#i found so many pictures i loved for this one it was hard to narrow them down

[the-starry-skye]

darling charming's side of the dorm requested by @silverswiss

[theemporium]

[2k] the holidays come and go as you and max celebrate over one month of marriage. the new season is on the horizon, feelings are evolving and charles is still determined to fix the mistakes made in vegas.

series masterlist

.

“You know how you love me?” 

Pascale paused, wooden spoon hovering just above the pot she had been stirring moments ago. She hadn’t even heard you come into the kitchen, but there you stood in the doorway, an innocent look on your face that she knew well enough not to trust. 

“What have you broken?” 

Your brows furrowed together. “What makes you think I’ve broken something?” 

“You always use that voice when you break something,” Pascale retorted with a knowing look. “Like a vase or a picture frame or Arthur’s nose—”

“First of all, he broke it himself,” you huffed a little as you walked deeper into the room, pausing just beside your mother. “Secondly, I haven’t broken anything.” 

Pascale’s eyes narrowed in questioning. “So, what is it that you want?” 

Your expression grew sheepish as you wrapped your mother into a hug. “I was hoping you wouldn’t be mad that I invited Max over for Christmas Dinner.” 

Her brows furrowed together, a slightly confused expression painted across her face. “Mon cher, I’m sure Max would want to spend time with his family. It must be hard being away from them most of the season, no?” 

“There’s a storm,” you explained, your lips turned downwards. “No flights going in or out of the Netherlands. He was meant to fly out yesterday but he couldn't. He probably won’t be able to fly out until New Years.” 

Pascale’s eyes softened at the admission. “He’ll be alone for Christmas?” 

“No one should be alone for Christmas, Mama,” you murmured, puppy dog eyes and pout ready and prepared to tug on your mother’s heartstrings. And it worked. You knew it was going to work. 

It always worked. 

“Absolutely not,” Pascale huffed, shaking her head before she turned back to the pot on the stove. “Tell him he’s coming here. And tell Charles in advance so he can get his tantrum out before Christmas.” 

Your smile widened as you leaned in to peck your mother’s cheek. “You’re the best!” 

“Mhm,” Pascale hummed, though there was a hint of amusement in her voice as she shot you a glance over her shoulder. “You seem to really care for the boy.” 

“He’s my husband,” you said, playful and lighthearted and unaware of the underlying message in her words. “I’m pretty sure caring for him was in the vows, no? Unless Vegas is different. Which it might be. I don’t really remember.” 

She shot you a look.

You flashed her a sheepish smile. “I mean, I was completely sober and aware and very upset that my mother wasn’t there to see me get married?” 

Pascale rolled her eyes in response before she continued. “I just mean that it almost seems like you and Max are a true couple.” 

“Mama, how many times have we been over this?” You sighed, a little whiny as you slumped your head against her shoulder. “I promise I was not secretly dating Max Verstappen behind your back. Arthur just keeps saying that to annoy Charles and—”

“No, no, I know that,” she interrupted with a soft laugh. “I just think you have grown to care for him beyond what an accidental wife would.” 

You scoffed a little at that. “I care the normal amount for an accidental wife.” 

“No need to get defensive, mon cher, he is not better,” Pascale snorted, shaking her head with a fond look in her eyes. “But I am sure there is no need to worry about the details. Charles said he found a lawyer, no?” 

You tensed a little before flashing your mother a strained smile, trying to ignore the way your stomach dropped a little at her words. “Did he? He hadn’t mentioned anything to me.” 

Pascale had a knowing glint in her eyes but she kept poking. “Hm, maybe it was a Christmas surprise.” 

“Maybe,” you murmured, frowning a little. “No need to go through the hassle right now though. It’s the holidays. It can be sorted after the New Year.”

“Oh, of course,” Pascale grinned. 

“I’ll go message Max,” you said, straightening yourself before pecking your mother’s cheek once more. “I’m sure he will be so excited. He loved your cooking.” 

Pascale’s smile was all sweet and teasing. “That’s why he is my favourite son.”

...

.

...

“Are you sure this is okay? I don’t want to impose or—”

“You are very welcome here, Max, you’re a part of the family too,” Pascale reassured the boy, patting his shoulder with a fond smile before handing him a dish to carry out to the dining table. “We are all very happy to have you joining us.” 

“Speak for yourself,” Charles grumbled under his breath. 

“Charles Marc Hervé Perceval Leclerc—” 

“Kidding!” Charles spoke up, his cheeks flushed a light pink colour at his mother’s scolding tone. “I could imagine no better Christmas gift!” 

Pascale rolled her eyes. “Don’t listen to him, Max. He gets a lot more tolerable once he’s been fed.” 

You snorted in response. 

Charles lightly kicked you as he walked past. 

“Thank you though, really,” Max said, looking far more relaxed and at ease than he had during the first family dinner he attended, despite Daniel messaging you about how nervous the Dutchman was. “This is much better than what I had planned before.” 

“Hey now,” you spoke up, nudging your hip against Max’s as you settled beside the boy. “Jimmy and Sassy seem like excellent company.” 

Max grinned a little. “They are divas, trust me.” 

“Just like their father,” you teased. 

Pascale only smiled knowingly before handing you another dish to take to the dining table.

...

.

...

“This was a bad idea.” 

“Hi, Oscar. How are you doing? Happy New Years, by the way, since Australia is ahead and I haven’t said a word—”

“Are you done yet?” You grumbled down the phone, sitting on the edge of the bathtub as you eyed the door warily. 

“You’re the one who risked calling me at seven in the morning.” 

“It’s not seven yet,” you retorted. 

“Semantics.”

“I should have just called Logan,” you muttered, mostly to yourself than the boy on the phone—but considering the snort he let out, he heard you clear enough. “The asshole didn’t pick up his phone.”

“He’s probably lost his phone in a lake by now.” 

Your lips twitched. “Bet the crocodiles would have better advice than you.” 

“And yet, you still called me.” There was a small pause, the playfulness now replaced with something a little more serious when you didn’t laugh at his lame attempt at a joke. “What’s up?”

“I’m in the Netherlands right now,” you breathed out, sliding into the bathtub and leaning back against the porcelain wall.

“I know. You told us.”

“I’m in the Netherlands for New Years with Max,” you repeated, the emphasis on your husband’s name doing little to help Oscar realise the point you were trying to make. 

“Yeah, you’ve lost me.” 

“I–” You let out a heavy breath, your head falling back against the bath and your eyes fluttering shut. “What the fuck am I doing?” 

“Probably sitting in a bath, if you’re at least three drinks deep.” 

Your eyes snapped open, glancing down at yourself before scoffing. “Creep.” 

“I’m your best friend. I just know you. Nothing creepy about that.” 

“Whatever,” you grumbled, your fingers fiddling with the hem of your dress. 

It was nothing special in your opinion, a simple black dress you had made a few months ago with some spare fabric and an overwhelming sense of boredom as summer loomed on. Yet, Max had still gone out of his way to compliment you when he saw it, on how pretty both you and the dress were. 

You told yourself he was just being polite, but it didn’t stop your cheeks from warming at his words regardless. 

“Why are you confused?” 

“Two months ago, the most I had spoken to Max was when Charles first moved up to Formula One and we hadn’t seen each other in a few years. Now, I am married and he invited me to spend New Years with him and—” 

“You invited him to your family dinners. Twice. Once on Christmas, may I add.” 

You glared at your phone for a moment. “Not the same point.” 

“How not?” 

“Because this is New Years,” you emphasised once again. “You spend it with people you want to have in your life for the next year. You spend it with people important to you and he brought me and I am meeting his friends and—”

“I think you are severely overthinking this.”

“Well, I don’t think you are taking it seriously enough,” you retorted. 

“Are you scared about kissing him? Is that what this is?” 

You didn’t reply straight away. 

“Oh my god.” 

You huffed. “You make it seem like I am being dramatic.“

“You are.” 

“Logan would disagree.” 

“Logan isn’t here.” 

“Stupid timezones and stupid Florida,” you grumbled once again, glaring at a random spot on the wall across from you. 

“Look, do you wanna kiss him?” 

You let out a garbled noise of indecisiveness.

“You either kiss him or you don’t. It’s your choice. He’s not gonna pressure you into anything. He just wants to spend time with you. Don’t overthink it.” 

“I won’t.” 

“You will.” 

And you did. 

Even after spending a prolonged amount of time on the phone with Oscar in the bathroom, you still felt skittish and on edge when you headed back into the party. The faces around you were vaguely familiar, countless names that Max had thrown at you bouncing around your head but you couldn’t pinpoint them. Not well. 

Not that you were talking to his friends as much as you should have been doing, beyond a few sheepish and polite smiles. 

And Max had picked up on your shifted behaviour pretty quickly. Your smile had done little to soothe his concern as you took your spot next to him, letting out a relieved sigh when you felt his hand on the small of your back.

“You good?” 

“Mhm,” you nodded.

His frown deepened. “We can leave if you want.” 

But you shook your head, your smile a little more genuine this time. “No, I’m good. I promise. Just need a moment before I do another round of tequila shots.” 

This time Max smiled a little in response. 

And you couldn’t help yourself. Your eyes always seemed to wander to the time, whether it was a clock or your phone screen or the watch on Max’s wrist. Your eyes were glued to the way both hands quickly began to approach the number 12. Your whole body felt like it had been shot with adrenaline, coursing through your veins and making you so twitchy and on edge as midnight was moments away. 

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Max questioned as the party gathered in a crowd in the garden with the promise of fireworks luring them out. 

TEN! 

NINE! 

EIGHT!

“Yeah, I promise,” you smiled, something almost quite fond in your voice as Max stared at you, not the sky where the fireworks were about to go off. 

SEVEN!

SIX!

FIVE!

FOUR!

“I’m sorry if this is a bit much,” Max murmured with his lips pressed together. “I did kind of throw you in the deep end. I just thought it would be easier in a bigger setting rather—” 

And it made your heart soar just how sweet and considerate he was being. It made the tension lingering in your chest ease, made the shakiness in your hands stop. 

It made your decision much easier. 

THREE! 

TWO!

ONE! 

“It’s perfect, Max,” you murmured, so soft that you weren’t even sure he heard you. But you didn’t get the chance to ask as you leaned in, pressing your lips against his as the final toll of the bell rang and the fireworks began.

Despite being caught off guard, Max sunk into the kiss easily. His hand dropped to your waist, pulling the little bit closer before the eventual cheers and fireworks display made you finally pull away. 

But his eyes remained on you. 

“What was that for?” Max questioned, something written in his eyes that you couldn’t quite distinguish.

You smiled in response, shrugging. “Because you’re my husband.”

...

liked by oscarpiastri, arthurleclerc and 423,738 others

yourusername happy holidays from the verstappens!

view all 16,837 comments

charles_leclerc that's not your name. stop saying that's your name. i am so serious.

pascaleleclerc leave them alone, charles

charles_leclerc MAMAN????

maxverstappen1 when i married you, i didn't know i would be carrying you this much

yourusername are you saying i don't deserve the princess treatment?🤨

maxverstappen1 ...no?

danielricciardo don't sound too confident, mate

yourusername now i wish i posted the picture where you dropped the tray

maxverstappen1 that was not my fault and you know it

yourusername 😁

user OH MY GOD??????

user they spent the holidays together!!!!

user THEY ARE SO CUTE

landonorris it's weird not seeing him in red bull merch

yourusername tell me about it

user i cannot WAIT for next season

user do you think she will go to the red bull garage now??

arthur_leclerc charles will chain her to the ferrari garage before that happens

user i cannot cope with these two i am so obsessed

logansargeant HELLO????? ANSWER YOUR PHONE??? WTF IS THAT THIRD PHOTO???

oscarpiastri i would also like to know. answer the group chat

yourusername woah what's that? sorry can't hear you over the fireworks!!

logansargeant 😐

user can i be your new years kiss🤩

maxverstappen1 no.

user i swear they have been secretly married for years and they are playing a prank on us

charles_leclerc why would you say this

.

[jeonginsleftcheek]

Work of art

pairing: sub!hyunjin x dom!afab!reader

genre: smut

word count: 7.3k

warnings: masturbation, foot job, degradation, body hair(does that need a warning), spanking, butt play, sex toys, hyunjin is called 'slut', ruined orgasm, pegging, restraints, hair pulling, overstimulation, cock milking, slapping, dom/sub dynamics, reader is called 'boss', light bdsm, praise(lmk if i missed something)

a/n: i need subby hyunjin like i need air to breathe, no joke! plus he said he hates shaving so i had to incorporate that fact into my fic🫣

~check out my: Masterlist

The first time Hwang Hyunjin walked into your studio with his hair tousled, sunglasses almost falling off of his nose, a coffee cup in his hand and a walk full of sass and confidence, you knew he was different.

In your line of work, you've met many different models, your specialty being erotic photography, you've captured many beautiful people of all shapes and sizes but no one was as captivating to you as Hyunjin was.

He was full of sex appeal, even when he was dressed, something about him excited you so much that you wished you could cross that line between work and pleasure and indulge in your fantasy of absolutely ruining the man smiling cheekily at you.

It wouldn't be the first time you crossed that line with your models, it's hard to stay desensitized while capturing the naked vunerability of someone. It's exhilirating to command a person's movement, have them in all kind of positions, especially if you're attracted to them.

You appreciated the beauty of a human body, any human body for that matter, you loved encapsulating all the little details in your work. Freckles, grey hairs, spots, knuckles, tummy folds, stretch marks, body hair... You found beauty in everyone. And sometimes you just wanted to give special appreciation to those bodies and those people.

Today is already the third time Hyunjin came to your studio, and even though you've already seen every part of him, you are always in awe of how beautiful he is, like he was carved out by the hands of a god.

"Hi, boss."- he smirks, jokingly calling you silly nicknames is always fun to him.

"Oh, hey there."- you whip around to look at him, and he looks effortlessly handsome, like he got up and put on the first things he found though you know he actually made an effort with his outfit.

You can see the details, the rings adorning his long fingers, the necklace framing his neck and the black cashmere shirt, two of the buttons undone revealing his prominent collarbone. The shirt is slightly crooked, sliding off of his left shoulder, revealing his smooth skin.

He takes you in too, your hair in a half updo held by an oriental looking hair pin, the black eyeliner on your eyes, making them look even sharper, and your black top, loose around your frame, your perky nipples on display since you hate wearing bras, your pants also flowy and your feet bare.

You hate being restricted while you work so you always dress as loose and casual as you can, unkowingly turning Hyunjin on as he takes mental notes and pictures of you.

"Brought you coffee too."- he says as he comes closer, and your nose is filled with his intoxicating scent mixed with the comforting smell of coffee, making you dizzy.

"Thanks, Jinnie."- you take the cup from him, your fingers grazing against each other's, sending a wave of electricity through your body.

"Why don't you go get comfortable while I prepare my camera?"- you say after you take a sip of coffee.

"No foreplay? No how are you, how's your week been?"- he jokes around, placing his stuff on the side and you look at him, your eyes narrowed and a smirk on your lips.

"We're gonna be here for hours, there's time to talk. Besides, you've done this before, you don't need foreplay."- you chuckle as he takes his shoes off.

"Maybe I like foreplay with you."- oh you know he's a flirt, he does it every time he comes here, taunting you and testing your patience.

If only he knew that he was playing with fire.

"Hm, maybe I won't give it to you for that exact reason."- you smirk and he clicks his tongue, shaking his head at you.

"Wow, you're mean."- he chuckles.

"Oh, you have no idea, pretty boy."- you say and the nickname goes straight to his dick. He got called a pretty boy many times by many different people, in more lewd situations than this one but hearing you call him that in your sultry voice thrilled him like nothing else.

"Where do you want me?"- he asks, dressed only in his shirt and his boxers, his long legs looking delicious.

"On the bed. We're doing a bed shoot today."

"Straight to it. I like that, boss."- he smirks and climbs onto the bed as you chuckle, adjusting some settings on your camera.

"Alright, let's warm up. Just do what naturally comes to you first."- you say, bringing your camera up.

And Hyunjin is a natural, he flirts with the camera easily. As soon as it's on him, the look in his eyes changes and it makes your core throb, the way his eyes stare at you hungrily through the lens.

Hyunjin is propped on his elbows and he throws his head back, revealing his long neck. He spreads his legs a little, looking absolutely delectable as he stares up at you.

You take a few photos as he gives you a few different versions of that pose, his hand coming up to undo another button of his shirt.

"Is that The Cure?"- he asks as you hum along to the music playing.

"Yeah."- you nod. "That's the mood for today."- you add and Hyunjin chuckles.

"Are you depressed or deeply in love?"- he jokes as you come closer to him and take a few close-ups.

"Neither of those. Not that it's any of your business, Hwang."- you smirk, and he cringes.

"Ew, don't call me by my last name."- he recoils as he changes positions, kneeling on the bed and sitting on his feet.

"What do you want me to call you? Pretty boy?"- you taunt, your hands on his thighs, spreading them apart. Hyunjin visibly gulps, his eyes boring into yours as he looks at you sweetly.

"That's much better."- he says, his breath short as he lets you adjust his hands so that they're in his lap, one wrist over the other, like you were gonna tie him up.

Your hand comes up to touch his chin and you lift his face up, your thumb pressing into his plushy lower lip. His lips part as he looks at you like he's mesmerized.

"Stay like that, pretty boy."- you smirk as you grab a chair and bring it closer to the bed.

You get up on it as Hyunjin looks at you wordlessly, his eyes following your movements.

You reach towards him and slide the shirt off his shoulder before you get into a position so you can snap a few photos looking down at him.

"Looking good?"- Hyunjin asks after a few more positions.

"Need your shirt off."- you say as you look through the photos, your brows furrowed in concentration.

"Your wish is my command, boss."- Hyunjin smirks, slowly unbuttoning the rest of his shirt as you look up from your camera.

The shit eating grin he has on his face as he undoes and slides the shirt off as slowly as he can, lets you know he's teasing you.

You stare intenly at him as he leisurely slides it off, the sleeves pooling around his wrists as he leans on them, his legs still spread, head lolled to the side. You can see the outline of his semi hard cock, and his happy trail disappearing under the top of his boxers. It's nothing new, you've seen him naked and fully hard already, taking pictures of him in the most vunerable state.

"Don't move."- you say and bring your camera up as Hyunjin gives you a sultry look and you snap a few more pictures.

"I want a few shots of your back and shoulders."- you say and Hyunjin nods, a smirk on his lips.

He gets rid of his shirt completely and turns his back to you. Your hand comes up to touch his hair as you play with it, making it look even more tousled than it was before.

You can hear Hyunjin's breath getting caught in his throat whenever your fingertips brush against the back of his neck, goosebumps rising on his skin and you're so close to him, he smells so good and you just want to lean in and leave kisses on his neck.

Your hands slide down his shoulders and arms and he leans into your touch, shivering a little as you run your fingertips on his upper back.

"Keep doing that and I'll lose my concentration very quickly."- Hyunjin whimpers quietly and you laugh at him, squeezing his arm a little.

"You're not that easy, are you?"- you smirk, removing your hands off of him and grabbing your camera.

"You wanna find out?"- he flirts again, looking back at you with a smirk.

"Stop flirting, we're working."- you tease as you get ready to take more pictures.

"Alright, I'm serious now. So serious."- Hyunjin smiles and you chuckle, shaking your head at him before he stills so you can do your job.

After some time, he gets turned towards you again and your eyes fall down between his legs immediately.

Hyunjin smirks as you eye his erection that's bulging and straining in his boxers.

"I didn't shave."- he whispers. "But it's trimmed. Is that okay?"

You look up, your eyes slightly widdened, the thought of his pretty cock framed like that made you so unbearably aroused, your pussy throbbing.

"More than okay, Jinnie."- you say, leaning closer to him without even realizing it, and your knee brushes against his bulge.

"Ah..."- he moans a little, his head falling back, eyelids droopy as he looks at you.

"Sorry, didn't mean to do that."- you swallow.

"I don't mind."- he says quietly, legs spreading more as he moves his hips up, brushing against your knee.

"Hyunjin."- you say in a warning tone but his hands grip at the sheets as he starts slowly rutting against you.

You want to stop him but he looks so freaking hot with his lips parted, knuckles white and pupils blown as he ruts against you like a desperate dog.

"You can't cum Hyunjin, I need more pictures before that."- you warn him, your hands on his hips, pressing down to stop his movement.

"S-sorry. I'm sorry, I don't know what came over me."- he looks pathetic and embarassed as he tears his eyes away from you.

You chuckle, arousal dripping on your lace panties as you grab your camera.

You stand up on the bed, balancing for a moment before you speak up.

"You look really pretty when you're pathetic like that."- you smirk, snapping a few pictures of his already fucked out face.

"Yeah? You wanna make me more pathetic then?"- he taunts.

