowly licking and sucking on your flesh. You leaned back, stroking her hair, watching the girl beneath you. You watched as her tongue darted out, and then her lips would suck. She got closer to your pussy, as she sucked at the crease of where your thigh and leather suit met.

You let out a sigh.“That's good my pretty pet. I can see your pretty mouth can work, I’ll definitely enjoy that later. Stand up”

Alexia stood in front of you, her red lingerie hugged her body perfectly. You stood up right in front of her, even with your heels she had the height leverage, not that it mattered. Not in this room.

“Stay facing the bed. Put your hands up.”

Alexia did what she was told. You grabbed the restraints that were hanging from the top of the beds banister above her head, you secured her wrists to the restraints, keeping her in place. You walked over to your draw of toys, looking specifically for a certain item. You smirked as you found it.

You walked over to her, the accessory in your hand. Her beautiful body was tense, as her muscles in her arms and shoulders flexed from the position. You stepped closer to her, enjoying your view up close. You pressed your body against hers, her own body tensed instantly on feeling you. You were close enough to smell her perfume, it smelt expensive.

“I’m going to give you 10 lashes and the only thing I want to hear coming from your mouth is ‘Thank you Miss Queen.’ Understood?”

“Yes, Miss Queen.”

“Good, if you’re a good girl for me, you’ll be rewarded. Does that sound good, my pretty pet?”

“Yes Miss Queen, thank you.”

“Perfect. Let’s begin.” You kissed her shoulder, Your eyes roamed her pretty arse, her perfect pretty arse. Just waiting to be red like her thongs. You brought the black leather paddle board up, and lashed it across her cheeks.

Crack. “Thank you Miss Queen.” She took the first hit well. You brought down the paddle again, watching her arse shake from the impact.

Crack. She hissed out. “Thank you Miss Queen.”

You got to the 8th slap, and her body was shaking, her breathing was hard.

“You are doing so well, you’re such a good pet.”

“Thank you Miss Qu- ahh!….Queen.” Crack. 9th hit.

“Last one. It's a shame, I enjoy watching your pretty arse shake.” You smirked.

It was the last one and your hardest one. Her head flew back, as her body shook from the feeling of your paddle. “T-thank you, Miss queen.”

You knelt down and gave both her cheeks a delicate kiss. Humming as you did. “Thank you, pretty pet. I'm going to have so much fun with your arse.” You peppered her cheeks with your lips. She slightly flinched from the sensation, her arse was more than likely on fire, but she still signed in pleasure.

You took a step back, looking over her red cheeks. “You’re just perfect aren't you? Turn around, let me see you.” Alexia turned her body, now standing in front of you, her face was flushed, her cheeks a cute shade of pink. Her red lingerie hugged her body perfectly, but as pretty as it was it needed to come off.

You took a step closer to her, your face inches from hers. You looked between your bodies smiling. “Thank you for making such an effort for me tonight, pretty pet.” You glided your fingers over her bra, you could feel her erect nipple through the thin fabric.

Alexia suddenly became shy at the compliment, it embarrassed her that you knew she tried to make an effort, buying the outfit specifically for tonight, for you.

You gently cupped her chin like you did earlier. You moved your lips inches from hers, you could see the desperation in her eyes. “Even though you look so pretty in your lingerie, I want to see all of you.”

“Please.” She begged.

You gripped her face tighter. “Are you losing your manners, pet?”

She shook her head as much as she could with your tight grip. “No. Sorry, Miss Queen. I’m sorry.”

You smiled at her, your eyes glazing over her lips. “Good. Don’t upset me.”

You untied her from the restraints and removed her bra from her chest, revealing a beautiful pair of breasts.

“Pretty girl.” You whispered.

You slowly took her left nipple into your mouth, sucking on the perked flesh. Her head tilted back as a quiet moan escaped her lips. Just like she did before, she moved closer to your touch, desperate to feel you. A simple gesture like that made you understand the kind of touch she needed tonight. You moved over to the other side, gently squeezing her tight bud between your teeth, earning you a beautiful moan.

You released her nipples with a wet pop from your lips. “Turn around, get on the bed. I want that pretty arse in the air.”

Alexia got on the bed, shuffling on her knees, just like you told her to. You went back to your draw of toys, looking for the item you had in mind. Once you found the object, you accompanied it with a bottle of lube.

You turned around to see a truly pornagraphic site. Alexia had her arse in the air, her face down on the bed waiting for your next command. You stood behind her, greedily looking over her body. You stroked her thighs, making her jolt at your delicate touch. You moved your hands up to her red thongs and peeled the skimpy fabric down her thighs.

Wow.

The girl was drenched, you watched as her shiny streaks of wetness clung to her lips, as you removed the clothing. You felt your mouth water at the sight, you let out your own appreciative groan. Of all the female footballers that could have been in your room tonight it had to be the one you lusted over the most, the one that you literally pictured in this room many times. Now here she was. All wet and waiting.

Alexia heard your moan, it made her chest swell with pride. It felt like she had done something right for you.

“Look at you, you may have the prettiest pussy I have ever seen.” You smiled as you took a swipe from her wet lips. You lifted your wet finger to your mouth and smeared her essence on your lips, like she was your own personal lip gloss.

You groaned. “Fuck, she taste pretty too, what a sweet little thing you are.”

Alexia moaned from your words, you could tell the girl was starting to visibly relax.

“I’m going to play with your pretty little arse for a little bit. I have a beautiful red diamond plug that I think will suit you perfectly.”

“Yes, Miss Queen. I’d like that.” her voice trembled.

You had a feeling you knew why Alexia had booked with you, it was always the same. People who booked with you who were always in a leading role, a job that everyone counted on you to make the decisions. The people who got the most blame for a mistake that wasn't even theirs, it was just because they were the main face that they would get the most backlash. And with jobs like that they were always in charge, so coming here was a break, a release from the stress. They didn't get to make any decisions here.

You smirked as you covered the plug generously with lube, but not without covering your fingers too. You slowly started to ease one finger into her tight hole. Her breathing picked up straight away, small moans left her mouth as you got the tip of your finger past her tight muscles. “Such a good girl.”

She moaned at your words. Her back arched as she felt your finger slowly ease depper in, she clearly wasn't a stranger to this, you couldn't help imagine her outside this room and in your own bed training her arse to stretch. After some slow and gentle pushing your knuckle was pressing into her hole. You allowed her to get used to the feeling, ever so slowly moving your finger in and out, stretching her out. Her soft moans were beautiful, you watched as she held onto the bed sheets needing something to hold.

You stroked her back with your free hand. “So good.” She pressed her arse back into you, she was definitely a praise kink kind of girl. Your favourite kind of girl. After a while of manipulating her hole, you slowly removed your finger and began to ease the shiny but plug.

“You’re so good, taking this like a pro. You’ve done this before haven’t you? Hmm? You like your pretty arse played with.”

“Sííí. Sí M-miss Queen.” Alexia groaned.

“I thought so. Such a dirty pet.”

Finally the plug was sitting perfectly between her cheeks. You looked down proudly at your work, a red gem next to her red cheeks. Another shiney substance caught your eye, that’s when you noticed her juices had dribbled halfway down her thighs.

“Oh my poor pretty pet, you've made such a mess of yourself.” You said it with a hint of tease to your voice. “Let me clean you up.”

You got on your knees in front of Alexia’s thighs, you dipped your head closer and ran your tongue up each strong thigh, catching her body's juices. Alexia let out a groan at the feeling of your tongue, cleaning her up. You had tasted many girls in your time but wow, Alexia was something special. You sucked and licked on her skin, you grabbed her cheeks as she began to push backwards, clearly wanting your tongue somewhere else.

“Ohh she's a desperate girl.” Your voice was teasing.

She really was, Alexia had been looking forward to this appointment for months, she found out about this establishment through a friend of a friend, and when she came across your profile she enquired instantly.

You began to kiss up close to her sex, her lips were dripping. You slowly moved closer to where she wanted you most, but teased her with purposefully slow kisses, inch by inch getting closer. You smirked as you heard her breathing getting quicker. Ever so gently you kissed her lips, your own lips topped back up with the beautiful gloss that was Alexia.

A whimper dripped from the girl's mouth, god she was desperate. You could tell she needed this. You kissed her again, this time you pushed your tongue past her lips and into her velvety folds, finally having her on your tongue. You weren't ready for the filthy groan she let out, making your own pussy throb.

You lapped a few times before you began to eat her out properly, your tongue stroking teasingly at her hole, but not once touching her clit. She tried to open her legs further, but her thongs still on her thighs only allowed her so far.

As much as it pained you to do, you pulled away from her. You wanted to have more fun with her before she was allowed to come. But of course she protested when you stopped.

“Please Miss Queen. I’ve been so good.”

Fuck. Alexia begging was music to your ears. “You have been good, so good, but I’m not done playing with you.”

The blonde let out a moan, but before she could even finish your hand smacked her arse. Making her yelp.

“Lay on the bed, on your front now!” You put on your most dominant voice.

The girl couldn't move quicker, she laid on her front waiting for you. You pulled her thongs down off her thighs, freeing her legs. “Put your arms up near your head.” You commanded.

She did as she was told. You grabbed her hands and locked her wrist in the restraints attached to the front of bed. Her naked body laid there waiting for you. The red gem between her cheeks caught your eye as you approached her.

“I’m sorry, Miss Queen. I j-just. Your tongue feels so good.”

You stroked her hair from her neck, you moved closer to her ear, licking the shell as you did. “You wont get my tongue if you carry on being a brat. Is that what you want?”

Panic set in her eyes. “No, no. Please. I’m sorry, Miss Queen. Ho sento molt”

You hadn’t prepared yourself for Alexia speaking in Catalan. You felt yourself becoming wet again, but you gritted your teeth and held down your own hornyness for now. You grabbed a fistfull of her hair and yanked her head up. “Make me angry one more time. I promise you won't like it.”

You released the hold on her hair and walked over to the candles on the side, picking up one in particular. This one had a lip on the side for a certain use. You walked back over, your heels hitting the wooden floor boards with purpose. You climbed on the bed and sat just below Alexias arse.

“Make sure to breathe, baby girl.”

“Yes, Miss Queen.” The Spaniard breathed out.

You tilted the candle slowly on its side and watched as the hot melted red wax dripped over her back, she cried out as the burning liquid came into contact with her skin.

The noises she let out made your own eyes roll back. Alexia was writhing underneath you. The hot sensation of the wax made every nerve in her body scream. It felt like a bolt of electricity had coursed through her skin, she gasped as she felt more drips gather just above her cheeks, the feeling was intoxicating, she could feel her cunt pulsate from the burn.

“I would normally gag my pet but the noises you make are delicious.”

“Graci-gr- ….aghh. Thank you. Th-ank you, Queen.”

Her accent had become thicker, she was clearly struggling to form her words, you loved it. You didn't even care that she messed up. “Hmm, such a good, pretty pet.” You moved the candle away, you watched as the blonde breathed hard beneath you. You climbed off her, putting the candle back on the side.

You went into your dresser to get your next prop. “You ready to be a good girl? Be my good, pretty pet?” You began to remove your corset, the Spaniard's hazel eyes popped open comically as your corset hit the floor, she watched you like a hawk. You were now completely naked other than your thigh high boots. You slinked over to her, she was still trapped by the restraints, unable to move.

“Sí Miss Queen, I want to be your good girl, please.” Her voice was raspy.

You smiled as you stroked her hair, she was such a good submissive, it nearly took your breath away. You began to attach your item in your hand around her neck. She watched you closely, her hazel eyes were dripping with want, she looked at you like she wanted to devour you. As much as she was a sub you could tell she could switch it up. The look she gave you almost made you nervous, almost.

You untied her from her wrist restraints but she was now attached to a new type of restraint. “Come pretty girl. Follow me. I think you deserve a treat.” You smiled devilshy at her, and she smiled back, fuck, this girl was breaking your resolve. You watched as Alexia followed you, you held the lead in your hand that was now attached to her neck. You walked backwards watching her movements. My god what a sight it was.

You walked in front of the lit fireplace, and stood in front of the big black leather chair. A chair fit for a queen. You gently pulled the blonde closer by her lead, just shy of your mouth. You could feel her heavy breathing on your lips. You smirked up at her, her hazel eyes were locked on to your mouth. She truly was beautiful.

You slowly inched impossibly closer to her mouth, your lips millimetres from touching hers. You scraped her hair back gently and slowly attached your lips to hers, kissing her for the first time tonight. You kept it slow, her lips were so delicate and soft. You were exploring her mouth the way you wanted, you gently dipped your tongue past her lips, earning you the cutest groan.

Alexia could kiss, her mouth fit perfectly against yours, both enjoying the feeling of the other. She delicately slipped her tongue in your mouth, you allowed it as it was still the pace you set. Her skilful tongue danced over your own, making you groan. She clearly liked that she was able to pull a noise from you, as she made small muffled noises that made you want to throw her on the bed and fuck her relentlessly.

That's when she forgot her place.

You felt her hand come up to touch your hip slightly squeezing you, just as she decided to push her tongue further, trying to control the kiss. You pulled away, her eyes were still closed as she tried to chase your lips. You chuckled at her neediness, but really you just wanted to give her anything she wanted. Fuck. Get it together.

You pulled her lead again close to your mouth, eyeing her up. “Has someone forgotten who's in charge here?” Before she could answer you pulled her leash harder. She gasped from the jolt. “Because I know for a fucking fact it isnt you.” That knocked her down a peg, but you knew you'd give it to her later. She knew it too.

“I’m sorry, Miss Queen, your mouth is perfecte.”

You pulled the lead, making her pant. “On your knees, pretty pet.” She obeyed and slowly dropped to her knees, never taking her eyes off of you. The glow from the fire illuminated half of her face, causing her hazel eyes to glow a golden colour, making her look even more beautiful. She stared up at you like you were some kind of god, like she was ready to drop any religion she believed in before tonight and worship you instead.

You sat on the leather chair, spreading your legs wide. Her eyes went straight to your core, she saw instantly how wet you were, causing an excited look to flash across her face. Her mouth was slightly parted; you didn't miss the way her tongue darted out, wetting her kiss swollen lips. You let out a deep sigh as you leaned back into the seat, making yourself comfy, your cocky bravado on full show. You lent your hand under your chin, a devilish smile plastered your face. You looked at the girl sitting in front of you, she was a completely different girl from the one who walked in this room tonight. There were no nerves in sight, no more tense muscles, and you hadnt even fucked her yet. You gently pulled the lead to get her attention, as she was still unashamedly gazing at your wet lips.

“Are you ready for your treat, pretty girl?”

She nodded quickly. “Sí, sí. Please Miss Queen, I’m ready.”

You smirked. “Good. You’ve made me a bit of a mess. Come and clean me up.”

She shuffled closer to you on her hands and knees, you placed your heel on her back to rest and to remind her who was in charge. You jerked the lead just before she could inch any closer to you.

“Do not stop until I tell you to.”

“Sí, Miss Queen.” Her voice was desperate.

“Clean me up.”

She began to kiss up your thigh, but made quick work of it, clearly impatient as her tongue was on your clit a lot quicker than you wanted. You yanked the leash, moving her away from you.

“Do not rush. Do not make me warn you again, or you'll be tied up and spanked until you can no longer feel your skin. Do you understand?”

She bit her lip in remorse, and once again it nearly made you slip, this girl was driving you crazy and you had a feeling she knew it too. “Ho sento, Miss Queen.” She kissed your thigh gently.

“Good, get back to it. Make sure to swallow, don’t waste a drop.” You pulled her closer by the leash, not giving her time to respond. This time her lips were slow on your thighs, licking and sucking gently. She took small bites on your flesh, making you grit your teeth. “Good girl.” You rewarded her. Her golden eyes looked up at you, clearly happy to be praised again. She kept her eyes glued to yours as her tongue finally made contact with your wet lips. You made a point not to react, she was going to have to work for this. You didn’t want her to get any more cocky than she already was.

Did it annoy Alexia? Yes. She knew she was good with her tongue, actually if she was being honest she was amazing with her tongue. When she saw you didn't even flinch it jarred her, she didn't really know why but she wanted to prove herself to you, but she didn't mind putting on a show for you. She dipped her tongue into your cunt and up your folds, soaking her tongue in your juices, she leaned slightly back so you could see just how wet you were.

You watched as your shiny wet streaks clung from her tongue to your core, she looked at you as she greedily licked your arousal into her mouth and swollowed. Fuck, this was going ot be hard. She got to work on pleasuring you, lapping her tongue through your velvet folds, her eyes closed in concentration, slurping and swallowing your juices. The sight before you was breathtaking, you had Alexia Putellas on her hands and knees eating you out like she had a point to prove.

The fire's flames licked over her body, her olive skin was glowing from the small blaze. She moved her tongue higher, you couldn't hold the moans any longer as her talented tongue toyed with your clit. You brought your hand into her blonde hair, pushing her head closer. She groaned from the touch, happy to feel your contact.

“Quite a talented mouth you have on you. You feel so good, pretty pet.” You praised her.

You pushed her further into your pussy, she was building you up quicker then you normally would like, but a part of you didnt care, she felt too good, and she was definitely making a point. She sucked gently on your swollen bundle of nerves, your hand in her hair getting tighter as she sucked and licked. You could feel the coil in the bottom of your stomach start to build. Your moans only pushed Alexia further, wanting so badly to make you come. As your pleasure built you heard a small noise come from the girl below you, she started to fucking whimper as she suckled on your erect clit. You looked down at her, her eyes were closed as her head bobbed up and down between your legs.

“You’re such a good, pretty pet. I’m going to come in your pretty mouth. S-so good. So fucking good.” You rasped out.

Her noises alone made your hips start to move, you began to push into her mouth, she had the most perfect suction on your bundle of nerves. You pulled on her leash to get her closer, her whimpering getting louder as your hips moved against her tongue. The heated wave of your orgasm rushed through your body, you grabbed her head, needing her to stay exactly where she was, you pushed her impossibly closer as she sucked on your clit. Her name was on the tip of your tongue, as you shakily whimpered out, but you were able to hold it down.

Alexia was in heaven, she felt your juices seep out and coat her tongue. She swallowed you down like you told her to, her own head swelled at seeing you so out of breath. She stayed on her hands and knees, lapping you up. You were sensitive but you allowed her to stay on, you watched her tongue lick between your folds, it wasn't long before she coaxed another orgasm out of you, making you completely fall apart.

You let out a shaky breath as you moved her head away. You hated to admit it but no one had ever made you come like her, most of the time your guest wasn't even able to make you come, let alone twice. You watched as the blonde sat on her heels, her mouth was smeared with your essence, she smiled up at you, clearly happy with herself.

You chuckled. “Wow. Not just talented on the pitch then are you.”

You saw the glint flash in her eyes at the praise, she broke out in a genuine smile, a smile that melted your insides, fuck sake. You would only praise her from now on if that's how she reacted. But you still had to remind her who was boss.

“Come pretty girl, unzip my boots.”

Alexia unzipped your boots, pulling them off you and placing them to the side.

“Up.” You snapped.

You both stood up, you were glad to be out of your heels as your legs felt like jelly as you stood.

“Come pretty pet.” You pulled on the leash and Alexia followed.

You snapped your fingers, pointing to the middle of the bed. “On your back, arms up.”

Alexia did what she was told and climbed on top of the bed with her arms up.

You heard a small gasp come from the girl. “A mirror?” She smirked.

You had a large mirror placed under the roof of the bed, so your guest had a view from the angle on their back.

You smiled. “Best view in the house.”

You attached her wrist to the restraints on the bed, making sure they were tight. You could feel her eyes watching your every move. You untied the leash around her neck, you wrapped your fingers gently around her neck and squeezed her throat, earning you a whimper.

“Hmm, I love the sounds you make.” You gently squeezed again.

She moved forward trying to connect her lips to yours, and you gave in, gently kissing her. If that’s what she wanted then that’s what she would get.

The Spaniard was giddy, you could see she was excited. And so was you. You walked over to your drawer of goodies and grabbed the harness you wanted, you slipped it on with the 8 inch dark navy dick attached to it. Alexia was staring at you, her muscular thighs were already rubbing together.

“Is someone desperate?” You teased.

“Sí, Miss Queen. I-I need you.”

“You need me? Hmm, la Reina needs me?”

“Sí, so bad. My queen.”

“Hmm I like that.” You chuckled.

You covered the strap with lube, and made your way over to the bed. You sat kneeled at Alexia's legs that were closed.

You eyed her up. “Open.”

She almost looked hesitant to do it, but she did, she shakily opened her legs and you nearly forgot how to speak. She was dripping wet. You felt your core tighten just at the sight. The red diamante plug was covered in her wetness, what a sight to see.

You smirked deviously.. You pushed her legs open wider. “You’re a messy kind of girl aren’t you?”

“I-I don’t normally. I’ve never been this wet before.” She said it so quietly it nearly broke your heart.

You rubbed her thighs soothingly “That's okay my pretty girl. It’s exactly how I want you.”

She smiled, letting out air that was stuck in her lungs.

You moved your hand to her soaking wet entrance and circled her clit.

“Merda.” She husked out.

You watched her face as you ran your fingers through her folds, just feeling her, remembering her, she moaned and wiggled under your touch. Then without warning you pushed two fingers inside her. The groan she let out made your pussy clench. She closed her eyes, her mouth gaped open from the sudden intrusion. You allowed her to get used to you before stroking your fingers in and out.

You slowly rubbed your thumb on her erect clit, causing the blonde to tense on your fingers, you could feel her walls already starting to shake. You dipped your head and replaced your thumb with your mouth, wrapping your lips around her swollen pink head.

Alexia’s moan was pornagraphic, her hips came off the mattress, her back arched as you suckled on her.

“Please, déu mio.” Her eyes were screwed shut as she begged. You moved your fingers harder in her, making sure to hit that beautiful g spot of hers. Your tongue eagerly lapped at her clit, flicking it, pushing her closer. Her wetness was seeping into your mouth, almost making it hard to breathe, you swallowed as you sucked, making sure she could hear your throat gulp her juices down.

It didn’t take long before her body started to completely shake, she pulled her arms on the restraints, wanting so badly to touch you. She would normally have some kind of control when a girl was in between her legs. She felt her muscles tighten as her body tipped over the edge, she came hard, she cried out as her body rutted against your mouth.

You kept your mouth on her until it was too much, she faintly cried out. “I can’t take anymore.” You reluctantly moved your head away, kissing her thighs on the way up. You sat up, your mouth gleaming with her essence. You lined yourself up to her entrance, one hand on her thigh, one hand holding the 8 inch appendage. You started to tease her entrance.

“Tell me what you want.”

“You.”

“What do you want from me, pretty pet?”

“To fuck me, hard.” She huffed.

“Hmm I don’t know if you can take it.” Your voice was teasing.

“I can take it.” She rolled her eyes and smirked.

“Hmm, but do you deserve it?”

“Yes. I’ve been so good. Please.” God she was desperate

“You’re so needy aren't you? Such a needy pretty girl.”

“Sí. I need you so bad.” Her voice was straining now.

“Tonight this pussy is mine, got it?” You circled her clit gently.

“S-sí, it's yours.” She moaned.

“You are mine, isn't that right pretty pet?”

“Sí, I'm all yours. All y-yours, I belong to you.” She husked out. Her eyes were full of lust, her face and cheeks blushing red, her hair was a slight mess. She looked perfect. “Please amore.”

You smiled at the term of endearment. “Only because you asked so nicely “Ready?”

“Sí, please. Sí us plau fot-me.”

You slowly pushed the head of the dick into her core, watching it enter her inch by inch. She started to let out small gasps as the girthy dick stretched her out, it almost felt too much, the air felt cold as it left her lungs.

“Breath, baby girl.” You didn't move, you were only half way in but you allowed her to get used to the thickness of you. You watched her take a few deep breaths, and her body relaxed. She lifted her hips for you to keep going. You squeezed her thighs as you began to push deeper, her whimpers were errotic, the noises this girl made were something you wish you could have heard every damn day.

You slowly began to pump your hips, you were kneeling between her legs, able to watch and move at the pace you wanted. You couldn't stop staring as you sunk in and out of her, her pussy swallowing each thrust. You began to move faster, her moans becoming louder as you stretched her out.

You placed your hands on the back of her thighs for support as you started to really fuck her. The sounds of her moaning and wet pussy were filling the room. You pushed her legs further to her chest and began to move your hips at a relentless speed. She tried to moan but no sound came out, your hips were moving like they were on speed.

“Perfect girl. So perfect. Taking my dick so well.”

Alexia just had to lay there and take the rough pounding you gave her, watching you fuck her in the mirror above, her hands were still restrained above her head. She tried to respond but she was a mess of filthy moans. Her face was pure bliss as you hit deep in her tight walls, pushing her body deep into the mattress below, as you pressed your body into hers.

You were close to her face now, you kissed her roughly, she was just about able to form a kiss, you sucked on her lower lip and sunk your teeth into her plump flesh, causing her to whimper. You let go of one of her legs and moved your hand to her throat, wrapping your fingers around her neck. You squeezed with just enough pressure to hear her moan slip into a broken cry.

You could have stayed like this all night, if her body would allow it, just watching her face as she was fucked by you, you could feel your clit throbing from the site. You kept your pace up for a while, you felt your body start to sweat, making both your skin stick, the fire in the room was definitely keeping you warm.

That's when you felt her legs begging to shake, she wrapped them around your waist pulling you deeper, her moans became high, her head flung back into the pillow. You leaned into her ear.

“That's it, pretty girl, let that pretty pussy come over my dick. You’ve been so good, taking me so well.”

You thrusted faster, you grabbed her face and kissed her, her whimpers vibrated on your lips, her eyes were shut as her body started to rut. “Estic venint!” You were glad you knew enough Catalan to understand that was a good thing. Her body shook as she came, you kissed her as her body became dead weight. You dropped her legs and gently pulled out of her. You wanted her in a new position, not caring about her protests.

“Turn around.”

Before she could even move you moved her body for her, you brought her hips up in the air, putting her on her knees. The ruby coloured plug was still in place. You didn't wait around, you sunk your dick inside her, right until your thighs were slotted with hers.

Alexia's eyes rolled into the back of her head, the pressure from the plug in this position was a whole different feeling, she could feel your dick pressing against the plug between her walls, the pressure was amazing. She didn’t have time to get used to it, you began to fuck her hard.

You pushed her head down as your hips slapped her cheeks on every thrust, you thought you’d heard her moan before, but nothing compared to this. She gripped the bed sheets as you went to town, her moaning made your own eyes roll. You stole a glance upwards at the mirror above, you watched her cheeks slap roughly against your thighs, your clit was rubbing perfectly against the base of the strap. You looked down at the ruby plug sparkling between her cheeks, your eyes then panned to the blue dildo, working in and out of her pussy. You smirked to yourself, they were the colours of Barcelona's kit.

Alexia was mumbling and moaning in the bed sheets below, you could make out some words, most of it in Catalan, swearing and gibberish. You pushed deeper, feeling a perfect spot for your clit, you could feel the warm pressure in your stomach begin to rise, but Alexia was already close. Her legs began to shake again, her moaning becoming high pitched.

“No baby, wait for me.” You demanded.

“I-I can’t” She groaned.

You slapped her arse hard. “You will.”

But it was too late, Alexia tried when she heard you but the slap of the arse may have been the thing to push her. She came hard around your dick, her choked moaning was loud, her throat would definitely hurt tomorrow. She realised what she did, apologising instantly.

