#Womens Motorcycle Pants

[leathercollectionus]

Womens Motorcycle Pants Comfort

Comfort womens motorcycle pants Black are made of advanced protective leather helping to improve the safety standards. Including exceptional measures related to the comfort and ease of the rider. Unfinished hems, get hemmed as you desire.

Womens Motorcycle Pants Comfort

[spyskater]

Just got back from Blue Beetle (which was a lot of fun). I need some other opinions on something, tho: is it just me or did the filmmakers not realize they dressed Jenny like the most sapphic woman? A blazer, tank top, sweat pants, and high top sneakers? Maybe I'm trippin'.

[motride]

[cleargalaxystudentblog-blog]

At Bikester Global Shop, you can get women's motorbike trousers online at the best prices. you can visit and purchase now.

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[coquettetoji]

{⭐️} TOJI FUSHIGURO MOODBOARD

★ general toji hcs ★

— QUEUE WEST COAST BY LANA DEL REY

— let’s just pretend in this world he doesn’t have a son to actually care for yk.

— biggest beefiest juiciest (ok i’m exaggerating) but holy shit this guy is huge. i’m talking mma boxer huge, he takes great pride in his physic. and is guilty of being a gym rat.

— cockiest mf ever but in a hot way, he does that cheek tongue thing unintentionally and omlllllll

— toji definitely wasn’t the smartest in school, neither math smart, science smart or reading smart. he fucked most of his teachers but i mean he passed?

— although he wasn’t very academically smart, his skill in business and negotiating led to him earning a high position for a large financial group. drugs like hand over that amex????

— drives a motorcycle, i’m thinking ducati, as a hobby. 😏😏

— smokes cigarettes and drinks, his fav is hennessy, but other than that he’s a clean man

— was an emo in highschool, we don’t talk about that though. and neither does he.

— multitudes of tattoos across his body, mainly on his chest and arms though.

— his dream job as a highschooler was to open a tattoo parlor. he was surprisingly a good artist when it came to sketches.

— silver chains and silver jewelry, he’s pale so his complexion matches the colors better.

— sarcastic humor that would make kids cry. this guy treats everyone the same as if they’ll understand his humor and that makes him not so great around kids

— has a soft spot for cats, really wants to have a kitten but won’t ever commit to it/taking care of it

— has every single dating app downloaded not to date but just to get validation from everyone who swiped right on him. (gets at minimum 83 swipes per day)

— speaking of, his most used apps on his phone are phone (calls), messages, and instagram to watch his instagram reels 😋

— respectful towards women. although he seems like a d bag he does know how to treat a lady right

— drives a blacked out mercedes benz s class, ofc with tinted windows in case of.. yeah

— the scar running from the middle of his cheek down the side of his lip is from a fight during high school that got violent, he won though don’t worry

— grey/silver/green eyes, with jet black hair. he was genuinely gifted with godly genetics

— when he does smile, his lip corners turn up sharply giving him that joker smile type of look, my legs are wide open

— the most laid back chill guy ever, he doesn’t take life seriously enough for him to actually give a fuck

—6’4. argue with the wall.

— his hands are huge and the veins 😩😩😫😩😫 HEHEHE

— wears black compression shirts or black t shirts with sweat pants all day everyday, it’s his signature look

— he smells a bit like cigarettes and Maison Margiela Replica Jazz Club, just an overall eye rolling back into head type of scent

— makes dad jokes all the time minus the part of him being an actual dad

— played basketball growing up just in his neighborhood, was good enough to go pro but his grades were ass lol

— he listens to these actual underground rock bands that literally no one has heard of or the sports podcast on the radio like a true dad

— kinda behind on everything going on in the world right now, but it’s okay bc we love toji for it regardless

💌 new message from mica ‧₊˚✧

my favorite incoming dilf with a midlife crisis 😫

honestly one of my fav boards yet, i tried so hard to find the perfect resemblance of toji and omg the scar too kinda works perfectly

[browngirl-inthering]

decade accurate marauders era wardrobes - sirius black

hair: black, wavy, and shoulder length.

while long hair for both women and men was popular in the 70s, the trend carried over from the later years of the 60s.

the 1960s was a decade characterized by youth rebellion and societal revolution. the decade was rife with countercultural movements such as racial equality, women's liberation, and queer rights. pushed largely by baby boomers, the young people of the 60s rejected the conservative values of their parents and the generations before them and instead valued equality, individuality, and self-expression. these values inspired the fashion of the 60s, which is why later 60s fashion trends consist of brighter colors, shorter hemlines, non-western influences, and long hair on men.

i'm not sure if sirius having long hair while he was younger is canon, but even if not it makes sense for his character. sirius practically embodies the larger societal reckonings of the time as he struggles with separating himself from his long, bigoted family history and subverts the expectations for him by actively fighting against it and carving out his own self image free from his familial legacy.

clothes: consist mainly of blacks, purples, reds, and silvers. leather, velvet, furs, and fishnets. ripped tops, colored pants, slogan tees, and a copious amount of band t-shirts.

glam rock is a british fashion subculture that emerged in the early 70s and was pioneered by various musicians such as marc bolan and david bowie. glam rock fashion allowed participants to play with gender norms with the men wearing typically "flamboyant" feminine clothing made with velvets, silks, furs, and glitter.

punk rock is also a british fashion subculture that came about in the mid 70. although having its roots in glam rock, punk rock visually seems like the exact opposite with its fashion pieces consisting of leather pants and jackets, combat boots, altered t-shirts, and body modifications such as tattoos and piercings.

for the longest time i haven't been able to choose between whether i think sirius would dress glam or punk. i think he'd like certain elements of both so i tried my best to combine them together.

he'd love t-shirts. they seem common today but before the 60s they were worn as underwear. during this decade t-shirt printing became easier and more accessible, and thus began the trend that was the slogan tee. you could get t-shirts with almost anything printed on them, short phrases, crude jokes, and band logos.

shoes: platform shoes, combat boots, and converse.

platforms platforms platforms

combat boots, specifically doc martens, were a staple in punk fashion

the converse are for casual wear

accessories: motorcycle gloves, star shaped belt buckle, buttons, patches, and sunglasses.

i couldn't find any good pictures or an actual belt that i liked but i feel sirius would love statement belts with a big buckle that has some sort of design on it

the patches and pins are for his infamous leather jacket™ i'm pretty sure his leather jacket isn't canon but it might as well be anyways 🤷🏿‍♀️

[yourgentlegirlfriend]

Saw your post about writing, I love older Leon with a younger more naive reader, could you maybe do something along those lines? 👉👈

YES! I’m so glad somebody requested more older Leon, im in love with writing it. I whipped something up as fast as i could but i ended it on a little teaseeee if you guys REALLY like it i’ll finish it!!:))

DISCLAIMER!! this is 18+ ONLY, please do not interact with my blog if you are underaged or don’t have age indicator in your bio!! thank you!!

f!reader x much older Vendetta/ID Leon. Mentions of size difference, slight angst if you squint literally, VERY little smut but it is there. mentions of choking, biting lip. use of pet names (sweetheart, angel, etc.) BIKER LEON HELLO. Leon is obsessed with you, and you’re dumb.

Word count: 1.4k it’s small

Leon always says you were his saving grace. The two of you met during a time in his life where he really needed you. You were bubbly, happy, much younger but he pushed that aside. The only reason you guys met was because you went to go get your brothers bike fixed for him, standing waiting before the mechanic had told you a list of reasons as to why it would cost you almost ten thousand dollars in repairs. You knew enough about cars but nothing about motorcycles, your jaw dropped staring at the man in front of you as you shook your head.

“The tire went out? That was it-“

You cut yourself off, pulling out your check book with a frustrated sigh, before you can even sign on the line a man stepped next to you, squinting at the numbers on the paper then to the mechanic in front of the both of you.

“This what this business is about? Lying to women for no reason?”

The man grabbed the check book scoffing at the astonishing price you were about to pay, the mechanic stuttered over his words before the man once again cut him off.

“Just bring the bike back up front”

You stared at the man in awe. You knew that you were being scammed but you are the one who fucked up the bike so as long as it was fixed you didn’t care. He handed you back your check book and nodded his head towards the workers bringing the bike back up front.

“I’ll fix it for you, no cost too. Well, unless you let me take you to dinner.”

His smile was gorgeous. He was gorgeous. You felt red spread across your face as you nodded, shoving your check book back in your purse as the two of you walked out the front door.

Leon Kennedy was his name, he told you while he propped the bike up, leaning down before swatting his hand signaling you to stand over him and watch him. And he taught you more than you knew, maybe more than you needed to know. You couldn’t help but smile as he stood up, wiping his hands on his pants before looking at you.

“All done.”

And before he could even speak again you pulled your wallet out, grabbing at the cash you had stored. Leon let out a chuckle as he covered your hand with his, shaking his head.

——————

Leon was adamant about taking you to dinner, at least twice a week. Since the two of you met he would pick you up every Monday and Friday, and take you these outrageously fancy and expensive restaurants. Leon stopped his bike, stepping off before grabbing your hand to help you keep your balance as you swung your leg over. The two of you began your walk up the stairs as you rambled on about the girls at your work and how one of them was stealing produce, your words interrupted by Leon’s hand gripping the back of your skirt, pulling it down slightly so it would cover you up more because apparently your skirt rode up on the ride here. Did he just do that? A part of you wanted to yell at him, but physically, your throat went dry and your thighs squeezed together. There was no label on you two, you weren’t girlfriend and boyfriend, but you did spend to much time together. You bit at your cheek as Leon checked you in for your reservations, turning back to you as the waiter walked the two of you to your table. Your hand reached out for the chair but Leon- as smooth as ever he was- brushed beside you, pulling out your chair. You sighed softly, looking up at the man with a smile as you sat down, your ankles crossing over each other. The air was thick between you two but it had been for about the past week. Leon always ordered for you two, mainly because he knew what he was doing. The two of you sat silent as you stared at the menu before you placed yours down, staring at Leon with your eyebrows slightly frowned. He was scanning the menu, his attention not on you of course. He had to have felt the gaze because his eyes flicked up to meet yours, causing him to place down the menu.

“What’s up sweetheart, you seem bothered.”

Bothered was an understatement. Your eyes rolled as before you stared at your glass of water.

“Is it our age gap? Or what? I mean jesus Leon i’m sitting here wondering why I’m not good enough for you..”

Instead of comforting you, Leon let out a chuckle, taking a sip from the wine in his glass. Leon shrugged as he leaned back against the chair with a smug smile on his face.

“Angel, if i didn’t value you and want you to be mine why would i spend almost a thousand a week just to see that pretty smile?”

——————

“He’s what?”

Damien, your brother yelled as you and Leon sat at the table with him, Leon’s hand gripping at your thigh under the table at your brothers outburst. You knew he would react this way when finding out about yours and Leon’s very much prominent age gap of 9 (and a half) years.

“Leon takes care of me Dami.. you don’t have to be mad-“

Damien interrupted you, ranting on about how disappointed mom and dad would be with how you decided to play out your life. Leon lifting you from your seat and basically dragging you out the door made the anger building in your stomach stop.

“We are leaving.”

Leons voice was stern as the two of you walked down the steps of your brothers porch, Damien following behind, arms crossed as he watched Leon carefully place the helmet on your head before he swung his leg over his bike, you following him like a stray puppy, laying the side of your covered head on his back as you watched your brother look at you in disgust.

Leon was silent, but the way he sped down the street told you everything you needed to know. When the two of you finally arrived back at the house, even in his anger he still held the door open for you, when you stepped in he slammed it. sighing as he pulled his jacket off.

“Leon, Im so sorry.”

Leon shook his head watching you play with your fingers, a groan leaving his lips as you folded his jacket for him.

“You are just so..”

Leon grumbled as he grabbed your hips, squeezing them in his much larger hands. You frowned up at him, your hands slowly rubbing up his chest and past his shoulders.

“I love you, it’s not fair.”

Leon nodded down at you, pecking your nose softly before one of his hands left your hip to gently grab at your chin, he took in a deep inhale, he loved the way you smelled. With your strawberry lipgloss and vanilla lotion, he was obsessed with you. The way you would do anything for him, you were his and you knew that too. His lips pressed into yours, his hand that was at your hip sliding to hold your back pulling you closer into him.

Your hands went to pull away from him but he was much stronger, tilting his head into yours causing a soft whimper to fall from your lips as his teeth nipped at your now puffy bottom lip. He pulled back, smirking at the sight of you with your hooded eyes, looking at him like he was the only person in the world. You went to whine something to him but he shushed you immediately, dragging you over to the couch.

“Just don’t talk.”

He mumbled as he sat himself down on his sofa, pulling you between his legs. He admired your outfits more than you knew, the way you always wear cute little skirts for him, or when you guys go out to dinner and you wear that red dress that he fucking adores. Everything hugs your body so perfectly. Your fingertips grazed over his shoulder, your body pushing forward with a gasp as Leon yanked your skirt down your legs, a hum leaving his throat as he gripped at your thighs.

“Leon be careful clothes are expensive!”

You whined with a giggle as Leon dragged you down to the couch, this made you realize just how much stronger and bigger Leon really was, the shyness washing over you as he hovered over you, his hand grabbing at your throat gently, he didn’t want to hurt you (yet).

“I told you not to talk, you act like I don’t buy you all those skimpy little skirts anyways..”

[hotmessmaxpress]

(a/n: I’ve never been only onlyfans. I’m assuming it works like patreon but for nudes? Allegedly you can also tip using the website?)