"Don't challenge me, pretty boy."- you say.

"Why not?"- he bites on his lip, you can see he's so desperate for you to do anything, touch him in any kind of way and though you always flirted with him, you never went this far before.

Your mind is getting a little cloudy at the sight of Hyunjin under you like that, like he's giving himself to you on a silver platter.

"I don't know if you can handle it."- you whisper.

"I can."- he's sure of himself and you know you're going to have so much fun with him.

You've noticed he always stares at your feet and you smirk, your eyes getting hazy as you find your balance on the bed again and place your foot on his thigh.

Hyunjin jerks under your touch immediately, leaning into you. You slide your foot towards his cock before you press into his erection.

"Ah!"- Hyunjin whimpers, his back arching on the bed as you start slowly moving your foot on his length, his cock twitching every time you touch his head.

"Y/n... fuck."- he whines and you use that moment to take more pictures of him.

His eyes snap open as he looks up at you, his vision blurry from the pleasure you're giving him, your toes circling his head that's leaking pre cum, forming a wet patch on his boxers.

"You really are pathetic, Hyunjin."- you chuckle lowly. "This is what you get off to?"

"Mm, yes, yes!"- he whines, his hips lifting up into your touch as you speed up and press harder into him.

His cock twitches violently against you, and he looks more beautiful than before, his face and neck flushed, his nipples perky, face fucked out and hair messy, his legs spread for you.

You use that moment to take more pictures of him, ones you will keep only in your private collection.

"Say it, pretty boy. Say what you are."- you demand.

"Pathetic! I'm pathetic!"- he whines loudly, face scrunching up in pleasure and you know he's close. His thighs shake and you smirk evilly.

"Yes, you are. A pathetic slut."- you say and he whimpers your name loudly before you remove your foot, leaving him hanging on the edge, ruining his orgasm.

"W-why'd you stop?!"- he gasps, fisting the sheets in frustration. You snap a picture as you laugh.

"I told you not to challenge me. And we're not done with work."- you say, kneeling down between his legs. "I need your cock to be wet and hard for the next pictures."- you caress his thigh and he moans, tears of frustration gathering in his eyes.

"Will you let me cum after that?"- he asks and he looks so fuckable in that moment that you just want to put away your camera and fuck his brains out but somehow you manage to calm down.

"Maybe."- you say and he sighs, wiping at his eyes.

"You really are mean."- he pouts.

"Just take those off and shut up."- you pinch his nipple quickly and he gasps, his eyes widdening and cheeks becoming even more flushed.

He obeys your command and slides his boxers down, throwing them somewhere on the side.

His cock slaps against his stomach, it's painfully hard and throbbing, the tip is red and angry, pre-cum oozing out of it, the vein running over his length is prominent. But what grabs your attention most is the neatly trimmed bush framing his cock so perfectly and you can't help the gush of arousal pooling on your panties.

Hyunjin shrinks a little under your eyes as you keep staring at his cock.

"I-is it okay like that?"- he asks, his voice wavering.

"It's so fucking hot."- you lick your lips.

"Really?"- Hyunjin shivers when you look into his eyes darkly.

"Really."- you whisper, hand reaching towards him. He thinks you'll wrap it around his cock, instead you place it on his navel, fingers gently running down his happy trail to his bush, playing with the hairs and lightly pulling on them. Hyunjin jolts, his cock twitching as electricity runs through his body.

"Oh... oh that feels good."- he whines as you play with his hair.

"Touch yourself for me, will you?"- you say, smirking as you move your hand away again and he whines in frustration again.

"Anything for you."- he says and the look in his eyes confirms his words, he would really do anything for you.

His long thin fingers wrap around his swollen cock as he starts stroking it.

"Slower."- you order and he obeys, hand moving painfully slowly as little moans spill from his lips. His eyes are trained on you as you keep taking pictures of him.

"Spread your legs more. Let me see everything, pretty."- you smirk and Hyunjin spreads his legs, bringing them up as he leans down on his elbow.

"This good?"- he asks, his voice breaking and lower than usually as he struggles not to jerk off faster.

"So good."- you chuckle and keep snapping pictures of him. Hyunjin's going crazy, he wants some kind of release but you have different plans for him.

"Stop now."- you say and he whimpers but moves his hand to the side, gripping at the sheets again as you snap photos of his pretty cock.

"Are those for work or for you?"- he smirks, almost breathless.

"Wouldn't you like to know?"- you smirk back at him and he sits up, his face close to yours.

"I can give you even better pictures for your private collection."- he whispers lowly.

"Oh yeah? What do you get out of it?"- you ask with a smirk.

"You."- he says.

"You want me?"- you chuckle, placing your hand on his chin and holding his face firmly in place.

"I want you so bad."- he whines.

"If you want me, Hyunjin... You're gonna have to be a good boy and take what I give you without complaints."- you warn, your voice sultry and low, your camera forgotten on the side.

"Okay, I can do that. I can be good for you."- he says quickly and you chuckle at his eagerness.

"We'll see about that."- you say and before he can answer you grab him and easily turn him on his stomach as he shrieks and scrambles to grab at the sheets.

Your hand wraps around the back of his neck as you push his face into the bed, your pelvis colliding with his ass. You lean over him, your other hand slowly running down his spine as Hyunjin shivers, his eyes wide and breaths ragged.

"You think you can take me, Jinnie?"- you chuckle lowly, blowing at his ear as your hand comes down to grip his asscheek and he mewls under you, scratching at the bed.

"Y-yes."- he whispers.

"Are you sure? This sweet hole looks so very tight."- your fingertips press into his fluttering entrance, just to tease him a little.

He gasps, leaning into your touch as his eyes roll back.

"I- yes, I can take it! Please!"- he whines desperately, dragging the tip of his cock against the satin sheets.

His eyes close in anticipation but you move away completely, leaving him bare and he hears the clicks of your camera before he can even open his eyes and look at you.

He starts getting up, but you're quick to place your hand on his back and push him down.

"Did I say you could move?"- you snap at him and Hyunjin shivers.

"N-no."- he gulps loudly and you tower over him.

"Then why did you move?"- you ask, pinching his butt and he jolts and whimpers.

"I won't do it again, I swear!"- he cries out as you smack his ass and watch as it jiggles deliciously.

"Good slut."- you smirk and leave him on the bed as you put your camera aside and go to your table. There's a drawer in the table, holding all kinds of fun things and Hyunjin breathes deep as he kneels on all fours.

It wouldn't be the first time he got fucked in the ass but no one was ever this demanding and degrading towards him and he was so excited that he felt like could cum untouched any moment now.

You found a bottle of lube and an unused butt plug, your feet padding on the floor and you get back to Hyunjin as he eagerly awaits for you.

"Eyes up front."- you say as you kneel behind him, placing the stuff on the side. You spread his legs more with yours and he whimpers a little, his hands gripping at the sheets above his head.

You practically drool at the sight of him, face down and ass up, his pretty hole on display just for you, the muscles on his arms flexing as he grips and releases the sheets.

You decide to take your sweet time with him, knowing how hard he is and how close to his release he is, the sadist in you loving the power you have over such a beautiful man.

You run your hands down his back to his dainty waist, grabbing it and caressing his soft skin. Your hands slide down to his ass and the back of his thighs as you explore his body, squeezing, slapping, fondling, worshipping.

Hyunjin keeps shivering and breathing hard as he leans into your hands, hungry for more, like he's never been touched before.

"P-please..."- he begs and you chuckle, spanking him lightly.

"You're gonna have to do better than that, pretty boy."- you click your tongue, grabbing his ass harshly and he moans, fingertips digging into the matress.

"Please, y/n, please touch me!"- he whines.

"You want me to touch you?"- you smack his ass again.

"Ah! Yes, please touch me!"

"Where? Where do you want me to touch you?"- you smirk, your hands massaging his asscheeks, fingertips close to where he needs you the most.

"My- I want your fingers inside me, please!"- he begs and you chuckle.

"Was that so hard to say?"- you tease him.

"N-no, it wasn't."- he stutters as you grab the lube and pour it all over your fingers, warming it up a little, before you place two of them on his fluttering hole.

Hyunjin's thighs shake in anticipation as you press on it and start moving your fingers in a circling motion.

"Ah, mm..."- Hyunjin melts instantly, leaning into your touch. What was it about you that made him surrender so easily?

You keep massaging his hole, circling it slowly as it pulsates and opens up under your touch, and you lean down pressing your lips into his upper back.

"Ahh!"- Hyunjin whimpers, enjoying the attention you're giving him.

His cock hurts so bad by now, he hopes you'll let him cum soon before he loses control and cums untouched.

Your lips keep worshipping his back as you slowly push your finger into him. He tenses for a moment and you bring your other hand up to caress his lower back while you keep pushing into him.

"Y/n"- he whimpers your name as you wiggle your finger inside him.

"So tight. Just for me."- you smirk against his skin, leaving another kiss on his spine.

"Yes, just for you."- he whispers, his breath getting caught in his throat when you start sliding your finger inside him slowly.

"But I think you can take more."- you say, slowly pulling out to add more lube before you push two of your fingers inside him.

"Ah, fuck!"- Hyunjin's body jerks forwards as he whimpers loudly.

"Look at that. Such a slutty hole, taking my fingers so well."- you say, and Hyunjin hears the camera click.

"A-ah w-what-" - he stutters as you push your fingers as deep as you can.

"Private collection."- you chuckle as you curl your fingers and start fucking directly into his prostate, making him moan loudly and claw at the sheets, his cock dragging against the bed and leaking onto it, and he feels like exploding right away.

"Please don't stop, please don't stop, please..."- he keeps repeating, his body shaking as he gasps and moans.

You sneak your hand around him, sliding it against his navel, until your fingertips reach his bush and you start playing with it again, pulling on the hair. Hyunjin falls apart, moaning loudly, not even caring how pathetic he looks and sounds as he pushes his ass back into you and ruts his cock against the bed.

"You wanna cum, slut?"- you ask, running your fingers through his pubic hair and pressing them into his skin as you keep abusing his prostate.

His cock throbs and he can't hold it in anymore, his body shakes violently, sweat sliding down his forehead.

"P-please I wanna cum."- he cries and you laugh, you got him exactly where you want him.

"Pretty boy wants to cum."- you mock him.

"Yes, please y/n! Please!"- he begs again.

"Will you let me do whatever I want with you?"- you smirk as you keep fucking into him fast, your other hand grabbing his balls and massaging them.

"Oh my fu- yes, yes you can do whatever you want with me!"- he whines and you smirk.

"You can cum."- you say and Hyunjin's whole body convulses as he explodes hard onto the bed, spurts of cum keep painting the sheets as he moans your name over and over again.

"Fuck, what a dirty slut you are."- you smack his ass hard as you pull out your fingers.

His hole flutters and he whimpers at the empty feeling.

"A pathetic dirty slut. Aren't you?"- you ask sternly, your hand tangled in his hair as you pull his head back.

"Yes, I'm a pathetic dirty slut!"- he cries.

You snicker, leaning away from him and he looks back at you, his eyes teary, sweat on his forehead.

"Wh-what are you doing?"- he asks, straining his neck and trying to look at your hands.

"See this pretty butt plug? I think it'd look even prettier inside you."- you say. "Don't you agree?"- you ask, teasing his entrance with it.

"Mm, yes. Put it in, boss."- he whines and you chuckle as you push the butt plug inside him slowly, watching his sweet hole swallowing it greedily.

When it's pushed all the way in, you caress his ass as you grab your camera.

"Be sweet and stay like that."- you say and Hyunjin just whimpers, the butt plug designed specifically to stimulate his prostate and his cock is getting hard again, twitching against the bed.

You snap a few pictures before you stand up and grab your shoes.

"Where are you going?"- Hyunjin shivers, still not moving from the position you ordered him to stay in.

"We are going to my house, pretty. Get dressed."- you say and Hyunjin's eyes widden as he scrambles to get up, his legs like jelly from the orgasm before and the toy inside him, stimulating him constantly.

You only ever brought one of your models home before, Nelle, and you had so much fun with her but Hyunjin was something different, he was captivating to you like no one else and a small part of you hoped this wasn't the last time you'd be going home with him.

Hyunjin barely managed to get dressed, having to somehow tuck his semi hard cock back into his boxers, whimpering while doing so and you enjoyed watching him struggle, he looked good enough to eat in that moment.

You practically dragged him to your car after locking up the studio and he sat in the passenger seat with a loud whimper, the butt plug pressing into his prostate harder.

The whole drive to your apartment, Hyunjin was tortured, he tried to get off somehow, gyrating his hips and palming himself but you slapped his thigh every time he did that, warning him to be good.

"Stop that or I won't let you cum all night."- you pinch his plushy thigh and he whimpers.

"S-sorry."- he apologizes, sweat trickling down his forehead as he breathes hard.

He almost fell apart by the time you arrived at your building and you had to help him walk to the entrance.

When you enter your apartment, Hyunjin looks around, trying to take in the modern art that was displayed everywhere in your space, the smell of you mixed with remnants of some kind of spicy scented candle was overflowing his senses and his body was buzzing.

"Want something to drink?"- you tease and he whines.

"Y/n please..."

"Please what? You have to use your words, pretty. Tell me exactly what you want or I won't do anything."- you smirk, pushing him against the wall, your thigh lodged between his legs, your hand holding his face firmly.

His eyes roll back as he whimpers and tries to rut against you.

"You can form a sentence, can't you?"- you say in a mocking tone, your hand sliding down to wrap around his neck.

"Y-yes... I-I want you to fuck me, please."- he whimpers and you laugh, stepping back from him.

"Oh you're gonna have to work hard for that."- you say, grabbing his wrist gently and leading him to your room.

"I'll do anything! I swear!"- he scrambles behind you.

"Strip."- you order as you push him into your room, closing the door with your foot.

Hyunjin obeys quickly, peeling off his clothes and throwing it aside.

"You're making a mess, Hyunjin."- you warn and he gasps, grabbing his clothes from the floor and placing it on the chair next to your table.

"Sorry."- he mutters, his face is flushed as he looks down, avoiding your eyes and awaiting your next order.

"Kneel."- you say and his eyes widden a little before he falls on his knees, hitting your carpet with a muffled thud.

"Hands on your back, head down."- you order and he does everything you say.

You can see his breathing is becoming ragged, his pretty cock twitching and leaking down onto your expensive carpet.

"You're gonna wait like that and I don't want to hear a peep from you, understood?"

"Yes, boss."- Hyunjin whimpers quietly, eyes glued down to his body.

You leave the room and a few moments later, Hyunjin hears the shower running.

He curses under his breath, you're really enjoying torturing him. But, he knows he wouldn't be here if he wasn't enjoying it.

His mind keeps making up scenarios of what you would do to him, he wondered if you're even gonna let him taste you or fuck you.

His cock was getting painfully hard at the image of you riding his face, making him suffocate on your sweet pussy as your plush thighs frame his face perfectly.

He wanted to touch himself so bad but he knew you'd punish him for that, even though he would take your punishments happily, he'd rather you reward him for his good behaviour so he stays still.

You come back some ten minutes later, refreshed and naked, the only thing you have on is a strap on and Hyunjin dares to look up at you, his eyes bulging out of his skull as he whimpers.

"Pretty boy, is this what you want?"- you ask, strolling closer to him.

"Y-yes, please."- he whimpers again.

"Cock slut."- you snicker at him, hand in his hair as you grip him and pull on his head harshly.

"Ah!"- he moans loudly, his fingertips digging into his palms, his thighs and biceps flexing and straining as his hard cock twitches.

"Suck."- you simply order, pressing the tip of your cock on his plump lips. Hyunjin's eyes get hazy instantly as he wraps his pretty cherry lips around your tip.

He looks so sweet as he keeps his eyes on yours, sucking eagerly on the head of the dildo, getting it wet with his spit as it drips down his chin.

"You can take more."- you say lowly, pressing his head towards you and pushing more of it in. He moans around you, swallowing around your cock as his eyes roll back.

You fuck his face slowly and Hyunjin keeps moaning, taking more in, the gagging noises he makes as he chokes on the dildo get you extremely wet and horny.

"You look so pretty with your mouth full of cock. You were made just for this."- you smirk, reaching towards the table you were near to and grabbing your camera that was left there.

Hyunjin whimpers around you, choking on your length again.

"I'm gonna take a few pictures of your pathetic face, slut. Stay just like that."- you say as he swallows as much of the dildo as he can.

Hyunjin tries to breathe through his nose so he doesn't gag while you take pictures and his cock keeps leaking and throbbing painfully, begging for any kind of release.

You put your camera aside and start fucking his face, Hyunjin whines around you, his hands coming up to grip at your thighs so he doesn't fall from the sheer strength you're moving your hips with.

"Why are you touching me?"- you slap his cheek with two of your fingers lightly before you pull out of his mouth.

Hyunjin coughs, eyes fluttering as he grabs at his throat and looks up at you.

"Fuck, I'm sorry!"- he whines and you smirk, circling around him. He tries to turn around but you place your foot on his upper back and force him down into the carpet, his cheek leaned on it and his ass lifted up.

"You wanna be fucked, slut?"- you ask, holding his head down with your foot.

"P-please..."- he whimpers.

"Let me see you fuck yourself with the butt plug. I wanna see how much you want it."- you say with an insidious smile.

Hyunjin's hand is shaky as he reaches behind him and grips the base of the toy. He mewls as he starts moving it in and out of his hole slowly.

"Do you even want it? Try harder."- you press your foot between his shoulder blades, holding him down as his eyes wander and look at you.

He whines and starts fucking himself faster, his free hand gripping at the carpet as he tries his best.

"Faster, slut!"- you lean down and spank him hard making him jolt and whimper loudly.

"F-fuck!"- he swears, moving his arm faster, fucking the butt plug right into his prostate. His eyes are shut tightly, his cock is constantly twitching and he's close to his release.

"Faster!"- you smack him again.

"M-my arm hurts."- he whimpers and you chuckle.

"You're acting like a little princess, Hyunjin. You want me to lay you down and do all the work?"- you ask, moving your foot away and leaning closer to him, your hand covering his and helping him fuck himself.

"N-no! I want what you want!"- he cries.

"No, you don't. You don't get to want anything. I told you not to taunt me, didn't I?"- you smirk, pushing the butt plug deep inside his hole.

"I'm sorry, boss. I'm so sorry!"- tears gather in his eyes and you smirk, slapping his hand away and pulling the butt plug out.

"You're gonna do all the work."- you chuckle lowly, sitting on the bed as Hyunjin kneels and looks at you.

"I am?"- he asks, confused as to what you're asking him to do.

"Yes. What are you waiting for? Come and sit on my dick, slut."- you order and Hyunjin gasps, scrambling to his feet and almost running to you.

You have your camera with you and a bottle of lube which you hand to Hyunjin.

"Make me wet."- you say and he whimpers as he spreads the lube on his hands before he grabs the dildo and starts jerking it off.

His eyes fall to your breasts and he wishes he could suck on your sweet nipples and lay his face on them but at this point, he's sure you wouldn't allow that.

Hyunjin straddles you, hovering over your cock and you watch him with a smirk.

He grabs his asscheeks, spreading them apart and slowly sliding his hole on the wet strap-on.

The tip catches his pulsating hole and he mewls loudly as he slowly brings his hips down on yours, taking the whole thing in one slide, filled up to the hilt.

The way he looks in that moment is worth thousands of pictures and you grab your camera. Hyunjin stays still as you take pictures of him, his hole clenching around you, his cock twitching constantly, the pre-cum dripping down and pooling on your stomach.

"Come on, fuck yourself pretty boy."- you smirk and Hyunjin starts slowly sliding up and down on your cock, his dick jumping up and down with every move he makes, his thighs flexing from all the hard work he's doing.

"S-shit, ahh!"- he moans, beads of sweat already covering his forehead and sliding down the side of his face.

Your eyes roam all over his frame and you can't believe you have a man this beautiful falling apart on top of you.

Your eyes keep falling down to his cute bush, wanting to touch him again and pump his pretty cock, milk him dry until he cries for you to stop.

But you're patient and you let him set the pace for a little while as he gradually keeps speeding up, his hole hungry to be filled.

His eyes are closed and you smirk as you grab his hips and start fucking up into him without warning.

"Ah! Fuck!"- he almost screams, his eyes snapping open and finding yours.

You're fucking up into him fast and hard, using all your strength to abuse his prostate and he keeps moaning loudly, fucking himself on you like a feral animal.

"Look at you, taking my cock so well."- you praise him. "You were made for this."

"Yes, I was made to take your cock!"- Hyunjin moans, his mind completely gone as he chases his high.

"You're not allowed to cum yet."- you say and he whines.

"P-please, please, I need to cum! Please, I wanna cum for you, show you how good you make me feel."- he begs, his eyes glassy, the look in them like a kicked puppy and you adore him so much in that moment.