“I’m, I’m sorry. I didn't mean to I - merdaaa!”

You started to thrust again, not caring about how sensitive she was, she disobeyed you, she would have to wait for you to come now.

“You’re going to take it until I come. Do you hear me?” Your voice was harsh.

“Sí, sí I’m sorry.”

Your hips went at a back breaking pace. Alexia started to moan, her body was in complete overdrive. You pushed her closer to the head board, where her restraints were attached, and pulled her body up so her back was against your front. You sunk your teeth into her neck as you fucked her, the wet noises coming from her pussy were filthy. She whimpered at the pleasurable pain from your teeth and your dick thrusting into her. She was so sensitive, it was a lot, her whole body was vibrating, thrumming from the pressure between her legs.

She gritted her teeth as you used her body to come. She knew she could say the safe word and you would immediately stop but it turned her on knowing she was being used in this way. And yeah, that she maybe disobeyed your orders on purpose to be a brat, so what.

You pulled her right up against your body, you grabbed her throat holding her neck giving you full access. You began to suck and bite on her pulse points, feeling her heartbeat thump under your tongue. Your hips never stopped, her whimpers and cries were right in your ear, pushing you to the edge.

“So good. Your moans are so fucking good.”

She couldn't respond Alexia was teetering on her 3rd orgasm of the night, and you were right behind her (literally) You felt her legs shake, you pushed your fingers on her clit, rubbing her at a furious rate. You pushed her down at the head board to grab. You leaned into her putting the pressure you needed on your clit. You felt the rush of your pleasure sweep through your body as you came against the strap, you grinded against her pushing your orgasm right to the edge. Your fingers stopped on Alexia as you caught your breath.

“Please, please don’t stop.” Alexia begged.

You chuckled roughly into her ear, making her shiver. “You are such a good girl, such a good pretty girl.”

You picked the pace back up and rubbed on her erect, sensitive clit, you brought her back up against your chest, both your bodies were slick with sweat, it didn't take long before she started to scream, she threw her head back, you captured her lips in a fierce kiss. That's when you felt a gush of water splash against your legs, Alexia had squirted all over your dick. This night was only getting better.

“M-merda.” She was completely out of breath.

You laughed softly, gathering her hair in one hand and blowing air on her sweaty neck. You both just stayed there catching your breath.

“I’m going to pull out okay?”

“Sí, slowly please.”

“Of course.” You kissed her shoulder as you gently pulled out. You climbed off the bed and unlocked the Spaniard from the restraints. She fell to the mattress, clearly exhausted from your activities. It made you smile. You walked into the onsweet bathroom and started to run a bath. You put plenty of lavender soak in to make it bubbly, and started to light the candles that sat alongside the bath. You came back in to see Alexias hooded eyes looking at you, a satisfied smile plastered her face.

“Looks like my pretty pet is all fucked out.” You smiled playfully.

She let out a throaty laugh. “Hmm, no. I think you are.”

Your smirk was sadistic. “No honey, why do you think you still have the plug in?”

Before Alexia could respond you grabbed her by the legs and turned her arse to the edge of the bed. You knelt to your knees and started to suck on her clit. She cried out her hands grabbing the sheets, too scared to touch you in case you stopped. Her body was so sensitive she was already guiding towards her 4th orgasm, you pushed two fingers into her core, at a fast rate. The blonde let out a throaty moan from the pace. You brought your other hand to her arse and began to push the plug in and out of her whole. That's when her hand did find your hair. But you allowed it.

You felt her legs start to shake, you sucked and licked at her very swollen, very sensitive clit, your fingers still thrusting deep inside her cunt. That familiar sound of her whimpers started to drip from her mouth, those sweet beautiful sounds. She pushed your head down further into her. That's when you felt her pussy pulsate around your finger and at the same time you pulled the plug out of her arse. The Spaniard let out a deep throaty scream you hadn't heard tonight as she came completely undone, giving her a whole different kind of sensation.

Her chest heaved heavily as she struggled to catch her breath, you kissed her thighs as you came up from her between her legs. You got back on your feet looking down at the girl, smirking at the mess you made of her. You wiped your thumb across your lips, gathering her wetness, her eyes were on you now. You sucked her wetness off your thumb and winked.

“You may be my new favourite flavour.”

Alexia's mouth gaped open, she groaned as she covered her eyes and laughed. Her laugh was rough, probably from all the screaming she had done tonight.

You quickly checked the bath and it was the perfect height, you turned the taps off and made your way back to Alexia.

“Follow me.” You put your hand out for her to take and she eagerly did. You guided her to the bathroom on her jelly like legs and helped her into the hot tub. You tied her hair into a bun, and showed her where everything was, if she needed it.

“Just relax okay, I’m just going to get this room sorted, do you need anything? I’ll get us some water, but would you like anything specific?”

She looked to be thinking. “No, I’m good. Water is fine. Gracias.” She smiled. Her voice was hoarse.

You nodded and smiled, you closed the door and called the number for room service.

“....Thank you, yeah erm, let's have a selection please, great, thanks chef.”

The cleaners came and changed the sheets at a rapid speed. Once they were done you thanked them and returned to Alexia.

“Hello pretty pet, how are we doing?” You smiled at her.

This was also part of the package, the after care. It was just as important as the sex side of things, it could sometimes get rough in the sheets and the body and mind sometimes had a habit of going into a weird kind of emotional shock if not properly looked after.

You helped her wash her body and helped her out of the bath. You wrapped her up in a warm fluffy towel and walked her back into the room. “There's fresh pjs on the bed. You don't have to wear them.” You winked, and she giggled. Fuck. You felt your knees go weak. You continued. “Fresh water is just on the table. Relax and make yourself comfortable. You kissed her forehead. “I’m going to take a shower and once I'm done I have a special cream for your arse that I’m going to apply.”

“Okay, thank you Miss Queen.” She smiled with teeth. What a completely different girl.

Once you were done you wrapped yourself in your robe and came back to the room. Alexia was watching TV laying on the bed completely naked.

“No pjs for you?” You smirked playfully. “Would you like a preference for me?”

“Oh erm, no, whatever you’re comfortable with. But I do like you naked.” She smiled shyly.

Just before you could answer, room service was at the door. You opened only enough to take the tray from the toy butler.

You turned around with a silver tray with a variation of ice cream. Alexia looked over and smiled.

“What's this?”

“For your throat, it helps trust me.”

The smile that spread across her face was breathtaking. “Gracias. Thank you so much.” She beamed.

“That's okay. I asked for a couple of flavours, as I wasn’t sure, but if these aren't what you like I can ask for whatever you want.”

“No this is perfect, thank you, Miss queen.”

You both ate ice cream naked, while you watched ‘The office’ on netflix, a completely different atmosphere settled in the room. Once you were done you left the bowls outside.

“On your front, let me cream that perfect arse.”

Alexia laughed and did what she was told. You gently applied the cream to her cheeks, it was a cream to make sure the blisters would heal. The blonde was close to falling asleep, yawning as you creamed. You laced kisses up from her cheeks up to her neck.

“Done. Are you ready for bed, pretty pet?”

She smiled with sleepy eyes. “Sí, thank you for that. It feels good.”

You got into bed and before you could ask, Alexia threw herself into your chest, laying her head just under your neck. You instantly held her closer, you could feel her warm breath on your skin, making you shiver.

“Is this okay?” She asked, her voice almost sounded worried.

“Definitely.” You kissed the top of her head. Both of you fell asleep in each other's arms.

The clock alarm went off the next morning, pulling you from your deep sleep. Alexia started to stir before you could turn it off. You had 3 hours left with the girl, it made your heart break a little. The blonde made a cute but very sexy groan as she stretched her body, she nuzzled her nose and lips into your neck. “Nu vull.” Her morning voice was raspy.

You laughed at the childlike version of Alexia. You kissed her head as you pulled her closer. You stayed there for a couple of minutes, stroking her back, feeling her soft skin under your fingertips. She let out a deep sigh as she moved her hips a little into your thigh that was between her own. You pushed your thigh deeper into her and to no surprise you were met with wetness. You smirked as you pushed deeper, making Alexia groan.

“Is my pretty pet wet for me already?”

Her sleepy smile gave you butterflies that you knew had no right being there.

“Sí” She grinded her hips harder on your leg, making a point.

You started to kiss her neck, making sure to kiss every spot, she smiled as she felt your lips press against her skin. You pushed her gently on her back and started to move down her body, you sucked and licked at her olive skin, you could smell the lavender on her skin from the bubble bath. You kissed at her nipples that were still soft, clearly not as awake as Alexia's other regions. You sucked the soft flesh into your warm mouth, you couldn't help but moan as you felt the nub begin to perk under your tongue. Alexia watched you as you worshiped her body, you sank further down in between her legs, her lips glistened with her morning arousal, it made your mouth water, you could feel your own wetness begin to pool between your legs from the sight alone.

You gently ran your tongue between her wet lips, Alexia groaned above you, her body waking up to the feeling of you. You were slow with it, just taking in her body, her flavour, her sounds, the way she bit her bottom lip when you sucked her in a certain way, the crease between her brows when you pushed your tongue inside her, lapping and drinking her down. Her hands laced your hair, you couldn't stop her, not when she looked so good, you also wanted her to do what she wanted, if this was the way she wanted things to go then you wouldn't stop her.

She slowly began to move her hips, pushing herself deeping into your tongue. Her morning voice mixed with a ragged throat from last night made her moans sound rough. “La teva boca és perfecta.” She whispered, you watched her as your mouth worked against her. Her eyes were closed, her mouth slightly open, just feeling you eat her out, she didn't mind that you were taking it slow, she loved the thought of you just being there, she was in heaven. A new wave of wetness dripped into your mouth every so often, you could hear how wet she was as you lapped at her folds. You gently wrapped your lips around her soft clit, sucking the nub into your mouth.

Her fingers laced your hair, pulling you closer, she began to make the cute little whimpers she did ash she got close. “Don’t stop. Don’t stop.” She begged.

You didn't dare stop. You allowed her to gently fuck your face as she came in your mouth. She let out a deep groan as her legs clamped around your head. You stayed between her legs for most of the morning, sucking on her clit until she came 2 more times. When you finally released her she looked spent. Her face was a picture of bliss.

You ordered room service for some actual breakfast, even though you wished eating pussy classed as a meal it wasn’t sustainable. You both sat out on the balcony of your room, in your robes as you ate your breakfast. You spoke about her upcoming match, in a week. Sometimes you dreaded these mornings with the women, they could sometimes be awkward, no matter how hard you tried, but it wasn't like that with Alexia, she was completely at ease.

She even asked about your work, only one other guest asked about it before, no one ever asked, it was like they became weird at the fact that they paid for this service, but didn’t mind when you was fucking them an hour before. Alexia looked to be deep in thought when you spoke about it, she asked so many questions and you didn't mind answering.

“So no sex with men?” She asked.

“Nope. Just punishment, name calling, make them clean my room. Things like that.” You drank your oj.

“I see, this is good, no? They pay you, but they clean.” She giggled at her own joke.

You couldn't help but laugh at her, she was a completely different person from what you saw in the media, she was funny, gentle and a complete softy.

“I want to ride you.” She smirked into her glass as she said it.

But clearly she still had the confidence to take over a room.

“You’re going to suck it first.” You winked.

10 minutes later you found yourself on your back with the goddess that she was, riding your dick, she moaned as she fucked herself. Once again it wasn’t rushed, her hips moved slowly on you. You pinched at her nipples as she whimpered at the sensation, her eyes never left yours, it felt like you were making love to her. It was different but it was nice, it was what she needed. You circled her clit gently, teasing her, you made her beg for it. You reminded her who she belonged to. You told her she had to think of you when she touched herself, to remind her that her pussy was yours.

She came with a low groan, her throat sounded like it couldn't take anymore, her back arched, her head tilted back. You kissed her chest as she came down from her high. She helped you take the harness off and before you knew it her head was between your legs, you clit in between her lips. Just like you did, she was slow, painfully slow, you could feel her tongue exploring every crease of you. You came embarrassingly fast, but you couldn’t help it, Alexia had put some kind of spell on you. The second time wasn't so fast, her three fingers in you made you crumble beneath her, she kissed your mouth as you came, making you whimper into her lips.

Your time with her was coming to an end, you called room service to bring up her bags. You both showered, together of course. You couldn't help but find your hands between her legs once more, pinning her to the shower wall as your fingers fucked her roughly. Her moaning bouncing in the tiled room sounded even better.

You were both dressed now, you held her hands kissing her knuckles, you couldn't believe how quick the time had gone with her.

“I don’t even know where to start. Thank you so much for everything.” The blonde smiled shyly.

“You’re more than welcome. I’ve had a lot of fun with you.” You smirked.

“I don’t know if you would want to but I have some spare tickets for my gam -, No sorry. I don’t know why I said that. I - I - erh,”

You stopped her with a kiss. “I'd like that actually.”

Her eyes lit up. “Yeah?” Her cheeks blushed for a whole other reason.

“Yeah, you can get my details off the team. I’ll let them know I’m okay with it.” You smiled.

“Okay, great. I can't wait.” She kissed your cheek.

“Yeah, Lucy Bronze is my favourite, I can't wait to see her.” You smirked.

She gave you a fake laugh and rolled her eyes. Smiling as she nudged you away. “Ha ha! So funny.”

What was happening to you? You never allowed this but Alexia was something else, someone completely different, you genuinely liked the girl.

“Good bye, my Queen” Alexia kissed your lips.

You pulled back “Good bye la meva Reina.”

You opened the door, one of the ‘toys’ was waiting outside to accompany Alexia out. You said your final goodbyes and watched the Spaniard leave. A weird feeling sat in your stomach, you had never felt like this before, but a weird empty space had overtaken you. The only thing you could hope was that she didn't chicken out wanting to see you next week.

—---

A couple days had passed and you hadn't gotten anything from the girl you assumed she didn't do it, or she changed her mind. Until one evening you heard a notification on your phone. You smiled as you read it.

‘Link Attachment - Tickets, VIP access for Barcelona grounds.’

Alexia - Sorry it took a while, my team hadn't sent it over. I hope you can still make it x

You - I was starting to think I’d have to watch it from home lol. Thank you, I can't wait x

Alexia - ahaha, no! I got you amazing seats. How have you been? X

You spoke throughout the night, you couldn't get over the way Alexia made you feel. There was a connection you had with her that felt so natural, butterflies fluttered in your stomach for the next week, until you were face to face with La Reina again.

#woso soccer #women’s football #woso #woso community #woso fanfics #woso smut #alexia putellas x imagine #alexia putellas smut #alexia putellas x reader #alexia x reader #alexia putellas

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sugasiren · 1 year

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☆ Astro Observations Pt 2 ☆

**NOTE: This blog contains Mature Content.

💜 Scorpio Suns can "fake" smile A LOT - especially the women. They'll have big ass Cheshire Cat grins on their faces when trying to convince others that they care when they DO NOT. Shit looks mad weird! 🤣 Scorpionic Energy is meant to be dark, enticing & magnetic. So just embrace it!

💜 Scorpio Venus Women can be reserved Nuns or wild Wh0res! Lol. They can go hard in either direction. Either way though, they *hate* to be objectified and crave connection. Scorpio Venus Men are simply seductive AF. 🔥 Like dayummm! They're usually a highly sexual yet very choosy bunch. They can go years (by choice) without sex like a Monk. Many will "hold back" and repress their craving for an all-consuming love. Then suddenly FLOOD with emotions (and semen lol) for that special somebody - ready to devour your pu$$y & envelop your soul! 😎 These men are possessive & not for the faint of heart.

💜 Individuals with Mars in the 3rd House are MAJOR Sapiosexuals. Deep conversations turn them on!! Intellect gives these women many tingles and usually arouses *both* heads on the men. 🔥 3rd House rules short-distance travel... so these people may enjoy car sex, sex outdoors or sex while on a weekend getaway. Also, the women can correlate how a man drives/parks with how he fucks. 🤣 And you know what? It actually makes sense! A man who sucks at parking is probably a shitty lay. Lol. A man who handles large trucks with ease will probably dominate you.

*fans self*

💜 Libra Risings often look like walking works of ART from the Romantic Era. 💕 Paint these pretty bitches in ALL of their Venusian glory! Just sit them next to an elegant fireplace wearing *nothing* but a silk robe and a smile for Titanic vibesss. Often, the Men look like Sculpted Gods (like The Rock & Idris Elba) or Pretty Boys - like Leo DiCaprio & Harry Styles. And the Women are typically very lovely & voluptuous - like Beyonce, Doja Cat & Kate Winslet. Even when Libra Risings are average in appearance, they come across as pleasant & attractive to others.

💜 Men with strong Capricorn and/or Leo in their charts (especially Mars, Moon or ASC) give hella Big Dick Energy. 💪💪 Take me from the back, Zaddy! And they often make for being the best Providers for their families. *King Aura*

💜 Women with strong Taurus and/or Scorpio in their charts give Big Clit Energy. 🔥 Women with heavy Leo or Capricorn definitely possess Queen Energy. 🥂 Ladies with strong Aries give BOTH! The Queens w/ the Juicy Clit. ♈

💜 Aries Suns are indeed the PIONEERS of the Zodiac in every sense of the word. They blaze trails everywhere they go. 🔥🔥 Aretha Franklin was The Queen Of Soul; Marlon Brando & Bette Davis were the King & Queen of Old Hollywood; Celine Dion & Mariah Carey created the female Vocal Trinity that dominated the 90's music scene; Steven Tyler taught us how to boldly "Dream On" and Marvin Gaye asked us "What's Going On?" and inspired us to think! Selena was the FIRST woman to became a megastar in Tejano Music; Loretta Lynn broke major ground for women in Country Music; Martin Lawrence made us laugh until we peed our pants; Lady GaGa is in a glorious class all by HERSELF. 💯 Van Gogh created timeless Art; Phoebe & Simone have inspired the masses to bring back real romance as the lead actresses on the smash show 'Bridgerton'; Halle Bailey is amazingly talented & is going to be the best damn ARIEL this world has ever seen. 🧜🏾‍♀️

You need a ground-breaker? You need courage & inspiration? You need to see the IDGAF spirit in action? Go find an Aries and they'll get the damn job DONE. ♈

That's all for now Darlings! 💕 Catch you again soon.

#aries sun #arieswoman #libra rising #scorpio venus #scorpio #leo sign #capricorn sign #capricorn women #taurus sign #astro observations #astro notes #astro tumblr #astroblr #astrology observations #3rd house #mars

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lizzaneia-elizalde · 5 months

Note

Older Male Yandere x Young Female Reader

I don’t want this to sound/look bad, but a new yandere who has DILF energy. NOT an actual DILF (he doesn’t have any children…yet), but he could basically pass as one since he’s amazing with children and is on the older side (so like 40s?)

I’m sorry…I kinda have a thing for older, mature, responsible men. And I just wanna be a baby girl for them sometimes (yes don’t worry I’m an adult adult, not someone who just legally became an adult; I know about relationship power dynamics, potential for abuse, etc.)

P.S. There needs to be older yandere men in general (like genuinely older than reader darling). It’s such an untapped archetype

Thanks!!! 💝

Yandere! Male! Dilf! NSFW asmrtist! x Fem! regular! Superfan! Reader

Hmm, I actually had problems thinking of what to put as a plot... Then my keyboard autocorrected Dilf to D*ldo and I was like 👁️👄👁️ and then WAIT. HOW ABOUT A NSFW ASMRTIST? (since you know, d*ldo is sexual and some people please themselves with the toy when they listen-- you get the gist)

I remembered a certain ASMRtist(?) that introduced me to NSFW yandere audios, so I'm naming the yan from him. He just did one from what I know? But "Hot Boy Summer" will have a special place in my heart bajwkdkxmf

Note: this one has explicit NSFW in this one, just putting it out. Daddy kink, but only mentioned once.

Yandere! NSFW asmrtist name: Rose

"Another Rosas banger"

"It was so good help"

"My legs just spread apart"

"Daddy just served dinner AND I'M EATING WELL TONIGHT"

As Rose posted on a certain subreddit for NSFW audiophiles, people immediately flooded the post. They upvoted, commented, some dared to share.

But to a lot, it's a sweet, dirty secret that they listen to NSFW audios. Especially yandere audios.

I mean, who in their right mind want somebody as obsessed and possessive as yanderes? Even in fiction, they are weird!

Well, not for Rose and his audiences.

He feeds into their fantasies. May it be CNC, full on NC, BDSM, or his audience's favorites: Yandere Dilf audios.

God, people eat them up like no other.

Due to this, Rose, with his username RosasAudios, achieved some kind of cult following. Close to a million followers, he made being an NSFW voice actor a full time job.

His naturally deep voice with a little bit of huskiness, a little bit of accent that's vaguely SE Asian, and an undertone of sweetness, made people giggle and writhe in their bed. And to those more peculiar, he feeds into their daddy issues.

He was never loud in his audios. Just a modulated talking tone, maybe even a whisper. So when the NSFW part happens, due to the binaural nature of his audios, it feels like he's really there when you listen to his audios. Whispering hot breath into your ear as the wet sfx filled your senses.

He loved the attention. But at most, he looks at it as a past time that provides enough money to live in slight luxury due to commissions and subscriptions.

In reality, he's a 40-ish year old man, living alone in a suburban neighborhood. Bookish in nature, he dons a soft, yet reliable look. Messy hair that covers his forehead, thick framed black eyeglasses, a carefully trimmed short beard that clings to his olive skin, soft, resting eyes that feels like it soothes one's soul whenever they look at them, a tall frame with enough buff-ness that one can rest on his chest with comfort, and an outfit consisting of light academia clothes of sweaters, shirts, pants, vests, etc. Laugh lines and slight wrinkles decorated his handsome face.

Even then, neighbors swoon for the man. Even married people.

He's sweet, reliable, generous, kind, good with kids. Why doesn't he have a spouse again?

With a gentle shake to his head, he scratches his neck and whispers bashfully with a red face.

"I'm waiting for somebody."

That made people swoon over him more.

As people longingly look at the lonely man, he bows to them and enters his home to record another set of audios for the highest tier on his subscription.

And, despite having a handful of people there, there's one person he's excited on making a dedicated, personal audio for.

You

And you? A superfan. You've been listening to Rose for a long time. Dare I say, one of his first, if not the first, regular.

You discovered him first when your friend introduced you to the subreddit.

His post, not getting that much attention due to being plain. No that much tags nor flairs at all. Just an inconspicuous "first audio [M4F] [Vanilla] [yandere]" and that was it.

When you listened, the mic had a weird quality to it, but god where you aroused due to how genuine it sounds. Like he's specifically talking to you with how... Personal it sounds.

And yeah, his first audios were not for you at all. Just your typical audios for a lot of people.

So, you lurked on his account, being his first follower.

You commented on the post also.

"first audio? Are you sure? You sound so good! This is my first time here in the subreddit. And if a newcomer like you already has this quality, I know I'll have a good time here."

Lengthy, but it gave Rose the boost of confidence he needs.

So, naturally, he replied.

"thank you so much! I just saw this subreddit one day and, by sheer boredom, decided to try it. It's weird, but thrilling. And it's your first too? I'm glad to be your first 😉"

He felt the wink and joke was too risky, but you replied in barks so, despite being bewildered due to not used to internet in-jokes, he laughed and decided to continue the grind.

Even as he continued to pump audios, you never failed to listen to every. Single. One.

You were in love with his audios and voice.

And he was falling for you.

God, is it weird to fall for a stranger on the internet?

So, by the time he reached 100k followers, he decided to do a small meet and greet online to those who can decipher the message.

And you, feral little minx you are, deciphered it in a jiffy and slammed the answer on his inbox.

You were the first too.

Rose, frozen, shakily sent you the zoom meeting room.

Nobody other than you deciphered the message yet.

He wants to talk to you one on one.

So, as he fixes himself and slaps his own cheeks to wake him up, he nervously waited for you to join the meeting with the password.

Then, he saw you.

Gorgeous, beautiful you.

His eyes sparkled like it didn't sparkle before. His heart, painfully beating on his chest and his ears, overflowed with attraction and love as he drank in your figure.

"Rosas omg hi! We finally got to talk one on one. Well, as one on one as a video call is."

Oh, how he groans. Your voice is sweet and lovely in his ears.

"Hi, y/nDarling. I can't believe I get to see the face of the person who has been with me since... Forever!"

"Right?! And damn. Rosas, take this with full confidence, alright? You're fucking hot."

Rose shakes his head with a chuckle.

"You... You're as cheeky as your typings."

You stuck out your tongue childishly and he laughs. His deep voice making you shiver.

"Oh and, you're actually old?"

"ouch?"

"OH MY GOD NO WHAT I MEAN IS, since you frequently make dilf audios, and you're actually one--"

Rose blinks. You consider him a dilf even in person?

He leans forward with a lopsided smirk.

"So, you consider me as a daddy you'd like to fuck?"

"No, stop STOP I DIDN'T MEAN THAT! WAIT, I MEAN IT, WAIT OH MY GOD ROSAS PLEASE STOP TEASING ME."

And as he laughs loudly, he knew you were the one.

He continued to talk to you for a long time, due to his other followers being quite slow in deciphering the message.

He did make the message with you solving it immediately in mind, while the others will struggle.

They were not you, after all.

Why would he care?

When he ended the video call, he had a silly, lovesick grin on his face.

He wants to make an audio.

And that audio was his most viral due to being so genuinely feral, lovesick, and longing it is for the listener.

"Ugh... Fuck, you're so tight..."

"Bend over for me, love. Don't you fucking dare crawl away."

"yes, just like that. Open your mouth, stick out your tongue like that..."

Rose, in his recording studio (his walk in closet), recorded the personal audio for you. You requested CNC, predator and prey, DILF, and breeding, along with other tags that can make a victorian lady die from how obscene it is.

At first, when he opened his subscriptions, he was bewildered by your wild and straightforward requests, but now he's used to it. Maybe even love it.

He imagined you bending over for him, your sweet hole gripping his c0ck as he pistons inside of you. Your tear stricken face, aroused with fear and desire, looks at him, begging for more.

Rose flinches, as he lets out a loud groan to the microphone. Cumming all over his hands.

Hey, it helps with authenticity, okay?

Rose sighs, imagining you cradled into his tight embrace as he said the last lines of the script.

"You're mine, y/n. Nobody else's, just mine."

And, he ends the audio with a sloppy kiss.

He slumped down to his chair, spent yet satisfied.

But he wants more.

Yes, he did screenshot when you video called him, but that was it. It was years ago too, and he needs more material.

After cleaning up, he spun around and went to the computer to edit his raw audio with sound effects.

At first, it was weird hearing his voice saying all of the deprived shit he said, but now it's just work.

But with your audios, he was meticulous. Making sure to put as much genuine wet sfx (from him masturbat1ng), and atmospheric sfx to make your listening experience the best of all. Yours were the longest too, at least climaxing twice every personal audio.

Can you tell he has favoritism for you?

And, when he finished editing, it was already morning.

Sending the audio to you, he stood up, stretching, and went to the kitchen to make himself coffee.

It was supposed to be a typical Tuesday. Nothing that much happens in this suburbs, let alone the town he's in.

So, he turned on the radio, grabbed his coffee mug, and went outside to watch the beautiful sun coming up to the sky.

Settling in his usual chair on his patio, he drank his coffee, greeted people as they passed by, doing their own thing.