Rosquez OnlyFans AU, (1/?) Inspired by these posts on @unhinged-motogp-confessions

It's a common misconception that it is easy for Vale to get laid. While he does have the benefit of his celebrity status, charisma, and literal fanclub, that doesn't necessarily equate to a good deal of pussy on a practical level. For one, women often want more commitment from him than he's willing to provide. He has no interest in having a girlfriend at the moment, no matter how good the sex is. On the other hand, women who are comfortable with being one-night-stands sometimes have the air of wanting to exploit the encounter in some way. While he's never had a lover go so far as to take pictures without his consent, he has been made aware of more than enough tweets, blog entries, and other social media posts about his dick and skills as a lover. There is also the issue of Vale's additional preference for men; hooking up with women is risky enough without the threat of forced outing.

The easiest solution is perhaps the most embarrassing: porn. Vale has the money to acquire pretty much any type of porn that he wants, and it's convenient no matter where he is in the world (for the most part).

Vale has a private OnlyFans account with Rossano as the profile picture. It’s on that account that he discovers and subscribes to Marc. MotoMarc93 He is the hottest man Valentino Rossi has ever seen. He’s absolutely fit, six pack and all, and he rarely has a shirt on. He has the face of a model, and Valentino loves it when he smiles. What really makes Marc stand out though, is his garage. Marc has an entire garage of motorcycles. His favorite, that he includes in videos, is an orange and black wrapped Honda Fireblade. Marc is filthy on the bike. Sometimes it’s innocent; thirst trap selfies of himself leaned back on the bike, cock just out of frame. Other times it's a photo over his shoulder, showing the line of his toned back down to his bare ass. Vale pays for everything– he pays for the most expensive monthly subscription, but also buys the pay-per-view shots at every available opportunity. That gives him access to all the videos Marc posts. He posts one in particular of him riding a dildo that he has suction-cupped to the seat that makes Vale come so hard he thinks for a moment that he died. After that video he sends Marc a tip for 1000€ with a message: “amazing video xx”. Marc responds with a question: “what is your name?” That question is a red flag for Valentino, but he is horny and therefore stupid. “Valentino.” There is no response for 24 hours, which terrifies Vale. The next afternoon, however, he receives a direct message from Marc. It’s similar to the previous video, but Marc has changed the camera angle– his camera is set up behind the rear of the bike, but clearly his tripod is standing on something to make it even taller than normal. The angle of the video makes it feel as if Valel is looking down just slightly– like he’s standing behind the bike and watching. Marc takes his time in the video. He walks into frame already naked, grinning, and makes his way toward the bike. He kneels next to it, jerking the dildo off slowly with a grin at the camera before turning, swinging his leg over the bike, and slowly seating himself on the dildo. The camera angle gives Vale a perfect view of where the cock enters Marc's tight hole. He groans as it fills him, and Vale scrambles to free his hard cock from his pants. Marc rocks his hips before sliding up and back down the silicone cock. He moans, rocking up, before he opens his mouth. “Valentino,” he moans. “Harder.” He picks up speed, fucking himself deep and hard on the dildo. Vale pumps his cock in time with the rise and fall of Marc’s hips. He doesn't think he's ever been this invested in a screen before in his life. “Valentino, please,” Marc cries. Vale comes hard, cum shooting nearly up to his chin. He moans as he jerks himself through it.

When he opens his eyes, Marc has reached behind him and picked up the camera. He brings it around his body, and Vale nearly comes again at the sight of Marc’s cum painting the body of the bike, nearly up to the handlebars. The camera flips, and Marc grins and blows a kiss at the camera before the video ends.

[princessleechan]

Imagine wanting to climbing up the social ladder with coworker!Wonwoo’s help.

How do you get with the in-crowd of the most prestigious networking organization in the country: set up their chairman with the hottest guy in your department. AKA one of the most eligible bachelors of the literary world, Jeon Wonwoo. Your setback: how were you suppose to do that when all he can think about is you? So he says.

You think it’s a joke since he could possibly get with anyone he wanted, why would he want to get with you? The person still getting coffee for your shared supervisor while he was already in the acknowledgment pages of his actual clientele, You thought it was a downgrade, and you knew that he would be punching down his league if he was actually pursuing you.

What you really think is that he’s just trying to get you off his back by pretending he wants you to be on yours. You aren’t dumb enough to be even enticed simply because of the intimidation. Although, you’d be lying if you hadn’t imagined it once or twice on a whim.

Of course, you have. He’s attractive (an understatement), an academic (another understatement), he rides a motorcycle to work everyday (hot as hell), and somewhat a decent human being (proclaimed by 99% of the women in the the office that most certainly want to get in his pants). It’s a mystery why he stays working in midsize workplace getting paid half of what he could be earning at high level facility.

“Just do it, please.”

“Depends, what do I get in return?”

“Uh a sugar mama that makes six figures a year?”

“I’d rather have you though.”

Admittedly, his words made you shudder. Once in a while they do. “No, you don’t. You’ll be doing us both a favor. This is an opportunity once in a lifetime.”

“Not interested.”

Through days of persisting, you somehow managed to do it. You’ve worn him out. You’ve convinced him to do you this small favor and let himself be set up. For once, things are looking your way, and you see a light at the end of that tunnel. Your name in brights lights, your town Ted Talk, the fan signings. You are a step closer to your true destiny.

But Wonwoo looks too well put. Too handsome for words. Too irresistible to not stare.

Lucky for you, he stares back, and impish gleam in his gaze. Walking towards you, one foot of the other, he stands tall before you with hands tucked in both pockets. “How do I look?”

That Cheshire smile on his face, dark pupils staring back at you in curious anticipation, and he catches the seize of your breath before you expel it out of your lungs in the deep exhale. You nod back at him, saying he looks agreeable. Just perfection for this kind of situation.

When he walks out the door, you didn’t expect the sinking feeling in your stomach, nor the squeeze of your chest. But you settle back down in your chair blinking back at the door the had just closed shut.

A split second later that same door opens, and the man that walks through it once reappears from the other side. “I forgot something.”

You start back at him puzzled. “Forgot what?”

He grins before his hand closes around your wrist, pull you up from your seat and pulling you towards the door, “the date I wanted have to dinner with.”

[cherry-queens-blog]

A little story i had saved for awhile now and never got around to post it yet. This story hit me right in the feels a bit hard. In this story Gyutaro is searching for a partner on a dating site only to be constantly mocked and rejected sending him into a depressed frenzy until he finds reader.

(MDNI)

Warning: Self harm, depression, and Mentions of blood.

FINDING LOVE

It was a late night about 11:56 and Gyutaro was on his laptop making a profile on a dating site. He was pretty lonely and wanted to at least try and find someone he can talk to, hang out with, and just be with. He wasn't expecting much due to his appearance so he expected to get rejected by literally everyone but it doesn't hurt to at least try right? He thought in his head. Months had soon passed him by as each message he had gotten so far was just women making fun of him, calling him names, and telling him to get off the site. This made his self esteem drop further and further, even seeing all the guys get the ladies like crazy caused his jealousy to just sky rocket. The longer Gyutaro scrolled through the site the more it sent him into a spiral making him let out a frustrated sigh. It really seemed like no one interested in him, and the constant rejection was staring to really wear him down.

"why can't anyone just look past my appearance?"

He muttered to himself while slamming his laptop closed in anger. He knew that he wasn't conventionally attractive, but seeing all the other guys easily getting dates made him feel worse about himself, his jealously growing and festering, making him more bitter and angry. Gyutaro got another message but chose to just ignore it for the night, getting up and going to bed instead since he had work in a couple hours but as he laid down it felt impossible to sleep. He laid there in his bed staring at his blank wall unable to shake off the loneliness that consumed him. He just wanted to feel loved and wanted so badly but getting that was merely impossible. Not knowing how to escape from his own bitter thoughts he laid awake tossing and turning for a good two hour, unable to find any peace. The rejection from the dating had hit him harder than he thought it would, and he was starting to think there was no point in trying anymore.

Eventually, exhaustion took hold of him and he finally fell into a fitful sleep, weighed down by his own sadness and frustration. As the sun began to rise in the sky and his alarm goes off waking him from his slumber. Groaning he hit his alarm to shut it off, sitting up and rubbing his tired eyes, feeling the fatigue from his restless night settle in. Despite not wanting to get up, he dragged himself out of bed and got ready for work. He knew he couldn't let his personal life interfere with his job, so he tried to push his negative thoughts aside as he headed out to face the day. Throwing on his shirt and pants he heads out of his room towards the kitchen to find Ume who was already ready for school making frozen waffles in the toaster for breakfast before school started up. Gyutaro glanced at his little sister, giving her a nod of greeting before walking over and pouring himself a nice cup of hot coffee. He wasn't exactly a morning person especially not after the hurtful night he had, but he appreciated the effort Ume put in to make breakfast. He took a sip of the of the steaming liquid, letting out a deep sigh as the caffeine hit his system. He sits down at the table as Ume brings him waffles, setting them down in front of him, taking a bite of the waffles, savoring the sweetness and warmth of the food. Gyutaros thoughts however were still clouded with the constant rejection from the site he was using, his mind racing as he thought about all the messages he had gotten last night. After breakfast Ume and Gyutaro both grab their coats and Ume grabs her backpack and phone. The two siblings walk outside towards his motorcycle, placing a helmet on Umes head and helping her onto his bike before getting on himself. After dropping her off at school and giving her a quick hug, watching her run off towards her friends he sets off to work. As he rides off to work he can't help but feel the sense of emptiness building up inside of him. He was grateful for Ume, but he still felt alone and miserable.

Doing his best to push those thoughts down trying to focus on the road ahead of him coming to a stop at a red light. Waiting for the light to turn green a truck flew right past him at 150 mph speeding past the red light, barely missing him by a few inches. Gyutaro felt his heart drop into his stomach as the pick up truck flew past him at such a high speed. He felt lucky to be alive but his heart was still pounding rapidly inside his chest and he couldn't help but feel so thankful that Ume wasn't with him and was safe at school. He couldn't help but feel resentful towards the driver in the truck who put his life in danger.

"that was too close" he muttered to himself thinking about what could've happened if that truck had hit him dead on. He could feel the flood of adrenaline coursing through his body as he let out a shaky breath, his hands shaking on his handlebars of his motorcycle.

As the light finally turns green Gyutaro sat and took a few deep breaths to calm himself down before continuing his ride to work. Pulling up to his work and parking his bike, he sets off inside and starts getting the motorcycle shop ready for opening. Gyutaro spends the day working on various motorcycles, trying his best to focus on his work and not let his mind drift off to his own problems. It's not easy, but the physical labor somewhat helped keep his mind clear and helps him feel like he's accomplishing something in his life. As the day draws to a close, he finishes up and begins cleaning up the place getting it ready for closing. He felt exhausted after the long day, but he feels a sense of satisfaction from a job well done. Gyutaro finally arrives back home to find Ume passed out on the couch with cartoons playing on the tv. Sighing softly as he looks at her small form sleeping peacefully on the couch making him feel a sense of warmth and protectiveness flow over him. He grabs a blanket and carefully covers her, making sure she's comfortable before moving over to the remote and shutting off the tv. He heads to his room and changes into more comfortable clothing and sits at his laptop pulling it open to find a bunch of messages from the dating site. Opening up the site he looks through all of them just to see so much hate towards him again, not a single nice message was in sight and it caused his depression to spike, going through and blocking each one of them, feeling like he about had enough as his mood turns sour as he reads each one. The teasing and bashing was something he should be used to but each message had cut him so deep, hurting him so badly every time. A spiral of emotions tearing into him as he sat there wondering why nobody ever wanted to just give him at least one chance, and just look past his ugliness at all. Closing the site he decides to look at other things online to try and distract himself from all the bullshit, and negative thoughts that is pounding inside his head as the hurt, anger, and loneliness swarms him, lingering in the back of his mind, keeping him from being able to relax.

Though despite his best efforts to distract himself from it all, he finds himself unable to shake off every ounce of emotion pumping through him like a drug that's poisoning his mind and body, feeling trapped in a endless cycle of rejection, and loneliness unable to break away no matter how hard he tries. He sits there feeling so isolated, and unwanted by everyone and everything, taking in all his willpower to not break into tears and lash out.

Gyutaro spends the rest of the night feeling so lost in his thoughts and pain. Feelings that nothing will change for him and there's nothing he can do to make his situation better for himself. He can't help but feel tired and drained as he finally crawls into bed, feeling like tomorrow will just be another day of the same old routine. The emotions that are stirring within him finally over takes him making him feel like he's about to lose his mind, the hurt drowning him in depression and self hatred, he finally breaks apart fully, tears now soaking his face as the anger creeps in stronger then before. with tears pouring from his eyes, his hands covering them as the madness takes hold, hair nails now digging into his flesh on his face dragging them down leaving wounds upon himself that bled as he begins to yell out due to the overbearing hurt that was now to much for him. All the pain and and anger that is pouring out of him in torrent of tears and self-harm, hoping the physical pain would drown out and numb out all the hurt inside of him. As he screamed and cried out, he couldn't help but feel like giving up. The constant rejection and mockery he faced all cause of his appearance has really chipped away his self esteem, leaving him feeling like he isn't worthy of love or happiness. After awhile Ume comes into his room after being woken up by his screaming only to have her heart drop into her stomach, seeing her brother in tears and scratches painting his face from him scratching. Without another second she rushes to her brothers side and hugs onto him tightly trying to comfort him, to calm him with her embrace.