"Fine, but there will be consequences."- you smirk but Hyunjin just thanks you over and over again as he lets go, his cum shooting out and covering your stomach in it, a few drops reaching your breasts.

Before he can even come down from it, you manage to flip him over with your cock still inside him.

He gasps, grabbing at your sheets as you hover over him, pulling the dildo out of him only to push it back in harshly, bottoming out inside him.

"Fuck!"- he curses, tears and sweat mixing on his face and you grab his sensitive cock and spit on it.

"Y/n..."- he cries as you start jerking his soft cock, moving the dildo slowly inside him.

"It's not y/n to you!"- you warn him with a slap on his cheek and Hyunjin gasps, his cock twitching in your hand from the pain you gave him.

"Boss! I'm sorry!"- he apologizes for the nth time tonight and you push in deeply, placing your hand on his stomach and pressing down.

Hyunjin moans, his legs jerking up and you chuckle.

"See how deep inside you I am? You love being filled up like this cause you're just a little cock slut. My cock slut."- you run your hand down and pull on his little bush.

"I'm your cock slut!"- Hyunjin whines, arching into your touch as you keep stimulating him both on the outside and the inside.

His cock hurts and he thinks he can't take anymore but you know he can. You keep jerking him off, running your fingertip on his slit, your other hand playing with the hair framing his dick, your cock deep inside him, the tip pressing into his sweet spot.

Hyunjin has completely surrendered to you, his head lolling to the side as he lets you torture him.

When he's fully hard again, you slide your cock out of him and he looks up at you, his eyes almost crossed from the pleasure running through his body.

"Get on all fours."- you order and he slowly turns around, his face smushed in your pillow and ass up in the air. You stand up and Hyunjin's eyes follow you as you open up a drawer. His heart beats fast as he wonders what you'll pull out of it this time.

"Close your eyes and put your hands above your head."- he obeys, his forehead pressing into your pillow as he breathes hard.

You place one handcuff on his wrist, putting the chain around the headboard of your bed before you snap the other handcuff closed around his wrist. Hyunjin whimpers, looking up at his restrained hands.

"Spread your legs more."- you say and he does as he's told. He looks down between his legs and sees you grabbing more restraints. His heart skips a beat when you secure the bar between his legs, keeping them spread apart for you.

"Oh god..."- Hyunjin whimpers loudly, trying to close his legs just to test it but he can't.

"This is to make sure you don't try to close your legs on me."- you smirk, your hands roaming on his back, ass and the back of his thighs.

"I would never!"- he says and you chuckle.

"Good boy."- you praise him, hands on his asscheeks as you spread them apart.

You slowly push inside his little hole, stretching him to adjust you again and Hyunjin grips at the handcuffs, moans spilling from his pretty lips as you bottom out.

"Since you wanted to cum so badly earlier, you will cum now. As many times as I want you to."- you snicker and grip his hips, fucking into him harshly.

"A-ah!"- Hyunjin's voice breaks as his eyes widden.

Your hips keep slapping into his as you fuck his ass, his cock brushing against your sheets contantly as he drools on your pillow, little moans and groans spilling out of his lips, making your pussy throb with arousal.

Two orgasms later, Hyunjin is constantly trying to close his legs and move away but you keep pushing him back on your cock, you know he's okay unless he uses his safeword.

Your hand tangles in his hair and you grip it, pulling his head back, your other hand wrapping around him to grab his tortured cock.

"I- I can't..."- he's crying and drooling, his body sweaty and his muscles aching.

"You can give me one more, I know you can."- you coo at him and he whines, he will try for you. "Yours is a greedy little hole."- you smirk.

You fuck into his prostate, jerking him off at the same pace and Hyunjin's whole body shudders violently as he moans so loudly that you know the neighbours can hear him.

"B-boss ahh, it hurts!"- he moans.

"You love that, you little slut. Come on, give me one more!"- you order, smacking his ass hard.

Hyunjin chokes on his spit as he spasms, coming all over your hand and the sheets and you milk him dry as he shakes.

"No more... please no more..."- he cries and you finally release him and slide out of his abused hole.

"Wow."- you grab the camera and snap a few pictures of his ruined body as he shivers.

"P-please, untie me."- he says and your eyes soften as you put the camera on the night stand.

You remove the restraints slowly, removing your strap too before you put your arms around Hyunjin and pull him into your body. Both of you are sweaty and gross and the bed is a mess but neither of you care as you cling onto each other.

"You okay?"- you ask, running your hands through his damp hair.

"Mhm. So good."- he whispers, the side of his face smushed into your breast.

"I'm gonna run us a bath and you wait here, okay?"- you say and Hyunjin looks up at you with a dopey smile.

"You forgot something, boss."- he says.

"What is it?"- you ask and he sits up as best as he can, his face close to yours.

"You never kissed me."- he pouts and you chuckle as he leans in.

"Can I?"- he whispers on your lips.

"I think we're way pass that."- you say and press your lips into his.

The kiss is heated and messy like both of you were thirsty and couldn't get enough of each other, teeth nipping at your lips, your tongues dancing together, spit dribbling down your chins.

"I- I didn't get to make you cum."- he pouts at you sweetly again.

"That is something you need to deserve, darling."

"I will work extra hard for that, I promise."- Hyunjin's hand is on your cheek and your heart stirs awake at his touch.

"I believe you."- you whisper, leaning in to kiss him again.

"By the way, I was gonna ask you something before all this happened."- he says as you get up to prepare the bath.

"Yes?"

"What are you doing tomorrow at 7pm?"- he smirks.

"Depends on what you're offering."- you smirk back.

"I was gonna ask you out on a d-date."- he stutters shyly and you almost melt into a puddle. "There's this gallery I wanted to visit and we could grab some dinner too?"

His eyes are big and pleading as he stares up at you and the small part of you that hoped to take Hyunjin home more than once, grows bigger.

"Alright, it's a date, pretty boy."

✨Taglist: @moonchild9350 @janepg @velvetmoonlght @hwanghyunjinismybae @jehhskz

[witch-hazels-musings]

i'd know the difference

warning -> none, sfw, fluff <3 | happy birthday Diluc

diluc x gn reader | Anthology

His back was tired. Tense muscles ignited by the sunlight pouring through the window. Diluc rolled his shoulder, dug his fingers into his trapezius muscle, and squinted at the sharp pain that ran down his arm.

The forms on his desk hardly dwindled since this morning. He swore they multiplied each time he placed one neatly into an envelope and pressed his seal into the ruby wax.

A knock at his study drew his gaze. "Sir, Diluc, the barrels are ready for inspection." A muffled voice slipped under the doorframe, their movements silenced by the heavy wood.

"I will be there momentarily," Diluc responded as his father's fountain pen glided across the final page of a contract. Another seller from Inazuma. Requests from the sealed-away nation had increased substantially after the Raiden Shogun opened trade routes. While it meant the Winery was bound to see a profitable quarter, he was bound to see many more sleepless nights.

Diluc filed the contract away into a water-sealed container and dropped it into a small, wooden box meant for outgoing correspondence. Three other letters softened the container's fall. He hadn't even made it halfway through.

---

The halls of the Winery were filled with still light, the decorated walls made everything compact but he had grown used to the opulent clutter. As a child, he spent many hours staring at the picture frames. Distant lands he hoped one day to traverse; he did and found that each depiction served little justice to the actual thing. The ornate rug muffled his steps and he moved swiftly toward the stairs. He fussed with his vest until something soft grazed his arm.

A fresh bouquet of flowers was placed on a tall, rounded table near the balcony overlooking the lower floor. A rich, sweet, earthy aroma filled his nose. Shades of royal blue, amber, and honey mixed with lush green. He rubbed a petal with his thumb and index finger, the satin texture unaffected by the roughness of his hand.

The corner of his lips lifted.

---

"There you are," Diluc said from the garden's edge. He had a feeling you'd be out here. Hard at work preparing beautiful arrangements you'd later place in the Winery. If he wasn't careful, he'd be trapped here forever watching you weave through the swaying flowers. He thought to ask a painter to capture the scene, but, in the end, he decided against it - there were some things he preferred to keep to himself.

"Morning," you called out, rising from the flower bed. With the back of your hand, you pushed up your sun hat.

The metal click of the gate rang out as Diluc made his way into the garden, narrow paths made it difficult for him to see where his feet landed while you moved through them with practiced grace. "How long have you been out here?" he asked.

"About as long as you've been cooped up in your study. I figured once you'd ultimately emerged, you'd appreciate being greeted by something lovely," you explained as you shooed a bug away from the ends of his hair.

"So why were you not waiting for me then?" he asked, teasingly, but in his heart he was serious. Your face was the thing he enjoyed most.

You shook your head and leaned in to kiss his cheek. "I'll remember that for next time." With ease, you turned down the path and made your way to a sun-bleached table holding several bundles of partially trimmed flowers. He followed after you.

Diluc watched you work. Skilled fingers stripping the stems of their leaves, the soft clipping of prunes as you, one by one, measured the height of each flower. He moved in, drawn to you like the bees to the flowers.

"You smell divine," he professed and reached to steal your hat so he could kiss your head. The sun clung to every strand of your hair and warmed his desperate lips.

"Are you sure it's not just the flowers?" you asked, chuckling softly, your hands busy with bundling a fresh bouquet.

"I'm sure." Diluc stepped closer to you, his chest pressing against your back, his fingers trailing down your arm and fixing the shawl that had fallen off while you worked. He kissed the space below your ear and breathed you in. "I'd know the difference anywhere."

You turned just enough to look into his eyes and the sight of your face made his heart beat wildly. He shielded you with your hat and, with a gentle hand he cupped your throat, his thumb held your chin so he could keep you still and let his lips linger against your own until he was satisfied.

Even in a field of flowers, none of them compared to you - none could ever compare to his favorite.

[harry-on-broadway]

Italian Sun

A/N: Felt inspired after yesterday’s pictures so here’s some unedited rambling. Enjoy!

***

It had only been a week, but you were already grappling with your new reality.

The reality of Harry being at home, at last.

Home, for now, was the Italian villa you all often decamped to when you had a few weeks off. He’d been making plans for the end of tour since the holidays and while specifics had changed, one thing had remained consistent: he wanted to spend time in Italy, relaxing and catching up with all of his family and friends he’d neglected for the past two years.

“Neglected? Don’t you think that’s a little dramatic?” you teased when he first brought up the idea. “We’re literally driving home from your mother’s house.”

“You know what I mean,” he’d said, his face scrunching the way it did when he felt like his words were being misconstrued. “I’m just never around and when I am I feel like I’m so behind. Like…like I’m watching the season finale of a show I’ve never seen before. Everything’s different when I come back.”

“I’m not.”

“That’s what you think.”

“Oh?”

“It’s the little things. You cut your hair. You found a new coffee you like. You started listening to a new podcast. And I’ve missed it all.”

When he put it that way, your heart broke. He rarely complained, knowing that the life he was living was envied by many. But you felt for him, hearing how hard this was on him. “Well, start putting together a guest list. I guess we’re all going to Italy in July.”

Which is how you found yourself rooming with Harry’s closest friends and family in the week following the final show of Love on Tour, sharing meals, memories, and adventures with everyone. The extra glow coming off of Harry didn’t go unnoticed by you and you could feel happiness and contentment radiating off of him when he snuggled in close to you each night.

Today was the last day that everyone would be all together before the group started to head out, leaving you and Harry alone. He’d wanted the final day to be the best yet and had planned an itinerary filled with boating and sunbathing and, according to him, the best Italian dinner yet.

You had to give him credit. It was the best day yet. Games were played, naps were taken, and the picnic basket of cheeses, breads, and meats that Harry himself had packed was delicious. But the day also came with an added perk for you.

While almost everyone had donned swimwear for the occasion, displaying all sorts of skin, Harry took it to another level. His shirt was hanging precariously on his body, a single button keeping it from being blown away, and his swim trunks had been rolled up and pulled low on his hips (to avoid tan lines, he explained).

And the hat.

The fucking hat. A bright pink bucket cap, with the word ‘Daddy’ written across the front, that someone had thrown onstage in Australia. He’d said he picked it up as a joke, but the fact that he’d held onto it across countries and time zones, made you think otherwise. You saw how he carried himself with an extra hint of swagger when he wore it, and you hated to admit it, but something stirred inside of you when you caught a glance of him, hat and all, driving the boat with all of the ease of a seasoned pro. You prayed no one could tell how that scene affected you.

Now, with dinner on the horizon, you were trying to put those steamy thoughts out of your head and focus on what you should wear. You’d narrowed it down to two brightly colored dresses, when you felt two hands cover your eyes.

“Guess who?”

“Hmmmmm,” you pondered. “Could it be my boyfriend? You know, the guy who organized this magnificent trip after breaking records worldwide for the past couple of years?”

“He sounds like a catch.”

“He’s not that bad. He’s easy on the eyes.”

“Easy on the eyes, huh?” Harry moved his hands down to your hips and spun you around so you were facing him.

“Yeah, and he looks even better when he’s half-naked, driving a boat.”

“Mmmm.” Harry’s hands moved lower so that they were resting on the cleft of your ass. “Must have been pretty hot.”

“Oh, yeah, super sexy. I wish I could have jumped him right there. Especially in that hat.”

“Wait, what,” Harry laughed, breaking whatever character he’d been playing. “Are you serious?”

You shrugged. “What can I say, there’s something about that whole scene that really turned me on. And, sex on a boat sounds kind of fun. Shame we couldn’t try that out.” Harry swallowed, his throat bobbing as he processed what you said. “Harry?” you asked after a moment. “Are you still with me?”

“Yeah, I’m just trying to think why the fuck I thought it would be a good idea to invite everyone on this trip. I could’ve been having sex on a boat.”

“It’s not a boat but we can still have some fun,” you whispered, fingers delicately trailing down the exposed skin of his chest.

“Yeah?”

You nodded and Harry darted across the room to shut the door to your suite, trying to tear his shirt off at the same time. “Slow down, baby,” you said. “We’ve got time.”

Harry took a deep breath, calming himself as he nodded and opened his arms for you. His hands skated over your body, much of your skin already exposed thanks to your swimsuit, before they landed on your jaw, tipping your head back to bring your lips to his.

You felt heat course through your body at his slightest touch and were amazed that he was still able to elicit this reaction from you. You felt your nipples stiffen through the flimsy material of your swimsuit when Harry’s already sizable erection brushed against your thigh and you couldn’t stop thinking about feeling him inside of you.

“Bed, now,” Harry panted when he broke away from the kiss, and you backed up until you could feel the mattress behind your knees.

You fell backwards, bouncing slightly when you landed, and when you raised yourself up onto your elbows to find Harry, he had already dropped to the ground, his hands nimbly shimmying your swim bottoms down your legs. The garment discarded somewhere in the room, you felt Harry’s lips on your ankle, then up your calf, then at the inside of your knee. You knew what this was building too, but that didn’t stop you from letting out a gasp of surprise when his lips finally found your center.

“Oh fuck,” you moaned, voice barely above a whisper for fear of alerting the rest of your party to what you were up to. You threw your head to the side, trying to muffle the sound of your pleasure with the pillow.

Theoretically, the two of you were due downstairs for dinner in roughly a half hour, but Harry showed no urgency as he slowly licked at your core, speeding up, then slowing down right as you were about to topple over the edge. It was hard to focus on anything but the feel of him between your legs. You reached down, hand moving blindly until your hands found purchase in his hair. The sensation of his soft curls between your fingers grounded you as you bucked up against his lips, wanting even more than he was already giving you.

“Is this good?” he asked.

All you could manage was a breathless moan as his fingers slid inside, easily undoing you. You opened your eyes and tried to catch your breath as Harry appeared over top of you licking his fingers clean with a satisfying pop. “That really turns me on,” you finally wheezed out.

“What? That?”

“No, the fact that you remember what works for me. It’s just something about the way you care for me. You always act like you don’t remember anything and you have no clue what’s happening, but that’s not true H. You always remember what matters.”

You could see something burning in Harry’s eyes as you said that, not quite desire, but something close. “I’m always going to care about you,” he said, the words laced with emotion. “Nothing is ever going to change that.”

“Show me,” you said.

He rolled on top of you in one easy motion, and you opened your legs, giving him space to settle in. He kissed you, furiously, but nowhere near enough. You needed to feel him all over you, every inch. Skin on skin, nothing between you.

“What the hell are these shorts still doing on you?” you whined, fingers digging into the fabric of his tiny trunks.

“I could say the same about this,” he all but grunted, struggling to undo the tie of your bathing suit top.

Free of obstructions, you all were able to lay together and take in the moment. You weren’t surprised when Harry buried his nose in the crook of your neck, inhaling and savoring the moment. It was something he’d made a habit of doing in recent months, after noticing that you’d changed body wash in his absence. He was upset at first, saddened by yet another detail he’d missed, but after that, he’d started to take more time to observe and remember every little thing about you.

After a few seconds, you felt his lips on your neck as he kissed his way to your mouth, and you could feel him smile into the kiss.

“Got time for one more?” he asked with a cheeky grin.

“Why stop there?”

“I think you might be overestimating my abilities, love.”

You pressed a kiss of your own to the spot right under his ear that you knew got him going. “You’ve never let me down, H.”

Without warning, he was inside you. He often paused upon entering you, giving you a moment to adjust and a moment for him to center himself. But today, he did no such thing, rocking back and forth in a steady rhythm. You made no effort to stop him either, tilting your hips up and pressing your heels into the small of his back to drive him further inside. The room was nearly silent, just the sound of your bodies moving in time broken by occasional panting, or the soft moans Harry stifled against your chest.

You glanced at him as he continued to drive into you. His eyes were shut tight and his forehead was wrinkled in concentration. It was the look he often wore when he was focused on not coming undone prematurely. Always the gentleman, he made every effort to ensure you were taken care of before he handled his own needs, but the rare occasions when he fell apart first drove you wild.

There was something so attractive about watching a man who was always in control, always looking out for others, come undone, something you’d once told him, earning an eye roll. You could tell he was nearing the edge as his thrusts became more frenzied and less rhythmic, while the wrinkles in his brow deepened.

You brought your lips to the shell of his ear, nipping at the skin, before soothing the bite with a kiss. “Let go,” you whispered in his ear. “For me.” You could feel his hesitation, so you played the ace you had been holding this whole time.

“Daddy.”

His whole body shuddered as he emptied inside of you, your orgasm following close behind. He collapsed, his entire body weight resting on top of you.

“Give me a sec,” he said. “I just—fuck.”

You chuckled lightly. “That good, baby?”

Harry shook his head in disbelief, as he lifted off the bed and padded to the bathroom, returning with a damp cloth. “Fucking amazing,” he muttered, as he moved to help you clean up. “Didn’t know that was uh, something you were into. You know, the daddy thing,” he added, trying to sound casual.

“Can’t say I am, but something about that hat just really got to me. Maybe something to think about in the future though?”

“For sure,” Harry said. “I mean, I’ve scheduled plenty of sex for us as part of this break.”

“So when do you leave again?” you teased.

Harry pinched your thigh lightly. “Not soon enough apparently.”

You leaned forward, grabbing him for a kiss. “It’s always too soon. But I’m happy to have you while I can.” You looked at the clock on the bedside table. “And I think all of your friends want to see you too, which means, we have to get ready. Now.”

“I’ll start the shower.”

“Harry!”

“What? It’s a time saver and a water saver.”

You rolled your eyes. “Remember, your friends will let us have it if we’re late.”

“Yeah, yeah. They’re getting a free vacation so they’ll keep quiet if they know what’s best for them.”

“Oooh, tough guy.” You grabbed your towel and headed to the bathroom, hearing Harry say something behind you. “What did you say?” you asked, turning around to find him standing there holding his hat from earlier in the day.

“I said I have to remember to send a thank you note,” he added quietly.

“To who?”

“Whoever threw that fucking hat on the stage. Never imagined it would get me laid.”