The wind was kind of cold, but nothing unwelcomed as Rose's attention got picked up by a moving truck just in front of his home.

Huh, finally. A new face to the suburbs.

He drank his coffee, before coughing it out when he saw a familiar face getting out of the car following it.

It was you.

How?

What?

Why?

Huh?

He watched with wide eyes as he watches you bounce around in excitement as you helped the movers take out your things and into your home.

He doesn't know what to do. He wants to run to you, embrace you and twirl you around.

But no, not yet.

Why are you here?

By some kind of sick joke, he thought you were stalking him.

But no, that's too much.

You're too sweet. You can't do that.

So, he just watched, waiting for you to notice him.

But you didn't, too busy on your own work to notice the older man on his patio looking at you with such longing and desire.

With you finally going inside your home, he ran inside the house and slumped down behind the door. He clutched his chest, eyes wide, blood pumping, soul rattled.

You were here.

You came to him.

He gulped, shakily standing up. The coffee mug forgotten outside but who gives a shit right now.

You're so close to him, within his grasp, and he will make sure to utilize it.

He went to the kitchen, immediately whipping up breakfast food from your country of origin before stopping.

Were you allergic to anything?

God is he stupid?!

4 decades of being alive yet he forgets if you have any allergies?

His hand shook before scrapping the food altogether.

What should he do?

He decided to whip up something relatively tasty and safe before letting it slightly cool down.

He rushes to his room, frantically showering and lathering and cleaning as much as he could, getting dressed in his casual fit that looked like he just "carelessly put together despite how amazing it looked". He trimmed his beard, dabbing on serums and moisturizers, concealers on his eyebags, before running downstairs.

He grabbed the food before rushing to your doorstep.

Wait, would it be weird?

Wouldn't it be awkward?

He did do NSWF audios, so that means you pleased yourself to his voice, right?, ( God please let it be real that you did use his audios as material)

So, it's like... Maybe seeing your teacher in public?

No, the comparison is off.

He knocked on the door.

"hello, do you..."

You froze.

He froze.

Time seemed to stop as the both of you looked at each other.

You recognized him, he recognized you.

"Ah... Rosas...?"

He grinned, laughing gently. You shivered, hearing the voice you unconsciously conditioned your body to become aroused in person for the first time.

"Hey, Y/n. Welcome to our neighborhood."

He revels in the desire in your eyes as you squeezed your thighs together.

You both became somehow good friends.

It was still awkward, seeing as how much you listened to Rose moaning and doing NSFW stuff.

But it didn't overwhelm your excitement.

It's like, seeing your idol irl, but you're his neighbor.

It made you giddy, happy, and nervous.

Meanwhile, Rose loves this new development.

He's not going to die alone.

You were there with him.

God gave you to him on a cement platter.

At first, it was just an innocent pass by.

He would pass by your house, looking at the inside by your window, his mouth whispering loving words to your figure inside. Then he got a bit risky by going boldly to your house at night to spy on you sleep.

But he wanted to know more about you. He ached, craved to know more.

So, with little to no morality left, and the only source he knew of extreme ways to show affection are his audios, he decided to fully embrace being a yandere.

At first, he still felt guilty. You inviting him over to talk, he pocketing some of your mundane things like a sock, and him bringing hidden cameras and microphones to plant inside your home.

He shivers. The thought of seeing you inside your home so vulnerable and unprotected is making him aroused.

Next, he does the next script. Using your sock to pleasure himself to make the moans and groans genuine.

The feeling of your sock, the knowledge that you wore this is making him burst at the seams.

"God, you make me feral, love."

"you're only mine, only mine. Nobody else to have you, just me."

"Yeah, cum for daddy. Come undone, baby."

How he wishes to tell you these words in person.

And, as he finishes with a jolt and a loud groan, he imagines you laying on his chest and him combing your hair with his fingers.

By the morning, he finished editing the audio, and uploads it.

He waits for you to listen to it.

He didn't need to wait for long, as the coms crackle with your giggle.

He turns on the hidden cameras, and saw you dive to your bed with headphones on, watching you close your eyes and probably imagining him.

He saw you look longingly at the window that faces his house, and he grins at the thought of you wanting him so bad.

He watches as you writhe and relax, your hands going under your clothes as you followed what's happening on the audio. He felt himself harden once more.

Fingers playing with yourself, and his hand encircling his hardened c0ck.

He pants in want, seeing you bite your lip and arch your back from the pleasure. Your eyes trembling with the euphoria.

He continued to please himself to you pleasing yourself, groaning and grinding into his hand. Wishing it was you.

And, as you came, he threw his head back, breathless and dizzy from the overwhelming pleasure.

As he stayed there lying, he watches you do the same thing again. Looking longingly at the window.

"Soon, love." Rose whispered to the computer monitor. "I will have you in my arms soon."

Both of you were relatively normal after that. Like you didn't just pleasure yourself to his voice and him doing the same to you.

But the unmistakable hunger in both of your eyes and teasing touches were a sign that things are going to break soon.

And he just waits until you can't do it anymore.

Yet he waits.

He'll continue to upload audios.

Make you ache for him so badly, knowing he's just a few meters away.

Who will break first?

But in the end, you will still end up in his arms.

"Come to me, love."

And he'll whisper to your ear lovingly as he breeds you in an animalistic way.

Don't you want that, baby?

#yandere boyfriend #yandere imagines #yandere male #yandere writing #male yandere x reader #tw yandere #yandere x darling #yandere x you #yandere fic #lizzaneiaelizalde

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crash-and-cure · 1 year

Text

Wait for Me (Yandere!Austin!Elvis x Reader)

Summary: Tupelo’s favorite son is on his way home to all the expected pomp and circumstance befitting a returning King.

A/N: This is very much inspired by Hadestown and I may or may not blend all the character together so that both Elvis and reader have aspects from all of them. Technically I’m cheating I will admit by combining these two (-, -) requests into one story but I thought it would work well. Not me trying to Posit how WW2 affected the floriculture industry all for a fanfic. But this is apparently how I marry my two hyperfixations of 2022: Hadestown and Elvis. A+ to anyone that can find all the references to both Hadestown and the greek mythos in the story.

Warnings: Yandere!Elvis so expect themes of obsessive, manipulative, and delusional behavior. Kidnapping. Kinda of a stochholme syndrome going on through the later half. Blood and a bit of child abuse depicted (arguably this child deserved it). Emotional Manipulation throughout. Isolation. Touch-starved reader. Innocent reader. Explicit sexual content depicted that includes Penetrative sex (m/f), oral sex (f. and m. recieving), vaginal fingering and handjobs. Outsider POV for the first bit. Probably more that I am blanking on. Excessive use of “Honeybee” and “Rosebud” as a nickname for the reader. Please do not interact if you are under 18.

Word Count: 21k (seriously somebody stop me)

My Masterlist

Dreams are sweet, Until they’re not

Men are kind, Until they aren’t

Flowers bloom, Until they rot, And fall apart

Flowers, Hadestown

Demi has never feared a single man in her life.

Men have done her wrong. Men have humiliated her. Men have even hurt her. But she does not fear them.

That’s how she lived for years, drifting from place to place, belonging to no one as no one belonged to her, unattached and untethered as the wind. Working odd jobs to get by until the next town, but there was a perpetual emptiness in this existence of hers that left her feeling hollow.

And then her sweet little daughter was born and she found something that bound her to this world fully. She knew who the father was, but none of that mattered to her, because her daughter was no man’s, she was hers. He wasn’t good for much, but getting roughly ten acres of land in exchange for never having to deal with either him or his wife again was one of the sweetest deals she had ever heard.

Living on a farm was never where she pictured herself ending up, let alone working and later inheriting a farm that only grew flowers, but Gail, the old caretaker of the land, was a literal godsend in those early days. Gail had that same look in her eyes as someone else who had been wronged by a man, and this kindred spirit would end up more or less adopting Demi as her own.

Her daughter is by far the most beautiful thing to have ever existed, born the first day of spring all balled up fists and shrill cries complete with a scrunched up face.

She was perfect.

Demi made a promise to that tiny creature that night, to never know hunger, to be surrounded by only the most beautiful things the world has to offer, to never be unloved for as long as she should live, and most importantly to never let the world hurt her the same way she was hurt. All of these rather lofty promises to make, but she was determined to keep them.

Those early days were painfully idyllic, caring for flowers, selling the cuttings, all the while her daughter was strapped to her chest. It admittedly did a number on her back, but it was all worth it to remind her what she works for. She doesn’t think there will ever be a day in which she forgets the first time her daughter's tiny hands reached out for a white rose, and just the utter serenity that overcame her in that moment. There is no doubt in her mind that this is where the both of them were meant to be.

As the years passed their little family grew as Demi collected other wayward women, some came and went, others stuck around so long her daughter started calling them her Aunties. Even a war happened a world away, and the farm had to shift focus to making food rather than beauty, but now three years later everything is close to being just as perfect as it was before.

But if there is one saying she wholeheartedly believes, it is that woman plans and man laughs.

Her daughter had been so upset that day and had ended up exhausting herself in Demi’s bed and she thanked whatever force up above for that when she woke in the middle of the night to the sound of rustling in her daughters room. Making sure that her daughter was still asleep she crept silently down the hall, baseball bat in hand, prepared to defend her family from whoever the hell was in her home.

Evidently nothing could have prepared her for what she would find in there, as she walked into her daughter's room and was met with the cornflower blue gaze of a familiar waifish thirteen year old boy.

When he had first started coming around, he was more like a stray cat whom her daughter fed once; annoyingly underfoot but manageable enough with a hose. But the more time he spent the more worried she became.

All of which the day before when she had idly asked her daughter what she did with the boy that day only for her sweet little daughter to innocently respond, “he told me not to tell you.”

Her friends tried to tell her it was puppy love and that it would eventually pass, and just to give it some time to fade. How intervening may just make it worse. But something in her gut told her that there was something about the way he looked at her daughter, the way he spoke to and about her, the way he acted, and that something was that it was all very wrong. If she had to liken it to anything, she imagines that this is the same way a hunter looks upon his mark.

It was beyond anything she’s ever seen in a grown man's eyes, so she never thought she could see something like that in a child's eyes.

Her daughter remained innocent to it, and slowly but surely Demi was trying to edge that boy out of their lives. Sent him home earlier and earlier, kept her from the shop and in the fields, even began to go out of her way to pick up her daughter rather than chance it with walking home by herself.

But now looking at the boy as he eagerly ransacked her daughter's dresser, did she realize she should have better listened to her instinct.

‘Oh hi Miss Demi,” he would say, as though he just wasn’t caught rifling through her daughters drawers. He was clutching tightly to a truly pathetic and haphazardly put together bouquet of flowers, that seemed to be dripping something from the stems. “Do you know where Y/N is? I just wanted to give these to her.”

It was only as she turned on the lights did she see the true horror to be had. Candy apple red, as though it could ever be that innocent, blood was dripping between his fingers and onto the wooden floors below, his face giving no indication that he even noticed, his eyes continually darting behind her as though waiting for someone from behind. The flowers in the chaotic bouquet tell a story of all kinds of love, but the one errant, still-thorned rose tells the story not of love, but of something else… something dark and unspeakable.

Demi acts immediately, grabbing him by the wrist and by the ear and getting him the hell out of her house. For all his protests and attempts to escape her grip, he was no match for the fury of a mother, and with the ruckus the boy is stirring up she silently thanks god that her daughter is such a deep sleeper.

It hurts her having to leave her daughter home alone, but she knows that her daughter's biggest threat is in her grasp.

She’s had to drop the boy off enough times to remember where he lived and she knows his mother well enough to instinctively know she is no doubt up worrying over him. She was proven right seeing the light bleeding through the front windows of the small home.

He is out of the truck before Demi can even fully park it, and he bolts to the door, probably hoping that she will then be forced to leave without talking to his mother about this whole thing. But he is stopped as said woman flies out of the house and catches him in a massive bear hug on the small porch.

He has parents who care for him so much, yet he still acts like this? She wonders to herself. She sees the woman giving her son once over before coming across his wounded hand that had by now begun to congeal and stop bleeding.

“If you know what’s good for him, you’ll make sure he stays the hell away from my property and I best never see you sniffin’ around my child again, boy,” Demi would say, voice ice cold interrupting this warm reunion, pointing a single finger in this boy's face.

“Demi, what’re you talkin’ ‘bout?” his mother would ask, already putting him behind her back, willing to defend him with her life apparently.

Wouldn’t you do the same, a small part of her says.

“Y’know I expected more from you,” Demi said to her fellow mother. “I never would’ve expected you to be the type to raise a boy that would break into a little girls room and go through her drawers. The hell were you even tryin’ to find in there?”

He wouldn’t answer her, but he would look her dead in the eye, with a look that told her he was unrepentant about his actions. Though that mask would crack the slightest bit as his mother took his face in her hands.

“Bewbie… is this true?” the woman would ask her son slowly, unwilling to believe. But his downturned eyes do all the necessary talking.

“Mama she’s crazy,” that little shit would say, trying to deflect, and cowering behind his mothers skirts. “We can’t leave Honeybee with her.”

“I oughta knock all your fuckin’ teeth out for whatchu did. See how good a singer you are then,” she threatens, though that hardly helps her case. But she was willing to do a lot worse if it meant keeping her daughter safe.

“Don’tcha see Mama?” he says, gesturing a hand her way. “She ain’t safe with Miss Demi, and we gotta take her with us.” It’s not so much his words that are disturbing, but the complete and utter conviction that he speaks nothing but the truth that has the hair on the back of Demi’s neck stand up.

That boy’s lucky that his father decided to make his way out there and prevent Demi from making good on her threat.

“Buntyn, go inside,” she would firmly say to her son. He looks as though he were about to protest, until she shoots a look and he backs down, and walks back into his home. His mother takes a moment to process her words, though nothing she says has a chance in hell of quelling the fury in Demi’s heart. “I-I think he’s just actin’ out because we’re gonna to be movin’ soon,” she tries to weakly justify.

“I don’t fuckin’ care what his excuses are, Gladys. Keep a leash on that boy o’ yours if you gotta,” Demi seethes, catching said boy looking out at them from the window. She makes eye contact with him, fully knowing he would hear this next part, “Because I ain’t goin’ to be so nice next time.”

Demi turned around with that threat still hanging in the air and hoped to never see any of them again. It’s a long quiet drive from there, and her fury reaches a near boiling point finding that damned bouquet on the floor, forgotten in all the ruckus, to which she quickly chucks them into the furnace. It feels wrong to burn her own livelihood, but these flowers were now in her eyes tainted and unfit to ever be seen again.

The fury doesn’t fully melt away until she sees the love of her life sitting up from her bed.

“Mama where’d ya go?” you would ask, your tiny fists rubbing the sleep out of your eyes as you let out an almost angelic yawn. You are and always will be her baby, and nothing will ever take you away from her.

“Just a stray dog sniffin’ round the house, Rosebud,” Demi would say, lightly scratching her nails down your back, the same way she’s done since you were a newborn. “But don’tchu worry baby, your mama scared it off. Go back to sleep.”

Demi sleeps well that night if only due to the fact that she was able to convince herself (albeit temporarily) that that had all been a bad dream. But once she saw the trail of crimson starting from your bedroom window, there is no denying what had happened the night before. She didn’t get this far by trusting other people's words, so for the next few days the two of you slept in a different room each night. Demi calls it camping and you, her sweet little girl, are all too willing to believe her. She sleeps with one eye open those nights, all too afraid that even dropping her watch for half a second will lead to disaster.

She would find no peace until she heard around town that they had moved somewhere up north. To where? She didn't care so long as he was as far away from her precious Rosebud as could be. Still she is always worried as to the day he may come back, so she can only pray that he’s moved on to another poor girl and leaves you the hell alone.

Part of her wonders if she should warn you in case he ever returns, but this question answers itself when you come home from school wanting to show her how many ladybugs you caught in the schoolyard today. She didn’t want to burden you with this awful knowledge, wanting to keep you innocent from your mothers woes.

Demi wanted to shield you from the world, and hoped that one day, you would also get to live without fearing men. It would take her nine years to realize, by then far too late, that you only lacked fear because you didn’t know what men were capable of.

Demi fears no man.

But she does fear Elvis Presley.

—------------------------------------

Flowers have always been the family business. Fields upon fields of every color in the rainbow going on for acres. Truly even having lived here for years and knowing little to nothing else but this, it still never fails to take your breath away.

To say your family knows flowers, is an understatement. You had spent your days running around the property asking your aunties about the flowers they tended to, and what each of them meant.

You learned from an early age that flowers were always meant to invoke good feelings in people, and it makes you proud that you’re a part of it. So you’re excited to say the least when your Mama surprises you with your very own gardening kit for Christmas.

It’s a rite of passage for those in your family to successfully grow and maintain their own plot of flowers for the first time. You had been given the choice of any flower you wanted to take on, most of them pointing to some of these easiest ones for your first time, the ones that you need only plant and water regularly to eventually bloom. You on the other hand wanted to do something harder. So you chose roses due to both the challenge it takes into growing and maintaining them but also the fact that your farm had them in abundance, so it wouldn’t hit the business too hard if you failed.

But moreover, Mama had always called you her little Rosebud, so it only felt fitting to have these be the first flowers you grow all on your own. These blooms were rather picky about conditions, but you had been watching the women in your family grow them since before you could walk, and so you felt you were up to the task. You were only nine but you wanted to show the rest of them how good you could do on your own.

So you watched the seeds germinate, watched them grow into tiny sprouts in their small pots, planted them neatly apart, gave them plenty of sun, and never forgot to water them. Mama even caught you once or twice hovering over those little pots not wanting to miss a single moment of their growth.

She warned you to temper your expectations, how sometimes you can do everything right, and they still may not grow. But you were full of hope and wanted this more than you have ever wanted anything in your few years of life.

You had taken this seriously, hanging on to every tip you got from your Aunties, being sure to tend to them at the correct times, giving the correct amount of water and watching like a hawk for any unwanted pests. Each day you got the pleasure of watching them grow into buds and you figured they were close to blooming any day.

And that’s why you took great offense when you found a gangly tow-headed boy picking at the red roses you had worked so hard to grow.

He looked to be older than you by a few years, stood a foot taller than you, but you knew boys like him, the type that would stomp out dandelions to make you cry and you weren’t about to let him ruin your hard work with your first batch of rose bushes. You may be 9 but you’re scrappy as all get out, which you prove when you drop your basket of fresh cuttings of the day and all but tackle the larger boy into the dirt.

He gives an undignified shriek as he hits the ground, having been caught off guard, but he does attempt to shove you off until he goes a bit limp upon getting a good look at you. The brief scuffle ends with you straddling him and your little palms pinning his arms down as best as you could as owlish, cornflower blue eyes stared up at you in equal amounts of awe and fear.

“What’re you doin’ here?” you say your little voice indignant at what you thought were his attempts to sabotage your efforts. “Why were tryin’ to kill those roses?”

“I-I-I wa-wasn’t,” he insists, his cheeks burning from the shame of being caught doing whatever he was doing and his hands shaking something fierce as he limply tries to hide his face from you as you clench a tiny fist above you. You see that the briars got him good and little droplets of blood were beading up on some fine scratches on his hands.

If he was trying to wreck the bushes you doubt he would try to do so in such a stupid way, but that didn’t mean you trusted him quite yet. However you weren’t about to let him continue being hurt in your presence, so you stood up and grabbed the band-aids that were in your little kit, and helped clean him up.

“I-It-ts m-my mama’s birthday to-tomorrow, an-and I wanted to get her so-somethin’ nice this year,” he said after a while, solemnly looking at his bandaged hand.

You softened at his words, not having expected his answer, but you can hardly fault him for his reasoning. Afterall you don’t know where you or your mama would be if there weren’t thoughtful people that gave flowers to those they loved.

But you do know how much work it takes to grow them, and maintaining your irritation at his mucking about, you indignantly say “You coulda went to our shop and bought them.”

He goes an even deeper shade of red with your statement, “I-I know it’s wrong to steal, an-and I never woulda done this i-if I had the money to buy ‘em.”

It feels like all of the animosity you have towards him leaves your body at that moment. You and Mama have had your hard times before, and you are very much aware that each flower in your family’s field is worth something. It’s what keeps everyone fed, what keeps the lights on, and puts the clothes on your backs, but even knowing that you have one simple belief; everyone deserves nice flowers.

“Well,” you say to him as you stand up. “You picked the wrong color. You ain’t supposed to give red roses to your mama.”

“Really?”

“If you know anything about the language of flowers, you’d know that you’re only supposed to give ‘em to your wife or girlfriend.”

“...Flowers talk to each other?”

“No, they…” you pause trying to figure out a way to best explain yourself. “Their colors and the types are supposed to tell people how you feel about ‘em.” He draws his brows together, thoroughly confused as to what you’re saying, though that ain’t surprising. Mama often complained that when Men buy flowers, they never think too much beyond price, and boys rarely if ever appreciate them.

You decide that it may do him better, to see it rather than trying to explain it fully. So you take his bandaged hand and you walk him through some of the crops. From the outside, the fields look to be a chaotic mess of colors, when in reality there is a lot more thought put into it as your mother organizes by type rather than color. You are able to give him a run down as to rose color meanings, until you finally arrive at your intended destination.

He goes a little wide-eyed once you take out your gardening shears, but quickly relaxes once you go behind him to the bushel of pink roses. You’ve been cutting and dethorning roses for about a year or two now, so it takes not even a minute to find one in good condition, grab it, cut it, proceed to have it stripped of all its thorns, and casually present it to the blonde boy before you.

You thought he was red before, but as you presented him that rose, he turned redder than the rose he had attempted to pluck. His bandaged hand shakily takes the flower out of your hand, and with a reverence you’ve never seen from a boy when it comes to flowers, he holds it gently with both.

“Pink means gratitude and admiration.”

“What?” his lip still quivering slightly and eyes glassy.

“When you give someone a pink rose,” you explain to him, with a smile. “You’re letting them know that you’re grateful for all they’ve done for you and that you admire them very much for it. It’s the perfect flower to give to your Mama,” you say, giving him a small smile, the look he’s giving you making you feel warm inside.

“Rosebud?” you hear from behind you, and all the warm feelings seem to die in that instant.

“H-hi mama,” you say nervously, whipping around, standing on your toes, as though you’ll somehow be able to hide this trespasser's taller frame behind you. Though you realize how stupid that idea is and quickly take her hand, “Mama come look at my roses, I think they’re gonna bloom today,” you say, trying desperately to turn her around as though she’ll forget she ever saw that boy.

“In a minute Rosebud,” she said, her voice saccharine sweet, that you know by now means she’s mad. “But first, why don’tcha introduce me to your little friend here.”

“...yes Mama, this is… my friend…,” you go wide-eyed realizing you don’t even know this boy's name.

Luckily he picks up on your pause, “Hello, ma-ma’am, my name is uuhh… Elvis… Presley.”

Your mama slowly leans forward until she’s eye level with him, “Well, Elvis Presley,” she drawls slowly, her words friendly, yet the way they’re delivered tells you her feelings for this boy are anything but. “You mind tellin’ me why the hell you’re on my property, botherin’ my daughter, and plucking out my livelihood?”

Elvis looks down realizing that he was still holding the pink rose for all to see, and makes a futile attempt to hide it, only for his skinny wrist to be caught in your mothers iron like grip.

Mama had that way about her, her smile could be warm but her words icy. You’ve seen her like this with the few men that had come through here. Some trying to buy the land, some trying to find one of your Aunties, all of them leaving empty-handed because of her.

But you don’t believe that the boy before you, the one that wanted to get his mama something nice for her birthday, could ever be like those bad men. So you decided to do what needs to be done, “I invited him over Mama,” you say looking down at your muddy boots.

“Rosebud you ain’t gotta lie for him,” she admonishes, though she does seem to loosen her grip on him.

“Bu-but it’s the truth Mama. He’s been sayin’ how he needs a gift for his mama’s birthday, so I said he could come over here to get her a flower,” you mumble, knowing that this is something she always told you never to do.

She takes a long hard sigh before she fully releases Elvis, “You best get yourself home before it gets dark.” she says, her warning punctuated with a very cold breeze, despite it being well into April. He swallows nervously as he makes his way to the road, giving one last sorrowful glance your way before leaving.

“Rosebud,” your mama sighs, giving you a kiss on the forehead. “Sometimes you’re too sweet for your own good, and I don’t ever want to see someone take advantage of that.”

“Ok Mama.”

When he left that day you fully expected to never see him again, until he showed up the very next day wanting to show you his guitar.

After that, Elvis becomes a near constant presence at your farm. Your aunties thought he was nice enough, pinching his cheeks and plying him with snacks in exchange for having him sing for them. You don’t mind too much, as you don’t really have too many friends, and next to none that want to spend their evenings on your farm. You kind of enjoyed having him around, he would sometimes bring a guitar and sing to you, or read his comics to you. Other times he would follow you around as you did your chores and ask about the flowers.

You got used to him being around and even grew to enjoy it. One special day you even decided to share your most valued treasure with him: your favorite fruit in the whole world. One so good yet so expensive and rare in these parts that it’s limited to a once a year treat for you.

“An onion?” he asks skeptically.

“No,” you insist, slightly huffy that he’s not appreciating your most prized possession. “It’s called a Pomegranate,” you tell him, taking it out of his hands so that you could cut into it the way your Mama showed you. “I know when you first look at it, it doesn't look like much,” you say, as you cut at the crown. “But when you really look at it, you’ll find something truly amazing,” you conclude, and with a twist of your wrist you take the top off to reveal an abundance of the small jewel looking seeds, where you see him looking at it in nothing less than utter amazement.

That look in his eyes only grows when he actually tastes the little kernels for the first time, and he ravenously devours his half of the fruit, some of the juices overflowing out the corners of his mouth, and down his face.

You on the other hand savor each and every bite of it. You truly believe if perfection can be found, it would be in that late summer afternoon. The soft sunbeams creeping through from the shade and the perfume of the freshly cut flowers in your basket. The soft breeze that runs through your hair and causes the flowers in the fields to sway slightly as though they were dancing to the music flowing from your friends' beaten up guitar.

“What’d ya’ dream about doin’?” he would ask as he gazed up at the clouds overhead, idly strumming his guitar, his lips and fingertips stained red.

“What do you mean Elvis?” You would ask as you pick at the very last seeds on your rind.

“I-I mean wh-what’d ya wanna do when you grow up, Honeybee?,” he asks nervously, eyes firmly on the fields as though he were afraid of your answer. You roll your eyes slightly at his nickname for you, stemming from the time a bee landed on your hand and rather than swatting it away, you gently blew on it to get it to fly away. But you do decide to humor him anyway.

“Oh…This.”

“Really?” he asks, truly baffled at your answer. “You really don’t wanna go nowhere or-or do somethin’ else?”

“Why would I wanna do anything else?,” you ask in turn, confused at his confusion. “It’s like magic when really think ‘bout it,” you insist, showing him the last few kernels of the pomegranate you have in your hand. “Something so small can turn into something so beautiful.”

“You could plant ‘em anywhere, couldn’t you?” he insists.

You shrug your shoulders at that. “I guess.”

“But what if you couldn’t stay here,” he asks, his tone mournful, but you didn’t pick up on it at the time. “Wha-what if you had to go far away and y-you couldn’t come back?”

“Then I would make a new home,” you dismiss, offering him the last six seeds of your Pomegranate. He looks so surprised by the offer, his eyes a bit glassy before he furiously rubs them with the back of his hand and accepts your offer.