"Shhh it's okay brother, everything's okay, please relax everything's okay big brother" She says to him as his heart swells up as Ume holds onto him. The warmth of his sister's embrace sooths the pain he's in right now, hugging her back tightly, taking in big deep breaths trying to calm down from his high of pain. "it's nothing Ume, I'm just f-feeling a bit d-down.." He muttered not wanting to burden her with the full extent of his problems, but eventually he finds the courage to speak up to his little sister and tell her what's going on. "I just... I feel so alone, Ume.. It feels so hard, to keep going when it feels like nobody's ever going to love me." He admits with his voice breaking a bit as his tears wet her shoulder. "I love you big brother, I always will, you're the best brother i could ever ask for"

Her words had struck him harder then anything, to hear how much his sister loved him and cared for him so much was enough to smother his pain a bit despite the tears still being visible in his eyes. A couple weeks pass by and Gyutaro finally had a day off from work so he decides to take Ume to the park so she can go and play for awhile. He sits down on a bench while Ume played on the slides, swings, and so on. Pulling out his phone he sees many messages from that damn site again. Feeling a sense of dread wash over him as he sees all the messages from the dating site, now debating whether or not to read them, but something urges him to open it and face all the insults head on but was interrupted when you walked over and sat by him on the bench, pulling out your phone from your pocket. You were extremely cute with big doe hazel eyes, a nice figure, nice hair, everything. Gyutaro didn't have the confidence though to start a conversation knowing he's just gonna get hit with insults all over again. The feeling of anxiety taking hold, her beauty making him feel even more self-conscious about his own appearance. He does his best to ignore her, only paying attention to Ume's laughter and enjoyment along with the feeling of the sun on his skin. You look up from your phone, looking over at him as a small smile formed on your face.

"Um.. hey" You said to him while looking out at all the kids playing in the park. Gyutaro was completely taken aback when you spoke to him, making him feel shocked and nervous. He looks over at you, feeling his heart rate increase at the sight of your smile. "uh.. hi.... um what's up?"

He stammers a bit, feeling like his mouth is suddenly dried up. he tries to keep his cool and keep his tone casual, but he can feel himself getting tongue tied, hoping your different from the rest but he can't help but push those thoughts down not wanting to get his hopes up. "The sky" You respond back to him joking a little with a slight laugh. Gyutaro let's out a small chuckle as well at the small joke you made, feeling a smile forming on his face, while feeling a slight relief. He was grateful for the moment of levity, which managed to dispel some of the tension he's been feeling. He realizes now that you are trying to make conversation with him and decides to give it a chance, though he still feels nervous about it, worrying about rejection still."so uh... do you come here often or?" He asks trying to keep the conversation going between you two without getting to attached, not when he knows that he could be rejected at any moment. "nah not really, how about you? do you come here often?" You ask him, looking at him as he shakes his head no. He felt a bit embarrassed that he mostly spends all his time at work or at home with his little sister. "Not really, I usually work a lot or I'm usually busy with my sister so I don't get out much"

He admits feeling a bit self-conscious about how boring his life must sound right now to you, but he wasn't gonna pretend either just to impress some pretty girl either. "oh..." You reply going quiet for a moment thinking to yourself. "eh that's okay" Gyutaro felt a little bit of relief wash over him knowing you were a bit understanding of his situation. He knows he's not the most exciting person in the world, but he hopes that you'll find him interesting enough to keep talking to him. "yeah it's not so bad, I mean I like spending time with my little sister and all, but sometimes it would be nice to have someone else to talk to"

He says while glancing over at his sister again, feeling grateful for her presence but also feeling a little lonely. He's not used to striking up conversations with strangers, but he's trying to push himself out of his comfort zone. You raise a brow looking at him wondering something. "Are you lonely or something?" You ask him, watching him shift in his seat a little as he felt a bit uncomfortable at your direct question. His cheeks flush a bit red, feeling self-conscious about his loneliness. He wasn't used to being so vulnerable around strangers, but he does decide to be quite honest with you for some reason. "uh yeah, I guess you could say that" He shrugs his shoulders a little. "I mean I have my little sister but"

He trails off as he looks at all the people on the playground again, feeling a twinge of sadness rise up in his chest. You felt a bit sorry for him but also found him cute as well so you thought of something. "How about we go out sometime?" Your question had really caught him off guard. Gyutaro looked at you in absolute shock as he felt a surge of hope at your words, not quite believing if he had heard you correctly or not. His heart skips its beat inside his chest, nervousness grasping his throat as he got choked up a little bit. "Really? you would want to go out with me?' He asks feeling a little incredulous. He quickly composes himself, not wanting to come off as desperate or eager.

"I mean, sure, that sounds great, uh when were you thinking?" As he asks feeling nervous about this whole thing. A faint blush spreads across your face as you begin to speak. "Are you free tomorrow night?" Gyutaro feels his own cheeks flush as he notices your blush on your face, feeling a sudden surge of confidence. Maybe this is his chance, his opportunity to break out of his shell and finally experience what he's been wanting for so long now. "Uh yeah, tomorrow night works for me!" He says, trying to sound casual despite the butterflies he feels in his stomach. "did you have a specific place in mind?

"there's a nice restaurant called kozue we can go to" Your smile never fades as you continue to talk with him. "oh I never asked what's your name by the way?" You felt a bit silly not asking him for his name earlier in the conversation. Gyutaro smiles felling a bit happy for once right now, he also couldn't help but feel so excited as well while hearing your suggestion. He could not believe his luck either, was this really happening to him?. "My names gyutaro and yours?" He responds while extending his hand to shake yours. "My name is Y/N". You shake his hand with a nice smile. "nice to meet you" He responds trying to keep the excitement out of his voice, not wanting to scare you off with his eagerness. He just can't help but feel like he's on cloud nine in this moment right now. Your mom soon pulls up to pick you up and you get a message from her stating that she was there. You get up off the bench, and as you do Gyutaro gets a bit worried for a second as you stand up looking at your phone until you put it in your pocket. "my rides here... do you have a phone?". He looks at you a bit confused as to why your asking him that, but he's to excited to and decides to hand it to you without thinking to much about it. You take his phone and put something into it before handing it back and waving at him goodbye as you walk to your moms car. Gyutaro felt a bit disappointed as you left until he looked down at his phone and seen that you had put your number in his phone which spikes up his excitement as he can't wait to see you tonight.

[i-heart-slashers]

Asexual reader rejecting the boys advances.

⤷ female reader, human, asexual, no mentions of race or body type.

🩸— this may become a series of ace!reader x lost boys. i'm not sure what kind of ace it will be? i'm thinking polyromantic ace where it's not sexual but is romantic.

𝑻𝒉𝒆𝒎𝒆 𝑺𝒐𝒏𝒈:

We don't have to take our clothes off by Jermaine Stewart

Under the neon glow of the boardwalk, you sauntered with an air of confidence, the rhythmic sound of waves crashing against the shore serving as your background music. The atmosphere was alive with laughter and chatter, the vibrant energy infectious as you made your way through the bustling crowd.

You couldn't help but chuckle as the blond rocker, Paul, sauntered up to you with the swagger of a seasoned flirt, introducing himself with a grin.

His enthusiasm was palpable, his steps like a playful dance as he walked backward, narrowly avoiding collisions with passersby. His energy was infectious, reminiscent of a golden retriever eager to make a new friend.

With a mischievous grin, Paul leaned in, his blue eyes sparkling with anticipation. "So, babe, how about it? You and me, a ride on my bike. I promise to hold on tight if you get scared," he teased, practically bouncing excitedly.

You flashed him a coy smile, patting his shoulder as you gracefully sidestepped his invitation. "I'll pass, thanks,". His expression shifted from exuberance to confusion, his excitement deflating like a popped balloon. It seemed he was at a loss for words, stunned by your rejection.

As you continue along the boardwalk, the vibrant lights of the amusement park beckon in the distance, accompanied by the excited screams of thrill-seekers. Ignoring the lingering confusion of Paul behind you, you press on, leaving his bewildered gaze trailing after you.

It wasn't the first time you'd left someone dumbfounded by your response, and it certainly wouldn't be the last. You were accustomed to navigating the dance of rejection, effortlessly sidestepping advances with grace and poise.

Moments later, Paul caught up to you, his easy grin replaced by a more subdued demeanor. "Sorry if I came on too strong," he offered, scratching the back of his neck sheepishly. "I just thought… well, you seemed interested."

You offered him a reassuring expression, your tone light and playful. "No worries," you replied casually, smirking at the subtle shift in his demeanor. "I'm just not really into the whole riding-on-the-back-of-motorcycles thing, which really means I-want-in-your-pants. Besides, I've got other plans tonight."

The blond's eyebrows shoot up in surprise. "Other plans, huh? Mind if I ask what they are?" he inquires, his curiosity evident. With a wink, you leave him to ponder your cryptic response as you continue your solitary journey.

Paul walks over to the guys, almost in shock, as he tells them what just really happened. Marko smirks, patting him on the shoulder mockingly, and then proceeds to push past him to 'show him how it's done.'

As you strolled onward, you couldn't help but reflect on the encounter with Paul. It was a familiar dance, one you'd performed countless times before with both men and women alike. Some people didn't take rejection so well at times.

Immersing yourself in the sights and sounds of the bustling boardwalk, you couldn't shake the feeling that tonight held something different, something unexpected.

Before long, another figure stepped beside you, his presence commanding yet strangely comforting. This guy was shorter than Paul but blond, too. His hair was styled in curls, and he had a baby face that also reminded you of a Greek statue from a museum.

Marko introduced himself with a charming smile and a twinkle in his eye, his enthusiasm almost matching Paul's in its fervor. "Hey there, beautiful. Mind if I join you for a stroll?" he asks with a grin, his eyes sparkling with mischief as he bites his thumb in a playful gesture.

You allowed yourself a playful smile, intrigued by Marko's forwardness. "Sure, why not?" you replied with a slight shrug. But as the conversation flowed, you couldn't help but notice a familiar pattern emerging, a relentless pursuit that seemed destined to end in rejection.

As you walk together, Marko tries his best to charm you with compliments and jokes, but his efforts fall flat against your steadfast resolve. Despite his best attempts, you sense his growing frustration as you politely deflect his advances.

Eventually, Marko's facade crumbles, his expression a mixture of confusion and disbelief. "I don't understand," he admits with a shake of his head, his shock shining through. "I've never been turned down like this before."

He was the one in the group who could usually best lure people in. A few times during a lure, he only had to look at a woman once, and she was his, but with you, it was like a reversal.

You offer him a sympathetic smile, patting his arm reassuringly. "Hey, it happens to the best of us," you say gently. But trust me, it's not you. It's something else. I'll see you around, Marko." you reassure him, your words echoing with empathy.

With that, you bid Marko farewell as you continued your journey along the boardwalk, leaving him to contemplate your parting words as you forge ahead. He, too, goes back to the guys with a frown; Paul lets out a wild roar of a laugh when he realizes that Marko has struck out.

Enjoying the salty breeze and the sound of waves crashing against the shore, you soon find yourself approached by another guy. With his dark, mysterious aura and brooding demeanor, he exudes an undeniable magnetism.

"Hey there," he says in a low, husky voice as you draw near. "You look like you could use some company. Would you mind if I joined you?" He questions before introducing himself as Dwayne and also keeps a respectful distance.

This was a far cry from Paul's arm that he had slung over your shoulder and Marko's shoulder-to-shoulder walk.

You smile at his straightforward approach, admiring his confidence but also liking how respectful he was off the bat. "I don't mind at all," you reply, nodding for him to fall into step beside you; this was becoming somewhat of a pattern.

Although these guys were weirdly understanding about being shot down. It's clear they're all very handsome, and even though you don't feel anything sexual towards them, you still have eyes, and somehow, you feel safe with the way they react to being rejected.

As you walk together, Dwayne remains mostly silent, his presence a comforting and calming presence at your side. Occasionally, he'll offer a small smile or a nod in response to something you say, but for the most part, he seems content to simply walk in silence.

Despite his quiet demeanor, you find yourself drawn to him, intrigued by the air of mystery that surrounds him. There also feels like an untold story tugging at you, trying to pull you in like a good book in the middle of a rainstorm.

Then again, it felt that way with Paul and Marko, too.

When you finally come to a stop at the end of the boardwalk, Dwayne turns to face you, his expression unreadable but his eyes understanding. "Thank you for letting me walk with you," he says softly, his dark eyes meeting yours. "It was nice."

You return his smile, feeling a sense of warmth and gratitude wash over you. He hadn't tried to ask you out even though you had a feeling that's what his company was for initially. "Anytime," you reply, giving him an appreciative smile before heading off.

After a few minutes, I feel a chill come over me and let out a small gasp seeing yet another guy walking beside me; this one gives off an aura of 'no fucks', and he was the only one who hadn't asked to walk with you but was doing it anyway.

He simply introduced himself as David, then lit up a cigarette.

As you walk together, no matter how hard he tries to charm you, you remain calm and collected, brushing off every flirtatious comment or suggestive wording. It was like David was firing everything he had in his arsenal, but they bounced off you effortlessly.

With each rejection, David's confidence begins to waver, his facade of cockiness slowly crumbling away to reveal a hint of vulnerable confusion beneath. It's clear that he's not used to being turned down, especially by someone as captivating as yourself.

Eventually, David stops abruptly, his expression a mixture of frustration and admiration. "You're something else, you know that?" he says, shaking his head in disbelief. "I've never met anyone like you before."

You smile at his words, feeling a sense of pride swell within you. "That's the nicest thing anyone's ever said to me," you reply with a soft smile. You realize it's a sad but true statement, but you handle the situation graciously and tactfully.

Offering him a sympathetic smile as you bid him farewell, seeing the other guys standing together not too far away, watching with rapt interest. "Don't take it personally. It's a me thing," you say to David with a slight shrug, as his cool blue eyes can only watch as you continue on your way.

As the night wears on, the Lost Boys find themselves gathered around a crackling campfire, the warm glow casting flickering shadows across their blood-smeared faces. Despite their best efforts, none of them have been able to sway you with their charms, and they can't help but feel a mixture of frustration and disbelief.