[return-of-a-space-cowboy]

🧚‍♀️ Anon

Coraline AU 🪡

Dio as Darling’s Husband

Johnathan as Darling’s Other Husband (It makes JoJo SO much scarier because he’s so sweet, kind, caring and loving that you don’t realize the predator he really is)

Johnathan is actually just lonely and hates what he has to do (So he devours villainous and evil individuals to ease his guilty mind)

JoJo’s true form wouldn’t be thin, instead he would be more muscular and bulky (Like a Goliath Bird Eater) with his even more massive height (He’s so big that he has a bit of a hard time squeezing through the ‘narrow’ *NORMAL* doors and his head will hit the Door Frame unless he lowers his head)

OR

Dio as the Other Husband

I haven’t read the book but I read somewhere that the Beldam had a Mother and she buried her in her backyard, and when she tried to crawl out, the Bedlam put her back in her grave, so I can picture Dio doing that to his father (But he grew tried of it so he killed him)

Dio is trying to Woo Darling into accepting him, but she’s too uncomfortable and feels creeped out that she doesn’t fall for his tricks

Darling doesn’t need an Other Husband when she has her beloved Johnathan (As he’s always been her sweet, gentle giant)

But what if after entering the door, she comes back every time she falls asleep? (And she can’t control it, but it started happening when she found that doll that looks exactly like her)

Because of it she thinks everything is a dream (But finds it weird and concerning that Jonathan is nowhere in sight)

Dio becomes frustrated as he’s never had prey like Darling before, as many women would swoon and fall to his feet for his affection (As he eats their lives up to sustain himself)

Darling becomes scared however when Dio tried to convince her to let him sew buttons in her eyes (And when she tried to stand up to him his appearance became more monstrous as his temper began to spike)

Darling finds the door and uses it to escape, only to her horror find out she’s been gone for days and Johnathan has been missing

She was horrified to find a doll of JoJo and figured out Dio took him so she must return to save her Husband

But here’s the twist, she thinks she sees JoJo when she returns to that world as she runs into his familiar arms and comforting smell, only to her horror to see Dio had attached his head to Johnathan’s body? (As he traps his Butterfly within his web with no chance of escape)

Sorry for the constant splurge, I’m currently haunted JJBA and it won’t leave me alone!

Oh boy! I've got news for you if you didn't already know. I've actually done this au before quite a few years ago. Only it was part 5 centric.

I love the idea of beldam Jonathan just being alone and clingy.

But the whole dio head on Jonathan's body at the end is just mmm... spicy.

For Jonathan I can imagine that reader isn't in a good environment, abusive even. Darling doesn't really know how to deal with their situation. That little door is their only escape and for a time that's all they need but something happens in the real world that pulls them away, something good and Jonathan noticed their distance. He tries to lul them back in but doesn't work.

So eventually Jonathan resorts to taking those who darling lives with. Perhaps there is one person he takes that wasn't abusive to darling and that leads them to try and save them.

For Dio I like the idea of darling thinking it's a dream. Darling is very distant to him despite everything he tries.

When they escape at first they think that Jonathan is at work or is out trying to look for them so they try to call him but he doesn't respond, which is strange as he usually drops everything when it has anything to do with them.

They go around asking neighbors and they tell darling he'd knocked on their door a couple of days earlier asking if they knew where darling was, they didn't and he told them he was going to go into town and file a police report. But he never ended up leaving the house after he went back in to grab the keys.

Darling goes back inside and eventually finds the doll and knows immediately what's happened.

They go back through the door and sees Jonathan standing in the kitchen (they can't see his head behind those damn archways, he'd always hit his head on them and were planning to have them removed during renovations).

They immediately run towards him and wrap their hands around him.

"Oh thank goodness you're safe" they'd say.

"Of course I'm safe, you'd think something would happen to me?" Dios voice would speak and That's when they'd look up and see what horrible form of frankensteining has happened to their husband.

[joshfuckingkiszka]

𝔈𝔫𝔡 𝔊𝔞𝔪𝔢 - 𝔍𝔐𝔎

jmk x f!reader

first of many, enjoy ;)

THIS BLOG IS 18+ MINORS DNI

warnings: mentions of alcohol, fake dating trope (it's a fave and I not be sorry), bit of angst, josh is a cutie

taylor's version masterpost

reputation masterpost

☮

Young Starlet Caught in Compromising Position!

Your publicist was less than pleased about the headline. Even though you had insisted nothing had happened, and that picture was simply a case of a bad angle. It wasn’t looking great, though. To be fair, the picture was pretty bad. A bruise painted your neck, lipstick smudged around your mouth as some guy grabbed your hips from behind.

It would be hard to explain yourself out of that one, to be honest. Regardless of whether the picture was accurately depicting your actions of the night, the fans had seen it. Your image had already been tainted in their eyes, and it would be nearly impossible to recover. 

Big reputation, big reputation Ooh, you and me, we got big reputations, ah

Rather than attempting to, it was decided that you required a rebrand. It started with the incorporation of darker clothes into your “wardrobe” - quoted only because it was what was chosen for you. Interviews began to shift to questioning the possibility of heavier music, to which you would coyly suggest it was possible. 

Then you released a new single. It caught the attention of rock fans everywhere. There was a sudden call for a genre change, which you hoped so desperately for. The last few years of your life had made you feel like a sell out. You traded the humanity and meaning in your music for tracks that would generate streams and ranks on charts. 

Within a couple years, no one remembered the popstar you had been. It was all about the rockstar you had become. And you were a big one. 

It wasn’t overwhelming anymore. The work you put in was hard and abundant, but it was genuine. It showed in the love that poured from the fans over social media and in the crowds of your sold out shows. 

A world tour was in the talks and an opening act was in question. Someone suggested a band you had heard a handful of times before: Greta Van Fleet, not that you ever really had time to immerse yourself in a new band. From the videos you’d seen and the songs you’d heard, you would be lucky to have them on tour with you. They were getting relatively popular and you knew you had to strike fast to get them on the setlist. 

“I have a surprise for you!” Gene, your publicist, exclaimed in a sing-song tune. 

“Ugh, last time you said that, I had a snake draped over my body. Still mad at you for that, actually.” You only looked up from your phone for the last sentence, otherwise preoccupied with a daunting game of 8 Ball with your best friend. 

“Well, this one I’m not sure is much better, if we’re being honest,” he trailed off, “the label loves you, you know that.” 

“Uh oh.” You weren’t worried. 

“But in a recent poll, they found that fans think you’re …how do I put this …boring?” He strung his words together carefully, as to not offend you. It wasn’t his tone of voice that concerned you. 

“Boring?! I’m practically fucking a mic stand every night!” 

“Not enough anymore, babe.” He was being rather nonchalant, and you realized that being called “boring” wasn’t even the main issue that was being presented. 

You narrowed your eyes at him, “So what are they going to do about it, Gene.” His name came out like the sparking embers of a fire on the forest floor. 

And I heard about you, ooh (yeah) You like the bad ones too

That was how you ended up at an intimate restaurant in Nashville, across from Josh Kiszka. He was nervous and it was actually kind of cute. It reminded you of a real date, something you hadn’t had in ages. 

“I like your dress. Green. That’s my favorite color,” his eyes raked over the silk of your dress. It extended to your ankles, a slit daring to expose your leg. The straps were a little tight, and prevented you from wearing a normal bra, and the tape holding up your breasts was peeling from sweat. 

“I know,” you chuckled, “everything about this is set up to be as persuasive as possible.”

“Oh. Either way. It looks great on you.” He was genuine, and as the night went on, you found that it wasn’t even his most endearing trait. 

Just as the clock was about to hit 11, he was standing on your front porch, wishing he didn’t have to leave. This was an arrangement, a plan to draw attention to the both of you, driving up streams and ticket sales. 

As you stood on your porch, hand lingering on the door as if it was a riddle, so close to him that you could practically taste the wine on his lips, you realized something. You realized that you were going to inevitably fall in love with Josh Kiszka, undeniable force meets immovable object. It was almost expected that dread would fill your stomach as you recognized this fate, but it never came. Instead, butterflies flew in its place. 

I've passed days without fun, this endgame is the one With four words on the tip of my tongue I'll never say

A month and half later, and several dates to show, you had proven yourself correct. But, who could blame you? What about Josh wasn’t lovable? 

“I don’t want to do this anymore,” you announced to the meeting. There were a few label executives, Gene, and Josh with his team. 

“What?” Josh was the first to say anything, and his face portrayed betrayal. 

“Yeah, what he said,” Gene added. 

You sighed, “I don’t want to pretend to be in a relationship anymore. That’s not what my job is, and I don’t see how it adds any value to my music.” 

“B-But, this is what’s going to sell the tickets. A love story, performing together in the throes of romance.” You glared at the executive. 

“No, our raw talent and meaningful music will sell tickets. I will not be told who I can date, when I can see them, and especially when I can break up with them. If that’s a problem, I’m sure another record label would have no problem meeting my demands.” 

This is what drew Josh to you: your fiery passion. In spite of that, he was upset, especially since you hadn’t even discussed it with him. He was under the impression that you liked him, maybe even liked him. God, he felt like a middle schooler again, paired with the pretty girl for a project only for her to ask for a different partner halfway through. 

I don't wanna touch you (I don't wanna be) Just another ex-love (you don't wanna see)

As it turns out, the label no longer had a problem meeting your demands. You waited outside the board room for Josh, pulling him aside when he came out, head hung low. 

“It’s not you, trust me.” 

“Oh, then it’s you?” 

“No. Listen, I don’t want to be told to date you, or what happens over the course of our ‘relationship.’ I don’t want the pressure of having to pretend to love you.” 

“I get it, believe me. You don’t have to explain.” 

“I want to do it by myself, on my terms. Love you, I mean. And believe me, I do.” 

He looked up for the first time, his eyes were beautiful. But you already knew that. 

“I don’t want to have to forget you, and never see you again because the tour is over. I want our love to be ours, and no one else’s.” 

Josh smiled, he agreed.

I wanna be your endgame, endgame

〚taglist〛

gvf: @doodle417, @brokenbellz, @gretavanfleas, @pyrojoshy, @greta-van-chaos, @xserenax-13, @hayley1623, @kdarling1, @autumns30, @keighoe, @chalametpwk, @sammysvanfeet, @shawnsthighs, @gretavanbitches, @sammiejane22, @gretavanbestie, @jordierama, @alexxavicry, @spark-my-nature, @rainy-darling

joshy: @prophetofthedune, @loofypoofy, @gretavangracee

[heyhihellosworld]

𝗙𝘂𝗰𝗸 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝘀𝗼𝗿𝗿𝘆

Mason Mount x reader

Word count: 1.2k

Summary: Mason leaves a bit too many clues and you can't keep it together anymore

Warnings: Angst, cheating

Notes: Was in angsty mood but finished it in a good mood so it didn't turn out great heh

It hadn't been hard figuring it out.

So many clues, bad hidden evidences that led to one and only one conclusion.

The late nights away, the off mood, the disdain to touch you in any way, the making up, the weird smelling perfume and the dumb excuses.

The most evident evidence was his friends. You didn't know what to call them, clueless or stupid. The clumsy attempts to stick up for him, the over-explaining and the dumbest fuck of them all almost telling you something he shouldn't.

The math had been easy, what you should do to solve it was a tougher problem though. Your thoughts where scattered, did you confront him? Did you pretend nothing happened? Did you act clueless or would you be selfish, call him out on it and scream out your frustration at his guilty face.

When you thought about it the last option was the most tempting one and to be real it wasn't selfish it was fair.

You were sitting on the couch, your sweat-set on and curled against the pillows in the corner and a hot cup of coffee in your hands as you pondered your options. It had been clear for a couple of days now.

Mason finally coming home this day after a weekend away with away-game in Spain meant you had to decide. Maybe greeting him with this wasn't very nice but he hadn't been very nice to you so you honestly didn't care. You were done being nice.

"Hey babe, you home?!"

You sighed heavily, resting your head back before responding "Living room"

Mason's quick footsteps where heard from the kitchen, walking into the living room with a playful pout on his face completely unaware of the pondering you had spent the weekend doing.

"Hey, you're not greeting me today?" he smiled but his face fell as he saw your completely emotionless face looking back at him, tired and anxious.

"What's wrong?" he questioned, walking into the room and standing before you with narrowed eyes, frown on his face as you still hadn't even given him a smile.

"Maybe you can answer that" you muttered, standing up from the couch and walking off to the kitchen with your empty cup.

"You wanna greet me with an argument, really?" He scoffed, following behind you, your eyes rolling but he couldn't see as your back was against him.

"Well what would you do if you found out that your boyfriend had been cheating on you?" You snapped, turning around to see his face fall completely "Huh? What would you do, would you greet him with a kiss?"

Mason swallowed hard, eyes looking away from yours as he couldn't take the intense stare you gave him. "Uh-I-" "You uh-I what Mason" you chuckled sarcastically, all the debating and choice making flying away, there was only one thing you could to and that was confront him and the anger just took over.

You had loved him, given him all of your spare time, tried hard to make it work and to travel with him for his work and in return he gave you nothing.

"You're not gonna say anything?!"

your voice raised, getting extremely annoyed by his silence

"How did you find out?" he said lowly, eyes staring at floor as you chuckled sarcastically again. "That's the only thing you want to say?" You shook your head as you put the cup into the washer.

"It wasn't rocket science Mason. It was actually extremely easy, you really suck at lying" "How?" he repeated lowly and you sighed, threading your hands trough your hair in stress.

"C'mon Mason, you had hickies on your neck, messages from girls I didn't know, you've been out late 'with the lads' multiple times in the week meanwhile I've got picture from the girls on movie nights and dates with the ones you claimed seeing. You've been off, not wanting to look at me our touch me, you smell like a micture of woman prefume and your own shitty one, you have the dumbest excuses ever and you always feel so guilty you want to make up for it afterwards, acting so so sweet after you've come home late. Plus not to mention those stupid friends of yours, so so stupid, not knowing when to shut their mouths" You reeled on his face falling more and more for every evidence you spoke. He was quite for several moments before looking at your face, still avoiding your eyes "I'm Sorry"

"Well fuck your sorry" you grumbled, "We're done"

You moved from the counter, grabbing your phone and charger before shouldering past him, making your way to the bedroom where you'd already packed all your stuff.

"What? No y/n don't say that" Mason pleaded, following you like a puppy, your eyes rolled again. "Fuck off Mason" you grumbled, pushing his arm away as he tried to grab you.

You had been sad enough, now there was only pure anger and frustration left, frustration at your boyfriend who had betrayed your trust and ruined your relationship. Anger that you had let it happen for too long, angry at him for putting you in that position. Anger anger and frustration clouded your vision as you turned back out of the door with him in tow, heading straight to the door where he grabbed you again.

"Y/n, please let me explain" he pleaded. You couldn't stomach looking into his brown eyes, knowing they would break your anger but you needed that anger to not break down right now.

"What's there to explain?" you sighed tiredly, meeting his sad teary eyes but it didn't make you sad, it made you angrier. Like why the hell was he sad, it was his doing and his choice.

"I didn't mean to, I I-I was drunk and stupid and i-"

"Just be quite, there is nothing you can say, and don't you dare put this like a one time thing, I know it's been going on for weeks Mason so just drop the act and tell me why"

He looked down, squirming on his spot "I-I don't know why!" he exclaimed. Your head shook and tiredness filled your body, was this all he put down into your relationship, was this what you meant for him?

"Well then we are all done here" you stated, moving to leave but he stopped you again. "No! Please, I am sorry, it was stupid an-" "Mason just stop!" You groaned, grabbing his chin to force him to look into your eyes "I don't care if you're sorry now, you still fucked multiple girls behind my back. You knew exactly what you were doing and you chose to do it anyway, you chose to throw us away you made me feel like shit you broke us up so stop saying sorry and stop trying to make me stay. I have felt shitty this last month, you made me feel like garbage, like I was the one doing something wrong and now I finally managed to clear my head so don't fucking stop me. We are over Mason"

You pushed past him and threw the door closed behind you, throwing your bag in the car before settling in yourself, you backed out of his driveway.

Leaving your relationship and him behind you.

[apollosgiftofprophecy]

i love thinking about apollos anatolian origins 😵‍💫

It stews in the back of my head too :3

There was this really good podcast on Spotify I found about Ancient Greece, and I listened to his Apollo episode first (because I honestly can't stomach the ones who paint him as 'terrible assaulter'/'epitome of the patriarchy'. Can't stand it. Seriously, there was this so-called 'feminist' mythology podcast i found and I Noped out of there as fast as I could - she didn't even mention Eros's involvement in the Daphne myth! She immediately went 'Apollo: the man who doesn't know the meaning of No' and I was like I'M OUTTA HERE.)

(It's very hard to find good Apollo content out there when you have educated yourself on what he's actually like :( )

(At least you immediately know those people didn't do their research shrug)

Thankfully, this one had a really good, really in-depth discussion about Apollo; his origins, his domains, his myths, ect!

COMPLETELY FREE OF BIAS TOO! HE JUST GIVES YOU THE FACTS, THE SYMBOLISM OF THE MYTHS, HOW THE CULTURE INFLUENCED THEM, ECT!

On my first (and only rn) listen I was like "damn i need to take notes on this sometime" that's how in-depth it is!

Here's the episode link if anybody is interested, btw!

What's cool is that he said that before Apollo came along, oracles and the like weren't as common in Greece - they existed, because Gaea was a thing - however, when he was imported in (possibly also with Leto! She has Anatolian origins too!), oracles became more of a thing as Apollo's popularity skyrocketed!

If you look at the number of Oracles Apollo had, you'd also notice that a lot of them are in Anatolia (Turkey today)!. Didyma, Miletus, Claros, ect ect! I think this just adds to the theory that Apollo's main origins come from Anatolia! When he moved to Greece, oracles came with him!

Which is so cool because in my drafts I currently have a picture of a webchart I made of Apollo's (many) domains, and I narrowed down the ones I think are his Big Ones - and Prophecy is one of them.

Very cool that Prophecy has always been part of him <3

Also, Apollo has many cities he is the patron of in Anatolia - Troy is obvious, but the island of Tenedos was his too (his son Tenes founded the city there), and he was the patron of Miletus (the city where he met Branchus btw for my Branchus fans out there)!

And going to Leto real quick, her migration from Anatolia religion to Greece's is probably represented in the Hymn to Apollo! Sometimes myths about wandering from place to place were meant to symbolize the importation of a god (Aphrodite floating ashore of Cythera, for example), and Leto...well, she was doing a lot more than the typical wandering in the hymn, but it still fits!

Some versions say she was guided to Delos by wolves from Hyperborea, others say Boreas helped her escape Python, still others claim a rooster was present when she finally was able to give birth and thus became her sacred animal (also she apparently gave birth to Apollo as a wolf? I don't quite remember which version says that but it's something I've heard XD).

Also Delos was very self-conscious about Apollo being born on it because it was afraid he would judge it for not being up to typical island standards XD

Moving to Apaliunas now! He's a Hittite god, but I haven't been able to find out of what :( The main piece of evidence we have of his relation with Apollo is Troy - Apaliunas was the god of Wilusa, who has been found out to be another name for Troy! There was a treaty signed between Wilusa and another city, and the representative of Wilusa's name was commonly translated to "Of Ilios" - and Ilios was another name for Illium, aka Troy.

(Fun fact: The son Apollo had with Ourea was named Ileus, after Troy! They are but a footnote in mythology but I made them Important in my Troy fic XD)

Plus, Apaliunas's name was connected to the Hittite reflex of Apeljōn, which scholars have theorized to be an early form of Apollo's name - remember Apollon? :D

Apollo also has connections to various other deities - the Italian Etruscan god Apulu (Aplu), the Celtic god Grannus, his Egyptian equivalent is Horus and his Phoenician one is Resheph! He's also been identified with Baldur from Norse mythology.

Apollo be wearing that trenchcoat, and he is wearing it well XD

[whositmcwhatsit]

The Gate Girl

Written for the prompt: "What are we going to do with [all of them], [this], [these ___ ]?"

A/N: Pure self-indulgence full of all my favourite things. I hope you enjoy it as much as I did writing it.

None of this would have been possible without my muses, my teachers, and my pests: @thatbanditqueen, @vintageshanny, @be-my-ally, @ellie-24, @missmaywemeetagain, @from-memphis-with-love

Word count: 6387

It was a warm spring evening in Memphis and Chrissie was already regretting the knitted sweater she was wearing beneath her corduroy pinafore minidress. She could feel beads of sweat sliding down her spine and resting near her tailbone. There was no relief to be had from the humid heat standing on the worn grass by the side of the fieldstone wall, surrounded by knots of people talking quietly to each other and pausing to take photos with little instamatic cameras.

Chrissie viewed it all with experienced, familiar eyes. She had been coming to the gates ever since she was old enough to nag her parents to drive her and had albums of pictures of the walls, the little guardhouse, the house off in the distance behind the trees and so many blurry shots of expensive looking cars going into and out of the gate.

Even so, she had felt a little twinge of dread when Lori had suggested driving down. The Chrissie who had spent all that time mooning over Elvis Presley felt very far away and she aimed to keep it that way.

Going off to college out of state had been her escape from the old Chrissie, the boring, insecure, people-pleasing Chrissie who let people walk all over her like a doormat. Lori had never met her. No, since they found each other during the first few disorientating days of school, Chrissie had worked hard to become who she had always wanted to be, cool, confident and aloof. She didn’t wait around to be noticed anymore.

“So, the guard at the gate says that he thinks Elvis might be coming out soon,” Lori said, ambling over with a grin. “He also told me three times that he’s really close with Elvis because he’s his cousin. “

“Yeah, he does that,” Chrissie murmured.