“Honeybee… co-could you meet me b-by your roses tomorrow,” he stutters. “I-i got something’ important to give ya’.”

“Ok.”

“Bu-but don’t tell your mama,” he says to you.

That may be a tall order, you thought at the time. Your mama on the other hand remains coolly indifferent to him, but you always got the sense that she didn’t like him for whatever reason. Nonetheless a promise is a promise.

Mama was probably at her happiest when he stopped coming around. When you learned he moved away, you were sad that your friend would leave without saying a proper goodbye, and you believed you would never see that dreamer boy again.

So imagine your surprise when a few years later an electric, new singer starts making waves across the south. He tried to steal flowers from your farm and now he steals hearts across the country.

Just about every girl in town, if given the chance, will brag how they had known him way back when, some of the more daring ones even claiming to have been his first kiss. As far as what you have heard Elvis may be the only man alive to have had 25 first kisses. The boys were no better, all claiming to have been his closest buddy growing up, and promising any girl that they could definitely meet back up with him if they chose.

Everyone is in an absolute tizzy for his return to Tupelo, you are simply trying to help your family through the rush of orders that has come in with the upcoming fair. Mostly it had been a headache because the new Miss Tupelo had demanded that her float be decorated with only white roses, as she didn’t think the standard red was flattering for her.

Which is fine until your shop is presented with a very special order from the mayor himself for an order of three dozen of your finest roses to be given to Tupelo’s favorite returning son for his homecoming concert.

Mama had initially treated it like any other order, until she saw who it was from.

“Absolutely not,” she said in her sternest voice, you hear from around the corner.

“Demi,” your Auntie Kate would admonish her. “Don’t be stupid ‘bout this. It’s been years and he was just a dumb kid back then.”

You don’t know what the mayor did to your Mama, but it had to have been bad, if he got her this worked up. Of course you’re not about to ask, as they had both pointedly left the room to discuss the matter while you were supposed to be minding the store. Instead you were very intently listening in to whether or not your mother was about to refuse an order for seemingly the first time in years.

“Kate, I ain’t takin’ any chances with this,” Mama declares. “You weren’t there, but if you’re ever gonna trust me on anything, let it be this.”

“Look Demi,” Kate sighs. “He’s willing to pay a ridiculous amount of money for them, and we need to offload some of the roses and it ain’t like he’s gonna-”

She’s interrupted by the bell signaling a customer having entered the shop. By the time you finish with him though, Mama has agreed, albeit reluctantly, to accept the order, under the condition the Kate be responsible for it in its totality

You don’t know what Kate had said to her but you’re glad nonetheless as she would claim once your mama was out of earshot that she was too busy to do this order so she asked if you would please be so kind as to take care of it for her.

Those weeks leading up to the fair, someone had asked Elvis if he was looking forward to reconnecting with anyone special back in Tupelo. As the reporter described it, the young star would look down bashfully at his feet, one side of his mouth curving upwards with only the slightest hint of red on his ears as he proclaimed yes to this humble reporter. “My sweetheart from way back in the day. I lost touch with her when I moved up to Memphis and I am praying every night that I find her this time around.”

If him simply coming back for a day to perform sent girls into a frenzy, the prospect of him coming back to find his supposed childhood love, just about turned everybody hysterical. Reporters from all over had flooded the town and had been skulking around trying to find this mysterious girl that had a hold on one of the biggest rising stars. Even once or twice coming into the shop and asking if you’ve received any calls from Memphis asking to send flowers to a specific girl in town.

Many girls were claiming to be the one Elvis is in fact looking for, recounting their memories of a sweet boy who only had eyes for them. They all followed the same general beats of being in the same class, he was embarrassingly smitten with them, and they rejected him. You had been in different grades and didn’t really know him outside of when he would visit your farm seemingly everyday, so you could hardly attest as to whether or not any of this was true. You do however remember him cryptically referring to one specific girl that had his heart, though in not so many words.

In the days leading up to the last time you would see him, he became very interested in the flowers for romance. He didn’t say that he was planning to do so, but you could tell he was gearing up to declare his love for that girl he never named. Your first suggestion is, of course, whatever her favorite flower is.

He would blanche a bit at that, “She-she loves em all,” he would mumble looking away bashfully and facing the vibrantly colored fields. According to your mama this is man's speak for “I don’t know.” With few exceptions, nobody is without a favorite, and you sigh slightly disappointed in him that he’s apparently ready to declare undying affection for a girl and he didn’t even know that basic but important information about the girl. But you did promise him your help so you gave him some suggestions: Lilacs for new love, Gardenias for secret love, Carnations for deep love, Tulips for perfect love, Forget-Me-Nots for true love, and of course Red Roses for passionate love.

On that day you would find him nervously pacing in front of your first batch of roses. They were now in full bloom and you sadly recognized that you’re going to have to cut them soon. You know that’s the beast of this business, that in order to bring new life in, the old must make way, but it’s only a cold comfort and you hope that whoever they end up with will appreciate their beauty.

He practically stared you down as you walked down the row between rose bushes, but he seems to be shaking as though his knees were liable to give out at any moment, and the closer you got to him, you saw that his chest was practically heaving. You can see as he holds something behind his back and you blatantly try to look to see what it is, only to be stopped as he places one hand on your shoulder.

“What’d you wanna talk about Elvis?” you ask him, slightly worried he may be having a heat stroke.

He swallows thickly before he finally answers you, “M-my folks and I are gonna be goin’ up North,” his eyes downcast as though he were ashamed to admit this, one hand still hidden behind his back.

“Oh, when are you coming back?” you say oblivious to his grief.

He’s taken by surprise at your question, but he does answer with a simple “I don’t know.” But with that he squares his shoulders and through trembling lips he stutters, “Honeybee… I-I-I want ya’ to c-come wi-with us.”

“Ok.” you say, completely ignorant as to the true meaning of his words.

“Really?” his face breaking into the biggest smile you’ve ever seen in your life.

“Yeah,” you say simply. You remember vividly that you were going to say something to the effect of needing to be back home before dinner because Auntie Erin was gonna be making her famous Golden Apple Pie, when you all of a sudden felt your lips being occupied.

You laugh at your reaction to a simple kiss on the lips now, but at the time, it had felt like the end of the world to you. After all, you were so sure that this was how babies were made.

When you had asked where babies came from, Mama nervously answered you with this story: Your Daddy kissed your mama out in front of the red roses, and their love would cause a new bud to bloom where they would find you sleeping in a rosebud.

Back then you didn’t know any better, all you did know was that you didn’t want to take care of a baby right now. You wanted to grow Azaleas next, and Mama warned you that that would be a big commitment to make. And Elvis was going to be moving away, so who was going to take care of the baby?

You were confused and frustrated beyond anything you’ve experienced up to that point, and you did what any overwhelmed 9 year old would do.

You started bawling your eyes out, pushed him down, and ran back home.

Mama would later comfort you and reassure you no baby was on it’s way. She corrected her story and told you that in fact, the couple must be married in order for a baby to be made. (She never did go into further detail as to the process, so you assumed that was the only necessary detail)

The next day, you had felt bad and wanted to apologize to Elvis for the confusion and for pushing him down yet again. You even had a sprig of Lily of the Valley ready as a peace offering and everything, but you wouldn’t see him the next day. Nor the day after that.

You wouldn’t hear about him until about a couple months back when you had been dethorning the roses while listening to the radio. You vividly remember the surprise that came over you the moment the DJ announced the artist behind the song. How could you not? Afterall it marks the first time in years that a rose had been able to draw blood from you, because in your surprise, hearing the name of a ghost from your past, your ungloved fingers met with a thorn perfectly.

There was no doubt in your mind that it was him not just for the very distinct name, but for that song specifically. You remember him singing it while you were in the fields, saying he had heard it from Big Boy Crudup himself.

For maybe half a second you entertain the thought that you may be the mystery sweetheart of his, but just as quickly you dismiss it as the way he describes it as being a long lost love tragically torn apart by fate. You on the other hand pushed him down and cried your eyes out when he kissed you once before never seeing him again, hardly the type of romance worth reading about.

And like a blink of an eye the fair day arrived.

You had been expressly forbidden from going to the fair, your mother giving no real reason beyond “because I said so.” This in turn makes you feel less guilty about your little scheme, as she did not forbid you from choosing that day to be the day you work in the shop.

Men are funny creatures, you realize as you work on the order the morning of. Whoever put in the order made sure to specify that the roses must be fresh yet somehow neglected to mention the preferred color.

You opted for red ones in the end as you have those in abundance and you figure they probably wouldn’t look too closely into the meaning beyond it being the classic rose color. But you do slip in a pink rose in the mix, remembering the first flower you had ever given him.

It’s a big order to fill, which you only realize once you're carrying a comically large bouquet into the backstage area of the fairgrounds. It was a bit of a hassle making it there in the first place as evidently you’re not the first young woman insisting you’re allowed to be backstage. Though none of them had the mayor himself vouching for the order and letting you in.

He was already walking up on to the stage by the time you get there, and all you really see of him is the back of his head. Without knowing what you did, you would be hard-pressed to find any similarities between the man on stage and the boy who had to sing facing away from you lest he get too anxious.

But when he was presented with the key to the city, did you finally see hints of that boy from your memories. The way he kept shifting nervously from foot to foot, how he kept stuffing his hands in his pockets only to take them out, his eyes flickering back and forth between the crowd and the mayor. All of it reminding you of the endearing, stuttering boy who nervously asked you what each flower in your field meant.

You don’t think you’ve ever seen someone move like that before, so jerky and sudden, but also so very fluid when he wanted to be. Oddly enough you’re reminded of snake charming, with that vicarious thrill of watching something that looks so dangerous, but you also can’t look away from. But that begs the question: is he the snake or is he the charmer?

It’s hard to say, especially when he shifted gears to slower, less rowdy songs.

And then one day

I had my love as perfect as could be

She lived, she loved, she laughed, she cried

And it was all for me

There was a bit of a tremble in his voice as he crooned those words out to the crowd, as though he were close to tears himself. It’s here you think you truly find that boy that used to bug you when you were out in the fields.

It felt like all too soon the concert was over and he was stepping behind the stage. What feels like half a million eyes are focused on him as he steps off the stage to where he was met with just as many cameras and questions thrown his way. You almost feel bad for him, that he wasn’t even given a chance to breathe between one stage to another.

His eyes scanned the crowd that gathered around him, but eventually his eyes would settle on the ridiculously large bouquet right next to you. It’s hard to miss, you think, looking at it, but when you look back at him you find that his eyes are firmly set on you and you feel your heart skip a beat.

He’s probably trying to figure out where he knows you from, you figure. It’s been years, you yourself had long ago forgotten about him, but hearing his name on the radio for the first time dredged up all of those memories.

You can hardly blame him though the both of you have changed a lot in the almost ten years since you’d last seen each other and he doesn’t have the benefit of a famous name or your face on TV to jog his memory.

Even still some part of yourself wishes he does remember and you walk towards him with more a skip in your step than ever. But you find your path thwarted by an unwelcome familiar face.

Mindy, whom you’ve known since grade school, when her and her Mama lived on the farm with you until her mama married a new man. You used to be the best of friends but when she moved out she seemed to want to distance herself from you and did so by criticizing everything you did.

Most people would be hard-pressed to name anything she does like, but ask her about the things she hates and she can go on for hours. And of all the things she hates, you think you rank somewhere near the top, given how much she used to talk about you to anyone who would listen. Everything about you was apparently a personal offense to her, with her latest insult being that you apparently had a bunch of cats on your farm, hence your latest and most confusing nickname of “the Cathouse girl.” Though by far her most egregious thing she's ever said was that one day you were going to suffocate from your Mama’s apron strings, and it felt all the worse that you couldn’t even go to her about it lest you prove her point.

She now proudly wears her Miss Tupelo sash over seafoam green dress as she attempts to lift the bouquet out of your hands with a cloyingly sweet, “I’ll take that off your hands hon.”

You move to protest this, but apparently your day has just gone from bad to worse, as you feel a familiar iron-like grip on your arm. “Rosebud, it’s time for us to leave.” You don’t need to turn around to know who it is.

“But Mama-”

“Yeah Y/N, thought all you did was listen to your Mama,” Mindy interrupts you as she finally wrenches the bouquet out of your hands.

“It’s time to go home, Y/N,” your mother says severely, her grip on your elbow unyielding. Your cheeks burn with humiliation, having never felt so small under your mothers gaze, but you don’t argue with her and allow yourself to be pulled away, lest a bigger scene be caused.

Mindy, idly pops her spearmint gum with the most triumphant of smiles, sparing you a simple dismissive twiddle of her fingers before spinning around to present your hard work to your old friend. If there’s one thing you can be glad about in that moment, is that exactly zero other eyes were on you as you conceded to your mother like a scolded child and let her lead you out of the fairgrounds.

Little did you realize at the time, someone was watching.

You get into the truck and sit your fists clenching in anger on your knees, ashamed at what transpired just now.

“Rosebud…” she starts, and you petulantly turn your entire body to face the window with your back to her. “Honey I know you think I go overboard with these things, but you gotta trust your mama here when I say that it’s all for your own good.”

Your nails dig into the meat of your palms, so hard you worry it may draw blood, but a part of you welcomes that. Maybe then she will understand how upset you are with her. She still treats you like a child after all these years, protecting you from some nebulous threat that is both ever present yet somehow not important enough to give a name.

You feel suffocated, unable to defend yourself from insults that you aren’t allowed to fully understand.

These feelings would only double when you would see the next day's newspaper, where an enlarged picture of Elvis and Mindy on the ferris wheel would take up most of the front page. Well there’s your answer as to who this mystery girl is, you think bitterly.

Sweethearts reunited at last, the headline reads.

Though all your anger and fury would end up manifesting into nothing when the real world decided to remind you what was important in life. About a week after the fair, your home would receive a late night visit from the sheriff informing you of tragedy.

It didn’t feel real seeing what was once a colorful store teeming with life and love to now be reduced to a smoldering, skeletal pile of ash. You had been there not even a day ago and now it was gone. The police don’t suspect foul play but they weren’t ruling it out, and as you would learn, the little insurance mama did have on the shop didn’t cover fires unless it could be proven beyond a doubt that it was accidental. So suffice it to say, your family is on its own in terms of getting the store back up and running.

Typically late fall is for drying out maybe a quarter of the left over supply of flowers, storing the rest into the cold storage below the shop, winterizing the bushels for the next season, and shifting focus to seeding and growing the more popular flowers in the greenhouses, but the fire had thrown the ultimate wrench into the plans. A good chunk of the cut flowers had been kept on display at the front of the shop or beneath it in cold storage, and so with them went much of the value in the business.

Your mama is stressed beyond anything you’ve ever seen, but what makes it worse is that she refuses to burden you with the knowledge of your financial situation. Which in turn stresses you out even more about the financial situation she didn’t want you to know about.

About a month after the fire Mama had gone to the bank in an effort to get a business loan so that she could rent a new place, while the others were in town trying to strike up partnerships with other stores on the same street and convince them to buy and sell your flowers. It wasn’t the greatest of plans but it was the only one you were left with so that you may hobble through this year into the next.

They could sell the flowers off to shops in nearby towns, but even selling the rest of the supply wholesale will hardly breakeven for this year leaving you with nothing saved come next season. And even then that’s only if everybody refuses payment for the work they did, which they did offer, but your Mama was having none of it.

Even setting up a stand on your property and selling from there wasn’t an option, as you’re located way too far out from town too hope for those driving by to stop and buy flowers off of you.

You find yourself on one of the rare days in which you’re home alone, as you sit on the porch gazing out at the fields nearly devoid of all flora now. If your mother can’t convince the bank for a loan then all that your family has ever grown will rot, the land sold, and the strange tribe of women that had been collected under this roof would be left adrift. Beauty will give way over to necessity, as these bankers are under the false assumption that people don’t need flowers.

But how can you begrudge the necessity of food at a time like this when your kitchen is looking pathetically sparse these days. You wouldn’t mind too much if you didn’t know that it was a prelude to no food at all.

It didn’t feel right that this would be the end of the farm, your Nana Gail took the dusty lands her deadbeat of a husband left her with and turned it into something beautiful. She passed it on to your Mama, a relative stranger she took in the both of you when your daddy was sent away to die an ocean away.

The farm had survived two world wars and yet it would be a fire that would cause all that the women of your family had built to crumble.

You shake your head furiously at the thought. Don’t let these bad thoughts get to you, you think to yourself. You're truly afraid of where these thoughts may lead you if you let them fester so instead you decide that the kitchen would benefit from some cheery flowers to brighten up the place.

The house is in desperate need of that these days.

But as you were in the dirt to pick Daffodils, you realize you weren’t as alone as you thought, as in the distance you see some dust being kicked up. Your heart jumps for joy thinking that it was your mother, bearing good news, until you get to the dirt road and the unfamiliar black car drives past you.

Making your way home you can see a tall figure step out of the shiny car, dressed all in black. As they turn to look at the house, they strike an unsettlingly familiar silhouette but it still takes you a second to recognize him, even if it was not even a month ago when you saw him last.

Maybe it’s because, in your head, he’s still that gangly tow-headed boy, not this tall dark man in black that stands before you.

“Elvis?”

A devastating grin spreads across his face as he spreads his arms out in a clear invitation for a hug. “Been a long time, Honeybee.”

You don’t know the etiquette as to how to greet someone you haven’t talked to in years, but also whom you’ve seen in passing a few days ago. But you graciously accept the hug and kiss on the cheek he gives you, so you in turn invite him into your home, unsure what else to do in the face of his casual familiarity.

“Hope you don’t mind,” he says, grabbing a basket from the back seat. “But I brought you a lil’ gift.” Your eyes widen and your mouth instantly starts to water at the plentiful bounty within, as no less than a dozen Pomegranates filled that ornate basket. The fact that he brought such a thing, seemingly on a whim, spoke volumes as to how well the music business was treating him more than any sparkling jewel or shiny car could.

“Can I offer you some water or…” you trail off as you put the daffodils in a vase, hoping he accepts, and you won’t have to suffer the embarrassment of having so little to offer such a man.

“If you could be a doll actually,” he says, plucking one of the sweet fruits. “Why don’tcha pop one a these open for old times sake.” You’re silently grateful he asked as you doubt it would have been too long before your empty stomach was demanding for one. “I still remember when you gave me one for the first time.” he idly remarks as you start to cut into it.

You smile at that shared memory between the two of you, though a sorrowful ache settles in your stomach as those days seem so far away now. You gather a few errant seeds from the cutting board and you can’t help the small moan that comes from you, as you had resigned yourself to the fact that you wouldn’t be having any this year.

With the plate in hand you turn around to find your guest frozen in his sweet, before quickly gathering himself as you approach.

“So what brings you back to these ol’ parts,” you ask, placing the plate between you two.

He pops a few seeds off of the ridge, and into his mouth, “Well I came back here because a certain someone left my show before I could even say hello to her.”

You look down slightly embarrassed but a little ecstatic that he realized your absence, “Sorry ‘bout that, we get super busy around this time and couldn’t stick around too long.”

“I get it,” he answers amiably. “It looked like you and your mama had somewhere to be.”

You cringe and look down humiliated that, of all the things he could’ve seen that day, he saw perhaps the most embarrassing moment of your life. You look back and see an expression you can’t quite read on his face as you quickly recover and ask him how the star's life is treating him.

He regales you with all that he’s done the past few years since the music thing took off, and how he’s looking forward to the movies he’s gonna make. He even tells you how he’s just about to finish filming his first one pretty soon, and head back to Hollywood in a week.

The irony that you sit across from him, his dreams once so lofty and out of reach now coming true whereas your simple one seems to slip through your fingers is not lost on you. You have to actively force yourself to be happy for him at this moment, as he’s hardly to blame for your recent misfortunes.

“How are you and Mindy doing?” you ask, after a while.

“Who?”

That really shouldn’t make you as happy as it did.

“You know your old Sweetheart and all that,” you tease lightly.

“Oh… her…” he says, unable to hide the bit of a grimace on his face. “She was… nice?”

“You don’t gotta lie,” you say, laughing a bit at the thought

“She was nice to me,” he elaborates, shrugging his shoulders a bit, before giving a pointed look at you. “She had a lot to say ‘boutchu though.”

“I can imagine.” you say, plucking a few seeds. “Guess childhood sweethearts ain’t all they cracked up to be.”

“Wouldn’t know,” he says. “But enough a all that, how ‘boutchu, Honeybee? Whatcha been up to all these years?”

“Oh you know, ain’t nothin’ ever changes down in Tupelo,” you dismiss, hoping to dodge his question. “Still growing flowers, still selling them,” you say, willing your smile to be more cheerful than strictly necessary.

“Y’know,” he broaches lightly, his fingers awkwardly rapping against the grainy wood of the table. “I actually did stop by the shop before I got here…” he trails off, a solemn air falling over the both of you.

“Oh.”

“Listen, darlin’,” he says, taking his hand in yours. “If you need anythin’ tell me how I can help,” he pleads softly.

“Yo-you don’t gotta be worried ‘bout us, we-we’re gonna be fine,” you stutter, attempting to parrot your Mama’s own words back to him, hoping you’re at least somewhat convincing. He takes your hand in his and soothingly rubs his thumb along the back of your hand.

“Sweetheart if you folks need some money to tide y‘all over for a bit, I’d be happy t-”

“No,” you cut him off. “I can’t accept your money for nothing,” you declare.

“I understand Honeybee,” he says, looking out the window. “But I just moved to a new place up in Memphis. It’s nice but kinda… bare on the outside, and I’ve been in the market for someone to fix that.” he says his steely blue gaze fixed on you. “And then I thought who better than the girl who could grow anythin’?”

You’re genuinely flattered at the compliment, but you can’t help but feel this is simply more of his pity and you let him know as much.

“Sweetheart, I was gonna offer you the job even before I saw your shop,” he says genuinely. “It don’t gotta be forever, just work a couple months up in Graceland, makin’ sure everything set up come spring, then you’ll be home.”

“Graceland?”

“It’s what the old owners called it anyway,” he says, shrugging his shoulders. “It’s a house right now, but it ain’t no home.” he looks solemn in his words until his eyes trail to you and you can see in real time as his whole demeanor brightens. “I think you could help fix that darlin’,” he states, his smile making it hard to focus on much else.

There is a bit of a pause, and you stupidly realize he’s waiting for an answer from you. But from the almost imperceptible drop in his grin at your hesitation, you doubt it’s the one he’s looking for. “I-I’m flattered but… I-I can’t just leave right now.” you stutter, feeling guilty that he’s now upset with you, and you feel the need to further justify your stance. “My family needs me right now.”

“And this is how you can help ‘em right now,” he argues, reaching into his back pocket. “I can even pay ya’ half upfront now.”

“Elvis, I don’t think that’ll be eno–” you’re cut off by him suddenly slapping what looks to be six hundred dollars on the table before casually going back to picking off the ruby colored seeds. He smiles a bit at the gobsmacked expression on your face, but how could you not be?

Renting out a new space downtown for a few months wouldn’t even cost a quarter of this with the rest being able to go toward everything else. It’s almost funny that previously you never even thought about money, but now it feels like that’s all you think about these days.

“This-this is just for six months of work?”

“Three actually,” he corrects. “The rest you’ll get paid in the Spring.”

You feel your heart thunder within your chest with his words. This would be more than enough money to get your family through the year. But you don’t know if you could do it. Not the gardening part obviously more the being so far away from your family part.

“Can I have some time to think about it?” you question, hoping that maybe the rest will be able to better convince you to go for it or someone else could take the offer.

“Sweetheart I gotta get back to Memphis real soon,” he warns, a lot cooler than before. “So I’m gonna need an answer right now.” You swallow nervously at the intensity of his gaze on you, feeling an uncomfortable feeling settling in your belly, the prospect of leaving home, making you queasy.

“Elvis I-I-I don’t know,” you stutter, your palms clammy as you hold the hem of your skirt with shaky hands, feeling as though the world is somehow closing in on you.

“Well I guess that’s that then,” he says with an air of finality, that only further turns your stomach.

This man is offering a solution to all your current woes and yet you hesitate? You balk at the idea of a couple months of doing the same work you would’ve been doing here? And for what exactly?

You know you should discuss this with your Mama, but you already know what her answer is going to be. It’s the same one she has been giving these last few weeks when you had asked about getting a job to better support the house.

Your daddy never came back from the war so she promised to love you twice as fiercely, for the both of them. She had always done her best to feed you, clothe you, protect you. It’s no secret that everything this farm started from you when she had to support the both of you on her own. And you know for a fact if it was her being offered the job she wouldn’t have even blinked to take it. But you’re about to let that all slip through your fingers because you’re too much of a coward to do what needs to be done.

But even with all that in mind, it’s not your mind that ultimately makes the decision so much as your stomach, as it rumbles yet again as you look upon the basket he left behind overflowing with one of the most expensive fruits you know, a mere taste as to what he can so casually provide you.

You catch him just as he’s about to step out the door, but before you can officially say yes you have one question left for him. “Can you promise me I’ll be home come Spring?”

“Darlin’ I can promise you right now, come Spring we’ll both have exactly what we want.” which is a big promise for anyone to make, but you are looking at the boy who had gone from being only able to sing in front of a single person in an empty field to someone who is now selling out shows to hundreds. There is an odd sense that if anybody can manifest the near impossible it would be him.

It takes you only an hour to pack what you think you’ll need for these coming months, as well as write a barebones note explaining to your Mama that no you’re not being kidnapped and that you’ll be gone to raise money to save the farm. You don’t say where you’ll be but you do promise that you will write as often as you can and that you’ll be home come springtime. You quickly stuff the note and the money into the envelope, and leave it right on top of the basket.

But before you can make it out the front door, you're presented with a bright cheerful looking daffodil, plucked straight from the vase you had put it in. “For new beginnings,” he says with a soft smile.

“How’d you know that?” you asked surprised that he remembered after all this time, but taking a hold of it anyway.

“Hell, all the time I spent down here,” he said, throwing an arm over your shoulder. “Somethin’ was bound to stick.”

And just like that you’re off.

You refuse to look forlornly out at the fields you’re leaving behind, trying to remind yourself that it’s not as though you’ll be gone forever. You’ll be back before you know it, you think, trying to convince yourself, and it’s Elvis’ hand in yours that gives you some small comfort in this incredibly trying time, even as his eyes are firmly set forward.

Though it’s as you get to the state border do you realize that this will mark the first time you’ve been so far from home ever, and you let Elvis know as much.

“There’s gonna be a lotta firsts when you stick with me darlin’,” he says, giving a tender kiss to the back of your hand.

Graceland on the outside is beautiful but… sterile, if you had to take a guess. There were trees with leaves starting to brown for the autumn, the shrubbery was perfectly manicured, and the grass was well maintained but it was utterly devoid of color save for the cars in the driveway.

But then again this is what you’re here to rectify, so you try to be an optimist about it, and try to view it as a blank canvas so to speak. What the property lacked in the moment was warmth and you suppose now it’s your job to bring it.

That first month was all devoted to building the greenhouse necessary to start the entire process. You prefer to start with the seeds rather than skipping straight to the bulbs, so a place where you can better help them grow is ideal. Elvis is all too willing to indulge this and he puts in the order for one but all too soon he has to leave to go and finish his movie.