"So let me get this straight," Paul says, his brow furrowed in confusion. "None of us were able to win her over? Not even a little?"

David shakes his head, a bemused smile playing at the corners of his lips. "It seems that way," he replies, his tone laced with amusement.

Marko sighs frustratedly, running a hand through his tousled hair. "I still can't believe it," he mutters, his expression mixed with disbelief and admiration. "We've never met anyone like her before."

Dwayne remains silent, his dark eyes twinkling with a knowing glint as he observes the scene unfolding before him.

David breaks the tension with a grin, his confidence undiminished. "Well, boys," he declares, his voice ringing out with a hint of admiration. "I think it's safe to say we've met our match. And what a match she is."

With a collective nod of agreement, the Lost Boys dispersed into the night, their spirits lifted by the thrill of the chase, even if it ended in defeat.

[ritikajyala]

Can you write something about soulmates?

Aunt Maya showed me her old photographs one night, decades of her life divided in stacks. She had a black bob in the 80s and wore long pants dripping with youth. I was so pretty then. She sighed. Aunt Maya is 52 now and lives with 3 cats- Bob, Leah and Metatron. But she was 25 once, and had a blonde shag in the 90s. She rode a motorcycle. Oh, who's this?, I ask. The picture shows a man, young and tall, on a black harley, my aunt wrapped around him, a brunette this time.

"He's Connor, an old friend."

I wait for her to continue. She doesn't, so we move to the next page. I see the same man with her, in bars and beaches, at home and in a garage. They look good together, I think. And I look up at her, her eyes lost somewhere else, some other time. I flip the page again, and he's there again, in group pictures, alone with my aunt, with her best friends, lan and Sherly. A drop falls on the album and I see her face again, sketched with wrinkles and smile lines, a tear rolling down her left cheek.

I know what he is to her and what he means, a part of her past buried in albums becoming a part of her life once again.

"Look at him, he looks so happy here", she points to a picture of him in a cabin. He's holding her hand and they're giggling, her hair longer with blue tips.

"When I look at him, I'm 19 again, and he becomes everything, my past and my future. I always wondered what he'd look like when he was old. I wondered if he thought the same for me, I still wonder sometimes."

"Do you still love him?" I know the answer.

She's lost again, in old restaurants that have shut down, forests that don't exist anymore, in moments she has guarded as memories, refusing to forget them. Slowly, she pulls herself back to me.

"I did, once. I don't know, memory is a faulty thing and the past moves in circles. I don't think about some things for months, only to obsess over them for a week. Also, I don't think I know him now. I did once, and I loved him, loved who he was and who he could be. But I know he's a different person now, I am too."

We stay quiet for a while.

Quietly, she begins to flip the pages again. We silently watch her life, their life together. Seasons go by in minutes, hair changing from the brightest yellows to purple streaks, a glorious technicolor of Aunt Maya. I realise a while later that Connor stops showing up in her photographs. New men and women take his place, stay for a while and then disappear. She looks older now, and her friends change, people moving in and out of her life. The photographs change too, become more clear, vibrant, sharper. At one point, her hair stops changing, a tuft of grey emerging at the roots, getting longer and finally taking over. She still rides motorcycles and goes out with her friends, gets Metatron first- an entire album to his name. Bob and Leah follow.

At a point, the pictures stop. Mobile phones take over the empty pages in the albums. We sit still for a while.

"Was he your soulmate?"

She stared at me for a while, then smiled.

"That's just a word." She laughs, a hearty, full chuckle, her eyes shining with life. "Can I live without him? Yes, I already have. Did I love him the most? That's absurd, there's no scale for loving. Also, I think I love Metatron the most." Another chuckle.

"I think we loved each other with the kind of love that lasts lifetimes. But I've loved many people with different kinds of love that would last lifetimes. We had our time and we lived a beautiful life. Is that enough to become a soulmate? I don't know. 

"I guess that's it. You love someone in the moment, and you make more of them and then you hope those moments will last forever, knowing that they won't. So you gather those moments in your memory, hold them close and cherish them and make new ones.

"I think that's what soulmates are, moments of your life that you want to keep forever."

-Ritika Jyala, excerpt from The Flesh I Burned

[cyberghu0l]

She Got Next

Riri and her friends decide to bring Shuri out to Chicago. One night they decide to bring her to their favorite strip club where she meets the finest and the baddest.

Shuri Udaku × fem reader

You dropped your makeup bag onto the table, then took a seat in front the brightly lit mirror. "It's packed tonight, yall. Make sure and keep it classy." You looked to your left and right, as you watched your friends. They laughed at your statement. "Listen to Y/N, please. Last time it was packed Coco knocked over like 6 bottles of alcohol." Neci looked down the long table at Coco who laughed nervously.

You finished up your eyeliner and put on some pink lipgloss. Finally satisfied with how you looked, you opened your locker and pulled out a new set. A pink bra that wrapped around your abdomen and matching panties with diamonds on the straps and garters. You got dressed in the bathroom and came out to put on your shoes.

"Showtime bitches!" Coco smiled brightly as she brought around shots for everyone. You got one off the tray and threw your head back as you drank it fast. The alcohol hitting your throat fast. You shook off the feeling a strapped on tall black heels. You smiled as you watched yourself in the mirror. Your curly hair parted at the middle, and your body shined with glitter.

You opened the door revealing the rest of the club. Dark lights shining everywhere, music blasting, people dancing. Just like any night. You found your normal spot and got to dancing. Swaying your hips to the music and blowing kisses to people in the crowd.

Shuri's POV

I don't know why I agreed to this. I didn't want to leave home after shopping and drinking last night, but Riri and her bestfriend insisted we go to a club. I put on a pair of black pants and a black tshirt. Then, clasped on a silver chain and put on a pair of sneakers. Riri walked in wearing a short brown satin dress that draped at her chest, and white strappy heels that clicked on the floor as she walked.

"Girl, we are going to the club and you wanna go unnoticed?" She spoke. I chuckled. "Yes actually. Because it's not like I have my identity I want to hide." My tone dripping in sarcasm. She rolled her eyes. The scientist grabbed her purse and keys. "Are you ready at least?" I nodded. "Let's go!" She yelled in excitement.

We walked out the dormitory silently, not to alert any guards or RAs. The second she saw her classic red car waiting for us, she turned to me. "What is this doing here?" Her eyes wide. "I asked Griot to bring it around. I know you want to ride it." I smirked watching the anticipation in her eyes. "No motorcycle tonight then." She shrugged and got into the driver side.

The drive wasn't too long. It was long enough for Riri to play the entire discography of an artist "SZA" though. I laughed as she screamed the lyrics to me at a red light. We finally pulled up to a club with a huge red LED sign that read:

Come As You Wish

"Alright, Natasha and Tiana are already inside at a table for us. If you get lost or get into anything." She raised her brows, "Tap your beads." She held up her wrist that showed her kimoyo beads as well. I nodded and opened the door. The smell of strong alcohol and weed hit my nose. Music blasted from all corners and the lights were red with white beams. Dancers on tables and poles wearing revealing outfits, and men giving them money.

I lost Riri somewhere, so I decided to go to the bar for a drink. I sipped from the glass as I looked around more. A girl in a pink and diamond two piece hung from a pole as she spun blowing kisses and winking at needy viewers.

Your POV

I twirled around the metal pole, holding my heels with one hand and the other taking cash from men. Some girls in the crowd who gave me 5s and 10s smiled at me. I always loved when women came because they gave out more money, they were also my favorite regulars. I winked at them, receiving more money in exchange. The waist band of my bottoms were full of cash I went to the back to put it away. Alyssa was peaking out the other door.

"What are you doing, you look like a stalker." She closed the door and squealed. "Guess who's here?" She sat in front of you smiling brightly. "I don't know but I'm sure you're dying to tell me." You responded as you opened your bag, stuffing money into it. "Princess Shuri!" You stopped and looked up at her. "Don't play with me right now." Alyssa shook her head still smiling.

You've always adored Shuri for her work in her own country and partnership with America. You envied her drive and wanted to be as glorious as her. The fact that she was here made you lose all sanity. "What is she doing here though?" You questioned. The other shrugged her shoulders. "Don't do anything stupid." She told you. You laughed and zipped up the black bag and walked back out.

This time when you walked out, she was siting in front your usual spot.

Great.

You sucked in your breath and walked up the pole. The dim lights hid your nervousness. You smiled watching the people around her. You swayed your body to music, getting lost in it. You swung around the pole, climbing up to top. Your legs twisted together, and your lower body hung down as you spun. You folded up and grabbed the top of the pole with your hands, you legs untwisted and you fell down, landing on your heels.

Viktor, one the waiters tapped you. You bent down as he came to your ear. "A customer requested girl in all black in front of you have a private dance." You nodded. It was often that you got requests from other people for someone to have a private. You stood and turned around and saw the only girl in all black was the one and only Shuri Udaku.

Holy shit.

You thought. However, this was your job. You bent down again, catching her attention. Your finger curled for her to come closer. You whispered into her ear. "A special someone requested you a private dance, love." She pulled back, her eyes wide.

Shuri's POV

The girl who was on the pole, bent down in front of me. She motioned for me to come to her. Confused, I obeyed. She leaned to my ear. Her perfume filled my senses. "A special someone requested you a private dance, love." She spoke. I pulled away, my eyes widened. I looked around and found Riri and her friends giggling laughing at me. I sneakily put up my middle finger as they let out another laugh.

I turned back to the girl. "Sure." I breathed out. She smirked and took my hand. She walked down the steps and led me through the crowd not letting go of me. The diamonds on her panty line shined in the white lights that spun around the club. We passed men and women that were drunk and high out of their minds. One stopped her. "I'll take a private dance now, sweetheart."

Rude much?

She looked him up and down with a look that could kill. "Sorry sweetheart." She mocked his drunken tone, "She got next, but I'll take this." She took the 50 he held up and continued walking. I admired her hustle. She has respect for herself and what she does. These idiots don't deserve to even watch her. We walked up to a large red curtain. She opened it and stepped aside. I sucked in my breath and walked in. Inside there was nothing but a black chair and a table filled with alcohol. I sat down looking at her.

She closed the curtain, the music now faintly playing in the room. I'm pretty sure I could hear my heart beating. She looked at me and laughed. "What?" I questioned. "You look like you're gonna shit yourself." I chuckled. "It's my first time here." I confessed. She nodded slowly. "Well, I'm gonna say the rules. I'm not gonna touch you anywhere you don't want me to, you're not allowed to touch me unless I say so. If you do try anything, I am obligated to call a security guard or the police on you." She finished.

"Am I allowed to...touch you?" I cleared my throat. She smirked at my reaction and nodded. She walked up to me, straddling my legs and sat in my lap. Her hands on her thighs. "Am I allowed to touch you?" She asked me. Her face was inches from mine. I could see her features better now.

She's beautiful.

I nodded not taking my attention from her eyes. She wrapped her arms around my neck, dragging them to my chest. I watched her hands go down, but she pulled my head up with her finger. "Just watch me." She smirked.

Your POV

You were surprised you weren't fangirling in front her right now. The music from outside flowed through the room. It was slower than the usual tracks they play so you kept your attention on her eyes as hers roamed your body. You got up and turned around, sitting back down into her lap. This time, moving your hips in circles. You stood up and walked behind her. You placed your hands on her shoulders and dragged them down to her chest.

You could feel how tense she was. "Don't be so nervous." You whispered into her ear. You circled in front of her and spread her legs apart. You bent down in front of her and slowly trailed your hands up to her opening, stopping just before. You felt her breath hitch. You smirked and stood back up. The song was coming to an end and so was the dance. You kept it short for her, not to freak her out. Her legs were still open so I sat on one of her thighs, draping my arm on one of her shoulders.

"What are you thinking right now?" You asked. You were genuinely curious after giving the princess of Wakanda a lap dance. It's not everyday you get someone as nervous as her. She looked at you, as if searching for something.

"I can't. This is all really new to me." I chuckled. "Do you like it?" You questioned. "Beginning to." She said with a slight smile. "Well, it's been a pleasure dancing for you. Princess." You got up before she said anything. You opened the curtains again and made your way back to your usual spot.

i need to see avatar again yall. idk if i told you guys if i watched it or not but i last weekend and it was so good. the 3 hours were worth it🤞🏽

[precious-little-scoundrel]

Where can i read Both sides now? If i click the link in the old post you reblogged i cannot find the post :(

Alas, stupid deactivated links. Here, I shall post it anew for you 💋

Sweet like Cinnamon

Warnings and Summary: the entire theme of this is loving on Elvis’ chief embarrassment: his uncut cock. So, be warned, ahead lies body consciousness, savoring of foreskins, edging, talking to cocks, Elvis in subspace and bad safe word etiquette 😆 also suspend your belief that he didn’t get past this with multiple women before in the 60’s

Repost of an old fic

“Gentle now, no need to thump it, it ain’t got a spirit you can animate by kickin’ it like that.”

Susie huffs at him and aims another whack at the motorcycle’s exposed engine with her dainty hand, like she can slap it into submission. “Well then you try!” she whines at him and Elvis woulda done so first if she hadn’t beat him to it. After that he’d gotten distracted by watching the way her bottom looked in those jeans while she was bent double.

“I’ll do just that if you’d get up and stop thumpin’ it.”

“I am not ‘thumping it’, Presley, merely cajoling.” she points her little chin in the air haughtily and Elvis is filled with the desire to grab it between his fingers and shake it. She’d wrinkle her nose at that and all the little freckles on it would fold up.

“Mhmm, well, get outta the way Susie, let the ole man have a shot at it.”

“Good luck.” she grins and moves to stand up and he watches a little too long as she hikes her jeans back up so her tied shirt meets the top of them. He mourns the loss of that sliver of skin and bends down to take a look himself, conscious of her eyes on his ass.