“I think it’s wild that you have your own rock star in your neighbourhood. Best we ever got was some crummy band that once opened for Strawberry Alarm Clock at a festival.”

“Yeah, well, around here he’s just Elvis, we don’t think of him as a rock star or anything like that,” Chrissie said. She was jealously eyeing Lori’s paisley nylon blouse. Somehow she’d managed to dress right for the typical weather of the town that Chrissie had lived in most of her life.

“Wild,” Lori murmured, her eyes sliding over to a group of young guys, who were leaning against the wall, hanging out. “Just Elvis.”

Lori being Lori, they were standing and chatting with those boys by the time a frisson of excitement went through the crowd as movement had been spotted up on the driveway. The boys forgotten, Lori rushed over and grabbed her hand, pulling her to the gates where the guard was urging everyone to step back and keep themselves safe, not that many listened.

It was definitely Elvis coming out. Chrissie had learnt over the years that one car could be hit and miss, usually miss, but when you had more cars leaving at once, and certainly a train of them, Elvis was nearly always leading them.

“Stay over this side,” Chrissie murmured as Lori spotted a less crowded area on the other side of the gate. “He likes to drive, he’ll be over this side.” Lori’s eyes narrowed slightly as she took her in, like she was figuring something out, but then the cars arrived at the gate and they were swept forward with the rush to greet them.

Elvis was indeed driving and he put the car in park at the open gate to sign some autographs and let people lean slightly into the window to take photos. Through the silhouettes, Chrissie could see him wearing his dark tinted sunglasses and a black suit with a high-collar red shirt. It looked good against his pale skin and black hair, very dramatic.

“We should get closer,” Lori said, tugging her wrist. “I want to see what the fuss is about close up.” Chrissie sighed and nodded, knocking her hip against the front headlamp as she was dragged. She locked eyes with the front passenger for just as second and then recovered, but not for long.

“Hey, Cupcake, that you?” Her blood turned to icy water as she registered the words that Sonny called out the passenger window. She thought about ignoring him, but he wasn’t quiet and there was still that pull, that twinge, that prevented her from being rude, especially here at home. She flashed Lori a panicked smile and then hurried around the front of the car to the passenger window.

“It is you!” he remarked, pulling his sunglasses down his nose. “Damn, girl, what happened to you?!” She yanked on her skirt, feeling the colour creep up her face as she tried to come up with something appropriate, a flippant, off the cuff remark that would both impress him and put him in his place.

“I grew up,” she shrugged, catching herself trying to flip her hair over her shoulder and forcibly putting her hand down by her side.

“Yeah, you did,” he agreed with a sly grin. “Looks good on you, though I sure miss those cakes of yours!”

“Well, you could always buy them, you know. Santos Bakery over on South Highland, still tastes as good when you have to pay!”

“No, I think for sure it was all that love you put into them.” She giggled, it just slipped out, and she had to close her eyes to calm herself down. When she opened them again a split second later, she was looking straight into the face of Elvis himself as he looked over to see who Sonny was chatting with. He lifted one side of his mouth in a small smile, casual and intimate. Chrissie had no more desire to giggle. In fact, she wasn’t sure she could make a noise at all.

“It’s been a while,” he said quietly. He probably said that to every girl at the gate, she told herself, just in case they were regulars.

“Yeah, I, uh, went off to school… up North.”

“I was just saying, E, that we’ve been missing all those cakes and things she used to bring us. Remember that one with the cream and the strawberries? Makes my mouth water just thinking about it.”

“Mmm hmm,” Elvis murmured, still looking at her, unreadable behind his glasses. He ducked slightly as someone slightly too eagerly waved a record sleeve through the window to be signed and almost thwacked him in the side of the head. “How are you finding school, honey? What is it, March? You home on break?” He paused to scrawl his signature on something and then turned right back to her, eyes fixed on her face.

“School’s great. I mean, the work’s hard, but-“ She stopped, looking to Lori as she bounced up to her side and grabbed her arm. She felt a strange wash of emotions, some pride at being found standing making small talk with Elvis like they were acquaintances, embarrassment that Lori would find out how much of a try-hard she used to be, and a little fear that Elvis’s intense stare would drift away to Lori’s pretty blond head.

“Well, anyway, I guess we better be headin’ on out,” Elvis remarked, absently kissing the cheek of someone’s baby as they brandished it at his window. “It was good seeing y’all.”

“You too,” she managed, smiling so that he wouldn’t know how her stomach had dropped. “Drive safe.” She stepped back and Lori stumbled along with her, attached to her arm, wiggling her fingers in a little wave as she ducked down to look through the car.

The engine started up, but the car didn’t move on, and they watched as Elvis leant across and said something in Sonny’s ear. Chrissie instantly thought that they were making fun of her and waited for the chorus of laughter, but instead, Sonny nodded and his head turned towards them.

“Hey, Cupcake!” he gestured with his head, beckoning her over. Elvis was looking straight ahead, gripping the wheel like she was the one who wouldn’t let him go.

Trying not to meet the eyes of the other people standing around trying to eavesdrop, she stepped back up to his window. “Uh, we’re going to watch some movies over at the Memphian. Y’all feeling like joining us?” The way that Lori squeezed her forearm in a death grip let Chrissie know her opinion on the matter, but she still paused and looked at her so that they didn’t sound too eager.

“I’m not sure, we were planning on going out tonight… I guess it could be fun though.”

Sonny’s wry smile showed her that he wasn’t fooled as he murmured, ‘Uh huh. Well, ask for me when you get there. I’ll let them know you’re on the list.”

“Okay, thanks. Maybe we’ll see you there.”

“Bye Elvis!” Lori called as they stumbled back in time for the car to almost skid out of the entrance and into the traffic. There was a rumble of disappointment from the crowd as they watched the cortege of cars follow him out. Some of the fans, who always tried to chase Elvis when he left the house, ran for their cars; others were discussing whether they were going to maintain the vigil until he returned.

Chrissie finally turned to Lori before the girl’s stare melted her face clean away.

“So, you didn’t tell me you knew Elvis Presley.”

“Hardly,” Chrissie snorted. “He doesn’t even know my name. I just hung around a little when I was younger. I guess he and some of his guys got used to seeing my face.”

“Suuuure, Cupcake,�� Lori retorted, sniggering into her cheek. “What the hell was that anyway?” Chrissie flushed, somehow hoping that she hadn’t picked up on it.

“Look, I’ll tell you on the way, but you gotta promise not to judge, because I was young and an idiot.”

Ten minutes later, Lori was cackling so hard that Chrissie thought she was going to pee her pants.

“Shut uuuup!” Chrissie whined. “You promised!”

“Oh, but it’s adorable!” Lori gasped, wiping her eyes. “And actually pretty cunning. ‘Hi Elvis, my family owns a bakery, do you want to sample my goods?’.” Eyes on the road, Chrissie reached over and shoved her purely for the breathy, high-pitched impression alone.

“It wasn’t like that,” she insisted, shifting her shoulders uncomfortably. “One time someone didn’t collect their birthday order and Mama was fretting and saying, ‘What are we going to do with all these cupcakes?’ I was about to head up to Graceland and I knew there’d be lots of people there at the gate- free advertising and all that. Then Elvis came down and he saw the cakes and he took some and it- it snowballed from there.”

Chrissie had genuinely believed that Elvis was simply being polite the way that he always received her care packages so enthusiastically, especially after the time that she had tried to give some brownies to Priscilla and she had demurred, saying that she and Elvis didn’t really like sweet things.

For a while, Chrissie had stopped bringing anything, convinced they had all been going into the trash the whole time. The next time Elvis had come across her at the gate, however, he had demanded to know what other boy she was treating instead of him. That night had been the best night of her life, as he had hung out with them all for a couple of hours, and he kept coming over to tease her about switching her affection to someone else, promising he was going to win her back. It still made her shiver thinking about his arm around her shoulder, his lips pressing little butterfly kisses into her heated cheeks.

However, that was when she was a silly little girl. She was a woman now.

The parking lot next to the Memphian theatre was full of cars, so Chrissie had to park down the street next to a store that was closed for the night. People were milling about outside and, as she approached the main entrance, someone told her not to bother because they were telling people that the theatre was full and nobody else would be let in.

“We were invited,” Lori replied loudly, pushing her on even as she was hesitating. Lori took responsibility for knocking on the locked door, banging with increasingly force as the two men inside the foyer had a conversation and pretended they weren’t there. Eventually, one of them sauntered to the door.

“Sorry, we’re all full. Better luck next time, ladies.”

“We were invited!” Lori bellowed. “Some guy told us to come to the door and ask for him!” She looked back at Chrissie, prompting her.

“Yeah, Sonny West said he’d put us on the list.” He turned and said something over his shoulder, before pulling out a ring of keys and opening the door.

“Okay, girls, you been before? You know the rules? You don’t sit in front of Elvis, you don’t approach-”

“Yeah, I know the rules,” Chrissie muttered, grabbing Lori’s hand and dragging her towards the main screen door.

“Barely know the man,” Lori was muttering to herself. “Elvis who, she said.”

Chrissie elbowed her in the ribs as they stepped into the muted darkness, pausing for their eyes to adjust. The screen was still curtained and there were people milling about, finding their seats and visiting with their friends in other rows. It was certainly pretty crowded and the only available seats were towards the back in what were usually the make-out areas. Not that Chrissie would know much about that…

In the shadows, it would have been difficult to make out Elvis, it wasn’t like he really did have a golden aura, but everyone knew his seat, the one he always chose halfway down the rows at the aisle, the one everyone was forbidden from sitting in. So, they were all aware of his presence even if they couldn’t actually see him.

“Where’s his wife?” Lori whispered loudly as they took their seats. “Isn’t he married?”

“She stays in California mostly now,” Chrissie murmured back. “I don’t think they’re really together anymore.”

She might not have spent much time at the gate recently, but she was still part of the ever-efficient Elvis fan grapevine that stretched from Las Vegas to Palm Springs, Beverly Hills and right over to Memphis, exchanging news, speculation and stories. For a while, there had even been a mimeographed newsletter.

Surveying the rows, for the second time that night, Chrissie locked eyes with Sonny, who was moving slowly up the aisle, running his gaze over the murmuring, fidgeting crowd. He flashed her a grin and pointed at her, before crooking his finger and beckoning. Figuring he was talking to someone behind her, she busied herself with smoothing her skirt and crossing her knee length boots at the ankle.

“Cupcake, hey!” he bellowed across the theatre between cupped hands. She slid down in her seat, wondering when her life had begun to resemble her nightmares. When she peered back over the seat, he urged her over with his arm. Lori was already rising, kicking her feet to get her to move.

“You made it!” Sonny said with a grin. “We saved ya seats.” He indicated to two seats directly across the aisle from Elvis’ usual place, which was empty. Her thoughts swirling, Chrissie thanked him and went to slide into the row.

“Hey, you know what, thinking about it, how about you and me swap places, darlin’?” He pointed across to the seat beside Elvis’. “You can sit over there and I’ll sit here with… What’s your name, beautiful?”

“Lori,” she said, wide eyes sliding from his tall, broad frame and over to Chrissie. Chrissie knew that look; they occasionally exchanged it in bars when they were dancing and teasing and flirting and then realised that they had bitten off more than they could chew.

“I think I should sit with my friend,” Chrissie said quickly, shoving her ahead of her. “She’s not from here and I ought to take care of her. Thank you, though, really. I appreciate the offer.”

Not long later, the lights finally went down, the murmuring faded into silence- another rule- and Chrissie trained her eyes on the screen, trying to ignore the pull of the empty seat alongside her. She clearly failed, as when the mere glimpse of black passed her peripheral vision, she started and froze in her seat.

As the credits played, she counted to two hundred, that seemed a reasonable amount of time, before she turned her head slightly and glanced over. Immediately, Elvis turned too, giving her a closed-mouth smile that curved his cheekbones deliciously even in the shadows of the theatre.

Caught out, she smiled back and turned back to the screen, feeling a strange warm weight settling upon her like someone had tucked a heavy warm blanket over her.

“He keeps looking over,” Lori muttered out of the side of her mouth. “I feel like any minute, he’s going to… Oh shit, I think he’s coming over.” They both seized up, sitting up high in their seats, but though Elvis rose, he strode off up the aisle, followed by a phalanx of his guys. As soon as the fire door opened and slammed shut, the volume of the whispering crept up, people probably wondering if he had left, whether he was just using the bathroom, or visiting the concessions.

“You should have sat next to him,” Lori said, wincing guiltily. “That would have been a great story, wouldn’t it? The time you were Elvis Presley’s date at the movies?”

“Nah, it’s more fun watching… Whatever this movie is, with you. Besides, we can always lie and say it happened anyway!”

Lori giggled and nodded, staring up at the screen as an airplane took off from a night-time runway on screen.

With the main attraction missing, they gradually got into the action happening on screen, so much so that Chrissie was startled when a hand touched her shoulder. She recognised the heavy set, balding man as someone who was in Elvis’ circle.

“You Cupcake?” he asked, his eyes darting between the two of them almost furtively.

Chrissie wasn’t sure how to answer that, so Lori did it for her.

“Elvis wants to talk to you, he’s up in the balcony.”

Unlike Sonny, he hadn’t couched it in a question or flirting, he said it like it was her duty to do as she was told. Chrissie looked at Lori and knew her eyes were sending the same SOS that Lori had sent her earlier in the evening. Lori nodded resolutely, slammed her hand into hers, and rose, pulling her up.

“He, uh, he just wants her,” the man said, pointing at Chrissie.

“Well, sugar,” Lori replied, putting on an awful Southern twang, “he’s gonna have to take what he’s given, cos we done come as a pair.” They didn’t give him any opportunity to reply, but he didn’t seem the type anyway, running his tongue over his slick lips and stepping back out of their way.

In the foyer, a small group of Elvis’ guys were hanging around the concession stand. There seemed to be a competition going on about how far away someone could stand and still catch a piece of popcorn being thrown into their mouths. Chrissie and Lori exchanged looks and then turned towards the door that was marked ‘Private’. None of the guys stopped them, so they pulled it open and climbed the steps in anxious silence.

At the top, there was another landing with doors leading off. The one directly ahead of them had an old-fashioned sign above it that said ‘balcony’. She took a breath, looked at Lori, who squeezed her hand, and then yanked it open, only to be confronted by searing white light.

“Oh Lord, I’m blind!” she mumbled, stumbling back into Lori, who knocked into the door and only just managed to save them both by gripping the handle.

“Shit, I was just fooling around! I’m sorry, honey, are you okay?”

Chrissie squinted, seeing only purple and pink blobs as she felt arms wrap around her waist and lead her further into the balcony. Gradually, the blobs faded and Elvis’ concerned face swam into view above her.

“You okay, Cupcake? How many fingers am I holding up?” She narrowed her eyes at the black leather gloved hand he held up.

“Six?” she half-joked. “What was that?” He flashed a sheepish grin and lifted a black flashlight the length of his forearm.

“I just got it and I didn’t realise it was so powerful. I’m so sorry, honey.”

Being in his arms, wrapped in his warmth and inhaling his scent, she felt a bit giddy as well as still overwhelmingly blind. She frowned slightly and reached up to snatch his sunglasses.

“Well, I think I need these more than you do,” she mumbled, sliding them onto her face. They promptly slipped down her nose and she had to tilt up her face to see through them. She just saw a pink-tinted blur.

Laughing from his belly, Elvis reached out and pushed them back up for her with his finger, brushing a light peck on her forehead that she barely caught before he moved back.

“Well, now we’re the blind leadin’ the blind, darlin’.”

There was the sound of someone clearing their throat from the doorway and they both turned, Chrissie having to look over the top of the glasses to make out Lori standing there awkwardly.

“Oh, you brought your friend,” Elvis murmured, tightening his hold of her waist with one arm.

“Hi,” Lori said, waving self-consciously.

“She’s visiting with me for break,” Chrissie explained. “She doesn’t know anyone or anything… I mean, she doesn’t know where things are.” He fixed her with a lopsided smile that told her she was adorable like a puppy or a toddler and his eyes fell to her lips, before he gently took his sunglasses from her face and put them back on.

“No, that’s okay,” he shrugged, “the more the merrier. Come on in, sweetheart.” He gestured for Chrissie to take the seat to his left, which she did after floundering for a moment at the loss of his arm around her. “Do you ladies want a drink or anything?”

They both declined and sat primly on either side of him, adjusting slightly as he spread his legs so that his knee was pressed against each of them and he took up both armrests.

“So, you’re visiting? Where are you from, honey? What’s your name?”

“Lori, and I’m not really from anywhere- I’m an Air Force brat, spent a little time in a lot of places, but weirdly I’ve never been to the South, so I knew that I had to come when Chrissie invited me.”

“Chrissie?” he echoed questioningly, looking to his left.

“That’s me,” she nodded emphatically.

“Noooo,” he replied playfully, leaning in and shaking his head right in her face, “you’re my sweet little Cupcake.” He pecked her cheek, lingering with his hot lips against her skin. “I’ve known you longer than she has, I know who you are.” She shivered, basking in the tingly warmth of his attention, just like she had that night a couple of years earlier, but then she remembered that she was different, she wasn’t that Chrissie anymore.

Before she had even made up her mind to do it, she turned her head, her lips brushing against his. That was all the encouragement he needed, his hand coming up to clasp her head and he kneaded his lips against hers, exhaling into her mouth.

Chrissie thought that she enjoyed kissing, but she had clearly never kissed anyone properly before, Elvis showed her that. His tongue slid against hers, even as he was sucking on her top lip and drawing her closer, his hand moving from the back of her head to grasp her neck. Every part of her was sparking and humming as she slipped her hand underneath his black jacket into the searing heat at his back.

“You do taste sweet,” he murmured, his lips grazing hers as he spoke. “I always wondered.”

She didn’t know how to respond to that except by blushing and leaning forward over the arm of her chair, trying to snag his mouth again. This time, he ducked back, though his hand was still wrapped around her throat, his thumb rubbing rhythmically against her pulse.

“Wait, honey, we ain’t being fair.” He turned to his right, where Lori was sitting looking at them, her cheeks pink and her mouth half open. Chrissie’s eyes dropped to where Elvis was holding Lori’s hand. “Lil Lori’s sitting here all left out, ain’t that right, honey?”

Lori’s eyes focused suddenly, but not on Elvis. She looked to Chrissie and the look she wore was different from anything Chrissie had ever seen before, but she still knew what it meant. She swallowed and nodded her head slightly.

Lori turned to Elvis and smiled. It was a deadly, sinful smile that usually bewitched and entrapped the boys at school within seconds. Elvis, it seemed, was not immune to that smile and he leant across, not loosening his grip on Chrissie, and kissed her too.

Chrissie got to see what that looked like from a distance, her eyes fixated on the movement of his plump lips, the tightening of his jaw, the way that his dark hair mingled with Lori’s pale golden bangs. It was mesmerising. She shifted in her seat, crossing her legs tightly to answer the tickling and tingles below her belly.

“Whoo, boy, now Cupcake’s bought me some sweet things before, but nothin’ compares to this,” he said, turning to each of them as he spoke like he was watching a tennis match. His lips glistened in the light from the screen and Chrissie reached out her hand to run her thumb across the bottom one, just to touch its pillowy softness. She gasped as he opened his mouth and nipped at it, using his tongue to soothe any hurt.

“You enjoy the show, baby?” he said softly, smirking in that confoundingly innocent,  but sexy way that only he could manage. “See, now, that’s not fair on me. Both of you girls got to watch, but what about little ole Elvis? Where’s my show?”

Chrissie looked from him to Lori, feeling strange, like she was being stretched, pulled too far in different directions. Lori winked at her and then turned her blue eyes to Elvis.

“What do you want us to do?”

“Nothing bad,” he assured her in a soft, playful voice. “Just a little kissing, honey, that’s all.”

Lori shrugged and then flashed her dazzling smile at Chrissie, who felt frozen in the glare as Lori climbed onto her seat on her knees and leant across Elvis, who happily leant back. Lori’s lips were soft, softer even than his though not as full, and she lacked his finesse, but it felt nice as they massaged hers. Her eyes flickered open as Elvis pulled back the curtain of Lori’s hair that had fallen across her face and he gazed at them both with sleepy, tender looking eyes. Lori’s hand clasped her face before sliding down onto her shoulder and then lower. Chrissie shivered in anticipation.

“That’s enough now,” Elvis said gently but firmly. “Gonna make a man feel jealous, and I already lost you once to those boys at college.”

As Lori retreated to her seat, he cupped Chrissie’s face between his big hands, the metal of his rings pressed hard into her cheekbones.

“But you ain’t ever done nothing like that for those college boys, have you, sweetheart?” He didn’t wait for her answer, swallowing down her shallow breaths as he kissed Lori’s lipstick from her mouth. “Bet none of them’ve kissed you like this neither, huh.”