As much as you knew Elvis, it felt odd being in a house with the owner gone. And while Graceland was far from empty, there is still that unsettling sensation of being there that you can’t quite shake.

Of course not used to being so idle even during the winter, you start to take on other duties around the household. You quickly endear yourself to Miss Gladys with your willingness to take on the chores of the house and she goes out of her way to make you feel welcome.

You like her, she’s the only one who feels as uncomfortable at the opulence as you did. In a lot of ways she reminds you of your own mother with the way she frets over her absent son. This strikes a particularly guilty chord within you, because unlike your Mama, Gladys has the benefit of knowing where her child was at the moment.

“Where ya from sweetheart?” she asks you idly one day as you’re helping her make breakfast early one morning.

“Tupelo,” you say while you beat the eggs.

“Oh do I know your Mama?”

“Probably,” you answer. “She ran the flower shop back there.”

Gladys pauses at that. You can’t see her face but you do hear the hesitation in her voice as she whispers “... Demi?”

“Yeah that’s my mama… you know her?” you ask a little confused at this point, and you wonder if there is some history there.

There is an uncomfortably long pause before she says a simple, “Yeah I think I remember her…” The rest of the morning is filled with an awkward silence as you try to figure out what could have possibly happened there.

That night, before you enter the room to talk to Elvis over the phone, you overhear the tail end of the conversation between him and his Mama. You hear her whisper in a low tone, “I hope you know what you’re doin’ Bewbie.”

Whatever awkwardness that had arisen because of her question disappears soon after that. Gladys happily takes you under her wing once more, bringing you further into the fold of the Presleys and all the dynamics that come with it. She has even begun to refer to you as the daughter she never had which, while you understand is meant to make you feel welcome here, it in fact eats at you considering the state of the relationship between you and your real Mama.

It’s times like these that you truly hate that your family doesn’t have a telephone. You want more than anything to hear her voice, but you know yourself well enough to know that if you were to even visit now you wouldn’t want to ever leave again.

You write to her pretty much every day. Like clockwork for the first month you write to her telling her about your day the same way you usually would, asking her for advice on some flowers, anything really that comes to mind. You had a lot of time that first month while you were helping with planning and building the greenhouse, so everyday you would sift through the hoard of mail to find one bearing your home address.

But it never comes.

That doesn’t stop you from continuing to write to her everyday, handing off the letter to Jerry, and eagerly awaiting her reply.

Elvis is very understanding over the fact that it’s a marathon and not a sprint to make the garden he wanted and every time he’s back home he’s just as eager to see your progress with the seeds as you are to show him. Once you even tried to apologize to him feeling guilty that it’s taking so long to perfect that image of Graceland he had.

“Sweetheart you bein’ there, takin’ care a everythin’ makes it feel all the more like a proper home,” he insists over the phone. “And I can’t wait to get back and see it all.”

This guilt eases once the greenhouse is finished and you can finally get to work with the flowers you’ve planned. Elvis quote “trusted your vision” and wanted you to choose whatever you thought worked best, but he did specify which flowers he absolutely wanted on the property: Lilacs, Gardenias, Carnations, Tulips, Forget-Me-Nots, and Roses.

“I’m a bit of a romantic, I guess,” he said shyly rubbing the back of his neck. You don’t mind too much, as him knowing what he wants by far makes him the easiest man you’ve ever worked with.

Elvis had left you with the understanding that the boys he left behind would be at your beck and call and that should you need anything, not to be afraid to send them to get it. Pots and other such tools were easy enough to send for, but when it came down to other fine details such as soil and seeds, you trusted no one but yourself to find what you need, and so you instead ask if one of them could take you into town to find what you need.

“I cAN-” Jerry, one of the younger ones offered, blushing furiously at his overeagerness that caused his voice to crack slightly. “I mean I can take you,” he says, far more composed this time around. The other men protest, saying he’s too young and that he only just got his license, and ‘don’tchu want a real man drivin’ around sweetheart?’

It was those last comments that really solidified your decision to have it be him, as there was something about Jerry, (16, Lanky, and with a voice still cracking from puberty) that put your mind at ease over all these other grown men, in a way you can’t exactly place.

You stopped going to school when you were around 15 and outside of brief exchanges with the men that used to come into your shop, you haven’t really had much interaction with menfolk in the past 3 years. So that’s where you believe your unease stems from, having been surrounded by mostly women your entire life, being around so many men now is a bit of a shock to your system.

He leads you to his shiny new car, a gift from Elvis for some unspecified favor he did for him, and just like that you’re off. The drive into town is mostly quiet save for Jerry nervously pointing out to you his favorite places in Memphis. You're happy to get out of Graceland, even for a little bit, as you rarely if ever got to explore Tupelo, so being somewhere entirely new was exciting, but at the end of the day there is really only one place you wished to be, the local nursery.

You quickly locate the specific tools you’re going to need and find the best soil for the flowers, and you’re finally able to do what you most wanted. You’re almost like a kid in a candy store as you eagerly look through the varieties of seeds available within the store. As much as you want to take them all you have to be realistic as to not only what would look good, but as to what could be grown on the property to have it looking good year round.

“So err…uhhh… Wh-what’s your favorite flower?” he asks shyly, as you're perusing the various seed packets to be had.

“All of them,” you say without hesitation, not even looking up from the task.

“Really all of ‘em?”

“I’m serious, asking me what my favorite flower is, it’s like asking a mother who her favorite child is,” you say fondly, rubbing your thumb lightly on the little packets that will eventually become the flowers you so love.

He laughs at that, “Why do ya’ love ‘em so much?”

“Well when you grow up on a flower farm, you ain’t got much of a choice,” you quip.

“A flower farm?”

“Yeah,” you clarify. “My Mama and I grew and sold flowers in our shop back in Tupelo.”

“...Yo-you had a flower shop back in Tupelo?” he stutters.

“Yeah,” you say solemnly, this conversation dredging up some very bittersweet memories. “Why dontcha go ring up everything while I finish up over here,” you say.

It's October already, you think to yourself, they probably started cutting down the sunflowers by now. You know that you’re doing more for them here making money and sending it back to them than you would have being an extra set of idle hands back home, still that does little to quell that uneasy feeling being so far from home now.

You’d kept up the writing and have recently let her know how lonely you’ve been feeling here, part venting, part as a means of getting her to write to you back for the first time.

It didn’t work and that sours your mood for the rest of the outing.

The ride back to Graceland is far quieter this time around, and Henry seems to avoid you after that, but you hardly notice as now that you have everything you need, you can really focus all your energy in doing what you came here to do. This is what you’re undoubtedly good at and now that you’re back at it, you don’t want anything to distract you from doing your job and getting back home as soon as possible.

A few days later, as you were finishing up in the greenhouse you would find Jerry sitting next to someone, back ramrod straight as a familiar figure had an arm casually slung over his shoulder. Jerry leaves before you can figure out what that’s all about, so you instead greet the not-so-stranger before you.

“You’re early,” you casually remark to him.

“I missed ya’,” he drawls, a light smirk on his lips that causes a pleasant warmth to radiate from your chest. But his face takes on a more sobering look as he looks at you, purses his lips, and pats the no occupied seat, which you worriedly take. “Actually, I was just ‘bouta go lookin’ for ya’,” he says, before letting out a pensive sigh. “Jerry actually needs a place to stay for a week or two, and I invited him here.”

“Oh that’s nice of you,” you say.

A small bashful smile cracks his somber expression, before the intensity returns and he informs you that yours was the room he offered him.

“I don’t mind sleeping on the couch,” you insist, scared that you may be about to be sent home without the rest of the money to show for it.

“Don’tchu worry ‘bout that,” he said, chucking your chin up to look at him. “I just figured that my bed should be big ‘nough for the both of us.”

His words catch you off guard, and you feel your face burning unsure as to how to respond. He sees your hesitation and backs off slightly before continuing. “Course if you don’t feel too comfortable sharin’ with me I can always putcha up somewhere else,” he starts and you’re about to jump on that offer until he continues. “Though, we might need to take that outta your pay,” he says, and you shrink a bit at the reality of the situation. “Not to mention havin’ to getchu back and forth day in and out,” he continues, rambling on and on about the logistics of the prospect.

“No-no,” you cut in. “I-if you’re really okay with it… then I-I don’t mind.” you say slightly defeated though if he notices he doesn’t say anything about it.

A full grin cracks his face, “Perfect we’ll go move your things right now,” he says as he takes your hand in his leading you up to where your room was.

“...ok…” you said, accepting his offer in a small voice. Though it’s hardly an offer as that would imply you had a choice in the matter.

The next week you want to kick yourself over being so nervous over nothing, as he proves himself to be nothing less than a gentleman all things considered. Yes he does get a bit clingy when he’s asleep and he all but refuses to let you out of the bed when you wake up before him. But in all honesty you welcome it very much.

It helps ease that lonely feeling somewhat as being held by him takes away some of your worry about not belonging here. Everybody seems to give you a wide berth and it was a definite shock to your system considering where you come from, being essentially the baby on the farm you were freely plied with all forms of physical affection your whole life. But you do take comfort in him, even if it is only limited to the night time.

Though when that week is up you idly ask him when you can move your things back into your old room, to which he only responds by wrapping an arm over your shoulders and saying, “Now why would I want my Honeybee so far away from me.”

You’re too shocked at the statement to even think of countering him at the moment, but even when the statement does truly settle for you, you aren’t entirely opposed to it. As it makes you feel far more secure here knowing that he wants you here so much. It’s odd how final it feels in spite of how small the moment was. You’re not just Honeybee anymore, you're His Honeybee, and that’s that.

That’s one of the first things you learned living in Graceland, is that whatever Elvis says, goes. Everybody seems to bend over backwards to his wishes here, and at first it was a little funny if a little perturbing, as you justified to yourself that you were his friend and therefore he wouldn’t put any crazy demands on you even if he was technically your boss.

But it’s only in that moment that you truly realize that you were no exception to that rule. And why would you be? Considering he is the one that is the one supporting not only you but by extension your entire family back home, how can you do anything but agree to his demands?

But that may be being a bit too harsh, as being his girl is certainly not an unpleasant phenomena. He seemed to become bolder with your amiable acceptance to your new found title of becoming his. In short order all of the clothes you brought from home disappeared and were replaced with much finer ones, and he becomes the most frequent visitor in the greenhouse.

Whenever he is around is almost constantly touching you and bringing you close to him at any given moment. And these weren’t exactly touches you were familiar with; Brushing his fingers along your neck to fix your necklace, hand on your lower back to steer you a certain way, rubbing your knee beneath the table (sometimes above your clothes, sometimes not) etc. All new and exciting, in their own ways.

Everytime you see him it feels akin to something blooming within your chest. You think this is why there were so many flowers meant to express love, because that feeling he gives you is hard to put into words.

It was only inevitable that the kisses would come along eventually. First beginning as friendly ones on the cheek before bed, then graduating to something far more… carnal. Almost like he was trying to consume you, and these kisses always left you panting and in a state of shock from the ferocity he displayed only to end it with a very sweet kiss to your cheek and tucking the both of you into bed.

You’re not gonna lie and say you don’t enjoy the kissing but it does give you a good scare when he begins to touch you in other places that are not-so-innocent places as he kisses you: His hand on your bottom when wants to press your body closer to his, the continual rubbing between your inner thighs, his thumb circling the taut peak of your breast.

Though admittedly his new touches were a bit on the scarier side for you, you don’t fight it, and in fact get bolder yourself by taking a page out of his book and giving as good as you got. He seems to relish the reaction he can pull from you, which is intimidating as much as it is titillating.

But these feelings have also been manifesting in some strange ways physically, like you seem to breathe harder when he’s around, and seeing him bite his lip makes your mouth go dry. But this all pales in comparison to the sensation of him rubbing a hand on your inner thigh, and it feels like you go dry everywhere, save for one place. As exciting as it is, it’s confusing all the same, and you above all else wish you could confide in anyone with how you were feeling.

Typically you could freely talk about any lady troubles you may have with your Mama but her inability/unwillingness to talk to you now leaves you to navigate this maze alone. You consider asking Miss Gladys or even Dodger for their thoughts, but the fact that it’s Elvis that awakens these feelings within you, makes going to them seem inappropriate for some reason. But ultimately that only leaves you with one person to go to about your problem despite them also being the cause of it.

Which is how you find yourself sitting on your knees in his bed with a shaky breath telling him how his touches are stirring something in you that you don’t understand.

“Where?” he asks, seemingly innocent but the way he bites his cheek, tells you he’s trying to hold back a laugh at your discomfort. “Here” he says, placing a hand on your lower belly, and while it clenches from the sudden contact, you shake your head no.

“Here?” He asks with a small smile, cupping one of your breasts, and though your breath hitches in your throat and you feel one of the buds harden at his thumbs' attention, that’s not where the worst of the feelings is coming from.

“Elvis please,” you beg, squirming at his touch.

“Oh I think I know Honeybee,” he says one hand now slowly dragging the hem of your nightgown up well past your hips, before he rubs his fingers along the seam of your panties.

In spite of the strangled feeling in your throat, you manage to squeak out a simple “yes,” as tears begin to well up in your eyes.

“Don’tchu worry Baby. I know somethin’ that can help,” he says as he drags the delicate fabric of your white cotton panties down to your knees. On reflex your thighs clench shut immediately but, with a few languid kisses he’s able to distract you from your skittishness and you feel the first tentative brush of his fingers on that sensitive flesh.

As much as you love your home you’ll admit that there was rarely if ever a moment for yourself there anymore. So him now brazenly touching the seldom explored area was mind-boggling for you, moreso when he begins to prod deeper, dipping between your folds and even one finger delving further than any other.

That gets a surprised gasp out of you before you bite down on your lip hard, embarrassed that you're feeling like this while he’s trying to help you. But while you’re able to hold back your noises, you can do nothing to help the way you’re breathing-well more panting- now or the way you’re shivering. You’ve never felt anything close to this in your life, but even this pales in comparison to when he adds a second finger, and you feel like you're about to burst.

“Honeybee… what’d ya know ‘bout baby-makin’,” he asks, seemingly out of the blue.

Part of you wants to act coy and say something like “enough” to get him to continue, but it’s hard to concentrate on any of that as you feel his fingers deep within you. So instead you reply with, “that…that o-ooh-only a Husband and Wife can make oNE.” you yelp that last part as he curls his fingers ever so slightly.

“And that’s it?” he asks with a bit of a skeptical look on his face, and you bury your face in his neck, a bit ashamed that that is the truth of the matter. “Oh Honeybee, you don’t gotta be that way,” he says, giving you a sweet kiss to your nose as he’s still three knuckles deep up your canal. “That’s the right of it, but I don’t think yer Mama ever mentioned that there ain’t no harm in practicin’ before the Weddin’ like this.”

“O-oh,” you say, part as an answer, part an involuntary noise to the way his thumb starts to circle around that pearl between your folds.

“You like that baby girl?” he purrs to you. Your eyes are shut tight and you’re trying to move your hips in tandem with his motions.

“Y-yes,” you manage to whimper, so focused on chasing that feeling he’s causing that you don’t even notice when he drags the straps of your nightgown fully down your shoulders. And it’s as you suddenly feel him bite down hard on the soft skin of your breast do you finally peak with a harrowing sob.

You cling on to him for dear life as wave after wave of pleasure surges through you all at once and you feel as though you’re going to float away any moment. But holding on to him, kissing him, and feeling his skin against your tethers you here, reassuring you that this isn't a dream.

You feel his fingers leave you, and that paired with him pulling away from your lips causes a small whine to come from you. You’re quickly quieted from the shock of seeing him stick the same fingers in his mouth giving a contented groan, “Course my Honeybee’s got the sweetest nectar he whispers against your lips, before giving you a taste for yourself.

You feel boneless and weightless yet your eyes feel so heavy from all that you just experienced, but for as tired as you are at that moment, you’re not ready to go back to dreaming yet.

“Ca-can I try that on you?” you ask meekly still in a bit of a haze from that euphoric feeling.

A bite to his lip prevents it from being a full blown grin “You sure ‘bout that Baby? Mine’s a lil’ different… well not too lil’,” he says. Clearly amused by your request to make him feel just as good.

“I wanna help,” you insist. He chuckles at how eager you were before he guides your hand down to a prominent bulge in his briefs. You’re not too sure what exactly you’re feeling through the rough cotton, just that it is either intensely painful or pleasurable to Elvis given how his breath hitches and his eyes slam shut. You try to remove your hand but his vice-like grip on your wrist prevents that and you can only further palm him.

You apply a bit more pressure, you take the sigh of contentment as a good sign before you delve underneath the fabric of his shorts.

You watch, a bit fascinated as you work to get the rough fabric down, and suddenly you’re face to face with something you’ve never seen before. A long thick column of flesh stands before you, bobbing slightly as he takes deep breath after breath. The skin feels soft but unyielding beneath your touch and you patiently await his instructions, but that deep groan that comes from him as you apply a bit of pressure makes you feel all sorts of powerful over this beautiful man.

He has you gather the slick from between your legs and even spit in your own hand to make it easier for you to slide up and down the shaft. His eyes are screwed shut, his long lashes brushing his cheeks, and he’s mumbling his praises for you, which only further encourages you.

He’s unraveling before your eyes, and you take great delight in being a witness to it. You’ve seen him dance before so it shouldn’t be surprising how well he’s able to move his hips, but it does add an entirely new context to it and you hope the next time you see him on stage you’ll be able to not think of him like this.

An idea pops into your head, and you decide to jump on it before you lose your nerve, and you give a soft kiss to the very tip of him. He freezes in place, his eyes wide and shocked at your teasing, his chest rising and falling and you feel heat flood your entire being.

“I-I’m so-sorry,” you breath out, embarrassed that you may have unintentionally done something you weren’t supposed to do. “I just th-thought you mi-” you cut off as he chuckles at your obvious distress before giving you a sweet kiss.

“Just surprised me Honeybee, thas all,” he reassures you against your lips, before giving you a little nibble there. “Why don’tcha try that again?” he drawls, trying to not appear too eager, but it’s apparent even to you.

You get right back to it, and you give even softer kisses along the shaft, each one being punctuated by a low moan from him, until you finally get to the very top of him, and you run your tongue along the small slit to be found there.

His hips stutter at that and one second you’re wondering what’s happening to him, the next you’re a coughing mess as that salty stream hits the back of your throat. He’s now just as dazed as you feel his hand rubbing soothing circles on your back, as you settle, and he takes charge in getting you both ready for bed.

As you lay side by side, he has nothing but praise for you whispering how good and perfect you were between hungry kisses until you drift off to sleep.

The next day would mark the first time you didn’t write to your mother. Part because you have already accepted she wouldn’t reply, part wanting to also keep that as private as possible. It also marks the first time in your life you don’t share something that felt so important with her.

Your Mama never liked talking about your daddy beyond saying that they loved each other very much. She never went into detail beyond that believing you were too young to hear them, but she never gave you an idea when you would be grown enough to hear them. But now above all else you want to hear when she knew she was in love with him, because you think you’re falling in love with Elvis.

Scratch that.

You know you are but you would give anything right now to be able to talk to somebody about it. And it’s upsetting that the person you usually talk your worries through is also one of your biggest ones at the moment. But even then you would have been willing to discuss it with her, if only she was willing to do so back.

It seems the more upset you become with her, the more comforting Elvis becomes to you. Even still you hesitate to share your fears with him until he is the one that broaches it.

“What’s on your mind Honeybee?” he says as he draws circles along your hip.

“Nothing much,” you dismiss. “Just trying to figure out when it's best to plant everything.”

His sardonic smile tells you he doesn’t believe you one bit, “C’mon darlin’ I know ya’ better than that.” Which is a bit of an understatement, as it feels like these days he’s able to read you better than you can yourself anymore.

After letting out a long tired sigh, you tell him “I think she’s mad at me,” while you two were settling into bed.

“Now who could ever be mad at my Honeybee?” he says, bringing you closer to him.

“My mama,” you say solemnly, tears in your eyes. “She’s never replied to a single letter of mine, and I write to her everyday.”

“I’m sure she’s just busy,” he tries to comfort you. But they ring hollow knowing that she always used to say- something you even quoted her in your last letter- ‘I’m never too busy for you Rosebud.’ He pulls you close to his chest as he rubs his hand along your back, “Darlin’ your mama is a hard-headed woman- lord knows I got the scars to prove it- but I don’t think she could stay mad at you forever.”

“What?” you say, sitting up to face him fully.

“What?”

“What do you mean you have the scars to prove it?”

“O-oh…” he says with a slight grimace on his face, before giving a bit of an awkward chuckle. “We-well… ya’ remember before I left, I-I asked you to’ run away with us?” You nod your head slowly. “Well that night, when I went back to the farm to tell her… she… she had a bit of a fit.”

“That doesn’t answer my question E.”

His lips form a thin line, clearly reluctant to tell you more, but he does eventually cave with a long hard sigh. “She got so mad at the thought a you leavin’ she grabbed my hand somethin’ fierce, and… and… well…” he trails off as he presents you the palm of his left hand, where you can see some small jagged silvery lines along it.

“She… she did this?” you whisper, lightly touching the scars, unbelieving that your Mama could do such a thing. She was the one who hardly ever raised her voice and didn’t even swat at Bees in front of you. How could she hurt him like this?

“I-I understand not wantin’ your kid to run away,” he says, “but I don’t think hurtin’ one like this was needed. But that wasn’t even the worst part of it.”

“What is it?”

“She… she banned me from ever comin’ back to the farm again. Couldn’t even say goodbye to ya properly,” he says somberly, his eyes sad as he tenderly cupped your cheek.

“I’m sorry,” you say, at a loss for what else you could say knowing what you do now.

“You don’t got nothin’ to apologize for baby,” he says softly, holding your hand in his scarred one. “And listen Honeybee, if she’s so mad that she don’t wantcha back, you’ll always have a home here,” he promises before he gives you a kiss to your temple and turns off the light.

You know the words were meant to be comforting, but they have the opposite effect and make your stomach drop at the prospect that she may be that mad. It has never occurred in your mind that she may be that cross with you for leaving

But like a fowl little seed, those words are implanted in your mind and take root. You wish he had never said those words, but you can hardly fault him for his attempts to console you in your hurt.

Would she ever be so mad at you? You wonder to yourself. You feel Elvis hands wrap around your waist and you remember the marks your Mama left on him in a rage. And that was simply from the idea that you would leave. What would she do now that you've actually left?

Elvis has never had a bad word to say about anybody, but you realize even he was being far more generous than was needed for what she had done. All that over a stupid kiddy idea of running away?

You lay there for hours with the only sounds being Elvis’ steady breathing. The longer you’re awake the more you think about it, which fuels the vicious cycle as those thoughts make it harder to fall asleep. Doubt creeps into your very soul that the home you are so desperate to return to will even be there come spring, and you silently weep.

But not as silently as you thought, as Elvis is awake within seconds. He holds you so close and so tight that it truly feels like he’ll never let go.

“No matter what,” he whispers in your ear. “Your home will always be here with me, Honeybee.”

You’re touched by his words and the way he holds you makes you feel so safe now and you kiss him fiercely, and want nothing more than to be as close to him as possible.

Up until this point you had been reluctant to go that final step with Elvis, pretty much doing everything but that last act. As greedy as he could be with your body (given how many hours he’s spent with his head between your legs), he had asserted you would be the one to decide when you would cross that final line with him. Though from the tone of his voice each time he said it, you figured he was gunning for it to be sooner rather than later.

You don’t know what exactly it is about the idea that you may not have a home to return to that makes you want to attach yourself further to him. You want to forget about everything when you’re with him and he makes it easy to do so. Being with him makes you so happy in way you don’t ever think you’ve experienced on the farm, and you

“Are ya sure sweetheart,” he groans, before his eyes snap shut as you rub your lower lips along his shaft, as you’ve done dozens of times before.

“Yes,” you whine, wanting to feel him the way he was meant to be.

When he finally slides into you, you can’t help the satisfied hum that escapes you, as he slides right into you. You’re on top and he lets you set the pace for yourself, which is good as even with all of your previous practice with him, you still need some time to adjust to the size of him up that secret channel of yours.

You can see the sheer will power it’s taking for him to let you go your own speed, so once the pleasure overtakes the pain, without any more preamble, you begin to quicken your hips and ride him like your life depends on it. It may very well, considering the closer you get to you climax the more it feels like you may pass out before you get to that point.

“This right here,” he grons, rolling his hips up into you rubbing his thumb along that button of yours. “This is where home is.”

“Yes,” you sob, tears streaming down your face, “Home… you.” you cry, unable to finish as he hits just the right spot within and your vision is being blurred by stars.

You feel so whole as he spills within you, and with his now softened cock still snuggly within you, “I love you Elvis,” you sigh into his chest, content to fall asleep then and there, but you quickly realize your mistake as your words seem to reinvigorate him and he takes you a few more times until the crack of dawn. But between his filthy words and his declarations of love one thing he says sticks out to you the most.

“Ain’t nothin’ ever gonna take you away now Honeybee,” he groans as you pick up the pace, his hand squeezing your bottom so tight, only further cementing how secure you are here.

Slowly but surely you stop writing to your mother. What was something you previously did everyday, became every other week, to eventually once a week once February came. And even the ones you do send are limited to very basic and dry summaries of the week, as to what flowers you were focusing on and general questions as to how everybody else is doing back home. Gone are the days of you waxing poetically about your confusion over your feelings for Elvis and you plea for a single response from her. She’s shown her interest in your life, as well as shown how willing she is to be involved with it anymore so you decide to accept it, albeit with a heavy heart.

The last time you expressed anything even remotely emotional with her was how you find it hard to think of the farm as being home anymore when she’s been so cold to you these last few months, and how you doubt you even want to go back.

She doesn’t reply.

Elvis seems to take to his new role in your life surprisingly well. Always willing to help you through your emotional turmoil when he was home and shield you from the rest.

He seems to take great comfort in you as well, and the greenhouse has now even become a place away from all of it. When he’s home one of the first things he does is visit you there, and simply sit with you for a few hours. You think it’s mostly to serve as a breather between all the chaos that is his life outside of these glass walls, but you’re all too happy to help him in this way as he’s helped you.

That feeling of perfection you got when you first shared that pomegranate with him, you feel it almost everyday in that greenhouse with him. The light shining through the panes of glass keeping the place warm, the fresh air coming from the sproutlings in their pots, his soft humming. All of it adding up to a dream you never want to wake up from.

The beginning of Spring came and went and neither of you brought up the fact that you were meant to be back at the farm. The most you do allude to it was you telling him to forward that final payment directly to your Mama, mostly as a last ditch effort to get her to finally respond to you for once.

She doesn’t respond.

You and Elvis decide then and there to wash your hands of her, though it was perhaps the hardest thing you’ve ever had to do. But you can’t keep letting her silence break your heart so you focus all of your energy into two things: Elvis and making Graceland beautiful.

The first one is pretty easy to do considering when he is home, there is little to no distance between you two. He can hardly keep his hands off of you anymore when he’s here, with nights spent under the sheets, and days spent literally everywhere else on the property. He seems to be particularly fond of being in the Greenhouse, loving to see you so in your element in there only to bend you over your work table and take you hot and heavy from behind.

These encounters only make you feel his absence even more, as while you’re not exactly alone in Graceland it does make the big property feel all the emptier. Which in turn makes your second focus all the harder.