They’re fair like that, Susie and him, he doesn’t watch nothin’ on her that he hasn’t let her watch on him. That’s what good buddies do, they don’t begrudge a mate. So he doesn’t begrudge her much when after getting the offending part off he feels the pointed toe of her shoe slide against the seam of his pants. It gets boring stranded on the side of a country road in the middle of the Californian desert, and little girls need their fun.

“Almost done,” he tells her, “this just came loose, s’why it’s rattlin’ like that. Didn’t help that somebody smacked, too.” he looks up at her out of the corner of his eye, making sure to layer on the patronizing airs so that she’ll break and smack him. She does, lightly on his shoulder and he chuckles and ignores the way the gravel digs into his knees and chalks up his slacks.

“We’re going be late.” she observes, and it’s not a whine, it’s just statement.

“Thought your landlady didn’t know we were comin’?” he grunts, working on the obvious problem he can perceive now, scorching his fingers on the hot metal.

“Careful!” she fusses as he hisses from the burn, rising to his feet and brushing off his slacks, readying to try cranking the motor again.

“You know what I meant,” Susie goes on, admiring him as he swings those long legs to straddle the bike, elegantly swathed as they are in pants tailored to the last inch by darling Edith, “This has thrown us off by an hour and knowing you and your propensities when in the company of little old ladies -we’ll be late at the studio. I’m calling it now.”

His face clouds over for a moment as he ponders the prospect of getting chewed out by the director for taking a brief and condoned break. Just to zip over and wish Susie’s landlady a happy birthday. The shriveled little munchkin was starry eyed the one time he swung by to pick Susie up, and with her son overseas it seemed the nice and gentlemanly thing to do, to use the break to brighten her day. The motorbike breaking down on the side of the road wasn’t part of the plan.

“I ain’t turnin’ back now,” he mutters, frowning at the horizon that wavers in the scorching afternoon sun, “They’ll find somethin’ to bitch about anyway, and you needed the break. Say, you alright with that? With playin’ hooky? I’ll tell ‘em it was my idea.”

“Oh hush now, ‘course I don’t mind and I’ll take full responsibility for myself, Presley.”

They both know he’ll get in between her and anyone trying to chew her out but she tries, really tries to take some of the brunt of the condemnation directed at them when they go off the rails together, lost in their own little world. One where midnight dancing, helicopter racing and practical jokes are king.

She cozies up behind him on the narrow seat, her thighs bracketing his famous hips and the bike cranks to life. They make it to Doddi’s birthday party before it’s in full swing. Susie spends the next hour and a half on Elvis’ knee as he chats with her landlady who informs him she had her son, the one overseas, at the ripe age of fifty five.

“Well I’ll be!” he whistles and that starts a very earnest discussion about modern medicine and the wacky new advice to cut back on fats. Doddi is adamantly against it, as is Elvis. Susie gets her opinion asked after awhile and she informs them that whatever they’re both doing now is obviously working for them. That earns her a ticklish kiss on the neck from Elvis and a sage smile from Doddi.

“You know something, Miss Dean,” Doddi addresses Susie, “I have seen you starring in three films alongside this man.”

“Yes ma’am!” Susie nods, they've got dynamite chemistry and Hollywood isn’t one to let a thing rest until it’s dead from overuse. As for Elvis and herself, well, contracts are contracts and just maybe they’d rather kill their careers alongside each other, out of anyone else in the world.

“And in each one,” Doddi goes on, “you begin as an innocent until finally succumbing. It’s a testament to your skill that you can begin again, three times at that, as a virgin with each new start, when you must have been plundered at some point in real life.”

Elvis had said something equally insightful to her ages ago, something about her doe eyes and gentle face making him feel like the first time each time. Each time they do a scene, of course. Because they’re just buddies. No matter if her real first time was with him. And a good costar is meant to make you feel some kind of way so that you can play off it. It’s just good sportsmanship.

Elvis pats her on the back as she chokes on her mimosa, unable to take Doddi’s inquiring gaze for much longer, seems she’s asking as to when Susie herself got plundered and it’s a memory best left buried. Blessedly, Elvis changes the subject with his typical, stuttering charm.

Drifting on a wholesome high, they slip out together, a good three hours and multiple slices of cake later. He’s pensive on the drive back, speed limit actually being observed and Susie lays her cheek on his shoulder to watch the thoughts flit along his nobel profile.

“What’s wrong, Mopey?” she asks him.

“Nothin’, jus thinkin’.”

Gloomy thoughts by the set of his pouty lips. “Well I want some breeze to help with this heat, so gun it, Presley.”

Those lush lips curve up at that, his shoulders shaking out his mood a little as a rivulet of water the folks around here call a creek comes into view. He doesn’t take the bridge over it, he plunges the motorbike down the bank with Susie shrieking out her joy behind him, gripping his belly for dear life as the motor fights to get them back up the opposite side without tipping them backwards.

It’s damn good fun. Pity their director doesn’t agree when they get back wet and a little muddy, hours late. Filming has been canceled for the evening, and choice words are had about tardiness and Susie’s poor delivery of a inane line of script she hates with a passion.

Elvis takes all of this with dogged sullenness, only biting back when Susie’s name gets drug through the mud. She succeeds at hauling him away and up into his suite, badgering him about helping her with the line.

They’ll end up eating too much hotel food and philosophizing on the how each subsequent film they’ve made has diminished in artistic quality. If they really feel brave maybe they’ll end up kissing, just for practice, just because they’re lonely and the other understands. And won’t hold them to it.

This time he disappears into the shower, a quicker one than usual and when he comes out in nothing but a towel, swearing over having forgotten his clothes, he looks like the proverbial stormcloud is hanging over his wet and sleeked back hair. Susie has got burgers and cola at hand on the bed and is ready for the mood to be over. She’s worn out, too.

“What are you so sore about Presley?” she asks, gently because he might as well have a sign hanging around his neck reading: “fragile! handle with care!”

“You wanna know what it is?” He grunts, rubbing at his face, rosy and gleaming from the shower.

“Yes!”

“I’ll tell ya honey, I’ll tell ya. It’s that I had a grand time with you today and yet I couldn’t stop thinkin’ about how if we would just stop foolin’ around then-“

“-hey now, it was your idea to fool around!” she protests.

“-I know I know, but as I was sayin’ I was preoccupied with the thought that I just wanted to get the next damned scene over with.”

“The one scheduled for tomorrow now?”

“Yeah that one. Another windshield scene.”

“Another what?”

“Windshield scene, honey.” he insists, a little hurt she didn’t get his meaning right away, it was the thing digging at him for awhile now, making him sore. “You knew how many scenes I’ve done where they’ve got a camera on the hood shootin’ through the windshield, while I’m sitting in the driver’s seat pretendin’ to drive while a screen flashes scenery behind me, and I sing a song that sounds a lot like the ones I’ve sang doing the same damn thing in the same damn movie before it? And I’m talkin’ just movies since I been back stateside.”

“Quite a few I gather.” Susie’s mouth sours in sympathy. “So, New Years resolution, no more windshield scenes.”

“Add jet-skies to that list.” he flops back on the bed and blows out a breath, making his lips flap with all the dignity of a five year old.

Susie has long since learned to humor him when he’s in this sort of mood and she contents herself with leaning against the wall and watching the long line of his body, bronze and sturdy and interrupted only by the stark white towel around his waist. He manspreads even in a towel and she is tempted to take a peak. She’d probably get spanked for it and tonight she’s unsure it would be a jovial slapping around, he’s testy and nearly looking for an excuse to blow up. Or pout face first into his pillow until he gets hungry -he’s shockingly petulant for a man dually capable of the occasional bout of astounding maturity.

“Eat your burger.” she nudges his bare foot and the feel of her shoe against his skin gets him to raise his head and give her a once over.

“Get comfy honey, you don’t need to be all in your heels and such.”

“Well, i wasn’t sure you really felt like having me stay.”

“Don’t be silly, lil girl.” he rolls his eyes, and sits up, abs rippling and scrunching as he hunches into himself and starts gnawing down on the burger. “This ain’t cooked enough.”

“You weren’t cooked long enough.” Susie tosses back and takes a seat next to him on the foot of the immaculately made bed, kicking her shoes off, and she doesn’t miss the way a pleased smile creeps over his face. He puts the burger up to her mouth and looks so expectant that she takes a bite and lets the mustard and onions and beef ruin the spearmint aftertaste of her gum. “It’s cooked perfectly.” she admonishes him and he sneers at her though his eyes twinkle. “Alright mopey! Nothing else for it, I’m putting on a record.”

Susie abandons him and he watches as she bounces up and across his sterile hotel room to the one comfort he hauled with him, the record player and its case of records. She flips through it until she pulls out the man she commits infidelity against Elvis in her heart with, night after night. Sam Cooke.

She messes with the needle. “Ooh you’ve stopped it at ‘Only Sixteen’ -you thinking about me when all alone, Mopey?” She grins at him so sly and knowingly that he rolls his eyes, and actor though he is he, he can’t feign indifference. “Thinking about sweet little me and how you came in and bamboozled me? Had your naughty, naughty way with me?”

“Don’t remind me!” he groans and flops back on the bed, half eaten burger in hand. “That weren’t my most upright behavior but I was left contendin’ against the sight of your pretty butt in those frilly little swim shorts and I-“

“-couldn’t help yourself?” Susie recites from her stance between his splayed legs, her hands planted on her hips and he really does adore the way she looks when she’s fed up with him. Her face puckers up and she looks at him determinedly, like he’s a project and she’s a contractor. Like he’s some human sofa she’s gonna refurbish or somethin’. Sends a little shudder through him and he braces for what she says next because he feels it comin’ before those red lips start moving, he just knows her that well by now. “I didn’t mind it Elvis, you were a bit boorish about it but look at us now, we’re the best of friends ever since-“

“-damn funny way to make friends.” he scrubs his face and tries to get rid of the mental picture of baby fresh Susie with her cheek pressed to the janitor closet’s door, and the feel of those frilly swimsuit panties shoved to the side and scraping him as he buried himself in her again and again.

“I guess I more wonder why we haven’t done it again.” she honest to god pouts down at him, half a decade worth of platonic hanky panky wearing her down.

“What!” he sits up with an ungainly flail and Susie relishes the way his pupils blow out and his eyebrow quirks in indignation as if he hasn't stared at her with intent written all over his face, day after day, for the last five years since. “What, hang on now Susie, we’re buddies you and I,” he gestures back and forth between them, his hand knocking against her belly as she towers over him for once, “we’re buddies.” he repeats as if he didn’t have his head buried beneath her skirt two nights ago. That’s apparently on the list of things buddies do for each other.

“Buddies can make sweet love too, Presley.” she teases.

“Sure-“

“And grindin’ and lickin’ and jerkin’ off to the thought of me does not give you the moral high ground here.”

“How did you know-“ he looks comically appalled and it’s too adorable a look on a grown man.

“You’re loud as hell, Elvis.” she giggles and he grips her hips and hauls her down to do -well, he’s not sure what he intended, he just feels like wrestling her and she obliges, probably had planned to trick him into this after all.

Her legs flail and she’s liberal with the elbows against his ribs and he grunts and huffs and slaps at her hands and let’s her wriggle enough to keep it fun, and this is why he loves her, she loves rough housing, she loves curling up with a book and she forgives him for a whole load of horseshit he’s put her through. Susie is a woman for all seasons and he loves her in a way, grappling with her on the fresh made bed as Sam Cooke croons:

She was only sixteen

Only sixteen

With eyes that would glow

But she was too young to fall in love

And I was too young to know

Woaaah

She was only sixteen

He gets her pinned beneath him and he leans his forehead against her forehead and gives her a heart melting smile that she savors through nearly crossed eyes. He slowly lowers the rest of himself to lay against her and they give into what they’ve been longing to do, lips meeting as they savor each other, ignoring the lasting taste of the burger and indulging in soothing each other with eager presses of kisses and long, slow licks with hands that cling to each other. He starts to grind against her through his towel, her jeans making him slide roughly. That makes her pull away with a huff, and it’s not her usual pleasurable huffing. Elvis can tell she’s peeved before he can even pull back far enough to get a good look at her exasperated face.

“Why is this teenage fooling all we do?” she huffs.

“Well, Lord honey, if that’s how ya feel-“ he gripes and starts to slither down between her legs, ready to prove her a brat, and maybe torture her a bit. Death by orgasm. It wouldn’t be the first time.

“No, no.” She kicks and rolls away from him in a move he vaguely recognizes as from the “My baby is a swanky cat” choreography. “Nope, Mopey, tonight is gonna be about you.”

“About me?” he deadpans.

“Yup.” She nods and her hands are back on her hips and she’s back to eyeing him up like a plot of land freshly leveled for a subdivisions construction. “But first dance with me!”

She grabs at him and suddenly they’re in the middle of a vigorous and precarious dance off atop the mattress. Sheets and soft down cause two of hollywoods most sought after groovers to fall all over themselves and each other, hands clasped in a good Spanish pose, arms stiff and bracketing each other.

Everybody loves to cha cha cha

Little children like to cha cha cha

The cha cha cha

My baby couldn’t do the cha cha cha

Elvis forgets the renovating gleam in her eye and those unspoken refurbishing plans for a hot minute while watching Miss Susie Dean as Susie goes

I told her one, two

Cha cha cha

And one, two

Cha cha cha

And up now

Cha cha cha

And baby back now

Cha cha cha

And turn now, cross now! Oooh

I taught my baby to cha cha cha

Hearing Elvis sing along to someone else’s music is an entirely special experience Susie thinks more people ought to get the chance to watch, but some jealous and longing part of her is thrilled she’s one of few who’ll ever see Elvis belting out to Cooke while a boyish smile takes over his face, and his hips wiggle atop his swanky hotel bed in nothing but a resilient white towel. She grips his forearms harder and fully unleashes the little girl locked deep inside her. The one who misses goofing around and who only seems to thrive in the company of this very seductive, very goofy angel of a man. His grunts and groans and moans and trills shiver right through her and she longs for him, worse than most nights.