His voice was soft, low and kind of hypnotising. Chrissie wanted to shake her head, to gaze at him adoringly and tell him that she would never let anyone touch her the way that he was doing. That was how she knew it was the wrong choice.

“Some have,” she said, her voice hoarse and small.

He drew back, staring at her with his mouth slightly open, his lips ripe and glistening. She watched him reach up and take off his sunglasses, narrowing his eyes. All the better to see you with.  Finally, a little too late, he laughed gently and playfully and she felt sure that she had just scored a point in whatever game they were playing.

“All grown up now, huh,” he observed with a twitch of his left eyebrow, echoing her words from earlier in the evening. She very slowly raised her own eyebrows and nodded.

“Well, what else you let ‘em do?” he asked, his voice low and leaning into gravelly. She felt the cool leather of his gloved hand on her thigh, sliding underneath her skirt. “You let them put their hands up ‘n’ under- under..?” She clamped down on his forearm without thinking and earned herself a pleased smile. “Naw, no, you’re still a good girl, aren’t you, sweetheart. My sweet lil cupcake, still a sweet lil treat.”

He tilted his head and nuzzled into her neck, moving so that she could see Lori peering over his back with a look of complete bewilderment on her face.  Chrissie twitched her face into an expression that was the equivalent of a shrug.

Hey, uh, Elvis?” Lori murmured, tapping him on the shoulder. He paused and Chrissie felt him exhale a hot sigh into the crook of her neck that swept down through the wool of her sweater. She shuddered.

“Yes, honey?” He pulled back, his fingers sliding between Chrissie’s like they were two kids on a date.

“What’s that?” Lori asked, pointing at the blue-ribbon pendant around his neck, half buried in his jacket and the gold chains. He looked down, tightening his mouth.

“This here? This is a medal I got for being one of the ten outstanding men in America.” He held out the pendant that showed two hands stretched out to touch one another. “They only give that to people that’ve made a real difference, you know, honey, presidents, businessmen, athletes. Scientists. No fooling, it’s a big deal. I had to give a speech and everythin’. And if you think I was nervous standing up there, no script or nothin’, in front of all those people, you’d be right!”

They oohed and aahed over it while he sat with a proud smile, telling them about the trophy he had at home and the pin that was on one of his other jackets.

As he finished talking, the credits began to run across the screen.

“Aw, it looks like the movie’s over,” Lori sighed. “Thank you for inviting us, it was really nice of you.”

“That’s just the first movie,” Elvis returned, frowning slightly. “The night ain’t even getting started. You girls hungry?” He didn’t wait for their answer, yelling out ‘Jaaaaaames’ at the top of his voice. Chrissie peered over the side of the balcony and saw some people looking up.

The short, stock man from earlier came stumbling up the stairs, eyebrows raised in question.

“We need sustenance, man, hamburgers, Pepsis… Unless you girls want milkshakes?” Chrissie bit down a smile at him finally giving them a choice of something and even then it was only which drink they wanted.

While they waited for their food, the second movie started rolling. Elvis sat back in his seat, clasping each of their hands, and squinting slightly at the screen. Chrissie looked at his impossibly long, thick eyelashes flickering as he blinked and wondered whether he wore mascara. She wanted to ask for a recommendation.

“Quit it, I can feel those eyes burning a hole in me, woman,” he muttered, shooting her a sideways look, the line at the corner of his mouth twitching up. “M’trying to enjoy the movie.”

“Sorry.” She turned back to the screen, looking at Charlton Heston’s sweaty face.

“I’m only teasin’, baby.” He tugged her forward by the hand, kissing her again, and she had the same loop-de-loop sensation in her stomach as the first time. “I like you looking at me. Makes me feel good.” He pulled her hand onto his thigh and pressed it down as he kissed her, moaning a little into her mouth.

By the time James returned with their food, Elvis was buried beneath the two of them as they rubbed their lips, their hands, their faces and their bodies over every part of him they could get access to. When Chrissie got worried about how high his hand was on her bare legs, or how he was a little too insistent, he would turn to Lori and she would watch until her heart stopped pounding so hard and her chest loosened. She could feel herself growing wet, the ache intensifying between her legs, and she wondered how far things would go.

The girls picked at their burgers, their appetites directed elsewhere, but Elvis tucked into his hungrily, eyes drifting over to the screen to keep tabs on the action.

“You like movies?” he asked them. “I love movies, ever since I was a kid. All I wanted to do was be a movie star.” He shoved some fries into his mouth. “Be like Brando, or Monty Clift, or James Dean. I’d study ‘em all the time, trying to figure ‘em out like they were a… a.. math problem or something.” He huffed a laugh at himself.

“Well, you got your wish,” Lori observed. “You’re a movie star. I went and saw you in the movies.”

“Hell, I’m sorry, honey!” he returned dryly. “You want me to refund you the money for the tickets?” He shook his head, chewing fast so that he could finish his thought. “No, I ain’t done it yet, made THE movie, the one that’ll change the way everyone sees me, make ‘em see I can be a real actor if- if they just gave me a chance. Not even close. Not yet, but I will.” The girls nodded, it was impossible not to, he sounded so sure. “You believe me, don’t you.”

“I think you could do anything,” Chrissie told him quietly, immediately beset by the impulse to cringe, which was overwhelmed by the sight of his face lighting up. He nodded, a lopsided grin spreading across his face and making his eyes twinkle.

“Well, shit, I probably could if’n you only keep looking at me like that, honey,” he returned, looking down bashfully.

Food finished, they turned their attention back to the movie for at least two or three minutes, before hands started to knead and rub again, lips started to caress and nuzzle, and Chrissie somehow found herself sliding down Elvis’ body as he sat sprawled in his seat, her mouth sucking and licking at his throat, the coarse hair on his chest, the red linen shirt covering his warm stomach. She reached his belt before he reached down and stopped her.

“Not like this, sweetheart,” he said so tenderly and sweetly that her heart curled up at the edges. “It’s not gonna be like this for you.”

Instead, he scooped her back up onto his lap, where she could feel the hard bulge of him pressing against her thigh, and he let the tip of his nose graze slowly across her cheek and down into the neck of her sweater.

With his other hand, he reached over and gathered Lori to his side too and they cuddled up together to watch the third and final movie of the evening. Sometimes, he would turn slightly and whisper silly comments into her ear and press his pout into her pulse point, making her shiver. Others, he’d give Lori a pinch and make fun of how chatty she was.

They forgot, at least she forgot, that they were canoodling with a world-famous entertainer, a rock star, a man who had conquered everything and everywhere by the time he was their age. For a few hours, he was just their dorky, silly friend with the beautiful face and the softest, most kissable lips.

As the sun rose above the municipal building across the way, Lori and Chrissie rose from their seats, stretching their tingling limbs and rubbing their gritty eyes. Elvis stopped them at the door, clasping Lori’s chin and giving her a soft peck on the lips, before turning to Chrissie and taking her hands.

“Hey Cupcake,” he said with a small smile, looking up at her through his brows bashfully. He pulled at her hands, making her sway slightly in front of him. “Thank you for coming tonight and, er, all those other nights too. It, uh, it meant a lot… It means a lot, to have people rooting for you, especially… especially when things aren’t going so well.” She couldn’t help herself, sinking into his arms and gripping him tightly. She was so tired that she thought she could quite easily doze off with her face smushed against his warm chest.

“There’s that look again,” he remarked as she drew back, gazing at him in fresh wonder, unable to comprehend how the night had happened. “You make a man feel bulletproof, honey. And, uh, I promise I won’t ever let you down.”

“I know,” Chrissie replied, frowning slightly. He kissed her one last time, as sweet and needy and delicious as the first one.

“Come up and visit with us again sometime, okay?” She nodded, reaching out to push his sunglasses up his nose. He grinned.

As they wandered up the street in the greying dawn, arms linked and emotions numbed, Lori turned to Chrissie with a frown.

“That felt a lot like goodbye, didn’t it?” she said.

Chrissie sighed and nodded, thinking about how she could grab some boxes from the storeroom at the back of the bakery to pack away all her photo albums and autograph books.

“Yeah, it did,” she murmured. “It was.”

[bonitanightmxres]

I Know || NATASHA 'PHOENIX' TRACE

PAIRING: Natasha "Phoenix" Trace x fem!reader

SYNOPSIS: Your growing crush on nat is hard to ignore, but everything changes after a little game.

WARNINGS: suggestiveness, dirty thoughts, smut, 18+ MDNI, fingering, sexual content, oral sex fem receiving, face-riding, language, alcohol, switch!phoenix

WORD COUNT: 3.2k

The crash of the waves against the rocks is peaceful, despite the loud hollers and laughter from the Dagger Squad. You all hold a pose for a group photo on the shore of the pacific in front of the Airbnb you all pitched in for. Nat’s arm hung around your neck, her fingers dangling freely off you, just barely brushing the exposed skin from your bikini top. You smiled at the camera, but held your breath—you found yourself doing that a lot lately when you were around Jake’s crew of friends. It was only days ago, however, that you realized that it wasn’t his friends who made you feel like you couldn’t breathe—it was Natasha. 

Being a longtime friend of Jake’s, he was the one to introduce you to them all many months ago, and it was him you blamed for getting you into this love-sick mess. If he hadn’t meddled in your social life—or your lack of one, you’d be at home right now. Alone, sure, but definitely not pining over a pilot who was definitely out of your league. It really wasn’t his fault, you knew that, but you wished it was. It wasn’t like you planned on falling for Natasha, it just happened over the course of getting to know her. Hell, you didn’t even have a crush on her the first day you’d met her–sure, she was pretty, there was no denying that. But you didn’t know her, know her.  

Not the way you do now.

Nat jogged over to the beachgoer she tasked with taking the photo, getting her phone back, while the rest scattered around the area you all claimed as your own and continued their game of dogfight football. She lifts her sunglasses up, and examines the photo in her camera roll. You watch as she rests a hand on her hip, swiping her finger on the homescreen, undoubtedly sending the picture out to everyone already. She made her way back to where you sat, walking ever so slowly, swaying her hips as she did so. You could swear she was doing it on purpose, but then, maybe you were just crazy. Black is definitely her color, you thought. The thin strings of her bikini top were tied together and held their position by nothing more than a whole lot of faith. The curve of her breasts is obvious, and the realization that you’re even thinking about her like this makes your cheeks heat up. God, it was like everything she did lately was sexual, like she knew what you were thinking. Innocently inviting you to go shopping, but picking the most sinful dress, or going to the beach and teasing you with the tiny pieces of fabric that barely covered her. It was the best kind of torture, but one that made you lose sleep—especially when her room was directly next to yours. 

“Careful, now.” Hangman's voice startled you as he came up from behind you, drink in hand.

“What?”

“Don’t ‘what’ me,” he says, a smirk on his face. “You’re practically drooling.”

You scoff, “Yeah, right. Am not.”

Hangman chuckles and leans in to whisper in your ear, “Y’know, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you had a bit of a crush.” 

Eyes going wide, you become tense, and laugh it off. “On Nat? No, no.”

Jake takes a long sip of his beer, narrowing his gaze on you, as if trying to search for the truth. But his smirk says it all. “I didn’t say anything about Phoenix.”

FUCK. 

“Wait a minute, I-”

Hangman walked away from you, toward the rest of the group, completely ignoring your pleas and desperate attempts to keep him from saying anything. Jesus fucking Christ, it’s like he can walk twice as fast now that he has something to hold against you, and your feet are suddenly made of bricks–no matter how fast you try to walk in sandals on the beach, all you manage to do is kick up sand and put more distance between you and him. When you finally catch up to him, Hangman’s already talking to the rest of the group—Nat included. She turns in your direction, flashing a smile.

“And here she is,” Hangman pats your shoulder. “We’re gonna play a little game. That is, if you can handle it.”

Oh god. 

—

Jake’s great idea of a game turned out to be nothing more than Truth or Dare or Shot–a stupid game you hadn’t played since college. It worked just like truth or dare, but you could pass on a dare or a question by taking a shot. Poor Bob took the brunt of it, nearly passing out after three shots; Fanboy nearly got caught skinny-dipping in the ocean and decided he’d be taking shots if he was dared to do something stupid again; Coyote and Payback had a mini competition going on against Rooster and Hangman, trying to see which pair could last the longest without taking a shot. Phoenix was fearless, completing every dare, and every truth, making you wonder how she made it all look so easy. You, on the other hand, were barely making it out alive. Answering the questions as vaguely as possible and managing to only take two shots when Rooster dared you to cliff jump and when Fanboy asked if you would ever date a pilot. Still, anxiety rushed through you every time Jake asked you a question or dared you. With a taunting look in his eyes, he enjoyed watching you squirm and die a little on the inside at the idea of coming forward with your little secret.

Now, he decided, that was about to change. 

“Alright, Phoenix,” Hangman speaks to her, but his eyes are on you. Normally you’d think you were safe, but the way he says her name has you thinking otherwise. “I dare you to kiss the hottest person in the room.” 

She scoffs like it’s no big deal, “That’s the best you got?”

Nat stands from her seat, walking in a circle around the rest of you in your chairs, making you all wonder where she was gonna stop. At this point you don’t know if you hate Jake for that or what. Really, it can go one of two ways–either he forces the secret out of you, or she kisses one of the guys. You weren’t sure which was worse. Weaving in between the seats, Nat brushes her fingers along the chairs, sometimes touching the shoulders of the one everyone thinks she’s going to kiss. Hangman and Rooster sat on either side of you, and you could easily say with confidence that she would end up kissing one of them–they had a flirty friendship like that.

Before you can even process what’s going on, Nat is straddling you in your seat, taking everyone by surprise. The buzzing laughter and conversations come to a stop, but Nat just grins–she knows exactly what she’s doing. Her hands snake around your neck and her touch feels just as electrifying as when you posed for the photo. Nat’s dark hair is loose, hanging just off her shoulders as she tilts her head, and you can smell the saltwater on her. It’s both intoxicating and addicting, making you forget all about the nervous feelings you had for her. She grabs your hands, placing them on her waist, leaning into you so much that her boobs are practically in your face, teasing you. 

Nat makes direct eye contact with you, enjoying the way you try and evade it, as if her ass isn’t using your thighs as a seat. Leaning into your ear, she whispers, “I know.” 

This grabs your attention, your eyes go wide—exactly like she planned, and using your weakness to her advantage, she presses her lips softly against yours. As if you weren’t already totally under her command, you’re absolutely fucked now. Her lips are soft, and you melt like putty against her, accidentally letting out a noise of approval when she flicks her tongue at your bottom lip. You taste a mixture of the alcohol and her chapstick and it’s overwhelming, taking over your senses.

The only thing that makes you come back is the scattered “coughs” from the guys who sat around you. 

“I said kiss the hottest person, not start a porno in front of everyone.” Jake says as his Phoenix climbs off of you. 

“What? Did we make you hard, Bagman?” Phoenix retorted, winking at you before she sat back down at her own seat. 

Jake didn’t even know what to say, and there was no answer that was going to be good enough—he could say no, but then there was the truth…

— 

When you lay down for bed, you can’t sleep. How could you? All you can think about is the fact that Nat knows. She knows. All those months of getting to know each other, spending time together, looking back on it, your crush is pretty obvious. It really couldn’t be as bad as you were thinking right? The girl you’d had a crush on for months literally just kissed you. She’d practically made out with you in front of everyone, and needless to say, your ego took a much needed boost. The feeling of Nat’s soft skin under your grip was imprinted into your mind, and if you closed your eyes and thought hard enough, it was like you could feel her lips against yours again. Just thinking about her makes you press your thighs together and squirm in bed. Sliding your hand down the waistband of your sleeping shorts, your fingers draw light circles around your throbbing clit through the dampening fabric, sending a shiver throughout your body. Your breath quickens as your fingers roam up and down your pussy, but before you can do anything more, there’s a light knock at your door. More than likely, it was Jake, back to tease you again about Nat—he’d already made cryptic comments before you all decided it was time to call it a night. You turn on a dim lamp on the desk, before making your way to the door, “I swear if you’re here to just bother me, I-” 

Oh. It’s not Jake at the door, but Nat. 

“Sorry, did I wake you? I can go.” She says. 

“N-no! No, sorry, I thought you were Hangman.” 

“And why would Hangman be coming to visit you at three in the morning?” Nat crosses her arms, intrigued, and you can’t help but notice the outline of her nipples through the tank top. She walks past you and into your room, closing the door behind her. “Better question, what are you still doing awake?” 

“I-uh, I can’t sleep.” It’s not a total lie, but were you really gonna admit you’d been lying there, trying to get off at the thought of her? No. 

“Funny,” she circles back to where you still stand by the closed door. “I can’t either. All I keep thinking about is our hot little make out earlier tonight.” Nat smirks, knowing how heated your cheeks must feel right now.

To say you’re speechless is a fucking understatement, you can’t even breathe when she’s barely inches away from you, taunting you to make the first move. . 

Nat lets out a small chuckle, “C’mon, I know you loved it, babygirl. I know I make you wet.” The air exhaled from her lips is warm against your face. Her hand ghosts over your arm, making your skin tingle as she slides her hand lower and lower, ever so slightly tugging off your shorts and grazing her fingertips over your clothed pussy. “See,” her fingers are warm as she slips them down your panties, rubbing up and down the wetness that pools between your thighs. “You’re soaking.”

Biting back a moan, you close your eyes, throwing your head back against the door, but the moan escapes anyways, “Fuck, Nat.” You’d dreamt of this for so long, and now you could barely tell if it was real life or just another dream. But the way she curls her fingers inside your cunt and teases your mouth with her tongue proves that it's your sweet reality. 

“I think we need to finish what we started,” Nat is slow to pull the tank top off her body, revealing her breasts and hardening nipples all to you. Completely on display, she reaches for the hem of your own shirt and slips it over your head, “What do you think about that?” You don’t even need to answer her–the moan that escapes your lips as she presses hot kisses to your neck says it all. Guiding her to your bed, you kiss her feverishly, like somehow she would disappear if you didn’t. Nat moans loudly as you explore her mouth, making you grin against her. Never in a million years would you have thought that you could elicit moans out of Phoenix of all people. She was a confident pilot and an even more confident woman, and she was coming undone at your touch right under you. Using your thumbs to massage her breasts, you take one into your mouth, sucking it ever so slightly. The light and gentle nature of your mouth spurs Nat, “C’mon, babygirl, more.” She brings your hand down from her breast and onto her pussy instead, arching her back as your middle and ring fingers inch their way in. It’s something you never thought you’d see, but it’s a sight you never want to forget. Phoenix is completely and utterly under your control at this moment, and it’s all the courage you need to keep going, to keep fucking her. She bites your bottom lip as you kiss her sloppily, and whines when she can’t feel you inside her anymore. Nat looks beautiful under the dim light, totally at your will. 

Trailing kisses down her abdomen, your mouth stopping at her entrance, licking a stripe in between her folds. “You’re so wet for me, Nat. You sure you weren’t thinking about this just as much as I have?” 

“G-God, you have no idea.” Phoenix bucks her hips, desperate for more friction, “I can’t stop th-thinking about you.” Her words are breathy as she tries her hardest to make complete sentences. “S-should’ve fucked you in front of e-everyone.” 

You let out a small laugh, “I don’t think Jake would’ve minded.”

He really wouldn’t have, you know that and keep it in the back of your head.

Nat’s legs shake as you swirl your tongue and suck on her clit, “F-Fuck, I-I’m, I’m not gonna last.”

“C’mon, Nat, cum for me.” The encouragement combined with the expert motions of your tongue is all she needs to let go. Her breath is hot and fast as she reaches her high, and it doesn’t take long before the pleasure leaks out of her pussy and onto your tongue, dripping like heaven. Using her elbows to prop herself up, Nat tries to catch her breath, but you’re quick to kiss her. The mixture of saliva and cum is nearly too much to handle all at once, the sweet sounds of you moaning in each other’s mouths is damn near XXX-rated. She grabs your neck, and flips you under her with such strength—a total contrast than the submissive nature of before, that you’d almost forgotten that she was in the best shape of her life and could easily do what she wanted with you. 

Phoenix throws her legs over your waist, straddling you like earlier, but the bare skin on skin contact feels even better than the tease of bikinis and denim shorts. She grabs your wrists tightly, pinning them over your head, her breasts only a kiss away. When you move forward, however, she refuses to let you take any part of her in your mouth without her say. “Nuh-uh, it’s my turn to take care of you. Get up.” 

“What?”

“Get up,” she demands, and lays on her back as you move off to the side. “Okay, come here.” You’re on autopilot, your body moves at her command before you even have time to argue or think about it. Phoenix guides you on top of her, “I want you to ride my face.” She’s nonchalant, as if this is the millionth time she’s told you to do so–in reality, it’s probably like the millionth time she’s thought about it. “C’mon, I want to taste you.”