You’ve by now planted any and all flowers you intended to and they are all well on their way to growing strong, and now knowing you’re going to be staying, you’re happy that you’ll be able to do so for years to come. Now that you’ve gotten past the most trying part, tending to them is going to be a cinch…

Or it would be if you weren’t so tired all the time.

Oftentimes you find yourself napping in the most inopportune places around the property. Sweet Pea has apparently appointed herself as your official protector while you rested outside and by extension roped Brutus and Snoopy into it as well. You can’t even begin to count the amount of times you would want to rest your eyes for a minute only to find hours had passed and three dogs at the ready to guard you from whatever may come. WHich considering how you’ve been feeling sicker and sicker lately what with the fever you’ve been feeling and the nausea you’ve been having some mornings.

You don’t exactly understand why you’re far more sensitive to smell nowadays. You almost threw up the other morning from the smell of the eggs, which has Dodger and Miss Gladys looking very funny at you. You don’t pay it any mind though as you were just glad that you’re still able to appreciate the smell of flowers.

You’re in a far better mood today, what with Elvis set to return later, you decided to leave a surprise in his office. The roses were in full bloom now, so you decided to pluck a few for old times sake and leave some for him.

As you’re placing the vase down onto the desk, you watch as one of the blooms falls right off the stems and rolls to the other side of it. But when you go to pick it up, what you find is far stranger.

With the amount of fan mail he gets, you wouldn’t have paid the neat stack any mind if you hadn’t immediately recognized your own handwriting on the very top one. ANd you would have taken that as a very crazy coincidence if it weren’t for the fact that it also has your old address on the front.

And it’s not just that one, you find a couple dozen envelopes with your handwriting and address on the front, and an unpleasant feeling fills your belly as you tentatively remove a page from the envelope.

And it’s there that you read your own gut-wrenching words of your loneliness here and your wishes that your mother would write back to you. How you plead for her to reach out if only to reassure you that she’s alive and getting these letters.

You had imagined that they had either been destroyed the moment your mother saw them or gathering dust somewhere in your old childhood home. But now you find them here, a place you know very few are even allowed to be.

She didn’t get any of them you realize looking at the thick stack, an icky sense of violation creeping under your skin, seeing them worn and wrinkled in some places, but somebody definitely read these.

You want to throw up, and not just because of your newfound sensitive stomach, but due to the revelation that if he didn’t send any of them, then that meant… he had seen you be upset to the point of crying over this, all the while blaming your Mama for it and letting you take comfort in him.

Not only that, he read about your loneliness and actively decided to make you feel even more isolated by not letting you talk to your Mama. He held you as you cried over the fact she wasn’t talking to you and said nothing.

Your heart is pounding in your chest and you stagger back so far that you knock the vase full of roses right off the desk. You don’t pay it any mind and leave them and the letters where you find them. You have to get away, you have to go home.

You don’t bother to grab anything (it’s all his anyway), you simply find Jerry and tell him that he has to take you back to Tupelo right now. He’s stuttering trying to make the usual excuses of why he couldn’t take you, but he’s weak to your tears, and he silently leads you to the car.

It’s a long silent trip save for your quiet sobs from the passenger side. You don’t know if he’s intentionally stalling or if the drive is truly this long, either way it feels like forever before you can finally breathe within the Lee County borders.

You take comfort in the landmarks becoming more and more familiar until finally you see your home in the distance. You don’t take your eyes off of it for even a second, afraid it may disappear the moment you do so. You have a hard time believing it’s even real until you stand before the front door.

You hold the doorknob hesitating to open it, fearful as to what you may find on the other side, but ultimately you know that there is no possible way it can be any worse than where you just came from.

It’s oddly shocking how nothing has really changed in the months you’ve been gone. It’s almost as though you just walked out minutes ago, but you yourself feel you’ve changed so much since you were last here. The furniture arrangement is the same, as are the books on the shelf, and even your Mama's house slippers are in their usual spot.

You listen as someone is cooking in the kitchen, and you feel your heart warm knowing that at the very least you accomplished what you had set out to do and provide for your family, regardless of the sick feeling that work has left in your belly.

“Kate that you?” you hear from the voice that has accompanied you your whole life. “I told all y’all to take the da-” she cuts herself off upon seeing you.

You almost don’t recognize her, the streaks of white in her hair, the fine lines in the corners and the heavy bags underneath her eyes, overall speak to the way your absence has affected her these last few months. You feel guilty for every unkind thought you’ve had of her all this time, as you can now see for yourself how much she missed you. She looks as though she’s aged ten years in the months you’ve been away, and you can only imagine how you’ve so drastically changed in her eyes.

But none of that matters in the moment, as she drops everything in her hands and proceeds to take you in her arms and sob uncontrollably. You meet her halfway weeping just as fiercly in her chest, you thought you had run out of tears during the drive, only to find a new spring, as she blubbers in your ear “my baby’s home.”

Even after some time had passed like that, you can’t even begin to form any semi-coherent sentence as you blubber over and over again your apologies for being gone for so long. She’s long since stopped her own tears in favor of comforting you which only makes you feel all the worse.

“Shh, it’s gonna be okay,” she whispers, having long since stopped her own tears in favor of comforting you now. “You’re home now, Rosebud. Everything’s gonna be okay,” and guilt eats at you, that you could ever even entertain the thought that she wouldn’t want you back.

You remain in that state for what feels like hours, with your head in her lap as she smooths down your hair and in spite of all the turmoil you’ve undoubtedly put her through, it’s clear your comfort is her priority. Eventually though she does gather up the courage to ask you where you’ve been this whole time.

After all you’ve put her through you figure that she at least deserves the truth, so you sit up to face her. But before you can even open your mouth you hear the front door open. Any nominal contentment you’ve found being back home all slips away when you hear the familiar heavy footfalls of the man you’ve been dreading seeing all day.

“There you are Honeybee,” Elvis says, leaning against the doorframe, the familiar rakish smile in place. Those words are so familiar yet now they feel foreign as you no longer recognize the man who utters them to you.

It feels like in mere seconds your mama has brought you to your feet and now you stand behind her, and away from him. “What are you doin’ here!?” she shouts, her body tense and rigid, as though ready to defend you from a lion rather than a single man.

He hardly even glances her way, his eyes firmly set on you. “Here to take my Honeybee back home of course.” Your mama doesn’t even waste a second after hearing that, she only wordlessly approaches and takes a swing at him. But he was ready for that, as he easily catches her wrist, and brought her close to him “Ain’t so easy now I ain’t a runt no more?” he says, grinning ear to ear, a deadly look crossing his steely blue eyes.

This catches both of you off guard but your Mama is quick to recover and attempts to shove him right out the door with a mighty “Get outta my house!”

“Not without her,” he says, unnervingly keeping his voice low and cool, as though he were still very much in control of the situation.

He may still very well be, you think.

Before you can even think to help your mama, he easily maneuvers around her only to walk straight towards your frozen figure and put an arm around your shoulder.

“C’mon Honeybee,” he says, blatantly ignoring the tears streaming down your face. “Time to head home,” and you shiver when he runs his thumb along your cheek the way he’s done a million times before. You see your mama look wide-eyed at this familiar interaction, and to your horror so does Elvis. “That’s right you don’t know where she’s been,” he says, giving a faux innocent look while boldly admitting right in front of you he never sent any of those letters. “Why don’tcha tell her darlin’.” he declares, punctuating his familiarity with a kiss to your cheek. You don’t know what’s worse, the look of shock on your mama’s face as he does this, or the dissatisfied look he shoots you when you curl away from him.

Your mama doesn’t need to be a genius to figure out what he’s implying, as you watch her deflate as she looks at you and gives a very defeated “why?”

“Mama,” you whimper, wanting nothing more than to go to her, but Elvis’ arms keeping you firmly in place. “We-we needed the money, after the fire and…”

You stop yourself short as your Mama seems to contemplate your words, only to make some sort of realization of her own before, a look of horror slowly creeping onto her face. “It was you wasn’t it?” She seethes in a low voice.

“What was?” he says, trying to seem innocent but unable to fully mask his amusement at her state.

“The fire…” she said in a small voice, not even daring to continue.

No, you refuse to believe. Ain’t no way he would go that far, but then you remember Jerry’s skittishness when he learned you had a flower shop in Tupelo as well as his reluctance to deny you a single thing, that big favor he apparently did for Elvis to earn his shiny new Cadillac. All of it is making a lot of sense, but you’re still unwilling to go that far for a chance to be with you.

That is until he says, “Now that’s a mighty big accusation,” coolly, with a bit of a smirk as he looks down on her.

You freeze in place at that line. That’s not a no, you think, somehow still wanting to lie to yourself. He steals a glance at you and his face softens as he holds your shoulders and looks earnestly into your eyes as he says, “Honeybee you don’t think I would ever do something’ like that, now would you?”

You have to think on that for a moment, and you’re quiet until his grip tightens ever so slightly and his face noticeably drops from earnest to frustrated. You swallow deeply as you give a very unconvincing “No, of co-”

“Get your hands off her,” your mama spits, ripping you away from him, but he’s persistent, callously shoving her to the ground and gripping your jaw in his ringed hand.

“Because if it’s true,” he continues so softly even as the cold metal digs into your cheeks. “Then I wonder what else I’d be willin’ to do to keep ya,” he casually threatens a sadistic look in his eyes as a wide grin spreads across his face.

You feel your throat close as he glances down at your Mama, who’s struggling to get off the floor. He lets you go and you’re able to bring her to a chair. You once thought she was invincible but now you see her trembling clearly shaken up by this whole thing. Whatever your mama had; money, influence, respect, Elvis had in spades. She’s effectively powerless against him, but she still finds the strength to angle herself in front of you to try to block him.

She’s afraid of him no doubt about it, but she’s still willing to defend you with her life.

Would he be willing to go that far? You think and you let out a sob knowing the answer already.

“Choice is yours darlin’,” he whispers right next to your ear. “If you’re willin’ to choose.” and then he steps right out onto the porch. You hope in vain that somehow he’s decided to leave, but that quickly dies as you hear him strike a match and you smell the familiar miasma of his favorite cigars.

He wouldn’t, you think, but you can no longer put anything past him. You don’t ever want to truly find out what he’d be willing to if it meant keeping you by him, especially not at your mama’s expense. But you know in your gut how you can protect her.

If you have one thing to thank your earlier crying fits for, it’s that you’re tapped dry at this point, so as you say to her “Mama I gotta go now,” you can say it with a little bit of dignity.

“No… no Rosebud,” she pleads with you holding both of your hands. “Please stay… we can figure this out,” she says, the tears welling up in her eyes, as she comes to the same realization as you do.

“It’s gonna be okay Mama,” you vainly try to reassure her but mostly yourself. “But you gotta let me go,” you sob, wanting to do anything but. And you have to leave her crying in the home she made for you.

You find him leaning against the porch railing, eyes slowly opening as you move closer to him. “Yes Honeybee,” he says, cloyingly sweet, as he wraps an arm around your shoulders.

“Elvis…please… just-just take me home,” you whisper, burying your face into his chest.

“Course sweetheart, anythin’ for you,” he says, and you shudder knowing he means it. You walk away from the porch and you breathe a sigh of relief as he drops the cigar into the dirt and stamps it out. “I really oughta quit anyway,” he says. “Heard it’s bad for the baby.”

“What?” you say, your blood turning to ice hearing that.

“Ain’t it like magic Honeybee?” he sighs as you both get in the backseat of Jerry’s car, the owner of which is pointedly not looking at either of you. Elvis pays no mind to it, instead absentmindedly rubbing your lower belly back and forth. “You plant somethin’ so small, and it’ll grow up to be somethin’ else,” he sighs in contentment, and you close your eyes to yet another revelation that is coming far too late.

“But… but… you said, that it only happens when you’re married,” you say, though your spirit has long since been defeated.

“Don’tchu worry none ‘bout that sweetheart,” he dismisses. “We are gonna get married real soon, and ain’t no one gonna be the wiser.”

There’s something so final in that revelation that you are now forever tied to him not by your own choices, but by his. He chose you.

He knew what he was doing and he knew you didn’t.

Looking back you don’t think there was ever anything within your control. What’s worse is that a part of you wishes you had never gone into his office today and could have lived blissfully, unburdened with the knowledge of what he was willing to do to get you.

You love him, which makes this betrayal feel all the worse. You glance to the side to see the fields of flowers you’re leaving behind, as he slowly slips a ring on your finger. Now he’s not even gonna pretend that you have a choice in the matter, you are going to marry him because he said so.

With his hand in yours you feel as the car transitions from the dirt road to the paved one that will take you far away from your home.

You close your eyes and you don’t look back.

Alternate Summary: In which Elvis sees himself as a triumphant Orpheus when he’s actually a victorious Hades.

Taglist

@venus-haze @djsjs13949 @ilovehobi101 @butlerslut @richardslady121 @giabelia @sydneyyyya @meetme0614 @tacozebra051 @myradiaz @thelifes-world @maythesunshineagain @rakitirakiti @lostteenagetale @j-v-9-2 @eliseinmemphis @dkayfixates @immi547 @thatbanditqueen @marriedtoeddie @cuteejeno @itlover8000 @isthlsfate @mgparker @thatbanditqueen @softsatnin @literally-just-elvis-fics

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sedgewick-gayble · 8 months

Text

This is me slightly editing and reposting my ramble from a reblog so it actually shows up on the LD tag lol. Hopefully it's more sensical also

I'm so abnormal about those two old gay men. Okay. Listen to me

I can only envision them actually loving each other in the context of it being silent and unspoken acts of devotion and service that carry an emotional, intimate weight they're both aware of but never say or comment on out loud; to themselves, to eachother, or to anyone else--because if they address it then it becomes so much more real and neither of them can handle that. Otherwise all it is is desire, whether it be one-sided from Mordecai or mutual (I prefer it being mostly if not fully one-sided bc it's more angsty and that gives me life but it could go either way)

Mordecai is emotionally and romantically repressed to all hell and back. The comment Tracy made about him being asexual 'either naturally or out of his own choice' is particularly notable here, as it could totally be interpreted as him purposefully ignoring and suppressing both his sexual and romantic desires just as much as him just being ace/aroace AND THIS CONNECTS to vikdecai because he does so because he doesn't want to admit to himself he's in love. He doesn't want to admit to himself he's in queer love. And he doesn't want to admit to himself that he's in queer love with his coworker, Viktor, who's one of the closest and most trustworthy people in his life, who's bond with him could easily shatter if he finds out and rejects him

Once he can properly identify what he's feeling and figures out he has said desires, ESPECIALLY towards Viktor, he becomes more hostile and argumentative with him to compensate for that and convince himself into thinking he never felt that way. See paragraph above

BUT bottling up his emotions in such a way backfires for him and in a moment of weakness he releases all of that pent up need and they make out or fuck or whatever and then pretend it never happened afterwards and this cycle repeats until mordecai leaves for marigold .

That's how I view vikdecai. Two men who bury their feelings deep down and probably deal with some internalized homophobia who want eachother carnally and hate themselves for it (in the case of viktor it's because he has a wife and kid and in mordecais case he views it as weakness and a flaw to have an emotional soft spot for somebody, especially a coworker in such a dangerous field of work)

AND THEN there's more complications once you tie in the similarities and contrasts between his relationship with viktor and his relationship with nico BUT I'm not making much sense already anyways kgdcrhgdvc

#lackadaisy ♧#lackadaisy #lackadaisy cats #lackadaisy comic #lackadaisy mordecai #mordecai heller #mordecai x viktor #viktor x mordecai #vikdecai

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oskea93 · 19 days

Text

✶ Whiskey (2) ✶ - John “Bucky” Egan x OC - Masters of the Air fandom - Multi-chaptered story.

⚠ Warning: Rating 18+ ⚠ Chapter warning: Sexual content, period sexism, spousal belittling, cursing Words: 4353 A/N: Hello again! First off, I just want to say thank you so much for the love and support y'all have shown this story!! You guys are amazing and you have no idea how much I appreciate you guys! So, with this chapter, we get to meet Dominik and Marigold - the husband and MIL. These two will have major impacts on our OC's life and at times their treatment towards her will not be very nice. We also get to meet the most important person in our OCs life... The bright side, we will see our OC spending time with a certain Major 🥵. This story is just getting started and I promise that Mr. Egan and all the fabulous men of the 100th will come to light in the upcoming chapter. It's gonna be a wild one! If you would like to be added to the tag list, just comment your username ☺︎

“I don’t see why you need to accompany your husband to such a location – full of men waiting for their chance to die.”

Rolling my eyes, I kept my mouth shut as my mother-in-law moved around the room. She had volunteered herself to accompany Dom and I to England – stating that she needed to be here for the sake of her granddaughter.

“What’re you expected to do while he’s working? Just longue around and make eyes with all the soldiers – give them blue balls so they can go back to their barracks and dream about you?”

A smile tugged at my face, “Somebody has to get them a little excited, Marigold.”

Her brows knitting together – unsure if I was being serious of not. “That’s what those pin-up women are for – you’re a married woman, Rachel. Married to one of the top colonels in the army – you don’t need to be strutting around like some old whore.”

Sighing, I pushed myself off the chair, her eyes watching me like the hawk she is. “Are you faithful to my son?” The question causing me to stop in my tracks. “You wouldn’t think about stepping out on him, would you?”

Her dark eyes bore into my soul, their intensity like a piercing gaze from the depths of the night. With each passing moment, I felt a shiver run down my spine, as if her gaze held the power to unravel the very core of my being. In that fleeting instant, the world around me seemed to fade away, leaving only her eyes, dark and mysterious, capturing my every thought and emotion in their enigmatic depths. “No –“My tone defensive. “Why ever would you think that?”

Feeling a mixture of frustration and resignation, she shrugged her shoulders, the weight of the moment causing her lips to press tightly together in a display of silent resolve.

“What gives you the idea that I would be unfaithful to Dominik? Because of what I said – that was a joke – they’re very popular nowadays.” Her back straightening at my bitter return.

I took a deep breath, trying to keep my composure despite Mari's biting words. Our relationship had always been strained, but her sharp remarks never failed to sting.

"I understand your concern, Mari," I replied evenly, meeting her gaze. "But I'm not going to England to flirt with soldiers. I'll be there to support Dom and assist in any way I can. It's important for us to be together during his assignment."

Mari huffed, clearly not convinced. "Just be careful, Rachel. Men in uniform can be quite charming, but they're not to be trusted. Don't forget your responsibilities as a wife and a mother."

Her words echoed in my mind, stirring up a mix of frustration and resignation. I knew Mari meant well in her own way, but her traditional views often clashed with my more independent spirit.

"Again, I appreciate your concern, Mari," I said, choosing my words carefully. "I'll always prioritize my family above all else. You can trust me on that."

In that fleeting moment of our interaction, as her captivating eyes locked onto mine, a subtle yet unmistakable expression of doubt crept into her gaze. "I hope so, Rachel. You have a good husband and a beautiful daughter. Don't take that for granted."

In the intricate web of relationships that intertwined our lives, tensions simmered just below the surface, threatening to erupt at any moment. Marigold's disapproval of me seemed to stem from a place of deep-seated insecurity and a need to control the narrative surrounding her son's marriage.

From the very beginning of Dom and I’s relationship, Marigold had made it clear that she held certain expectations for the woman who would become her daughter-in-law. My lack of pedigree, my fiery red hair, and perceived lack of refinement were all points of contention for Marigold. In her eyes, I was an outsider, unworthy of her son's prestigious lineage.

The constant barrage of criticism and belittling remarks from Marigold had taken its toll on me, chipping away at my confidence and sense of self-worth. Despite my best efforts to prove her loyalty and devotion to Dominik, I found herself caught in a never-ending cycle of scrutiny and judgment.

As Marigold insinuated doubts about my fidelity and questioned my motives, I felt a surge of indignation rise within myself. The implication that I would betray Dominik, the man I loved, cut deep, leaving a bitter taste in my mouth. Yet, I understood that Marigold's insecurities and fears were driving her behavior, fueling her need to assert control over the situation.

The dynamics between myself and Marigold were fraught with unspoken tensions and power struggles, each woman vying for dominance in their own way. My defiance in the face of Marigold's criticisms and barbs hinted at an underlying strength and resilience that belied my outward appearance.

She lightly cleared her throat, the sound echoing in the opulent room. "Darling," she began, her voice smooth but with an underlying tension. A faint, almost imperceptible smile played on her lips, not quite reaching her eyes. "I know you would never hurt my son in such a fashion."

With deliberate grace, she slowly rose from her seat, her elegant movements betraying the subtle power she held. Her hand smoothed down the expensive fabric of her dress, erasing any hint of imperfection. "You're a very beautiful girl - woman," she remarked, her words laced with a mixture of compliment and observation.

Turning to face me fully, she continued, her gaze piercing yet enigmatic. "Those men at Thorpe Abbots haven't seen or been around a real woman in who knows how long - only the women that are working or the local townies." Her voice trailed off momentarily, her hands coming to rest gently on my arms. "It's going to be hard for them to resist you."

I regarded her with a mixture of curiosity and apprehension as she pivoted back towards the chair, as if the weight of her words had dissipated as quickly as they had been spoken. I felt the urge to respond rising within me, but something in her demeanor made me hesitate, my words left unspoken.

As she settled back into her seat, a subtle yet unmistakable smugness crept into her expression, adding a layer of complexity to her otherwise composed facade. Her eyes met mine once more, a silent challenge lingering in their depths.

"Better get packing, darling," she remarked casually, the nonchalance in her tone belying the undercurrent of tension that hung in the air…

We lay in silence, the distant sounds of the bustling streets below providing a gentle background melody that filled the room. His touch, feather-light against the curve of my ribcage, sent a shiver of electricity racing through my body.

"Someone walking over your grave?" he remarked, a playful glint in his eyes as he traced patterns on my skin with his fingertips.

Resting my chin on his chest, our gazes locked in a shared moment of intimacy. "Excuse me?" I replied, a hint of curiosity in my voice.

He chuckled softly, the sound like music in the quiet room, as he brushed a stray strand of hair away from my face. "My pops used to say that when you get a cold chill, it means someone is walking on your grave." His words carried a touch of nostalgia and folklore.

Raising my eyebrows in amusement, I shook my head. "Can't say I've heard that one before."

As my left hand trailed down his chest, I noticed the cross necklace he wore, a simple yet meaningful charm that he kept close for protection. Taking the pendant between my thumb and index finger, I studied it briefly before placing it gently in the center of his chest, my fingers lingering over the cool metal.

"My mom gave it to me before I left," he explained, his voice tinged with emotion. "I'm not really a believer, but you need something to protect you out there."

Moved by his vulnerability, I began to share a piece of my own family history. "My grandmother was a God-fearing woman," I started, the memories of her devout faith flooding back. "She would attend church on Sundays and Wednesdays, unwavering in her devotion even in the face of adversity." A pang of sorrow touched my heart as tears threatened to well up in my eyes. "But when my Grandad fell ill, her faith wavered. She prayed for miracles as he lay dying, his lungs ravaged by years spent in the mines."

The weight of past grief hung heavy in the air between us, the shared stories weaving a bond of understanding and empathy that transcended words.

John's arm tightened around my waist; his unwavering attention focused on every word I spoke.

"After he passed away, she changed," I continued, a wistful smile playing on my lips as I reminisced. "She stopped praying, stopped going to church as often, stopped believing. My grandad was her entire world, her reason for everything. She used to tell my brother and me that God had led Grandad into her life." The warmth of nostalgia colored my voice as I shared the cherished memories.

"She would say that she prayed for God to send her a hard-working farm boy - one with dark hair and skilled hands." John's chest rumbled with laughter; his amusement palpable in the air between us. "And one day, it was as if he appeared out of the heavens, right at Sampson's Feed store across the street from her daddy's farm."

As I slowly rose from the bed, the sheet draped around my waist, I pulled my legs up to my chest, lost in the recollection. "She loved that man more than anything - perhaps even more than she loved God, I think."

The bed shifted as John pressed his chest against my back, his warm breath sending a shiver down my spine.

"Have you ever felt that kind of love?" His whisper tickled my ear, his words laden with a depth of emotion.

Turning my head, our lips met in a soft, tender kiss, an unspoken connection weaving between us in the quiet intimacy of the moment.

"Does right now count?" I murmured between kisses, the warmth of our closeness enveloping us.

A smile played on John's lips as he pulled back slightly, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Well," he teased, gently guiding me into a lying position on the mattress, "you were certainly calling for him earlier."

We both laughed, the shared moment of levity breaking through any lingering tension. I wrapped my arms around his neck, our gazes meeting with a mix of affection and sincerity.

"You're so beautiful," He whispered, his words carrying a depth of feeling that stirred my heart.

My fingers tangled in his brown locks, finding their place at the nape of his neck. "As are you, John Egan." I replied, the unspoken bond between us growing stronger with each passing moment.

His lips met mine in a gentle manner, each light peck carrying a world of unspoken emotions, his hand tenderly caressing my cheek with a touch that spoke volumes. We lingered in that moment of quiet intimacy, the outside world fading into insignificance as we shared a silent connection that transcended words.

After a moment, he lifted himself up from the bed, leaving the sheet behind as he made his way to the curtained window. I watched as his back muscles moved beneath his skin, a silent display of tension and contemplation as he gazed out at the streets below. The sun had hidden behind the thickening clouds, casting the room into a dim twilight as the impending rain approached.

Quietly, I crawled out of the bed, the sheet slipping off my body as I closed the distance between us.

Instinctively, my arms wrapped around his mid-section, offering a comforting embrace. "Are you okay?" I whispered, pressing my lips against his back, seeking to convey my support through the simple contact of our bodies.

He let out a deep sigh, his body relaxing into my touch as his hands found their place atop mine. "You ever wonder if all of this is really worth it?" His voice held a weight of solemn reflection as he voiced the doubts that lingered in his mind. "All this killing and bombing - innocent lives lost every day, many of them unaware until it's too late." The heaviness of his words echoed the burdens he carried, the moral complexities of his actions weighing heavily on his conscience.

Listening to his inner turmoil, I felt a surge of empathy and understanding for the struggles he faced. "You can't beat yourself up about that, John," I spoke softly, offering reassurance in the face of his inner turmoil. "The choices you've made, the actions you've taken - they may be part of a larger conflict, but you have to remember the good you're fighting for, the lives you're trying to protect."

John and I barely knew one another, but even in the brief moments we shared, it was evident that the weight of war was bearing down heavily on him. His eyes, once bright with youthful vigor, now held a weariness that seemed to go beyond mere physical exhaustion. It was a weariness of the soul, a deep-seated fatigue born from the harrowing experiences he had endured on the battlefield.

"My pal Buck says the same thing," He remarked, a faint smile edging on his face as memories of their conversations flooded back. "He always told me to just worry about getting back home to Wisconsin – making sure our country and those helping us fight those German pricks win the battle – big or small."

As the rain began to drum against the windowpanes, a sense of shared vulnerability enveloped us, binding us together in a moment of shared empathy and support amidst the storm of uncertainty and doubt.

His hands fell from mine as he turned towards me, his eyes falling on my naked frame. The slightest hint of sadness could be seen in his irises. Without hesitation, I closed the gap between us, his callused hands reaching my thighs, bending down slightly as he hoisted me onto his hips. Our lips never separating, a muffled moan purred through my body as my back hit the wall next to the window. The cooling fall air that drifted in from the draft window was no match for the heat that coursed through my body as John’s touch lit a fire in and outside my body.