He executes and guides her in the cha cha steps perfectly, even as their bodies wobble towards the bedside lamp and then towards the TV set, a broken leg always in the cards with one snag or trip in the sheets. That would delay the windshield scene for him.

It’s that melancholy thought that has her swaying up closer to him and holding his hips comfortingly as the record turns and

I love, love, love you

For sentimental reasons..

The way men wrap towels round their hips and flip them over and over into indestructible loin clothes has long puzzled Susie, but she loves watching the way the dark trail of hair on his belly disappears beneath the white terry cloth, and how the v of his hips rolls and pumps his pelvis into the air in a mindless sort of entrancement. As if hypnotized she leans her head against his chest and looks down at him from above, perceiving the outline of him, that part of him that’s been inside her once but she’s never actually seen. She trails a finger down his chest, pink fingernails scraping lightly and trailing down to the towel and hooking inside, tugging a tiny bit, just to test the durability of that fold.

“Susie.” he murmurs warningly and she’s tired of that and not a little hurt at how he rebuffs her offers again and again.

“I’m a woman now, you do realize that don’t you? And I’ve got womanly tastes. Just want to make you feel good, Mopey.” she speaks earnestly into his chest.

“Thumper, you know I prefer lovin’ on you-“

“Is it so hard for you to imagine then, that I might want to love on you the same way?” She lifts those dark and perfectly lined eyes to his beseechingly and gah, it makes it worse than anything for him to deny her again.

“I-I-I’ll m-make love t-t-to ya t-tonight, if if that’s what you- you want-“

“Oh good lord,” she throws her hands up in the air, “you’re so thrilled at the prospect your tone sounds like you just got assigned latreen duty!” she gesticulates some more and nearly wobbles off the bed doing so. He grabs at her and saves them both, but his towel is a casualty.

He clutches her close to him standing on the mattress, and she’s surprised by that, the way there’s panic on his face and how he seems to plaster the naked length of himself against her clothed form, as if he’s safer that way. Gone is the Elvis who loves to joke off an embarrassing or saucy moment, Elvis who shoots her a dirty wink when she feels him growing beneath her during a steamy take. Gone is ole Mopey who, as a grown ass man, still refers to his cock as “little Elvis.”

Speaking of, she can feel the chubby length of him against her belly and she goes to grab ahold of him, maybe she’ll squeeze him a bit and lead him around by it like the petulant puppy he is. She can’t fully enact her plan as only part way down he arrests her movements with a gentle but inflexible grip around her wrist, hauling it back up between their chests.

“Elvis, what on earth is wrong?” she cries out, craning her neck to look him dead in the eyes and resolve his jumpiness over her touching him bare, once and for all. For a smug ‘lady killer’ he sure does act like a shy boy when a gal makes a move herself. “Are you sick?” she whispers as the thought strikes her suddenly that maybe he went a little hog wild with a couple hundred willing fans in the early days…

“What?” his eyebrows shoot up, “what? Hell naw, Susie I-I-I there never was a good time to say this but I just. I never wanted to disappoint ya-“

“Oh! Are you one of those baby Bella mushroom sizes?” Susie hasn’t had personal experience with a tiny knob but has always thought it might be fun to work one in her mouth. It’s an idiotic thought to apply to him the moment she gives it a second thought; she had felt him when he first met her and took her in the janitor’s closet. He felt mighty big then. She had been nearly a virgin but still, it felt big. That couldn’t be it…

“S-Susie.” he stutters real bad and she can feel his hands flexing against her upper arms, kneading the soft flesh in his anxiety, “it’s silly really but I just- it’s that…” his eyes pinch closed and he takes a deep breath before blurting out on the exhale, “I ain’t cut, Susie.”

Cut. She thinks of the director yelling “cut” at the end of countless scenes. She thinks of the barbed wire he hopped over the other day that sliced him real good on the hand. Cut. What the- oh. Uncut. He’s got an uncut cock. Her mouth dries out before it floods again in anticipation and she can feel her eyelids growing heavy as she yearns. Yearns for him badly and it’s no artifice when she licks her lips, trying to formulate a sentence that won’t make her sound half feral. As if he wasn’t alluring enough, now there’s this, and tonight is the night she’s going to have her way. She’ll devour him for once and make him let go of that obnoxious grip he has on every aspect of his life from how his burgers are cooked to how all sexual encounters go.

“-nice little girl like you probably-“ Meanwhile, Elvis is adding some stupid and defensive commentary to her youthful crisis, “-mama couldn’t really afford-“ as she thinks about and processes how this impossibly smug and suave cool cat has a hillbilly cock. And she wants it in her mouth, down her throat, nibbled to a angry, cherry red until he realizes she couldn’t care less that he isn’t like every dime a dozen heartthrob here in the city of angels. Actually she does care, she cares immensely, so much she’s gonna wreck him to prove it.

“Oh god.” Is all she manages initially and her voice sounds utterly fucked out even to her own ears. That gets him to stop his dumb monologue on how he’s more than happy just to mess around in other ways, and he’d never expect her to deal with that. “Oh god.” she moans into his mouth as she seizes the back of his head and brings him to meet her lips again, his stunned eyes still wide and blue and open. And little Elvis is beginning to grow brave and firm up, poking a little at her belly.

It’s not a joke as her knees begin to buckle and she lands on them with a hard bounce, a puddle at his feet, sheets crumpled beneath her knees. Dumbly she stares in reverence as she is finally face to face with him and -oh god, he’s exquisite and unmaimed and his initially unimpressive size is swelling into much more before her very eyes. It’s like watching the primal proof of his attraction grow beneath her heated stare. She places her hands lightly on those strong hips of his, holding him close and savoring the way she can feel the muscle flex beneath her palms. He’s so sturdy and she adores that about him.

The fact that he’d have rather hidden this from her, her! who he admits all sorts of shit to, who he’s cried on innumerable times, his Thumper, his ungentlemanly mistake turned bosom friend. It makes her vengeful almost, not towards him but the image of him. She feels a wave of anger for him and all the glitzy weight that’s rained down on him since he first caught the eye of the sleek and shiny machine. Forever unable to just be. Always in need of a touch up or a rewrite, a second take. Tonight is going to be impromptu, even if she has to bully him into it.

Sweet Susie is taking this vulgar aspect of him better than Elvis had anticipated. In some ways, that is. In others she’s acting batshit insane, looking like a fever has gotten to her, eyes gone glassy and then there’s the way she just slumped down the length of him and is now in a staring contest with little Elvis. It’s, well, it’s a lot for a man to shrug off, particularly when he likes and respects Miss Susie as much as he does. When he would like to be at his best for her and is severely lacking in the basics of that.

“We meet at last!” he hears her whisper down there to little Elvis, and it’s so goddamn weird yet she looks so hungry that he’s spooked by it. The spike of fear rips down his spine and his hardening cock jerks in response because he’s a twisted bastard.

She presses a kiss to the angry vein running along the underside and his own knees buckle at that. He grabs at her hair for some steadying balance, careful to not dislodge the pretty pink bow still holding her dark locks in a windswept bouffant.

“Yeah. You’d better sit down for this, partner.” She grins up at him from down there, teasing his accent.

“Susie-“

“Nope, this is happening.” she’s back in renovating mode and his chest feels a little tight and he’s not sure what he’s so scared about anyway, it’s just Thumper. Maybe it’s because it is Thumper that he’s so queasy about it. She’s a tomboy sure, but she’s always so put together, dainty and proper even in improper scenarios, she deserves the best and hell! -he’s pretty sure her parents are devout Catholics.

He lets his legs give out and he flops on his back, legs spread and a defiant look on his face, daring her to admit she’d rather not. But she doesn’t even look at his eyes, she just blows him an air kiss and then she's back to making conversation with his cock and Elvis wants to die or go back to eating his burger. Or her pussy, that would be nice -but no, Thumper is a stiff necked mule of a girl.

She gets down on her belly between his legs and props up on her elbows, nose close to touching him, “You’re as tanned as the rest of him!” she coos to it and it wobbles appreciatively, the length finally swelling enough to hold itself upright.

Elvis is turned on enough to get stiff but disconcerted and untouched as he is, it’s a slow process. He can’t remember the last time he watched it take its sweet time to get up. “Has he been sunbathing you, too? What a vain bastard! All golden and gleaming, even his pretty cock is all tanned. Does he spread suntan oil on you too? Does he forget himself and start jerking you off? Lord, has he ever burnt you like the silly, forgetful boy he is?”

The feeling of her breath huffing over him and her blatant ignoring of the rest of him is working way too well. Pretty in reference to his hillbilly cock is a goddamn lie but still, Elvis hates that she knows him this well, and he hears himself make a funny noise as she gossips about him to his own cock. “I’m gonna call you Coco, alright?” she makes this pact with little Elvis, reaching out to touch him for the first time, gripping him steadily and Elvis forgets for an second that “Coco” belongs to him, nothing is there to remind him he isn’t floating off the goddamn bed, leaving only his cock with Susie to discuss and tease his vanity and silly inhibitions.

This funky dream state gets jarred when she slides her hand up catching the fucking foreskin and begins to pull it back, farther and farther as it ought to go if his weren’t so tight and fucking weird.

“Ouch!” he hollers, fully back to earth and starts to pull away from her attentions, but she looks so grieved by that he reconsiders and takes a steadying breath before explaining, “It hurts to pull it back too far, very far at all, actually.” he admits, apologetic because that would get the wrinkly shit out of her way at least, but she doesn’t bat an eye. She just keeps looking at that swelling part of him with heavy lidded eyes, false lashes fluttering wildly at the corners, making her look like a love drunk animation. He’s seen girls look at his face this way but Susie hasn’t met his eye in a good 60 seconds or more.

“Aha right then.” she gives a vigorous nod, “Let me know things like that, I wanna know what it is you like.”

He doesn’t really know what he likes, beyond his own hand and grinding and being inside a woman. He’s never had someone have their tongue nearly loll out of their perfectly painted lips at the prospect of licking at him: not once they see what they’re dealing with. Usually this is when the lady politely glances away, maybe lays back, suggests a change of pace, a slight adjustment in the script. Those are the ones who aren’t revolted. Once he’s inside a dame, they tend to forget he’s a hick child from Tupelo, or at least they forget the more unseemly, economic realities of that, of being too poor to get trimmed up like all his fellows. Just another thing to make him set apart -odd. But Susie now, Susie’s an oddity like him and as he watches her lick her lips and stare little Elvis down, he’s uncertain he’s actually comfortable with this much devotion coming out of someone who oughta be getting worshiped by him.

She’s still eyeing him up, hungry as ever, and Elvis starts to wonder if he’s got it in him to handle this, if he might have got a freak on his hands.

This thought process comes to a halt as she does the unthinkable, bringing her hand around him and smoothing the skin forward, up and up until it is fully stretched out and only a round little disk of his pink head and his weeping hole is visible. And then he watches as if in slowed time as she takes him in her mouth just like that, her insistent suction tugging the skin further into its natural state, a state long denied it when in this context and Elvis is very much afraid that if he were a woman the sound he just made would be classified as a shriek.

She politely ignores his hollering and drags her tongue around his puffy head, flattening it suddenly like some goddamn gecko, slithering it inside the hood to lick round his pink glans and it’s, well, -it’s too much of a new thing to feel at 30 somethin’ years old and his knee jerk reaction is to plant his foot on her shoulder and shove her off.

She catapults backwards from his shove, back crashing into the TV while wearing an unphased Cheshire Cat smile. He tries not to sob from the sheer amount of feelings he is feeling about it all, his hands coming up to cover his face.

Poor Susie, poor him. Goddamn it all..

He knows if he tries to talk now it’ll be nothing but stuttering gibberish so he waits for her to come and sit beside him on the bed, hands gently petting his shoulders and raking through his tidy hair, pressing soothing kisses to what parts of his face she can reach through his hands.

“Hey, hey Mopey, you’re alright.” she coos and he thinks about shrugging her off for a minute, his pride a little hurt but he never was much good at shrugging off a comforting woman, not since mamas been gone, so he pulls his hands from his face and wraps his arms around Susie’s middle, catching his breath with his head cradled in her lap. “This is why I love an uncut man, so, so sensitive, aren’t you? I’ll be gentler.”

“No one’s ever done that weird ass tongue wriggling thing you just did.” he tries to justify the fact he threw her across the room. “Did I hurt you? You ok? -Wait!,” he sits up suddenly and his mind is whirring from putting puzzle pieces together, “you’ve done this before w-with some, some o-o-other man?”

“Yeah.” she gives him a soft grin, hand rising to his face and her long fingernails scratch at his sideburns like he’s a cat that can be pacified. Maybe he is, for her he’s close to purring.

“When?“ he demands, feeling very fatherly or some such shit. He wants to kick some ass.

“Remember that movie I shot in the Italian Riviera?”

“You were playing some Roman empress or somethin’, right?”

“Yes, that one,” she smiles dreamily, “well, the Italian producer took a shine to me. And you know that most Europeans aren’t cut either.”

“Really?” he pulls a funny face, mouth folding down dubiously, disgust at the thought of some wrinkly Italian having touched his Susie warring with the fact little Susie compares Elvis and his hick embarrassment to some exotic mogul. “And you liked that shit?”

“Oh I prefer it! So responsive!” she nods eagerly, and they’ve had this same talk about pistachio ice cream before, and Elvis really thinks he might go to hell for having been the one to put that hungry gleam in her eye. Over cock. His cock. A sort of vicarious damnation

“Damn right about the ‘responsive’ bit.” he grumbles.