Suddenly butterflies fill your stomach, and you feel sheepish. Nobody could blame you, though, you had never ridden a girl’s face before and you were afraid that somehow you’d suffocate her, totally ruining what you had going on with her right now. “I-I don’t know, Nat, I–”

“Don’t get shy on me now,” she says. “Were you shy when you were facedown in my cunt? Or when you moaned my name when I teased your pretty little pussy?” 

No, no you weren’t.

Alright, fuck it. 

You slide your body up, gripping the headboard of the bed for support while Phoenix’s lips meet your wet cunt. Her arms wrap on either side of your waist and press into the meat of your thighs, surely leaving bruises there later. Phoenix starts off slow, almost painfully slow, letting you relish in the feeling of ecstasy. Her tongue warm against your core, and she moans in approval, “Oh, babygirl, you taste so fucking amazing.” 

Finding your rhythm isn’t hard–grinding yourself back and forth against her mouth takes you to a new high you didn’t even think you could find. “Fucking hell, Nat. I-I-Fuck,” Your words are breathless as Phoenix’s tongue worked like magic, flicking between your slick folds and noisily sucking on your throbbing, sensitive clit. The rich sounds of her mouth smacking against your folds are nothing short of perfection. Her hands reach up and pinch your nipples, making you cry out as she sends you into a state of newfound pleasure and pain, and it’s almost too much. “God, I-I’m gonna cum.” 

“That’s it, babygirl,” she coaxes. “If you cum for me, I’ll let you suck on my tits. Can you do that for me? Can you cum on my face?”  Phoenix’s voice is sultry and demanding, like there’s some kind of drug that fills your ears as she speaks. But you don’t need much convincing. You pick up the pace, riding Nat’s face faster and she fucking loves it. It turns her on even more to see you so desperate to cum, so desperate to chase that high, but she loves the taste of it even more. Her face and tongue are slick and wet from your release as your riding comes to a stop. Grabbing her by the shoulders, you take her up on her offer, sucking on the mound of flesh and grazing your teeth on her nipple. Leaving purple marks around the valley of her breasts and her collarbone, you move to press a longing kiss onto Phoenix’s lips. She moves her hand around your neck, pulling you down and deepening the kiss. 

You and Phoenix lay beside one another, legs entangled and arms wrapped around each other’s bodies, so that not even air separates you two. The room is quiet, except for soft breathing, where you could faintly hear the ocean’s waves. 

“So how long have you known? About my crush on you?” You ask as she tenderly rubs your arm.

Phoenix smiles in the dim light, chuckling softly. “A long time.” 

---

a/n: credit to @angelic-dreams13 for giving me ideas and yelling at me to write it jejeje 🫶🏼

[sonkitty]

The Sideburns Scheme Post #12

(For reference: The Sideburns Scheme)

Crowley, Good Omens 2, Episode 1, The Arrival, being in Hell

...

Sideburns Check

The sideburns are the same as when Crowley was in his car. He actually still is in his car. The main other character presence is Beelzebub, another demon, with many other demons known to be in the background. So, the sideburns stay the length they are with a standard demon reading.

The two thrones represent the two front seats of Crowley's car. He's sitting in his driver's seat. Beelzebub is sitting in the passenger seat.

As my overall theory goes, because Crowley is using the sideburns to manage his personal space, he has to stay in that throne, so that he won't leave too early. He stays in his driver's seat for his eventual exit. That limits his movement.

...

Brighter Red Streak Check

Instead of a brighter red streak of hair often found above the center of the left eye, the hair itself seems to have a general border where the left side gets a stronger red saturation. Meanwhile, the right does not and is darker too. It could easily pass for black with how dark the scene is even though it's actually a very dark red.

That creates a striking contrast at least.

I described this contrast in my older version of this post as that it felt like the intended effect of the brighter red streak seemed to have just spread all over to Crowley's left side.

...

Hairstyle Changes

Since it's hard to track the hairstyles with potentially subtle differences between angles, the following is based on the main front view provided. There is a much more clear picture of parts that are supposed to separate into shapes. When the scene in the Bentley started, the hair swooped upward with a narrowing curve to Crowley's right; then curls flared around in his movement. Here, the hair also swoops upward with a curve to the right, but the narrowing isn't as strong. In addition to the color border noted above, there's a more evident extra separation between tufts of hair above his left eye.

The lighting favors Crowley's left, so the saturation here also favors Crowley's left. The style itself generally intrigues me. I would love to have seen it in better lighting.

...

Earthly Objects

(For reference: Earthly Objects)

This scene has notable crossover elements with the Sideburns Scheme and Earthly Objects.

With Crowley remaining seated, he ends up doing various self-touches. Early on, the touches involve getting the flies off him, spitting them out, and placing his hands on his legs. It's the best look at the tassels and belt, which is still not a good look because of his dark clothing in this dark location with its icky green-tinted lighting.

When the hands are placed on his legs, the right index finger is up, looking to avoid the touch. The right thumb is hidden. The left thumb is not easily visible but is technically partly on screen and part of the touch. The actual thumbs overall mainly become visible when trying to get the flies off him in this part.

Crowley asks two questions during the scene with the opening for Beelzebub to answer them. These are dialogue points for Earthly Objects, but they are also a way to invite the conversation he is having into his personal space that he's managing with his sideburns. I think he leans forward off the back of the throne and stays in Hell for that reason when he asks them.

There actually is a third question as part of "It is? It is, yeah." Then Crowley actually leans back instead of forward, so that one is not an invitation to his space. The questioner answering the question before an interacting character can answer looks to nullify the question in Earthly Objects. Aziraphale uses this tactic during the ball invitations and even as the first thing he says to Crowley during the Final Fifteen. "What's that lovely human expression? Oh yes! Hold that thought."

Beelzebub starts off the scene sitting in a throne as well but soon stands up to face Crowley and talk to him.

One of Beelzebub's questions is "What if I said Hell was willing to forget everything you did, that we were willing to accept you back, no questions asked with a hefty promotion?"

The next cut shows that with his legs crossed, Crowley's left hand makes a point to touch the other throne nearby on the seat with every digit visible. There is extra shadow between the pinky and ring finger and the index and middle finger. Meanwhile, the middle and ring finger are put closer together. That's a curious choice to me. The position also helps create a pocket between the arm and the throne.

His right arm rests on his right leg with a fair amount of his shirt sleeve stretched out. The right hand is not showing his thumb.

I'm not sure if the Tied Hands are no longer tied because even though he had his sunglasses touch, he is still sitting. It looks like sitting affects them in some way based on his first present day scene with the newspaper door and the parts I couldn't figure out with attending to the mail when he was getting up from a sitting position and going down to a sitting position.

Regardless, his position here hides the tassels though the clasps are visible. It's been extremely hard to figure this part out, but as best I can tell, he is using his right vest tip to hide the tassels. The lighting, dark clothing, and overall position also ensure hiding the snake head on the belt.

Perhaps the Tied Hands untied in the initial cut when they were shown since Crowley keeps hiding the tassels after that. The Belt Head receives the same treatment.

Later in the dialogue, Crowley does show and open his right hand to reveal its thumb. After that, the lower part of the tie and his thumbs are not seen again. While most of that is thanks to the camera work focusing on his upper body, he also folds his arms to help hide his actual thumbs.

There is incredibly deliberate framing with Crowley's head between the horns of the two thrones. That's a pocket in Earthly Objects though not a full-scale Pocket Frame found in the Threshold Tricks. Playing with the words anyway, because pockets and the game still do that, I would guess this framing is meant to be a Foreshadowing Frame.

The rope Beelzebub uses to summon a demon underling in a later scene is visibly untouched during this scene.

...

Story Commentary

I like to interpret this scene as what Crowley means by "fragile existence". As part of managing his space with his sideburns, he has to manage his own movement. He leans and touches in specific ways to help keep himself anchored to Hell while he gathers the information he wants. He continually looks like he wants to lean forward and move more than he does, but he won't. He'll lean to the side some.

The first exchange is about Crowley saying he thought they had a generalized understanding. Beelzebub says they don't. Beelzebub could put a price on Crowley's head anytime they wanted to. But...why don't they? While season 2's reality and chronology is confusing, the implication from the story is that it's been a few years since the end of season 1. Based on the information available, Beelzebub didn't put that price on Crowley's head during that time—and they won't do it for the rest of season 2 either.

The topic quickly changes with the question from Crowley, "Is that a new face?"

As I've noted in other posts, my understanding of Crowley's sight is that it's special. He senses with his eyes so that it looks like seeing, but he isn't seeing in the way many humans see. The story communicates that mainly through his sunglasses and what they may or may not reflect.

So, here, his eyes are sensing a difference when looking at Beelzebub. I also think this sense Crowley has is rather keen compared to other supernatural entities. Aziraphale recognized Gabriel but admitted some of that recognition was based on appearance. Saraqael does look at Gabriel as if they recognize him at first in episode 2 and just don't admit it, but that's not much to go on.

When it comes to other supernatural beings, they can't see or sense that Gabriel is Gabriel. While that could be from the miracle Crowley does with Aziraphale, the story leaves room for that to not be the case because so much of Gabriel is actually in the fly holding his memories. Michael sensed him better and nearly caught on when he the fly was near him in episode 2.

Crowley is the only character whose initial reaction to sensing Gabriel with his eyes was to call out Gabriel's name immediately, even with Gabriel having amnesia. The fly isn't shown to be active at all during that scene. Despite Beelzebub's words with "all your memories" and "all your you", it looks like actually at least some of Gabriel's memories were still inside him because of what little Crowley himself could access.

Getting back to this particular scene in Hell, Beelzebub tells Crowley they've had their new face "for ages," which I take to mean they changed it not long after season 1 ended.

The conversation shifts again to Beelzebub standing up off the throne, facing Crowley, and then flattering him by saying, "Such a pity Hell never really appreciated your talents, Crowley."

The funny thing is, Hell did appreciate Crowley's talents. That's why he got the assignments he did. Hell could be so badly understaffed in season 2 because despite Crowley's efforts to not work too much when he did work for them on Earth, he was effective. Satan himself said Crowley earned the job of delivering the Antichrist in season 1, specifying the M25 as a stroke of genius. Hell can't make up for losing him.

The staff issue could be another matter of course, but I like this idea in the meantime.

Crowley, understandably, finds this approach from Beelzebub mildly surprising but soon goes along with it. That's when he most obviously leans back during the scene. "It is? It is, yeah."

Then comes the prospect of "forget" everything Crowley did, accept Crowley back no questions asked, and giving him a hefty promotion. Since this story has something going on with memories, that "forget" word is suspect. Even in the full context with the other words, without knowing how season 2 ends, the offer is still suspect.

I agree with Crowley. That does not sound like the thing Beelzebub would be likely to say. He adds the word "so" at the end though the subtitles don't actually include it. This part is Crowley not literally saying No but implying No. He's not going to accept an offer he thinks isn't even valid to begin with. He even shifts his head to the side with this implication.

Undeterred, Beelzebub acknowledges it might be and then brings up that the Archangel Gabriel has vanished. Crowley does a mouth movement, suggesting he is trying to taste the air and get a feel for the atmosphere. Beelzebub keeps talking. They, being Hell in general, know Gabriel isn't in Heaven. They don't know where he is. The two talk some more with Crowley trying not to give away what he already knows and Beelzebub saying Crowley could name his price. They compliment Crowley some more with his knowledge of Earth.

The words "fall" or "falling" are never brought up, but that would theoretically be why Hell thinks they have a stake in where Gabriel is since he's not in Heaven.

Again, Crowley does not literally say No to the offer. Instead, he deflects it altogether and shakes his head as he says that it's a big universe, lots places an archangel on the lam can go, and so on.

By this point, Beelzebub is growing visibly frustrated that Crowley's not interested in the two preceding offers and not giving enough information for if he does know anything. So, they say he could have whatever his nasty little heart desires and name a rank: Duke of Hell.

Crowley barely has a chance to react as he nods in acknowledgment. Though not in the subtitles, he starts to quietly say, "Oh, well..." However, Beelzebub keeps talking before he can continue as they change tactics. Finally, they bring up a possible threat from Heaven to anybody involved with this affair.

That is enough to get Crowley's attention with another question. He leans forward and shifts from between the two thrones to being in front of his own throne once more as he asks, "How?" The cut mainly implies he has folded his arms since much of the arms themselves cannot be seen, but the changed touch will be confirmed soon enough.

Beelzebub smiles a genuinely pleased smile that they finally have something Crowley wants. It's enough to walk back toward the other throne, sit down, and say with dramatic emphasis, "Extreme sanctions".

Crowley's reaction is very interesting because he takes a moment, as if he knows something, to say that it's not actually a thing. With referring to something they used to joke about to frighten the cherubs, that implies he's talking about their time as angels and being in higher ranks together. They were peers.

Beelzebub insists it's a true threat, saying, "Anyone involved in Gabriel's disappearance will be erased from the Book of Life. They won't just be gone, they will never have existed."

This threat makes no sense to me. I know Crowley reacts like it's a real threat, and it's a fictional story where maybe that's supposed to work. But given that's not shown how in this season...I'm left baffled by the idea, considering how much a person's existence impacts others.

If the Book of Life wiped out Aziraphale's existence, the entire course of human history on Earth changes because he gave Adam and Eve the flaming sword.

Regardless, Crowley nods and acknowledges that such a threat could teach someone a lesson, alright.

There's an "It's a Wonderful Life" reference here, I realize. I hope it's not foreshadowing. With this concept of erasing someone from the Book of Life, I'm inclined to think that a person wiped from existence cannot learn "a lesson" because they don't exist anymore!

But wait. That is what happened in the movie "It's a Wonderful Life". The angel Clarence showed the human George Bailey a reality where he, George Bailey, no longer existed because he had never been born. George learned "a lesson" about the value of his own life.

That path for the Good Omens overall story doesn't strike me as particularly interesting but noted nonetheless.

As noted in other posts, I do think the Book of Life is in the matchbox and a potential threat interested in Crowley himself, for whatever it actually does.

Beelzebub says, "So if you hear anything, you come to me first, yeah?"

The subject of Crowley coming back to work for Hell has effectively been dropped by this point. He never literally said No, but I felt it was stated within context. Beelzebub gave Crowley what he actually wanted instead: this information. Still, this scenario does leave an opening for Crowley to eventually become Grand Duke of Hell. I do think that will happen in season 3 though the path to get there would hopefully be interesting since the end of season 2 heavily implied Shax would be the next Grand Duke of Hell. Would Crowley even go to Hell to bring up the offers in this conversation or would someone else bring it up? How does Shax factor in?

I mainly suspect Crowley will be the Grand Duke of Hell because of the framing in the credits, in this scene, and the way the Good Omens story likes duality and parallels. Crowley's car is the threshold for him to Hell on Earth. The elevator is the threshold for Aziraphale to Heaven on Earth. But even Earth itself is in the credits thanks to the plants behind Crowley in his car. Plus, they're the Green maintained in the Rainbow Connection (theoretically).

Crowley replies to Beelzebub with saying, "I don't know anything about this, but I'll absolutely let you know." However, he is sent back to the car before the sentence actually finishes. He had leaned forward off the seat when he started to talk. The space read that business was done and sent him back, whether he meant for that exact thing to happen or not. That was due to how the sideburns help Crowley manage his personal space. The exact cut off point in the sentence is the end of the word "anything", so, there's a good chance Beelzebub would never have heard Crowley say he would let them know.

Nonetheless, after this encounter, Beelzebub makes no effort to contact Crowley directly again for the rest of the season.

...

Why is the red back in Hell but not before or after summoning? Is that part of the possible story edit with suspicious continuity errors or does Hell being Hell just do that to Crowley? The angle of his head changes in the cut between being in Hell and being in the car. He was leaning back away from Beelzebub, then he is leaning forward toward where they were. In Hell, he looked like had a lightning imprint on the upper left side of his forehead sometimes too.

I maintain my theory on this space within Hell being the same as the Bentley, Crowley's own home base, when Crowley himself is there.

...

I couldn't find every post I had in mind for making this one, but here are a couple:

Since this seems to be...

Something something about (referring to the posts above my reblog)

The main one I couldn't find but wanted to was, I think, about how angels who are not Aziraphale can't seem to recognize people by their faces. Crowley can recognize faces too. I can't remember if other demons were brought up in the post.

...

That's it for this post of mine. Sometimes I edit my posts, FYI. I actually do hope to start editing some in the near future because I've been procrastinating, and it's a growing list.

...

Main post:

The Sideburns Scheme

...

Past version of this post:

Post #12 (being in Hell)

[maximilliansblog]

Trans people! We need to give ourselves clear transition goals! /nf

Because for the past few years that I've been transitioning, I've just said that i want an androgynous look. But what does that actually look like?

See, i'm genderfluid, and i would like to have a flexible look that can change with my gender representation. I would love to just be Bram from Scooby Doo Music of the Vampire (good job if you remember that movie, much less this guy) when I'm masc. Here I'll find a picture of him.

This guy right here. There were like no pictures of him online lol. But this would be a very unrealistic transition goal for several reasons. One: He is like 6 feet tall and I am 5'3". Two: He is skinnier/more well-toned than me. Three: He has this very gothy vampirey look (If you want to know more, he was basically in some kind of acting troupe that did vampire stuff but then he wanted to become an actual vampire so he became a bad guy and kidnapped Daphne as a sacrifice. It didn't work. Sorry for the infodump I literally pretended to be this character so much when I was a kid lol) that I would not be putting on every day, and even if I did, that would not look normal!

So what would be a reasonable transition goal? We should have a clear picture of what we want. There's tons of pictures of people on the internet, so we'll find one. But you have to consider a few things.

1.) Your height (You can only change this by an inch or two with those things you put in your shoes).

2.) Your weight (You can change this, but it takes a lot of hard work. I would recommend making your transition goal just how you are currently, but if your outwards expression matched your internal gender).

3.) Your face shape

4.) Your hair type (I really wanted to be one of those "fluffy haired" boys/enbies from Pinterest, but my hair falls flat on my head and has no texture! I tried to get that hair for over a year, but in the end, I couldn't change my hair type!)

5.) Your skintone

6.) Your muscle tone (You can also change this but like I said with the weight, you want to make your transition goal as achieveable as possible! You can always tone up once you reach that goal).

7.) Your personal clothing style

8.) Oh yeah most importantly, will your outward appearance be masculine, feminine, or androgynous (this can be genderless or a mix of feminine and masculine traits)? It is perfectly okay if you want to go for a look that is not traditional! Like if you're a trans man who wants to dress more feminine or something. That's totally fine!

All of these things must be considered when you find your references. I'm calling these pictures "references", like what artists use to make their art piece.

So for my references, I have to consider that I am 5'3", overweight but not quite plus-sized, I have a round face shape, a very fine and flat hair type, a cool-toned pale skintone, no muscle tone, a casual clothing style, and I want a masculine-leaning androgynous appearance. It would be very hard to find a reference with every single one of these traits! So collect multiple! Find one for your haircut that you're going to get, one for the clothes you will wear, etc. You can also edit images to look more like you, by darkening the skin tone (I don't recommend doing the opposite ^^) or slightly changing the face shape. It is also good to find pictures of fellow trans people with your traits as inspiration.

Here are the images that I found:

I narrowed it down to hair, body type, and fashion, but you can have as many references as you want!

Now of course, you won't look exactly like your references! In the end, you are you! Every person is unique. But hopefully, having a clear transition goal will help you in your journey :)

Have a lovely day you lovely person!

[dr-spencer-reids-queen]

Memoriam: Part One

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~2.3k

Summary: Spencer is investigating the death of his “imaginary friend” that’s not so imaginary. On the other hand, you’re finding out more about your family than you thought you knew. Why are you now getting the ick when you never had this before? What does it all mean?

Warnings: canon violence, canon language, canon talk of death, methods of kill

Author’s Note: I do not own anything from Criminal Minds. All credit goes to their respective owners. If there are any warnings that exceed the normal death/kills from the show, I will list them. If you’ve seen the show, then it’s the same level of angst unless otherwise stated

x

"What was silent in the father speaks in the son, and often I found in the son the unveiled secret of the father." - Friedrich Nietzsche

There's something about this house that doesn't sit right with you. After spending one night here, you feel fear and sadness... but why? Shouldn't these kids be happy they're here and getting adopted? When you were a kid, kids came quickly and left quicker. You never got to spend time with the other kids long enough to form relationships with them. You're the only biological kid of your parents, but they've always wanted more.

Fostering seemed to bring them happiness, and you never questioned it. Now that you have had some time apart from them, you're starting to see things for what they truly are. Like, why don't you hear laughter in the hallway? Why do the kids like to cower in their rooms? Why are they quick to do their chores, but spend hours doing something that should take thirty minutes?