As our embrace deepened, the weight of the war seemed to momentarily fade away, replaced by a sense of raw connection and passion. In that fleeting moment, there was only the two of us, lost in a dance of desire and longing.

The world outside may have been engulfed in chaos and uncertainty, but within the walls of that room, time seemed to stand still. Each touch, each kiss, spoke volumes of unspoken emotions and desires. It was a moment of respite, a brief escape from the harsh realities of the outside world.

With the leverage from the wall, his hand made quick work as it moved between our bodies, his large fingers finding my clit, my hips responding as they moved against his touch.

“John, please.” My mouth latching onto his neck, an animalistic growl releasing from his body.

His paced quickened, “Tell me what you want.” His breath hot against my ear. “Tell me you want me to fuck you.”

My teeth biting down harder on his neck as my walls began to clench around his touch. “Goddammit, Rachel –“His words full of lust. “Tell me what you fucking want.”

The pleasure causing tears to form in my eyes, “Fuck me, John.” Out of breath. “Please just fuck me, please!” Without warning, his cock slammed into me. His lips harshly meeting mine, stifling the gasp that fell between our kiss.

The pace was fast – hard as our hips slapped against one another. His fingers digging into my sides as my nails dragged down his back, hard enough to pull away the first layer of skin.

“Harder.” I begged. “Oh God, please go harder!”

I cried out in pain as my back repeatedly hit the wall behind me – his cock swelling inside of me as we started to reach our climax.

The warm sensation soon flooded my core, the liquid rolling down my leg as his cock stayed buried inside of me. His lips peppering kisses along my collarbone as my fingers floated through his hair as we both regained our breath.

“I don’t think I’m gonna be able to make it back to the base.”

“And why’s that?” His hips slowly moving again.

“Because-“The friction between our hips causing us both to groan. “You’re gonna be the fucking death of me.”

As the soft glow of the vanity lights illuminated the room, casting a warm ambiance over the space, Dominik's footsteps echoed against the wooden floors, the sound a rhythmic accompaniment to the weight of the impending departure. His words lingered in the air, carrying with them a mixture of anticipation and melancholy.

"I spoke with Colonel Huglin over the phone today," His voice tinged with a hint of tension that belied the calm facade he tried to maintain. "It seems like everything is ready for our arrival in the morning."

I turned to face him, meeting his gaze in the reflection of the mirror. His hair, usually meticulously styled, now bore the tousled look of a man consumed by nerves and the weight of responsibility.

"My mother is going to take Charlotte back to the States once we get on the plane," Dominik continued, his words hanging between us with unspoken emotions. "I told her to stay here for a while, but she's insistent on getting out of England."

I couldn't help but inwardly roll my eyes at Marigold's insistence on whisking Charlotte away to New York. The prospect of being separated from my daughter for an unknown stretch of time tugged at my heart, the idea of her absence leaving an ache in its wake. While Dominik and Marigold argued that the military base was no place for a young girl, I couldn't shake the feeling that there were other children in the town who could keep her company.

“What time do we leave?” I asked, my voice tinged with concern.

Dominik checked his watch, furrowing his brow. “Huglin mentioned the plane will be ready at nine sharp. We need to be at the airfield no later than 8:30.”

I bit my lip, a pang of sadness washing over me. “Charlotte will still be sleeping when we leave. I can’t bear not saying goodbye to her. We don’t know how long we’ll be a part. Your mother isn’t gonna let me wake her that early.”

“Maybe it’s best we leave without saying goodbye.” Dominik suggested, his tone matter of fact.

I stood up from the vanity, feeling a surge of frustration. “You can’t be serious, Dom?”

He shrugged, his expression impassive. “You know how my mother is. She doesn’t want Charlotte upset. She’ll have to deal with a crying child when we leave.”

Dominik’s dismissal of my feelings stung. “I’ll have Mother call the base when they land in New York and you can talk to Charlotte then,” he continued, his hands moving down my arms.

Tensions crackled in the air as he towered over me. His words, though well-intentioned, felt like a cage closing in around me. “I know it’s hard to be away from the baby, but I need you with me. You’re my rock, sweetheart,” he murmured, planting a gentle kiss on my neck. “I can’t go anywhere without my special little rock.”

I felt a mix of emotions swirling inside of me – love, frustration, and a hint of resignation. Dominik’s ability to use intimacy to end arguments was both comforting and manipulative. I knew that arguing further would only lead to more tension. So, with a heavy heart, I relented, letting the moment of peace wash over us…

As I stood by Charlotte's bedside, the soft glow of the nightlight casting a warm aura over the room, memories flooded her mind. Remembering the first time I held Charlotte in her arms, the overwhelming rush of love and protectiveness that consumed my heart. It was a feeling unlike any other, a bond that transcended words and explanations.

Gently brushing a stray strand of hair away from Charlotte's face, I whispered, "Sweetheart, it's time for me to go now. But remember, mommy loves you more than anything in this world." My voice cracked with emotion as I fought back tears, hand trembling slightly as I traced the curve of her cheek.

She stirred slightly, her eyelids fluttering open to reveal sleepy, drowsy eyes. "Mama?" she murmured, her voice soft and filled with innocence.

My heart ached at the sight of my precious daughter looking up at me, so small and vulnerable in the dim light. "Hi, baby girl," my voice barely above a whisper. "I just wanted to say goodbye before I go."

She reached out a tiny hand, her fingers seeking the comfort of her mother's touch. "Don't go, Mama," she said, her voice tinged with a hint of sadness.

Tears welled up in my eyes, leaning in to press a gentle kiss on Charlotte's forehead. "I have to go, darling, but I'll be back before you know it. Grandmother will take good care of you while I'm away, okay?" I reassured her, my voice filled with love and tenderness.

With a heavy heart, I tucked the covers snugly around Charlotte, tucking her in with care. Lingering for a moment, savoring the quiet peace of the room before I reluctantly turned to leave.

As I stepped out into the hallway, a familiar voice made me jump in surprise. "A little early for tears, Rachel," Mari's voice floated towards her, her figure blending into the shadows of the room.

Startled, I clutched my chest, heart racing from the unexpected encounter. "Marigold, you nearly gave me a heart attack," I gasped, trying to steady my breathing.

Mari's gaze flickered towards Charlotte's room, her expression unreadable. "Dominik told you not to wake her," she reminded in a low tone. "You know how she gets when you leave her. It wasn't a wise choice, Rachel."

Feeling a pang of guilt, I nodded silently, realizing the impact of my actions. With a heavy sigh, I prepared myself for the difficult task ahead, knowing that leaving Charlotte behind was a sacrifice I had to make for now.

I watched as she retreated into Charlotte's room, glaring daggers as she closed the door behind her, the tension between us palpable in the air. I stood there for a moment, the silence of the house buzzing in my ears like a persistent drone, a stark contrast to the storm of emotions swirling within me. With a heavy exhale, I gathered my resolve and took a deep breath, steeling myself for what lay ahead. The faint sound of a car engine humming in the distance pulled me back to the present, prompting me to make my way towards the awaiting vehicle, each step feeling heavier than the last as I left the turbulent scene behind me.

The weather once again mimicked the mood, a common occurrence for England, with dark clouds looming overhead and a chilly wind cutting through the air. Despite the dreariness of the day, there was a certain familiarity in the gray skies and mist that enveloped the surroundings, as if nature itself was reflecting the emotional turmoil within.

My eyes met the driver's, a silent exchange of gratitude passing between us as he held the car door open, a small gesture that spoke volumes amidst the unspoken tension that lingered in the air. Dominik's body stiff beside me, his presence a palpable force in the confined space of the car.

"I told you to leave her alone, Rachel. I told you not to wake her, and of course, you never listen." Dominik's voice was low, the words carrying a weight of frustration and disappointment.

He stared out the window, his gaze fixed on the passing scenery outside, the rigid set of his jaw betraying his inner turmoil.

"After your little emotional moment," Dominik's voice cut through the tense silence in the car, his words laced with a hint of frustration. He paused; the weight of his gaze heavy as he turned to look at me briefly before returning his attention to the road ahead. "You better hope we're not late getting to the airfield."

His words stung, a stark reminder of the consequences of my actions and the impact they had on our plans. Guilt gnawed at me, knowing that my emotional outburst had potentially jeopardized Dominik's mission and the success of the operation ahead. The weight of his disapproval bore down on me, adding to the already heavy atmosphere in the car.

I swallowed hard, the lump in my throat making it difficult to form a coherent response. The reality of the situation sank in, the urgency of our mission overshadowing any personal grievances or misunderstandings between us. With a deep breath, I nodded silently, understanding the gravity of the situation and the need to focus on the task at hand.

As the car started to move away, my thoughts were consumed by Charlotte. I had envisioned our trip to Thorpe Abbots with Dominik as a special event, a chance for us to bond and create lasting memories together. Dominik, poised to become the 2nd colonel in command, was about to embark on a crucial mission to take down the German forces, and I had hoped to support him in this pivotal moment of his career.

However, as the weight of our unspoken tensions and misunderstandings hung heavy in the air, I couldn't shake the feeling of missed opportunities and shattered expectations. What was meant to be a moment of triumph and unity now seemed clouded by discord and distance.

#john egan x oc #john bucky egan #john egan x reader #john egan smut #john egan #john egan fanfiction #john egan masters of the air #callum turner major john bucky egan #callum turner x reader #callum turner smut #callum turner imagine #callum turner #masters of the air imagine #masters of the air fanfiction #masters of the air #1940s #major john egan

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ewanmitchelll · 4 months

Text

Imagine Taylor Swift’s songs (VI): Getaway Car.

Imagine this is a modern world and Aemond Targaryen runs away with you just in the very moment his family needs him.

Warnings: smut, sexual tension, bad mouth, drama.—fluffy endings because Aemond deserves to be happy, ok?

***

This evening dinner is set at his sister’s household. Rhaenyra welcomes her stepmother, father and siblings all in her new apartment located at the upper east side of King’s Landing. Aemond is there mostly because he’s obliged to, never bonded with his elder siblings, although Baelon is a good brother to him and Helaena must be protective at all costs.

He has some issues with Aegon as well as Rhaenyra’s, but all for all he is a polite man. He just wishes he is somewhere else.

This meeting has a purpose, though. Viserys has a big company and needs to ensure his children have a share of it—the old man wants to retire, therefore he needs to make sure all is right as it should.

But Aemond has other interests—as if anyone asked him what those are—, he doesn’t pay his mind too much in this reunion. In fact, he’s slowly engineering a plan to escape it.

“Are you sure you want to do it?”, a voice asks him and that sure could be his conscience’s.

Aemond turns at Helaena and puts a grimace in response.

“Have I become too obvious, sweet sister?”

She smiles at him, poking his sides playfully.

“I know you well, Mon, that is all”, she uses the affectionate nickname that only she can use. “I really would like you not to meet the Rivers again.”

Helaena refers to Aemond’s ex—and sometimes lover—Alys and her twin brother, Johnny, both famed for their…uh…bad behavior.

“I was thinking about somebody else, though”, he smirks when seeing that, for the very first time, he surprised her.

“Who?”

“Y/N, of course. She’s my best friend. And I would have gladly brought with me had father not been so…”, Aemond sighs.

“He wants to gather his family, Mon”, Helaena thinks it’s her duty to be the peacemaker of the family. “If it was up to mother, Y/N would be welcome here. We all love her.”

Aemond rolls his eyes, understanding the subtly line Helaena innocently brings.

“She’s just a friend, not a girlfriend or anything of the sort”, he snorts.

“Of course she is”, Helaena smirks.

And then they are summoned to the table…

***

It was the best of times, the worst of crimes

You are quietly walking home after work, having refused going out to the pub with your workmates. You are still upset how they mocked your lack of love life, preferring books to the company of others. Hence why you refused the invitation. You don’t need alcohol or men to prove others you live your life.

Quite moody thus you pick your phone when Aemond calls you.

“Hey, A. Have you remembered your friends or has Alys dumped you this time?”, you snort at him.

He raises his eyebrows epically.

“Whoa. Is someone on PMS or what?”, but then Aemond feels a sort of need to justify himself. “For what’s worth we haven’t been together for a couple of months.”

“Sometimes I think you just got yourself with her to rebel against your parents”, so you say.

Aemond hates how right you are. Worse, how well you know him.

The ties were black, the lies were white. In shades of gray in candlelight. I wanted to leave him, I needed a reason…

“Anywho, where are you? I hear some noises in the back, so this means you are going home.” And then he realizes. “Wait. What happened at your work? You sound upset.”

You have a bad response in the tip of your tongue, but you sigh and decide not to take all on your best friend. It’s not fair.

And once you tell him what happened, you hear a smack at the steering wheel, producing a beeeee.

“What are you boozing for?”

“These motherfuckers you work with”, Aemond scowls. “They don’t know you like I do. How sexist to make such a claim. You know what? I’m going to kidnap you, Y/Nickname.”

You are still laughing out loud for how protective he is—as he’s always been—when he calls off the phone. Unsurprisingly, though, he’s managed to get at your apartment before you do. All because you were upset by what you’ve been told that you felt the need to walk all the way home instead getting a bus or even an Uber.

And here he is, your favourite bad boy leaning against his fancy car, dressed all in leather.

“Walking again? You poor thing”.

You roll your eyes at him but eventually you cede in and rest your head in his shoulder as you hug him back.

“What’s wrong with me?”, you ask. “Is being a sensitive that big issue?”

“No, it’s fucking not. You have a good heart and this bothers people fucked in their heads”, Aemond strokes your hair, pleased to see his words get some chuckle out of you.

“Are you running from your family again?” You ask, reluctantly parting from the embrace, noticing how well he smells.

“How obvious is that, eh?”, Aemond snorts before shrugging his shoulders. “Get in the car. We need to have a ride.”

“May I just get a pack of clothes?”, you don’t know why you even ask.

“Just get in the fucking car, Y/Nickname”, he laughs quietly, basically pushing you to the other side of the car, so you take a seat next to his. And you just comply.

Why?

You fear to find the answer as you buckle the belt.

“Where are we going?”, you ask him. “I hope I am not an excuse to run from everyone.”

“We all need excuses to run at some point”, he winks at you. “Don’t feel so especial, my darling.”

You blush and turn your head at the window.

“Always rude, Aemond. How do we even get along is a good question to me.”

That makes him laugh so hard that you unwillingly smile.

“You know, Y/N, we should have some fun”, Aemond smiles at you. “What do you think about that?”

You side smirk at him.

“You are the one driving, my dude.”

“I hate when you use that slags”, Aemond laughs as he tiptoes the wheel.

“How funny of you to say that, Mr Gang WannaBe.”

“What Gang Wanna Be?”, he chuckles as he casts you a glance.

As you open the window and you put your hands outside, playing your fingers with the window, you smile and Aemond likes the view.

He notices how beautiful you look specially when you are not overwhelmed by daily tasks or hurt by people. But even so, you are radiant. Damn it, you do.

But he doesn’t admit the spark of attraction.

“Why, when you were with Alys and her twin weirdo, you walked with bad people… and didn’t they once tell you that I was too righteous to walk with you? I mean…”

He rolls his eyes at that.

“Who did even tell you this bullshit, Y/N? If that was even true, we wouldn’t be here, would we?”

And then so typical of Aemond Targaryen, he turns the radio on and puts to a station that, coincidently, is playing a song that you both love and start thus to sing loudly at the same time.

“SHOT TO THE HEART AND YOU’RE TO BLAME, YOU GIVE LOVE A BAD NAME!”

And forgetting about previous difficult months, in a getaway car, you two share a laughter.

“That’s my girl!”

So it begins…

***

Nearby King’s Landing, close to Aegon’s Hill, there is a pub known for its alternative style. There he takes you, and you feel an outsider as there are many punks and goths, a style you don’t follow.

“Uh, AM”, you call him affectionately. “I know you like to be this bad boy underground prince, but…”

“Come now”, he puts a hand around your waist. “Don’t be silly. This is a place I like to come because I can be myself. And here’s a good environment to stay away from worldly concerns.”

As you follow him, eyeing dark walls with red decorations—some going from false skulls to perfect imitations of dragons—, music out loud putting people to dance all the whilst waitresses serve different drinks prepared by bartenders, you start to understand what he means and relaxes once you two slide in a corner table.

“I’d like two cups of gin”, he asks, ignoring the protest rising to your eyes…

…and eventually making to your tongue.

“Are you out of your mind?! I don’t drink alcohol!”

“I shall drink for you then, my dear Y/Nickname”, he winks at you again, pleased to make you blush. “Just at least have one sip in case you feel like tasting…”

You cast him a long glance, seeing something in Aemond’s purple eyes.

He poisoned the well, I was lyin' to myself. I knew it from the first Old Fashioned, we were cursed…

“Are you going to tell me why you are running away from your family?”

Aemond heavily sighs, but as he inclines in the back of the seat, he knows he cannot truly flee from you.

“I hate how you read me so well. Can you wait for me swallowing a few drops of alcohol first?”

You laugh quietly.

“No. Come on, you can talk to me.”

He finds himself uncomfortable when sensing the weight of your gaze on him. Alys never looked at me like that.

Aemond sighs once again and even in the middle of that mess, he confides you his secrets. And you hear him patiently so, never judging, never posing arrogantly.

Though your surroundings are completely noisy, it feels as if the world stops spinning slowly. Almost unconsciously you take his hand and tangle your fingers with his. And this small gesture does not go unnoticed by him.

Aemond smiles back at you.

“Thank you for seeing me, Y/Nickname”, he caresses your wrist with his thumb. “Above all, for listening. It means a lot.”

“That’s what I am here for”, you smile warmly. “And that’s why I did something crazy by running away with you.”

Aemond laughs quietly, taking a sip of his gin, locking gazes with you.

“You are my partner in crime. My poor lamb”, and then he stands abruptly. “Come, let us dance.”

You shake your head, unbelievably following him without second guess. And as he pulls you closer to dance accordingly, your heart skips a beat.

I knew it from the first Old Fashioned, we were cursed. We never had a shotgun shot in the dark (oh!)

Aemond knows by now you have unresolved feelings for him, and he sees it so does he. But the Targaryen bad boy is unsure, taunted by a shade of insecurity that has never occurred him before.

As he watches you dance freely, his mind begins to fear of breaking your heart, of losing you. But when you turn at him, shaking his shoulders playfully as you make him dance, everything else is forgotten.

You know it’s dangerous to let yourself involve like that, especially when his hands slide into your waist and the distance between you and him is short.

Your reason warns you that he doesn’t love you the way he loved Alys and this thought may be the motive why you suddenly steps away, breaking the spell.

“I need some air”, you excuse yourself, quickly going outside.

Aemond frowns, unsure what the hell just happened. Seeing it’s time to leave, however, and ignoring the phone calls of his mother, he pays the check and finds you outside, close to the car.

“Hey, Y/N”, he softens when seeing you slightly pale. “Are you well? What happened?”

“Oh it’s all good”, you lie, and it’s so evident that you do that he folds his arms. You blush, disconcerted. “I was just… all right, being paranoid.”

“That’s better than lying. Come, it’s time for us to go.” As he opens the door for you to slide in, he adds: “We are talking about it soon.”

There is, however, a sudden awkward silence that hangs between the two of you, though. Aemond senses your eyes on him as he drives with no destination in mind.

You were drivin' the getaway car. We were flyin', but we'd never get far. Don't pretend it's such a mystery. (…) There were sirens in the beat of your heart.(…)

“What has you overthinking?”, he asks you, avoiding your gaze for now. Aemond suspects it, but he wants to hear it from you.

You know by his tone there is no need to speak untruth thoughts.

“You are not the only fugitive here”, you begin.

He stops by eventually at a hostel. For a moment, neither speaks and you hate how you ruin the good vibes of this journey.

“Aemond…”, you begin, trying to reach out for him.

“We need to spend night here”, he tells you when sensing your inquisitive gaze. “I think that gin was not really good.”

“Oh, so that’s why you are acting weird?”, you don’t even conceal the relief, which makes him chuckle.

But he doesn’t answer you right away. Now at the hall, he asks for one bedroom with two beds. To your embarrassment, however, the receptionist lady informs you that there is only one bedroom with one bed.

“It’s a very good suite, though”, says the woman who attends by the name of Sheila.

Opting not to see your face going red, Aemond smiles at the woman and says:

“That’s perfect, love. Thank you.”

“There are two bathrooms here”, he informs you. “Once we are clean, I believe we can speak.”

You detest how awkward this is getting.

“No”, you contest him. “Aemond, I am sorry. I ruined our moment, didn’t I? I was just afraid…”

He turns at you and seeing your fears in stamped clearly in those y/c irises, he cannot help himself. Aemond approaches you, taking your hands into his, drawing you closer.

“I fear you are slipping away from me, sweet Y/N.” He cups your cheeks. “What’s going on inside this head of yours?”

“I am not like Alys”, you blurt out. “I am not as bold, as free spirited as her. I am not a bad ass woman like her. I don’t… I….”

To your dismay, Aemond bursts into laughters. You fold your arms and frown at him.

“What’s so funny about it?”

“I’m sorry, love. I was just…” He smiles warmly. “Is this what worries you, my darling? I ran away with you, isn’t it clear?”

You tilt your head, confused. Aemond rolls his eyes.

“Aren’t you slow, my dear Y/Nickname? I’ve always wanted you. Not her. I love you, not that bloody woman.”

It’s a very sweet scene to watch: the moment your lips slowly open in a smile, the way your face lightens up, beaming at him.

“My dear Aemond”, you throw your hands around his neck and kisses his cheek. “I love you too. You took too long…”

“Indeed, my lady.”

He smiles wide at your blushing upon his chivalry towards you. And then, of course he kisses your lips passionately.

You are planning to sleep well, but when he comes up, shirtless, and slides next to your side of bed just after turning the air conditioner on… it gets difficult to find some sleep.

Aemond can tell he affects you somehow, noticing how your white blouse poorly covers your breasts, able to spot, therefore, your hardening nipples, which promptly arouses him.

But the bad boy prince takes his time.

“Come here, princess”, as he’s next to you, he cups your face and kisses your lips slowly and passionately. “I still cannot believe we’ve taken so many years to admit we have feelings for each other.”

As your hands are wrapped around his neck, gently pulling him over you, you smile weakly at him.

“You chose that woman, if I remember well.”

“You remember wrongly because I’m with you now, aren’t I?”, and without waiting for response he drowns in your lips.

As you kiss, his hands move to your waist, gently resting around your hips before going upper your back, inside your shirt.

You begin to be bothered by this heat that, for long years now, hasn’t burned you like it does at the moment. You spread your legs so he fits in between, moving your fingers down to his neck and to his shoulders and chest.

Aemond succeeds in breaking the kiss so his tongue starts to explore your weak spots. As it dances around your neck all the whilst his hands lift your shirt, he starts to hear your short breaths out, which only gets him rigid in pants.

“Aemond…”, you mutter his name, already breathing in anticipation the moment his fingers cup your breasts and there begin to play. “Oh Maker!”

He stops a moment what he’s doing just to watch you close your eyes and give in to his caressing. Aemond gently presses his erection against you, getting harder as you rub your feminine parts against him.

“Dear Lord”, he groans low before lifting your blouse and mouth dropping in your exposed nipples.

Oh how hungry you’ve been for his touch, how famine your soul has been for his love!

It does not really help when his hands remove your shorts and right there works wonderfulness in you. To the point where you forget yourself and turn the tables on, completely surprising him.

“Oh baby! You are my drug and I intend to keep it to me”, you confide him, naughtily so, before sliding to your knees.

And Aemond finally knows what’s like to get to Heaven…

***

Should've known I'd be the first to leave. Think about the place where you first met me. In a getaway car. No, they never get far. No, nothin' good starts in a getaway car

The phone rings. It’s an unknown number, but even then Aemond picks up—aware of who might be behind the line.

“Who’s this?”, his rusky voice is heard in a whisper, but his eyes are glued in your nude frame, against which he was tied until now.

“Son”, it’s Viserys, his father.

Almost immediately Aemond freezes.

“Dad”, he speaks in full tension.

“Where have you been, my boy? I miss you.”

Too paralyzed to speak, no word comes out of his tongue. Viserys knows it, so he continues his speech:

“Come home. I haven’t been a good father lately, I know.” He seems to choke with something, and doesn’t really help that the man comes to tears. “Your mother, a very good woman whose character is so sweet and noble, certainly more than I deserved, told me what’s been going on with you. Please my child, come home. We must speak. I cannot bear the burden that so unfairly has been placed over your shoulders because of me. Let us mend this. Together.”

There are many words crossing Aemond’s thoughts and few are kind. Nonetheless, underneath the anger, there is a boy hurting. And aware that the man is probably dying, he sees getting away has done nothing but turned him into a fool.

We cannot escape our issues. Our wounds remain open and bleeding. Perhaps I got addicted to pain.

“Son?”

“Yes, father?” It’s all he manages to say, his own voice embargoed.

“Come home. Please.”

Aemond then looks at you, sleeping peacefully, only partly aware of why you two went anywhere but King’s Landing.

“There is no need to get away from me or your mother. We are family.” He insists in such a melancholic voice that Aemond cannot fight back.

Without realizing it, his own tears are verging on his purple eyes and rolling down his cheeks.

“I will be a better father with the time’s left.” Aemond listens bitterly.

“I am going back”, he sounds defeated. Loyalty has always bound him to family, and it’s not as if he wanted his attention. “Today.”

Aemond doesn’t want to listen any further. Therefore he picks off the phone before Viserys thanks him immensely for it, which would be more embarrassing.

We were jet-set, Bonnie and Clyde until I switched to the other side, to the other side. It's no surprise I turned you in cause us traitors never win…

“I’m sorry, YN.”

In silent tears, every merriment has been left to past, a memory that is not going back. In truth, Aemond has his own issues in regards to settle down.

Despite your good and comprehensive nature, his own claims to be a fugitive. Therefore, that is what he does, no matter the consequences.

Aemond runs away.

***

And when you wake up some hours later, cold has already taken the place in every possible meaning. It’s no surprise that you find your bed empty.

But this doesn’t mean you didn’t have expectations. In fact you did. When rewinding the past few days, you could not understand where everything went wrong.

It hurts and it angers you all the same to think you put your hopes and dreams in this man.

“I should’ve known better”, you think out loud, refusing to waste your tears for him.

You pack your own things and leave the hotel, but the more you try to shield yourself, the more tears threaten to overcome you.

Your phone buzzes a few times but you don’t check it. You instead get a taxi to the train station and there you get a train back to King’s Landing. But in the middle of the way, you change your mind, opting to rent a car and drive it all the way.

It shouldn’t take this long, right?

You open your window, turn the car and, as you get on the road, you accelerate.

Every memory comes in like a dust storm. You know you shouldn’t race. But you shouldn’t love him.

And when your brain listens the motives he had to run, your comprehension leaves your reason. You scream instead.

“YOU STUPID ASSHOLE!”

No pride is enough to hold back a waterfall. And now you drive slowly because your eyes are but a puddle of tears and you refuse to be imprudent, even if the road is empty.

I was ridin' in a getaway car. I was cryin' in a getaway car. I was dyin' in a getaway car.

You are still sobbing by the twilight, when you reach King’s Landing. But your face dries at last by the time you get home.

Heartbreaking is never easy to deal with. Little wonder why you chose to bury yourself in work. As you get your phone, you see there are a few missed calls.

“Fuck you, Aemond Targaryen.”

And you turn off your cellphone.