“Now,” she is back to business and Elvis is back to being scared and horny, their brief cuddle session apparently at an end, “I’ll be sure to be gentler and ease you into it, maybe even give you a word to tap out if it gets to be too much. But you, you’ve gotta promise me that if you really want to explore this, you’ll be good and not throw me again.”

“I-“ -he ponders that and long buried memories of highschool jokes, cameras in the milltary barracks and snide comments from costume designers crowd in, the stupid patheticness of a man of his success and worldly confidence having trouble with this-

“You man enough, Presley?” Susie’s sprightly little dare cuts right through the static of his mind and the truth of the matter is, deep down, he wants her to thump him like she thumps his bike. Make him like it, force him to let go for once. But like hell can he actually manage to say that to her doll-like face. “Or are you gonna be a little bitch about getting your cock sucked?”

Alright maybe he can.

Susie is all woman in this moment and he realizes his little girl has grown up, she’s grown up watching him, learning him, and now she knows him too damn well. He loves a challenge and put that way…”You’re on.” he grins at her dangerously and she tries to keep her triumph subdued, just a little bounce back on her heels and a fierce kiss pressed to his lips.

“Thank you!” she whispers against his lips, eyes up close to his and he can see they are very giddy before she finally pulls away from him, pushing at his shoulders until he’s laying out all vulnerable again in the crisp sheets.

Bemused, he watches Susie bite at two manicured nails as she takes his submission in. They’re the prettiest shade of pink and he’s been trying to find the right name for it since filming began. Elvis asked her over lunch one afternoon and she said she didn't know, the makeup artist had chosen it. All he’s come up with is “nipple pink” -and that didn’t do him any favors sitting in the canteen in tight slacks, watching her Bambi soft eyes go wide when he actually said it out loud.

Now she gnaws on them while sizing up plans of torture for poor “Coco” and he grabs the sheets in his hands as a defensive measure.

“You ever been edged, Mopey?” she asks him.

“Not, not like this, nah. Not this way” he shakes his head, sucks in a breath, deciding to pull his legs up and plant his feet on the mattress, feeling a little steadier that way, “I mean, I’ve held off for a couple hours before, in between rounds or, ya know-“ he trails off because, no, he’s never done this, whatever this is that she has planned. He is sure of it without even knowing..

“Ok.” she gives him a sweet smile, “Well I’m going to be nice about it, so you’re lucky, but if it gets to be too much let’s have a word or phrase. Because we both know that your whiny little “no’s” don’t mean anything in the heat of the moment.”

He grunts and quirks an eyebrow to urge her to go on.

“So,” her tone is entirely fake in its soothing, “so if you just can’t stand being loved on without getting all macho and taking control, all you gotta say is ‘I’m a pussy’, ok?”

Oh goddamn. What a brat. He growls at her and thinks about flipping her up and over, having his way with her until she can’t form a coherent sentence. But that would just prove her point and this is a competition now, not just sex. The stakes are as high as the time she almost beat him at the corn toss last year. “Ok.” he grits out.

“Good boy.” she murmurs and it sends a shudder through him that he doggedly ignores, wary of that floaty feeling she inspired in him a little while ago. If he’s gonna best her at this crooked little game then he needs his faculties clear. “You all good, Elvis?”

“Yeah,” he gives her a cocky grin and forces his hands to relax, game face on and smug smile back in place, “have at it little girl.”

He hopes she’ll shed some of her clothes and she does but only her stiff blue jeans. Leaving her in her panties and that white crisp shirt which is very wrinkled now. The pink bow remains in her hair and serves to really fuck with his mind, along with her sweet face settling back between his legs, and Elvis is man like any other and he really, really wants to cum at the mere sight of her

“Now where were we, Coco?” she asks his weeping head and his hands start to tingle and he gets a really alarming feeling akin to stage fright, so he digs his heels further into the mattress to anchor himself. She blows on the wet head and the chill makes it twitch futilely, about as fed up as Elvis is over being teased this excessively. “So sensitive! I’m gonna have some fun with you baby. That silly man has been hiding you from me hasn’t you? Real mean of him to keep a toy like you from a girl he professes to spoil.”

It’s vague but also keen, this feeling of being ignored for his own good. Like Susie has kindly decided to remove Elvis and his goddamn lady killer reputation from the room, stripping him down to brass tacks, unmaning him to hopefully rebuild him. He really determines to give it the old college try by forcing himself to accept it, to remember that this is little Susie who’s got him in a such a vulnerable state, and while she might be a stinker, she hasn’t got a cruel bone in her body. He makes himself take steadying breaths and focus on the way her tiny hands grip him and move up and down, never ignoring the hood, always incorporating it in the sweet, slow drag. The way she rolls his foreskin up and over his weeping head again and again is just the right amount of friction, like she’s been watching the way he does it himself and he can’t help but start thrusting a little. His hips flex on their own and his mind settles into the well worn groove of needing to finish, the: “fuck it, who cares I need to cum” mentality that’s had him risking plenty of scandals in public or with the wrong lady, just because he can’t stop once it gets this good. He can taste each roll and grip and drag of her nails, and he needs more.

He lets out a heartfelt moan when her mouth starts running up the crease of his thigh, and that makes her give him a responding one. He can’t overthink now, can’t object to the way Susie has started to lick the pulsing vein underneath, collecting the salty taste of him, moaning all the while like she’s getting a deep Swedish massage or some shit. She looks like she’s in heaven kissing his balls and he whines at that, can’t help it because she looks so defiled right now.

His thighs begin to quiver as her lips drag over his tightening balls, her hands along his cock feeling too good. She’s been nice like she said she would be, no more tongue dipping into the glans and he thinks he might get through this unscathed until her hands stop and she pauses from licking at him like he’s a lollipop, to murmur to wobbling length,

“Oh pretty Coco, you look ready to pop! So soon? You can, you know, you can whenever you want, but I’m not stopping after that. We made a deal.”

Elvis heaves a breath in and somehow it sounds as loud as a wheezbag. He holds it in hopes that maybe the tunnel vision he’s got will calm down, the sheets feeling very foreign against his fingertips.

“You ok you there, Presley?” Susie checks in, raising her eyes from his engorged cock to watch his flushed face, because he hasn’t said anything in minutes as his body grows more and more desperate, all he’s been giving her are pained noises and shocked little gasps. “If you can’t talk baby, tap my hand.”

“I can talk, dammit.” he snaps, “Just wanna cum.”

“Oh alright, we’ll get you there then.” she smiles at him, pleased with the petulant set of his mouth that she’s about to erase.

“Wanna be in you.” he tries, hoping maybe her jaw is getting tired and she’ll abandon this science experiment. “Make you feel real good, lil one.”

“Later. If you’re good for me.” she assures him, “Remember, Mopey, nothing’s getting you out of this but a tap on the hand or our agreed upon phrase.”

“Later then, I’m gonna ruin you.” He snarls.

She watches his face closely as he threatens and then accepts with a roll of his eyes and a head toss against the pillows, setting his face like he does when he just wants to get a scene over with. Poor man, he needs this badly, and Susie figures that maybe edging isn’t his cure, overestimation seems more like the ticket to make him lose his mind. His true mind, the one that needs to give in for an hour or two and let himself be wrung out.

With that ambition in mind she starts stroking him in earnest with one small hand, first focusing on the base until he starts to settle and relax. “C’mon, that’s it, you can thrust baby, let’s get you there.”

He gives a little nod and a moaning assent, broad and gleaming shoulders melting back into the bed even as those snake like hips start to work in earnest with her subdued motions. She spares her left hand to place it on his thigh, just to feel the muscle work, dragging her thumbnail on the soft inside. The scrape makes him shudder, more slick seeping out of his foreskin and dripping down his length and she figures it’s now or never.

He’s distracted with bucking up into her grasp and with his eyes clenched closed he doesn’t see when she props herself up and opens her mouth to swallow him down. Predictably the lower half of him jolts clear off the bed, shoving his cock further into her mouth and she’s ready for it, swallowing him down and keeping her teeth clear.

His breath catches before his voice booms with a plaintive, “Oh god, oh no, oh god!” His hands are shaking like they’re motorized and he grips the edge of the bed in one while the other restlessly roams his chest and throat in a strange and soothing sort of tick.

Keeping the majority of his length snug against her tongue, Susie does the nice thing and rubs her hands along his shaking thighs in a soothing gesture, humming to him with his length still down her throat and his neck snaps back so fast in response he looks mildly possessed.

“God, Susie, I’m gonna!-“ he sounds very worried about it and she’s not having that at all.

She rubs the firm line of his lower belly and takes him out a little so it’s mostly just the tip and its sensitive hood left in her mouth and she works him him gently, lolling him around patiently and she’s rewarded within the minute by his pleas coming back in high pitched whines, like the kind he playfully uses in his songs and it’s the sweetest recompense for her efforts.

“Where, where d-d-do you, where do you-y-you want m-me t-to-“

She pops off him for a split second to chirp, “In my mouth baby.”

Then she gets back to it, sucking gently and working the foreskin this way and that, harmless little nibbles to it that has him sitting up straight in the bed with a sudden rush of adrenaline. His belly shaking he’s so close but he has to watch this, has to see for himself that little Susie is moaning like a paid whore while worrying his extra skin with her painted lips. He starts shaking so badly at the sight of her and gratefully she looks up and meets his eyes right when he needs to see her soul, her doe eyes are full of nothing but assurances, lust and enjoyment. Disbelieving but incapable of anything else, Elvis has all he needs in this moment,. He takes his Thumper at her word and cums against the roof of her mouth in long and steady spurts, his strength giving out as he sags back against the sheets.

“Oh goddamn, little girl.” he groans and hopes he’ll hit ground gently because right now he’s close to the moon he’s so heady.

“My word Presley, you taste Devine.” she moans back to him as soon as she is done slurping him up.

He feels his cock give an indecisive twitch at hearing her hoarse praise before it starts to soften. He’s really quite busy digging his fingers into his eye sockets in hopes that he’ll stop seeing stars so he misses it when she reaches up to her hair and tugs the pink bow out, bringing it down to his slick length and wrapping it around the base.

Hyper aware of everything relating to little Elvis right now, he flails at the feel of velvet sliding along it and before he can crack his eyes open and asses what the hell Susie is up to, his freshly sucked cock is being subjected to the hellish sensation of a hairbow being cinched around its base.

Through the pounding in his ears he hears her sweet little voice mummering: “Don’t get soft on me now, ole man. We aren’t done.”

“For fucks sake, Susie!” he thunders and launches up in a sitting posture, just in time to watch her add the finishing touches to a pretty little bow at the base of his vibrantly angry cock. “Susie, I swear, no, just no I-“

“There’s a word for ‘no’ here, Mr. Presley, and it isn’t no.” she kneels there between his legs, transatlantic accent sounding very commanding and her hands folded primly as if she didn’t just force all the circulation to stay in his aching cock. “Dost wish to tap out?”

He glares at her, shooting daggers and vindication that has made grown men shrink before him. She just keeps batting those Bambi eyes and takes to trailing a fingernail up the seam of his balls and he swears he didn’t sob from the feel of it, he just took a weird sounding breath, is all.

Elvis is almost where she wants him, he’s alarmed that he has more in him, but terrified that giving in to her will result in him really letting go. She wants him just past that, in just enough pain to be begging for her to end it by helping him chase his pleasure again. His bottom lip starts to wobble and watching it closely she moves her fingernail with unhurried determination down his balls, passing them and to that smooth stretch of skin right behind them, leading to his puckering hole. His eyes blow wide as he suspects her destination and it’s comical to see the relief on his face when she goes no further, just keeps rubbing that smooth stretch of skin until he sucks in a deep breath from something other than nervousness. Too late he realises his mistake, his stupid worry that she was going to play with his ass blinded him to the fact that rubbing right behind his balls is painfully good and he wasn’t ready to feel this good, this needy, this soon.

Susie finds that watching his balls draw up snug against the velvet bow is really the cutest thing, they’re having a grand time and their owner is making incoherent sounds and hand motions that suggest he wants her to climb up on the bed with him, be closer to him as he lays back down, his body trembling too hard to hold him up.

She feels a great deal of satisfaction at having him so overcome, she has seen him performing and at play, he has astounding stamina and a shocking amount of toughness when it comes to pushing through that pain threshold. She can tell now that it’s that very gift that was keeping him back in this setting. He nearly sinks down to blissful surrender but that mechanism keeps hauling him back out like he’s getting waterboarded instead of loved on. But he’s trembling now, hands reaching for something and his eyes look utterly lost, he’s sinking and she’s there to catch him

Settling on the bed between his splayed legs she leans over him and takes a moment to soothe him, trace his face and swipe the tears she is astounded to find on his cheeks.

“I’ve got you Mopey, we’re gonna let you break free, together, I promise.” he clutches at the back of her neck when she gets close to his ear and she only hears moans from him for a while. “You trust me?”

His hand is shaking badly where it rests on the back of her neck but she feels him starting to rut against her belly, pain having been overcome by need. “Please, mama” he chokes out. “Please, I wanna be good.”

“You’re always good for me, baby. Always.” she drags her mouth against those high cheekbones and tastes salt. “You’ll be good and tell me if it’s too much, right?” She pulls away to stare him down, make him focus on her eyes and when he does they’re shimmering sapphires in the lamplight. Her breath hitches in awe of him.

“W-wa-want y-you t-t-to ha-have f-fun.” he gasps out and that is a different voice, one she hears when he’s playing with children or making voices up for the sock puppets. It’s a little boy’s voice and she’s sure now he’s gone at last. “W-want t-to make m-my lil Susie p-p-proud.”