***

Aemond stops by in front of your household feeling as guilty as a criminal. He tips his fingers against the steering wheel, still inside his car, as he waits for you to go back from work.

It’s an autumn day. You haven’t spoken for two months. You’d act like he was erased from your life and this was worse than he’d expect. In comparison to the burning rage of Alys, you could be snow cold. And he was one judged for his apparent detached behavior.

And then you finally come to his view. Dressed in your fluffy robes, that is to say a red bonnet that matches your red with black stripes gown and Mary Jane shoes, you hold some binders tight as you press the button to get inside the apartment.

Sighing heavily, for even he notices your dispirited demeanor, he knows he cannot delay any longer. In a matter of five minutes, he manages to catch you.

Right before you walk in.

“Aemond!”, you exclaim startled when feeling someone pushing your arm to get your attention.

“Y/N”, he calls your name, staring at you with a deep shade of sadness that so rarely you’d spotted in these irises. “Can we speak?”

Your unreasonable part wants to storm off, to make a scene perhaps, accusing him of so many names. But this is a behavior you, in your late 20’s, cannot tolerate.

“Yes”, you lead him to your apartment, but he can tell how tense you are, how much you are holding back. “Be quick and don’t waste my time.”

When you finally turn at him, Aemond sees the internal rage you were never really good to explore. He knows you well, you’ve grown together.

“I…” his voice chokes, but he must do it if he doesn’t want to lose you for good.

“Well?”

Ignoring your impatience, Aemond takes his mask off. Wearing nothing that is his not broken self, he shortens the distance between you two and then tell you all that’s been happening with him.

Little by little, your rage is knocked down. You have been a side witness of the Targaryen inner mess and the scars this left on your dear Aemond.

“Wounded people wound others”, you remark after he tells you at last and you embrace him, as he breaks in tears. “You know, of all people, I’d understand what you had to do. I would have never asked you to stay. I understand all this weight you were forced to carry… The thing is that you never had to carried alone.”

As you two embrace, a silent, mutual understanding comes. Serenity washes away distress and towards the end of tunnel a light sparks.

“I shouldn’t have gotten away”, he says after a while, looking for your eyes and your knees go weak when spotting vulnerability in them.

“No, my darling, you should not.”

“Will you take me back?”

“Will you stay this time?”

“Yes”, Aemond says firmly this time as he cups your face. “You’ll be my fucking wife, this I know.”

You laugh quietly at his familiar imprudence, but a blush creeks on your cheeks.

“You haven’t asked me to be your girlfriend yet.”

“The time we spent together has counted as relationship.”

Your laughter echoes in the room and Aemond smiles at the sound of it, warming his heart and sweeping away his fears.

“Aren’t you funny, Aem?”

You rest your forehead and rub your nose against his. He gives you a puppy look that inspires you to kiss his lips gently so.

After a while like this, though, he asks:

“Is that a yes or no?”

You giggle like a silly girl. Burying your head onto his shoulders, you feel as if your heart is about to burst.

“Are you serious?”

Aemond rolls his eyes, but you can hear his scoff.

“Of course, I am, woman. You’ll meet my parents this weekend.”

You reluctantly step back, staring at him with eyebrows raised.

“…I am already acquainted as Mr and Mrs Targaryen.”

“Not as my future wife, I’m afraid.”

You laugh again, a sound that is most dear to Aemond, who looks at you with sincere devotion.

“Well then, woman? What do you say?”

“How unusual of you, Aemond. But I wouldn’t expect the other way around. Therefore…”, you smile wide. “How can my answer be other than yes?”

And just like that he spins you around and kisses you dearly. It so appears that your well deserved happily ever after has finally knocked at your door.

#ewan mitchell #aemond targaryen #house of the dragon #aemond targaryen x female reader #aemond targaryen x y/n #house targaryen #aemond targaryen smut #aemond x female reader #prince aemond #lord Aemond #Taylor swift #reputation #getaway car

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ystrike1 · 5 months

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Master's Pet - By Shroomi (8.5/10)

It's a hot love battle! The son of the Duke. The son of the Marquise. The illegitimate son of the Marquise. They're all fighting over the same man. Our unfortunate, fatally attractive, protagonist just wants to escape his obsessive stalker. To do that he must pick a master, and pay with his body.

Our story begins with Collin.

He is a malnourished and gorgeous 18 year old boy. His mother was a mistress. Collins father was the very dead, spoiled and annoying Marquise. Collin looks exactly like that gorgeous and dumb Marquise.

His identity is hard to deny.

The legitimate heir, Joseph, takes him in. He doesn’t have to. Collin is half worthless peasant after all.

Joseph takes Collin in to turn him into a stud. A stallion. You see Joseph doesn't want to marry. His dumb hot father spent all the money. He must focus on saving the territory. Also his mother beat him horribly and he can't bear to sleep with women. So frankly Collin is really convenient.

Collin gets depressed when his mom abandons him for money. Joseph buys a slave of humble birth. Someone Collin can trust. Collin is afraid of power. Of being a noble son.

Joseph buys Ein. Ein wasn't a regular slave. The Duke's son, Max, is obsessed with him.

Ein is willing to do anything to get away.

Joseph tells Ein to gain Collin's trust. Teach him. Make him look noble so a Lady will marry him to continue the Marquise line.

Ein agrees.

Bad news!

Collin is a very nice young man!

He's not excited to be rich. He's afraid and he relies on Ein for emotional support.

This destroys Ein. He feels incredibly guilty, but he has no choice. His previous owner kept him locked up every day. He couldn't even interact with the other servants.

Joseph uses Ein for his sexual needs. That's part of the deal. His mommy issues are real bad, so he needs to tie Ein up too. He doesn't like to be touched. Joseph is kind of a shitty, abusive, possessive guy until the very end of the story. Ein is a good servant and support for him, but they never become real friends.

Joseph grapples with possessive feelings for Ein, but they never become real love.

Ein tames Collin....with love.

Yes, Collin wants to be with Ein. He says he will become the perfect man....if Joseph hands over the slave papers. Collin wants to be Ein's master.

How impure.

Wait Collin plans to burn the contract! Yes!!! His is the one good egg in the lineup of men.

Joseph struggles with his feelings while Collin is away at school. He abuses Ein some more and then he remembers being abused sucks??? It kinda hurts actually???

Joseph's weirdo mommy was obsessed with the dumb hot Marquise. She spoiled him rotten. She wanted a blond, blue eyed son. Instead Joseph came into the world with her face. She beat him. He wears gloves because she attacked his hands. She whipped his arms until they were all permanently white with scar tissue on top.

She sucked, but that doesn’t mean using Ein for rough playtime constantly is ok.

They could have been friends. Maybe lovers. But Joseph doesn't get over his mommy issues.

Max the stalker captures Ein at a really dumb party Joseph planned. Joseph wanted to marry Collin off. That was the plan, but the party tipped Max off. Somebody recognized Ein.

Max kidnaps him, and we learn the truth.

Max ruined Ein's whole life, from childhood to adulthood. He's been abnormally attached to Ein since he was like a toddler. Ein had to deal with it, because he was a slave. Max confessed his love when he grew up, but Ein refused. Then Max locked him up and threw away the key. The Duchess is a sane woman, so she snuck Ein out. Without her he'd still be in there.

Collin and Joseph have the papers. Max has Ein. They burn the papers, and that makes Max a criminal. Slaves are fair game for kidnapping, but kidnapping a citizen is a huge deal. Especially when you're the Duke's son. Without the slave papers Ein can easily get rid of Max, because everybody hates him. He's an annoying little brat that never grew up.

Max says he is Ein's true Master, and he always will be.

Ein looks down at him and says Max means nothing to him. Without the paper he has no reason to care about his madness.

Collin and Joseph both teamed up to save him.

Who does Ein pick?

No one.

He chooses to quit his job. He never wants to see another noble man again.

Collin cries when he leaves. Joseph is mad about it, but they get it. Again, Max ruined his entire childhood and um yeah.

Eventually Collin chooses to abandon life as a noble man.

It never really suited him anyway.

He finds Ein, who has become a teacher because of his years of tutoring experience.

Ein has been waiting for him.

Collin, the sanest and most loving of the three, was always Ein's true love.

#yandere #male yandere #yandere male #yandere boy #recommendations #recs #rec #recommended #webtoon #yaoi

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eepy-samzie · 10 months

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my god, the state of the fandom after the latest lesson?

let's put it like this: both characters did dubious things that can be interpreted as bad, or not so serious. (I personally see them as definitely not great, on both sides. does that make them horrible people? absolutely not, not in my opinion anyway. it makes them flawed, which is usually considered good character writing from my experience)

what's NOT right is:

calling asmodeus a rapist. disgusting, I will not ever get over this mischaracterisation. he has never canonically used his powers on an unwilling party with goals of sexual assault, he only did so when he or his family were in danger like the henry and talking flowers incident to subdue the enemy, maybe to receive praise/worship at worst. the scene of solodeus's meeting isn't an example. there was mutual flirtation, or what it appeared to be to asmo, which was according to what solomon wanted. the parts of the fandom that portray him as predatory are genuinely confusing to me.

and solomon an abuser. come on. why are we letting someone like lucifer off the hook then. he canonically physically punishes his family members yet the old guy who outsmarts somebody via manipulation is an abuser. ok. he does what he sees the need in doing in order to achieve a goal that will benefit humanity, or maybe something else. we do not know his motives yet, so we can't fully judge.

i'm sorry if my earlier post portrayed one of them as the worse one. solomon's ways of getting into pacts aren't great, for sure. asmodeus did a lot of things himself. that does not stop me from loving asmo to bits, and seeing solo in an affectionate light, as a mentor figure.

tl dr please don't hate on people for liking magic lil men bc of your own interpretations.

#obey me nightbringer spoilers #obey me nightbringer #obey me #obey me asmodeus #obey me solomon

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throwingmetothelions · 9 months

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NSFW Alphabet - Nicholas Ruffilo

I would like to say that I know it looks like I’m not being fair to Noah, and potentially the other members, but I wrote this on my laptop instead of my phone or iPad like I normally do. Whenever that happens, I have a tendency to write a little bit more because it’s much easier to type. By the time I converted it over, I realized that each blurb is double the length whoops.

HERE ARE SOME NICHOLAS THOUGHTS AND HEADCANONS. Again, it ain’t perfect truth unless I literally state that. Argue with yo momma.

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Pshhhh. Nicholas is like … the king of aftercare. I genuinely believe he doesn't really do the cum towel, but he goes and starts the shower because he wants you to be clean. Nicholas is the type to have a waterproof mattress protector already, and he laid a blanket down that he can easily toss away so nobody sleeps in the wet spot. Nicholas won’t be satisfied until you are breathing normally and grinning a little.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Nicholas knows his eyes are gorgeous. They look so green sometimes, but then they’re grey, and then they’re my FAVORITE - when the sun hits them they look like clear glass. I think he loves the compliments he gets on them. In literally every picture we have of shirtless Nick he’s crossing his arms over his belly and chest, or he's hiding behind someone - Nicholas Shirtless Content Challenge. His favorite body part on you is your thighs. I think he loves digging his fingers in them because they squish, the way you squeak when he runs his fingers over the part where your ass meets them, and that they are heavy when you throw them over him. Warm weighted blanket.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Let's twist this one around and put it on it’s ass. We’re not talking about how Nicholas feels about his own cum. He loves fingering you because he plays with it. I’ll die on this hill because LISTEN - he collects it on his fingers and scissors them apart so he can see the strings of nectar that HE caused. He likes to lick it off his fingers and your folds. He loves knowing he did that because its a visual representation of hard work kinda like the tattoos he creates. Fills him with pride, and you let him do his thing because you cannot see straight. Although, I will say that out of all of the Bad Omens boys I do feel like Nick has the lifestyle that leads to cum that doesn't taste like battery acid.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Ah. Okay. (Warning: please don't actually cum facedown like this. It's actually terrible for you in the sexual long run but thats why its a dirty secret). Nicholas’s favorite way to cum is by piling up a blanket or a pillow and grinding down on it while he’s laying down. Now, I feel like he discovered this because he shared a room with Noah for ages and didnt have a whole lot of privacy. Also, Bad Omens are the kings of fitting like seven men in one hotel room so you have to learn how to cope. ALSO I may or may not have stumbled across an old snapchat of Noah laying back in a bed shirtless with porn on the tv on one of those after hours channels in a hotel room. Somebody was awake and giggling and someone was snoring in the background. Perfect opportunity for Nicholas to “be asleep” wink wink.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Nicholas actually does have a bit more experience than people probably think, and it's because Mr. Venus In Capricorn likes to build up actual romantic relationships. He canonically never did the “girlies backstage” thing, and I think hes had plenty of time to actually talk to his partners about the things women like, what works in general, and where other men are going wrong. He absolutely knows what he’s doing, and I think hes the type to actually shock you with how much foreplay he’s going to demand. There is no rushing this. He’s a very patient man.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Missionary, but he likes to push your legs back. He loves this because the filthy kisses and the eye contact are A1. That's always a good one, but his all time favorite is when you ride him. He can do so much in this position, and you get off the easiest. Nick is the type to grope you all over but its out of wonderment and fascination. Like he spends all fucking day looking at body parts when he tattoos, and he picks up on new details everytime he fucks you like this. He can also help you out a bit when you get tired, and we’ll get into why him grinding into you steals his soul later bestie.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

He isn’t goofy. Like at all. I feel like Nicholas has personality characteristics that align with Katie from Horton Hears a Who in that there's an absolute childlike ignorance he can display because he’s too busy staring at shiny things or following the smell of tacos. Mars in Cancer - very mature SO if you laughed or giggled during sex you would have to stop and explain why to him before he can move on. He’s curious, because in his mind this is taking all of the big boy brain cells he has. You could make a joke or a pun about filling holes or something funny, and Nick would instantly put his serious pants on like “alrighty that’s - this is what she wants its my time to fucking GO”. Like hes not even gonna laugh at the joke.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

So I have actually seen (I added it to a post once here I think) a Nicholas titty+chest combo that wasn’t covered and yall … he actually has chest hair lol I say that because he looks smooth everywhere else, but he does. THAT BEING SAID … he has enough chest hair that I’m sure it does that thing where it makes a thin line straight down his chest and into a happy trail. I don’t actually think that he shaves or trims anything though because I don't think he’s all that hairy? He would if you asked (don’t be a dick and ask though girl wtf) but I think he just kinda lets it go. Very chilled back individual. Very nonchalant about this. That being said, shaving other people's body parts is a part of his job so he would be a magician if he did.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

THIS IS WERE NICHOLAS RYAN SHINES. So … Nick deleted his twitter, but I swear all that boy did was joke about how sensitive he is and how easy it is to hurt his feelings.I dont give a shit - Nick is a very soft boy, and he's also incredibly soft spoken when you compare him to most men. I’m also gonna say something and its gonna piss some of you off (I seem to do that everyday so lets stoke this fire a bit) NICHOLAS IS THE MOST ANDROGYNOUS (POSITIVE) MEMBER OF BAD OMENS AND IM NOT JUST TALKING LOOKS. Listen - his mannerisms, his speech pattern, his open sensitivity, and I mean … look at him??? Very intimate dude. Very “what’s goin’ on jellybean,” while tucking his hair behind his ear. He actually is so powerful because he can turn ANY conversation intimate with that soft voice and his eyes. He doesn't mean too. Sometimes he does. Can absolutely make everyone around you disappear with a hand on your knee.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Oof. Nicholas jerks off more than I think anyone would give him credit for. He’s mad respectful about it … He’s never been walked in on. I do think he’s pretty spontaneous about it? He’s so mellow all the time that if he did suddenly get turned on he’d have to remedy it because he needs to return to his baseline. Like for example … if he’s looking up references for a tattoo or something and he sees one too many pictures of ancient Greek statues or Renaissance paintings of women with sheer drapes hugging their curves … his nerdy ass would absolutely take it a little further by accident (he cannot control his wandering mind), and he’d jerk off about it. ALSO I’ve seen some digital art he did like a decade ago and uhm … its … its kinda fucking horny even as a joke so I know I’m right lol

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Sensitive Sarahs need to turn it around now. Nicholas is the one that has the breeding kink. SO I think he blurted it out one day out of fear when he was younger. Like he was totally Mr. Safe Sex until his stupid dumb nineteen year old hormonal brain said “its okay to not have a condom Nick. You can pull out (derogatory),” and he did but not in time and it was a whole Avengers level fight in his brain. Now, he holds your tummy really tight when he fucks you and he whispers in your ear about how pretty you would look if he put a baby in there. He’s … yeah, its a kink but also this is Nicholas and he’s such dad material that he’s only half-shitting you when he's saying these things. Like he likes to keep his dick inside of you for a while after he cums just to keep it all in and whisper primal shit in your ear, but he's also actually stopping through the baby section of Target because he saw a onesie that said “My Dad Is a Rockstar” on it and he wants to show you. You are always one filthy tongue kiss away from Nicholas making you both parents.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

His all time favorite place I feel like - and this is something he gets to rarely do - is have sex in the ocean. I know, pH situations and all that, but he just loves how close you have to be. He loves knowing that it looks like you’re just clinging to him as you guys bob along with the waves. Nick loves pulling your bikini bottoms to the side and keeping you afloat while you keep him warm. I feel like he’s also big on sex on that couch in his living room thats in all those pictures. Yall know what im talking about … the one with the velvet. Like you put a movie on and you were spooning under a blanket and then BOOM. Your face is turned back towards him so that you can kiss him while he fucks you through Star Wars.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

You know what? I think, if you have tattoos, watching you put on lotion or oil after a shower would turn this man on immensely. Like he would see the ink in your skin shine, and he would watch your hands glide all over your body and he would instantly have a boner. Nicholas is also a sweet angel and, unfortunately for him, if he just thinks about you for too long he’ll get excited in public. Nick also has a thing for you wearing his old t-shirts from his scene phase that he never threw away. He thinks its adorable how you didn't really have a scene phase because you were a Hollister teen, so he always asks what the fuck you know about The Maine when you put that shirt on. He tackles you on the bed because you “don't know shit about them”, and he really thinks you should take it off baby.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

I firmly believe that Nicholas Ryan Ruffilo does not have it in him to do any sort of impact play. Like if you ask him to slap you a little he’s going to remind you that you guys talked about this, and he's going to shake his head and it’ll be over. NOW - it’s worth noting that, if he's anything like any other tattoo artist i'm friends with, he laughs a little when he inflicts pain on his friends. He would do like nipple clamps, but it actually is difficult for him to even spank you. If your ass is the slightest bit red he’ll have to check on you. He absolutely cannot smack you if its anything beyond a playful tap. Like I think Nick would actually legitimately cry if he did anything that made you wince or flinch because knowing that he caused that reaction means a lot to him. It’s a bit too heavy for our friend.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Nicholas really loves blow jobs. Here's the thing we have to remember - most tattoo artists use talking as a way of distracting clients sometimes. They ask all about the tattoo, they want to know the meaning etc. its all about the client. Nick, just for a little bit, wants something to be about him and only him. He is obsessed with the way you try to hide the little gags you force down, and the way that your spit makes a bridge from your lips to the tip of his dick. He likes holding your hair and admiring you. Big admirer. That being said, if you're the type that can tolerate someone giving kitten licks for an hour, or slowly making out with your pussy until you want to grip the messy bun he keeps and shove his face into your folds THEN LAY BACK AND LET NICHOLAS DO HIS THING. Too much fascination and detail capturing to be able to just - dive in and shake his head like a pitbull on a bone. Can’t do it.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Pace, you question? I think he’s all over the map. Nick is 30. He’s old enough to have patience, but he’s still young enough to lose himself for a little bit and fuck you so fast you have to brace yourself lest you smack your forehead into the wall. He doesn’t read the vibe of the room or the time … he just reads you. Do you have some sort of devilish glint in your eyeballs? Are you wordlessly asking him to give you a bit of a friction burn because he fucked you so fast? Or, do you have heavy eyes and a head full of too many thoughts? Are you asking him for slow and calculated thrusts that hit so hard you can feel him at the edge of your cervix? COMMUNICATE AND YOU SHALL RECEIVE FRIENDS. I think it all kinda works the same for him. Like Nicholas knows he’s gonna cum, and he’s not that worried about how he feels about the journey.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Absolutely he does?!? I just told you like … he’s the type to think really hard about how much he loves you and he can get hard. Ya know what? Send him a picture of JUST your pantyline and watch his face from across the room. Watch how he chokes on that water, and watch how he flips Jolly off when he beats on his back to try to help him. “What did you just read, man? Did somebody die,” Noah asks and YEAH. SOMETHING DID JUST DIE. HIS PEACE OF MIND (dont unfollow me pls) but really … it was just the band of your underwear? And he doesnt give a fuck if they’re the ones from the back of the drawer that are all cotton and no sexy in your opinion, he’s ripping them things down your legs while he covers your mouth because youre in what could maybe be a cleaning closet? Except the ground is carpet and there's a weird stain on the floor? Who gives a fuck because he’s railing you within an inch of your life?

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Okay so the birth chart says no, and I would believe it. I think outside of quickies and the little bit of public sex we discussed, I just dont think he feels the need? Like based on what I’ve seen and read he didnt have a strict childhood, and I think the freedom he was afforded means he doesn't feel the need to do anything risky if that makes sense. He wasn’t a bubbled kid - he doesn't have to go do all the shit he wasn't allowed to now because he wasn't restricted. He will experiment within reason … like if you brought home some sort of tingling lip gloss and you wanted to see what it would do during a bj he would let you. “Shine on you funky little astronaut,” he thinks as your eyebrows furrow when you try to figure out how to open the tube.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Nick can last for like … four rounds I’m going to say. He only does because he doesn't seem like the type that needs to cum each round. Nick seems like he decides if thats the goal each time he has sex. Like the goal could be that you have fun just bouncing on it, and that’s fine! He doesn't have to cum if that wasn’t the goal. So, he can go for quite a while because he’s gonna do different shit each time. Nicholas is only going to stop because he physically has run out of steam, but honestly he’s down for you to use him. Bassists have fingers that are strong as hell and hey, you’ve ridden his hand before when he was laid back and that’s perfectly cool with him. Nicholas is notorious for actually not lasting all that long but it’s because your pussy is too powerful, and he is but a simple man. He can usually pull out and stop himself though. He’ll calm down then continue.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

He owns a few, but that’s just because you bought them. Nicholas does seem to be bashful, but the days of having to walk into a sex store are over because the internet will send that vibrator directly to your doorstep! Or Nick’s! I think that you might have like … used a vibrator while he was fucking you and then it kept tapping his dick and he - it fucking scrambled his brain. You caught on quick and held it on the shaft and he had a split second urge to go back to church after he came down from that high. So yeah, I just think he’s an experimenter when he feels like he's in a safe space and he's doing safe things. He’s never been insecure about his dick because he believes that stress is a killer, so he knows that he can satisfy you. He’s proved it, but he wants you to have all the pleasure you could possibly get. If he needs to put on his wizard hat and use a fucking wand he totally will he doesnt care.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Okay. I feel like Nick is so easily flustered and he’s so emotional that you need to be careful about teasing him in public. Noah wouldn’t really, but Folio and Jolly will absolutely gang up on him and rib him and he’s going to curl in on himself if you make a move in front of them. THat being said, when you get into the bedroom he’s a “grinds between your lips until everything is soaked and you probably came all over him but he’s not stopping” type of guy. Again, he doesn't care about the journey so it’s no skin off his ass to do this for hours with his teeth grit and his jaw tight. One of the only times you’ll find sternness with him is when he grips your hips really hard because he’s stopping you from angling them to slip the tip of his dick inside. Behave.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

AHAHAHA. Nicholas has the second highest pitched moans in Bad Omens (guess you’ll be waiting for Folio and Jolly to see who steals first, huh). This is purely based off the actual range of his voice. He’s got very light and airy moans. They float. I think he definitely lets it out more than the other guys because he has the least amount of shame AS AN ADULT. Younger Nicholas was different, but as an adult I think he understands that women want to hear that. That’s one of the few ways he can let you know he likes what you’re doing when his words are gone. A lot of “oh my god” and he would actually be the type to whisper your name. He was a little apprehensive about that, but he loves you so much he doesn't give a shit anymore. He’s also kinda loud when he comes. He doesn't do too much grunting, but he definitely cusses like a sailor.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

YOU GUYS. I thought about this too hard, and it fit so well with Nick that I - here you go. You can laugh its okay. You dont have to hear me out because ive decided it happened in my head … Nicholas taught Folio how to eat pussy when they were younger and HERE'S WHAT MY HEADCANON SAYS HAPPENED: Folio was eighteen and he had a girl he liked that was looking forward to the tour ending, and Nicholas seemed like the one he could confide in most. He was scared that Noah would get cocky but then actually fail him because well … Folio wasn’t so sure that he and Noah were not in the same boat. Jolly was out of the fucking qquestion because he knew he’d make him learn how to do karate with his tongue. He wanted to impress her, and bass fishing lore wouldn't cut it. Long story short, Nicholas used his pussy licking knowledge to help his little brother out when they shared a motel room on tour once. Nobody asked why he needed to stop at the store and grab peaches at 9 pm. Folio’s tongue game was gossiped about for 3 months in his town. Some say that the blabbering she did accidentally opened up a portal. This was when Nicholas became someone Folio would always listen to and agree with no matter what.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

So I actually think he’s a little bit bigger than average, but only by an inch or so. Nicholas is so cool, calm and collected that I feel like he’s got to be happy with whatever he’s got going on down there. You don’t make that many dick jokes, fondle that many dudes nipples, and pose like you’re getting spanked that many times if you’re insecure about anything. He’s also straight up not worried because he is perfectly knowledgeable about what his mouth and hands are capable of, and he knows what he can do to you without actually penetrating you. Like Nicholas is the type to make you realize you can cum from getting your tits sucked. He is the inner peace and earth cracking orgasms master.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Nicholas, if he’s at home and you’re there, it’s pretty damn high but that circles back to earlier. Remember we said he needs to clear his mind and get back to being zen? So he needs you to help him make the horny demons go away, and he’s absolutely the type to ask for like … mutual masturbation or something of the sorts. He’s content just jerking off alone if you’re not feeling it, but he would rather watch you lazily play with yourself, or let him fuck up into your fist for a little bit if sex is off the table. His sex drive is high, and there isn’t a damn thing you could do (besides the no’s we discussed) that could lower it. Like you walk out in a nightgown with holes in it and a grease stain on the collar? Bend over. You just came in from doing yard work and you’re sweaty and there’s dirt on your nose and you’re wearing a faded family reunion shirt and leggings that give you that belly roll you hate? He’s ready to tear your shit up; he simply does not care. Big man of taste.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

So if it’s just one round it doesn’t matter if he came - he ain’t sleepy yet. He would want to maybe shower, go smoke, watch some tv with a snack, or draw for a little bit. You can go to sleep, though. He hates to say that he almost prefers it like that. I feel like Nicholas is the type to want to make sure that you are satisfied, asleep, and he knows where you are so that he can go and have his own quiet time by himself. Like after a few rounds, you would be knocked out, but Nicholas would go sort his vinyls, or fit a vet appointment for his cats into his schedule before he crawls in next to you. He seems like the type that needs to just be alone in some mild quiet for a little bit sometimes, and he finds that the best time is after he gets all of his tension out by fucking you. His whole world is so calm now.

#bad omens fic #bad omens fanfic #bad omens fanfiction #auntievwroteit

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