“I’ve never been prouder, baby boy. I love you.” she swears and now is not the time for it but it slices through his haze and strikes him as just what he needs. He looks all of 17 himself right now and her heart warms.

“I-I know!” he cries low and anguished, and his lip really is wobbling in earnest now, lashes clumping into dark little spears, “You, you a-always s-s-show me.”

“I’m gonna show you now.” she vows, “I’m going to show you how perfect and lovely and beautiful you are to me.” she kisses down the length of his sweaty chest, his hands never leaving some part of her. Her shoulders, her hair, her arms, constantly petting her and clinging as she goes further downwards. “Wouldn’t be such a challenge to get you to be selfish for a second if you weren’t the most giving man on the planet, Mopey. Look at the production you made me go to just to love on you!”

He does look at his vibrant pink cock and the bow around it and the way Susie won’t suck it like a normal human, she keeps kissing his thighs instead and sucking his balls with loving devotion and he cries from it, unabashedly whining and whimpering from how horribly lovely it feels.

Minutes go by and he tries to savor the white noise in his ears, the pounding of his pulse and the feel of her smearing her lipstick on his sack, all the while dreading and needing the moment she finally takes his jerking cock back into her mouth. She grins at the way it’s wobbling and twitching, like a white flag of surrender begging for her terms, anything she asks for and he’ll give it. It’s shining in the lamp light as precum sputters out of it almost as plentiful as seamen in an orgasm.

“Oh mama.” he keeps groaning in between sobs and she rubs her breast harder against the top of his hairy thigh, nearly insane herself from the sight of him this wrecked. Suave and smug Elvis Presley is weeping and thrusting his uncut cock into the air, a hand gripping the strands of his immaculate pompadour until it’s falling into his face, all in hopes she’ll let him cum sometime soon.

“Dear god, you are exquisite right now.” she moans, uttelry moved that he trusts her this much.

“B-be good to me, mama, I-I need-“ he stutters out, voice shaky, switching course part way through his sentence, “-a-am I-I what y-y-you wanted?”

“You are better than my wildest fantasies, sweet man.” She swears earnestly before giving in to the thing he needs. And dreads.

He was right to dread it. When she does envelop him again, it’s like fire and lightning shooting straight up his spine and the ache in his balls resonates with the ache in his chest and he howls, ass clenching, trying in vain to pump out the seed she’s clamped off. She rides him with her mouth like a damn bullrider, going with him as he makes a bridge with his hips, his whole body strung taut in the moment of denial before slumping back again, eyes wild and chest heaving, unable to release.

His body is eel-like as he writhes in the sheets, svelte and lithe, undulating and seizing up in preparation only for the cruel hairbow to dash him back to earth. Susie is losing her mind right along with him, watching this morphing of a man into his most primal state. She tastes nothing but his salty precum and she rolls his foreskin around in her mouth like a chocolate, occasionally diving down the length of him until her nose is buried in his dark thatch of hair.

It’s suckling the tip that sends him wild, so she spares it often, making sure to give him a chance to breath in between her attentions, but there’s nothing more gorgeous than watching him shake and writhe with no aim in mind, gown dumb with need. The minutes begin to bleed for him and all he can think is that he’s being good, that he’s powerless and weirdly he takes some pride that his sacrifice, each shudder and burn of holding back, makes her pleased with him.

A shaky hand comes down to where she’s scratching his thatch of pubic hair and after a brief moment she catches on to his need, entangling their fingers together as he swims to the surface long enough to shudder and mouth incoherent praises at his lil friend.

“You’re a keeper, honey.” he pants, eyes glittering and his neck strained with the effort to hold his fuzzy head up off the pillow.

“And you, Presley,” she grins at him as bright and joyous as ever, “you look awfully pretty like this, mouth hung open, eyes rolling back. Coco downright weeping for me.”

“I-I-I’m glad.” he whispers hoarsely. “T-thank y-y-you, ma-mama.”

She chuckles, because even teetering on the edge of brainless he’s still a darling. It seems he’s forgotten he even has a need at this point, hips stilling and whines ceasing as he pants, his eyes wavering in and out of focus. They’ve finally passed that line and it’s just him and Susie floating here in white sheets while she tells him he’s pretty and good. She starts to consider that maybe she should start pulling him back up in case he’s forgotten the code.

Then the hand limply holding her own squeezes tight and he mumbles into his pillow, head turned away from the bedside lamp, “I needs it bad mama, please mama!” he whines, hand clutching his own hair and his whole body starts to vibrate as if revving from deep within.

“You wanna let go?” she whispers, spitting gently on the head of him, adding to the gooey mess pouring out of him.

“P-please, oh please, I aint gots it-“ he sobs, baby talk slurring through.

“You’ve been so good baby,” she coaxes, “mama is gonna get you there.”

“Need-n-n-need to pee mama.” He whimpers bewildered.

Good lord he’s so far gone.

She makes sure to grip his hand tight and assuring as she takes him in her mouth once more, tonguing at the leaking slit and his scream is deafening and on pitch, shifting into a wheeze as she yanks the bow loose and takes her mouth off to watch the fountain of seed that comes spewing out of him. His jaw works frantically and his mouth is agape as he tastes freedom and epiphany and trust and all he knows is that he can let go at last. So he does, his muscles locking up for ages, emptying himself and he’s entirely unaware and uncaring of where he’s spraying until he hears Susie’s shocked cheer,

“Mopey you’ve hit the ceiling!” and to his misery and relief her mouth comes back to swallow what he’s giving up, warm and wet and rhythmically swallowing down his spend until it’s making him frantic for nothingness and he cries out,

“I-I-enough, enough, i I like, no I- I I am a pussy! Goddamn it!”

She stops immediately and he feels nothing at all for a few moments. He might as well be dead he is so lost to his reality, numb and his sight gone until he feels her slide beside him, soft, small hands that he’d know even in death, gentling him back to earth.

“Can I quote you on that, Presley?” she grins and he only knows that because he can feel the curve of her cheek against his own as he shudders and relearns how to breath. “Look, you’ve ruined mama’s pretty bow!” she dangles soaked pink velvet in front of his face, and for some reason that’s what makes him blush scarlet.

He lifts his eyes to find that there is a glistening wet spot on the ceiling. Oh goddamn. He moans and gives into the need to burrow, deep deep inside of her, this nasty little girl who knows and loves him. He settles for pressing his face into her breasts, the near suffocating dampness of her flesh a comforting transition after being deprived of air by his own hyperventilation for so long. She obligingly gathers him in, throws a leg over his trembling body to bring him closer and he makes himself small and savors it. Nuzzling into her skin and pressing lazy kisses to her skin, trying to say what can’t be said.

Susie finds words first, “Thank you.” she whispers into his hair, “You just gave me a precious gift. You should have seen yourself, a force of nature, Presley.”

He knows his smushed face is blushing and he tries to raise a hand to bat at her face, waggle her chin teasingly but it just flops aimless and enervated. Gah he’s really wrecked. And sleepy. He grabs at her harder as things start to slip in mushy and cloudy softness. She squeezes back just as hard.

“That’s it Mopey,” she gives him head scratches and that’s when he slips away, downwards but it’s not into blackness, it’s into warmth, “drift off, I’ve got you. I’ll be here when you wake up. Maybe hold you to that ‘later’ you swore to me.”

[thirstydiglett]

Genderbent Headcanons!

@genderbenduniverse requested genderbent Straw Hats and beyond! So here are my imagines for each Straw Hat, plus Law and Ace for good measure.

WARNING: I made them all dress slutty because I’m a crazy person

Luffy

Femme!Luffy isn’t much different than masc Luffy, I think. Gender doesn’t seem to be a thing that Luffy relates to much. She wears her hair in a short ponytail, and dresses mostly in loose jorts and t-shirts. She thinks makeup is genuinely hilarious and doesn’t even know what most of it is (she’s been known to put mascara on her forehead). I think there’s quite a few men (and women!) along the grand line that would love to date her, but she’s completely oblivious and uninterested.

Zoro

I already kinda HC Zoro as a trans man, so genderbent Zoro would be a trans woman! I imagine she transitioned after Kuina’s death because a) she promised Kuina she would and b) she wants to prove the world’s greatest swordsman can be a girl after all. Zoro wears her hair in a short pixie cut, and wears a simple wrap over her breasts (and not much else, she still loves going topless). She’s still muscular as fuck and definitely gives off butch vibes, but she’s very much still a woman.

Sanji

Sanji (Sanju?) is the femmest femme that ever femmed. Her long blond hair is always perfectly styled, her makeup is always on point, and her nails, while short, are usually painted to match whatever she’s cooking that day. And yes. She fights in 4 inch heels. But make no mistake—even tho she’s femme, she’s gay as the day is long. She’s always flirting with girls, trying to come across as a top, but come on. It’s painfully obvious that Sanji is a bottom. As a woman, Sanji has really had to fight to secure a place in the kitchen as an expert chef, and she does NOT tolerate bullshit or sexist remarks.

Nami

He’s lithe. He’s handsome. He has the perfect mustache. He’s undeniably smooth, sexy, and clever—the classic rogue. Nami typically dresses in VERY tight pants and flowing blouses, a couple buttons undone to reveal soft chest hair beneath. Nami will do anything it takes to get some extra cash. Pocket-picking is not beneath him, but he prefers a little bit of manipulation or even snake-oil-selling. It’s easy for him to tune into others’ emotions, and that’s his strongest weapon. That and his objectively perfect body. He’s the ONLY man that Sanji’s ever had any interest in.

Usopp

I imagine Usopp has a gorgeous head of natural hair that she’s really protective over. Other than that, she’s not much of a girly girl though. She wears skirts over leggings so she can still climb high in the rigging. And she’s known for the outrageous tales she tells about her sex life (and honestly I feel like fem!Usopp does get laid a lot, so who knows if it’s actually lies…)

Chopper

I can’t imagine Chopper is much different as a girl than a boy, but she has no antlers! I could also maybe see her having a mothering instinct, especially toward other animals!

Robin

Masc!Robin has short but well maintained black hair and usually dresses in a leather jacket and tight jeans. Idk why, but I could really see masc Robin having a motorcycle (perhaps built for him by his amazing girlfriend Franky?). His quiet personality and sudden, probing questions can put some people off, but deep down he’s just a good guy who wants to study the world around him. He can often be found in his study with a pipe and a book, researching historical events for the Straw Hats and talking quietly with Chopper, who he’s basically adopted as his daughter. I could also see him being really into cowboy shit for some reason? Maybe his study is all decorated Western Style.

Franky (short for Francesca)

Franky is still a cyborg, her whole body augmented. She always wears the world’s tiniest booty shorts over her sculpted steel butt (poor Sanji, our girl is down bad for those shorts), and you should see the shit Franky’s done with her boobs. Rocket launchers, helicopter nips, emergency flotation devices—those things can do anything. She loves subverting people’s expectations of her gender—Franky’s loud, extroverted personality and obsession with hairstyling gives off the vibes of kind of a basic party girl, but she’s still the engineering genius we know and love. Her boyfriend, Robin, can’t get enough of her.

Brooke

Brooke doesn’t look much different as she’s still a skeleton, but she wears the coolest vintage dresses you’ve ever seen. This woman can SING, and often serenades the Straw Hats with original blues and ballads. Of course, she can also play pretty much any instrument you can think of, but she’s a singer first and foremost. I like to imagine that her voice is as mesmerizingly beautiful as a siren’s (even if she doesn’t have any vocal cords, yohohoho!)

Law

Think Siouxie Sioux here. Law is the ultimate gloomy big tiddy goth GF, covered in tattoos that remind her of her mother figure, Cora. She’s tall, dresses in your standard 80s/90s mall goth clothes, and is rarely seen without a cigarette. You wouldn’t guess that she’s actually a talented doctor. Her best friend, Bepo, is the most important person in her life and is one of the only people to get to see Law’s warm, happy side.

Ace

Our lovely Ace wears her mane of black hair in a messy, shoulder length bob. She rarely wears makeup, and has long since given up trying to wear a shirt (they kept burning off). Instead, she covers up with a band of fire to hide her bits and bobs. Sanji wants to kill herself over this woman. She’s a shameless flirt, and notoriously bisexual—she’s probably slept with half the Grand Line by this point. Athletic, charismatic, and a powerful fighter, it’s truly an honor to get femme!Ace’s vivre card.

Thanks again for the prompt! I’d love to write something with the genderbent Straw Hats so if anyone has suggestions throw them my way!

[animentality]

Straight cis people think like, all queer people are so flamboyantly male or female or flamboyantly male/female sex attracted, never realizing that they are literally just as fucking flamboyant.

Gender reveal parties have a fucking kill count.

Straight men cover their cars and motorcycles and cups and shirts with boobs and female asses and naked women. Straight women wear shirts declaring how proud they are to be cummed in regularly by their husbands.

They insist that a one year old boy is a sex magnet stud for being in close proximity with another female BABY.

They literally sexualize babies, ascribing them male or female or heterosexual traits before those things matter or have practical applications.

So no.

Gay people, trans people, no queer person is any more fucking flamboyant than any straight cis bitch out there.

Everyone performs their own version of gender.

And gender is so fucking fluid as a concept.

It's meant so many different things across thousands of different societies and nations and sub cultures.

There is no uniform standard and there never has been.

Conservatives trying to pretend that women have always worn dresses and men have always worn pants don't even realize just how fucking recent pink is for girls and blue is for boys is.

It's maddening.

"liberals are trying to destroy the concept of gender-"

No.

Gender is like any other human concept. It's fluid and malleable and always open to revision and change.

It's something we use to make sense of things.

It's something we personalize.

Its meaning can and always will be in flux.

Stop being so fucking scared of change.