You get up extra early this morning in hopes you can do some digging on your own. You quickly get dressed and head downstairs, pausing in the middle of the stairs to look at the pictures on the wall.

They're all of you. When you were a baby, early toddler years, late childhood era, and well into your teenage years. Some of the younger pictures are of you running around in the backyard naked with the sprinklers on, and others are of you and your dad cuddling on the couch.

Weird how none of these pictures contain your mother.

You head to the kitchen where three kids are eating breakfast. You haven't seen your mom or dad around, so if you're going to ask questions, then now is the time. The kids don't look at you when you enter, they stiffen at your presence.

"Is everything alright?"

You get no response from them. Why are they so scared?

"What's your name?" you ask the little boy that's closest to you.

"James," he says in a quiet voice.

"His name is Joshua."

You turn to see your dad walk into the kitchen. Was he standing there listening in? It seems convenient that he would pop up right as you're asking questions.

"That's not what he says."

"Josh has a big imagination. His favorite superhero is named James, and he loves dressing up as him and pretending he is him. He gets confused a lot." You scrunch your face up in confusion, and your dad clasps his hands together eagerly. "Okay, breakfast time is over. You all have your morning chores to do."

All three kids pack up their things quickly before leaving the kitchen in a hurry. As Joshua passes by you, he mutters something that has your eyes narrowed in suspicion.

"My name is James."

"Where's mom?" you ask.

"She's getting the rest of the kids ready for their chores."

"How many kids are here?"

"About a dozen of all ages."

"You'd think you'd want to retire at your age and not take care of young children."

"I love it," he shrugs.

Your hands fall to your sides, and you feel something in your pocket. Yes, you made sure to bring it as soon as you knew you'd be visiting your parents. You take out the necklace you found in the rubble of your apartment after it was burned down. Without uttering a word, you set the necklace on the kitchen island right in his eye line. He looks at it and immediately stiffens, but he doesn't say a word.

It has always been very hard to read him even while growing up, but you've spent so much time apart that you think you can do it now.

"Do you know what this is? I found it in the ashes of my apartment when it burned down."

"I've been looking for that necklace for years now," your dad says with an easy smile. "I thought I lost it. It must have gotten mixed up with your things." You want to press him for more information, but he's already bringing you into a hug. Just like that, all worries you have drifts away. Nothing is going on with your dad. He's normal, and you're overthinking things. "You've been gone for too long. I'd wish you'd visit more."

"Maybe if you and Mom weren't foster parents, then you could take a vacation and come see me in Virginia."

"We're actually planning a trip soon and another one in a few years. Maybe you can go with us on that one. It'd mean the world to me."

"Of course," you grin. Your phone rings, and you see that your boyfriend is messaging you. "Spencer is here to pick me up." Your dad walks you outside, and he looks at Spencer who stays in the car. "I'll make sure to visit again."

"Maybe without Spencer."

"I don't know why you're being so hard on him. He's a good man and he takes care of me. If you'd give him a chance, you'd love him."

Spencer watches from the front seat, and he drums his fingers on the steering wheel to prevent himself from going out there and dragging you away. Your dad pulls you in for a final hug, and when he pulls away, he kisses your cheek. However, he's so close to the corner of your mouth that he's practically mouth-kissing you.

Spencer's eyes narrow at this.

You pull away from your dad completely, and his hand brushes the underside of your breast. You don't seem to notice, and you jog over to the car. When you get inside, you notice Spencer's sour look.

"What is wrong?" Spencer backs up to make a U-turn, but his eyes never leave your father's. He waits until he's on the main road before addressing what he saw. "Spencer, what is the matter?"

"I don't like the way he kissed and hugged you. He practically kissed you on the mouth. Plus, when he pulled away, he touched your boob."

"I turned my head too soon. It was an accident. It's nothing to get concerned over. You're overthinking it. Everything is okay."

Spencer wants to talk more about this, but you're not in the right mind to listen to him right now.

"I'm going to stay in Vegas for a couple more days. This Riley Jenkins case is bugging me too much to let go. I'd appreciate it if you were to stay with me."

"Spencer, of course, I will. I got your back all the way."

He drives back to the casino where the rest of the team is waiting. Emily looks hungover as fuck, JJ looks amused by her actions, Derek is happily playing the machines while he waits, and Rossi is eager to leave the city.

"Oh, here they come right now," Derek says when he notices you two walk in. "You know what, I don't even want to know what you two were doing."

"Don't be nasty. I was with my parents. He picked me up," you roll your eyes.

"Hotch is already at the airstrip. How fast can you two pack?" JJ asks.

"Actually, we're gonna stay for a couple of days."

"Is everything alright?"

"Yeah, I just haven't seen my mom for a really long time, so I'd like a few more days."

"I want to spend more time with my parents. I don't see them often either."

"Are you sure?" Rossi asks, looking at him with an unreadable expression.

"Yeah."

"Okay, take a few days. Do what you need to do."

The whole team shuffles out of the casino after saying their goodbyes. As soon as they are out of earshot, Spencer turns to you with a serious look.

"The next time you go visit your parents, I'm going with you."

"Spencer," you sigh.

"Y/N, your dad is getting too close to you that's conceived as normal."

"He's my dad, Spencer. What harm can he do?"

"You've been at this job long enough to know anyone is capable of anything and is good at hiding it."

You sigh in frustration, but you don't want to fight.

"Nothing is going on, but if you want to come, then you can. Now, where do we start with Riley?"

"The local police station."

Everything in Vegas is practically within walking distance and by car, it's even quicker. Spencer is very nervous, especially when Vegas PD doesn't know you're coming. The station isn't busy for being in a busy city, but there isn't an available officer to help you. You approach one who is sitting at a desk.

"Excuse me? My name is Y/N and this is Dr. Spencer Reid. We're with the FBI." You and Spencer flash him your badge. "We'd like to see everything you have about the 1984 murder of a boy named Riley Jenkins."

"Of course."

He pauses what he is doing to get that information for you. A detective returns instead of the officer, but he has the boxes you're asking about. He brings you to his office to discuss this privately.

"I'm Detective Hyde, the detective on the case. This was a rough one," he sighs.

"Did you work the case?" you ask.

"Yeah. I was three or four blocks away when the call came in on the radio. My first kid. You don't forget those."

"Can I ask you this? Were there any suspects?" Spencer wonders.

"The family, initially. We thought it could have been the dad or the older brother."

"That makes sense. I heard the boy was found in his basement, right?"

"Yeah. After a while, the family got defensive and stopped cooperating. It reminded me of the Jon-Benet case. The family being suspects never sat right with me. I always thought that it was someone outside the home. What's the bureau's interest in the case?"

"Research," you smile and gesture to the box he brought in. "Is this everything?"

"There might be another box down in records."

"We'd like to see it all if you don't mind."

Detective Hyde leaves his office and returns with one more box. You and Spencer each carry one box as you make your way back to the hotel room. Spencer paid for extra days out of his own money since the FBI is no longer needed in Las Vegas. You and Spencer walk down the hallway silently, but you frown when you see his hotel door open partially. Someone is talking inside the room, and you set your box on top of Spencer's so he's carrying both of them. You slide your gun out of the holster and push open the door slowly.

Derek and Rossi are sitting on the chairs watching a soap opera. You sigh in relief and lower your gun, and they turn to you with a smile.

"What are you guys doing here?" Spencer asks and closes the door with his foot.

"What's it look like we're doing?"

"Breaking into our room and watching 'Days of Our Lives'."

"Aren't you supposed to be on a plane back to D.C?" Spencer asks.

"Aren't you supposed to be hanging out with your mom?" Rossi bites back.

"Is this about Riley Jenkins?"

"No, it's not--that's not why I'm here."

Spencer is a terrible liar when it comes to his personal life. He can lie very well when it doesn't affect him.

"Reid, come on, man. Who do you think you're talking to? I know what this has been doing to you. Let us help."

"Maybe we can figure out who killed him. Together."

"They have a point," you whisper to Spencer.

"I think I might already know."

"Tell us about the suspect."

"The truth is, I don't know anything about him. He's my father."

You weren't expecting that, but you're not going to tell Spencer he might be wrong. He's right, you never know what anyone is capable of. Family or otherwise.

"Before we go down this road, you need to be sure."

"He's right," Derek backs Rossi up. "Some rocks don't need looking under."

"My mind is sending me signals. I can't ignore them anymore."

"If Spencer suspects his father, then we should support him. Family doesn't mean they're safe."

If only you'd listen to him about your own father.

"Reid, your dad left you. If you take it to the Freudian extreme, you could say that he killed your childhood. It could explain a dream in which you see him as a murderer."

"I've come this far, I'm not going back."

"Okay, we're with you," you say and take a seat on the bed with Spencer. "Tell us about what you remember about the murder."

"Riley was six at the time. His father, Lou Jenkins, was supposed to pick him up from t-ball practice at four. He got delayed at work, prompting Riley to walk the three blocks home. When his mother got home in the early evening, she found him dead in the basement."

"Either the offender came to the house after the boy arrived home, or he picked him up on the way there. He could have coaxed Riley into the basement where he sexually assaulted him."

"His mouth was taped shut," Spencer says. "The unsub must have feared Riley would talk, panics, weighs his options, and decides to make certain he'll never talk."

"He finds a knife in the fishing gear under the stairs and stabs Riley nine times in the chest before stuffing him behind the washing machine. If the unsub was a white male in his late twenties to early thirties when the crime was committed, then we're looking for someone in his fifties."

"He likely knew the boy. Maybe he's even been to his house like a neighbor," Derek thinks out loud. Spencer looks down and widens his eyes in horror. "Reid? What is it?"

"My family lived less than half a mile from the Jenkins'."

"Do you think your dad knew the boy?" Rossi asks.

"I don't know. My memory's lack of recall just reinforces how little I knew about him."

"Baby, you know we're going to have to track him down, right?"

"We should talk to my mother first along with some neighbors."

You know he doesn't want to see his dad, and he's doing everything he can to avoid him. You look at Rossi and Derek, and you know they're thinking the same thing you are.

"Reid, I don't need to tell you that this signature was need-based and sexual. The man we're looking for is a pedophile. So, I'll ask you again. Are you sure you want to go down this road?" Rossi asks carefully.

"I have to know," he whispers.

"I'm with you." You reach over and grab his hand. "I'm with you until the end."

x

Follow my library blog @aqueenslibrary​​​​​​​​​​​ where I reblog all my stories, so you can put notifications on there without the extra stuff :)

[toomanystoriessolittletime]

Attraction

Summary: Dieter is in love with your voice. He just hasn’t met you yet. You are the woman who was hired to record his scripts for him so he could listen to them. But one plane ride to Spain might just change both of your life’s.

Pairing: Dieter Bravo x fem. Reader

Wordcount: 2.8k

Rating: T

Warnings: puns, dyslexia, toddlers, air plane food, fluff, some sexy talk, mentions of drugs and alcohol, a surprise end?

Masterlist

Something was ringing. 

Dieter groaned, his right arm reaching over to where the noise was coming from, keeping his eyes closed until the very last moment, while he brought his phone to his ear.

“Where are you? The car is waiting outside,” the familiar voice of his new PA droned in his ear. 

“Why?” he croaked, his eyes finally blinking open, finding the room in complete darkness, save for a slit of light from the bedroom window. 

His PA, Anthony, sighed. 

“Your flight to spain? We talked about it yesterday. Your suitcase is already in the car. Do you need any…”

“Fuck. Right. Forgot to set an alarm. I’ll be down in 15,” Dieter said and rubbed his eyes.

“Good. I have your Starbucks here.”

“I love you,” Dieter hummed and Anthony chuckled before he ended the call. 

Dieter took a deep breath before he sat himself up, using the home app on his phone to open the curtains. 

It was a new house. He still wasn’t used to the view. The sound of the ocean crashing against the shore just outside of his property. 

Dieter had changed his whole life in the last two years. 

After the whole cliff beasts disaster he went off drugs. Tried to make the relationship with Anika work. Failed. Got back to drugs. Got fired by his agency. Almost died again because of the drugs. Went to rehab. 

Now it’s been three months since he was completely sober. 

And he felt…. Good. 

He had a new agent, a new house, he even had a fucking work out routine. Technically. He even tried going vegan for a while but he fucking couldn’t live without swiss goat cheese in his life. 

He got out of bed, his limbs protesting. The air in his bedroom was cold, goosebumps erupting over his whole body. Turning around he narrowed his eyes, trying to find his airpods. He fell asleep listening to his script again. 

Listening to you. 

What many people did not know about Dieter (or more like what he didn’t know about himself until the tender age of 32) was that he was dyslexic. 

Back in school the teachers just thought he was another dumb mexican kid not caring to learn anything. (thanks racism) Then once he got out of school Dieter always found someone to read for him. 

He enjoyed reading. Always did. He just couldn’t figure out why it was so fucking hard for him. Back in the 80s people did not care about such things. 

It was back when he was shooting a shity mini series he couldn’t even remember the name of anymore, that he talked to a colleague who had the same issues. 

Things had changed after that. Dieter took lessons, got ebooks in a special font that made it easier for him to read. And it really got better.

But there were still days when it just won’t work. For days like that his old agent had organised someone to read his scripts for him. Much like an audiobook.

And… weirdly this woman, you, became the only constant in his life ever since you started with the recordings almost 10 years ago. 

Which was funny because he had never met you. 

Just your voice. 

He knew your first name. That’s it. 

And he built this whole picture of you in his mind.

Was it possible to fall in love with a voice?

Dieter opened the doors to his little balcony, inhaling the ocean air as he closed his eyes. 

He would miss it. 

Four months of shooting a series in Spain were coming up, his first project after his relapse. He was looking forward to it, as much as he was scared. He couldn’t remember the last time he had been on a set with a clear head. Without any drugs or alcohol in his system. 

Instead he had organic smoothies, breathing exercises and his therapist on speed dial. 

He scratched his chin, taking a last look at the ocean in front of him before he turned around and made his way to the shower to get himself ready. 

You hated airports.

HATED them. There were too many people. It always had that weird smell? People everywhere seemed to be in a rush and frankly, fucking rude. 

But you had promised. 

You had promised your sister that you would take a 10 hour flight with a toddler, your precious daughter Maxie, aged two, to Spain because she wanted to have a destination wedding. 

Yes, it could be worse as getting a paid trip to spain for three weeks, in first class, mind you, because your sister’s future husband was fucking loaded. 

Just a 10 hour flight with Maxie… You looked down at her, sleeping soundly against your chest as you sat at the gate, waiting for the flight to board. 

You closed your eyes, kissing her on the top of her head. 

Her father, your previous boyfriend, had left you when you found out you were pregnant. 

You hadn’t heard from him since. Not throughout your pregnancy, not when Maxie was born, not ever. 

There were times where you wished you had help in your life. You didn’t have family living close and you did not have many friends. Your neighbour Mr. Winter had been your saviour. He was in his seventies, his wife passed years earlier, leaving him a little lonely. He had found you crying in the hallway when you got back from the appointment where you found out you would be having a girl, having no one to share the news with. 

He had invited you for a piece of lemon cake, drying your tears. 

Mr. Winter was the father you wished you had in your life. He was like a grandfather to Maxie and you were glad you had him in your life. 

“First class for flight DT453 to Barcelona is now boarding,” you opened your eyes, looking at the people making their way towards the doors. 

You watched a man in a purple sweater make his way towards the flight attendant, his ticket in his hand. He was only carrying a small bag over his broad shoulders. He had dark hair, curly and unkempt. 

You looked after him until he walked through the door and towards the plane before you carefully got up from the uncomfortable chair, Maxie still in your arms as you grabbed your backpack and pulled your boarding tickets and passports out. 

If you were lucky, she would stay asleep for a little while longer. 

Dieter was listening to your voice, reading him the newest script of a SciFi Thriller. He had his airpods in as he made himself comfortable in his seat, taking his shoes off immediately and pulling Crocs on. He put the seatbelt on, grabbing his phone to put it into flight mode before he leaned back and sighed. 

In the corner of his eyes he could see a woman walking past his seat with a toddler in her arms, getting into the row in front of him. He watched her as she put what he thought was her daughter down on the window seat before she pulled her backpack off and rolled her neck with her eyes closed. Her eyes caught his when she opened them and she blinked once, twice, before she gave him a small smile and a nod and sat down in her seat. 

Dieter closed his eyes, relaxing in his seat and it wasn’t long before he fell asleep. With your voice in his ear.

Maxie thankfully slept through the beginning of the flight, giving you time to relax.

Technically. 

Years ago, when money was low you had started working for a local agency making audio readings of scripts. 

Apparently there were actors out there who were too lazy to read the words by themselves. 

But Dieter Bravo wasn’t. 

You had read about his condition and even saw an interview or two where he spoke out about it.

Of course you knew who he was. The tabloids were full of his escapades. 

And now he was sitting behind you on a ten hour flight. 

You had never met him. You wouldn’t say you were a huge fan but you did enjoy his works. He was a very talented actor when you ignored the whole scandals around his person. Though you had read that he had gotten sober and changed basically every part of his life lately. 

“Mommy,” Maxi blinked her eyes open, her little head turning to search for you. You smiled at her, taking her hand. 

“Are you ready to fly to see Auntie Sarah?” you asked and Maxi rubbed her eyes but nodded. It was her first flight. 

“So you gotta sit in your seat until that little light goes off. And then we can watch Moana?” Maxie nodded with a small smile, trying to look outside. 

The flight took off and Dieter had fallen asleep at some point, waking up when a Stewardess asked him what he wanted to have for dinner. He ordered the lasagna and some fruity mocktail before he groaned and stretched his muscles. 

He heard a childish giggle from the seat in front of him, followed by a voice talking he would recognize everywhere. 

You had just been reading to him after all. 

He narrowed his eyes, leaning in closer, but yes. It must be you. 

You who had unknowingly been the one constant in life for almost ten years. 

Taking a deep breath he got up from his seat to walk to the restroom to freshen up. He was still unused to seeing himself so… healthy. He put on some weight and that skin routine his stylist taught him was doing wonders for his skin. 

He chuckled to himself as he made his way back, asking for a Kit Kat when he passed the bar.

Some habits were just too good to get rid of. 

He made his way back to his seat, the little girl who had been giggling when he left now sleeping on the seat and he decided to use this time to talk to you.

“I know you,” you turned your head around looking up to see Dieter Bravo standing beside you. You narrowed your eyes. 

“That’s…. An odd way of saying hello to a complete stranger,” you said and he flinched, his hand rubbing his neck.

“Yeah. Noticed that too. I sound like a fu…” he looked at Maxie sleeping, “freaking stalker,”  he shook his head and you huffed a laugh. 

“Okay. From the beginning. Hi. I’m Dieter and I think I know you,” he held out his hand which you took to shake it. 

You told him your name.

“I know you too. But it’s not that creepy when I say it,” you winked and he chuckled.

“That’s true. But… It is you? Right? I was listening to you reading that very very bad Sci Fi script earlier…”

“Oh yeah. Yeah that was me. I’m glad you think it’s bad too.”

“It sucks. Don’t know why my agent even sent it to me,” he shook his head with a smile. 

“I mean if you’d take it it might be ending up as a decent movie,” you shrugged and he grinned.

“Was that a compliment I just heard?”

“Maybe. Don’t get used to it though.”

Four hours into your ten hour flight you were sitting next to Dieter, Maxie on your lap as you all watched Pets.

Well Maxie was watching with her headphones on while you and Dieter talked. About everything really. 

He had told you about how hard it was to stay sober, but that he wanted to keep it up this time. He even told you how close he came to dying the last time and your heart broke for him. 

“I don’t think you should be telling things like that to a total stranger,” you teased but he smirked. 

“You’re not a total stranger. I fell asleep with you more times than I can count.”

“Oh,” you said, suddenly flustered. 

“Honestly. I feel like you’re the only constant in my life I had in the last ten years which sounds… so freaking weird because we never met each other.”

“It’s not weird. I feel like I know you too. Or I thought I did? I mean… I know tabloid Dieter. But I like this version better,” you smiled.

“Thank fuck, oh sorry,” he apologized as he looked at Maxie but you just shook your head. 

“She’s totally focused on the movie. She won’t hear you.”

“How old is she?”

“Two. Turning three in four months.”

“She’s adorable. You must be proud.”

“More than that. She’s my whole life,” you smiled down at her.

“Are you… Are you and her father…” he asked. You shook your head. 

“Haven’t seen him since I told him I was pregnant. It was… It was a hard time back then.”

“What a… asshole,” he whispered and you chuckled, strangely taken by how he was trying to keep the cursing at a minimum. 

“Yeah. But it’s his loss really. She’s perfect,” you said and Dieter nodded. 

“I think you are too,” he mumbled and you grinned. 

“You think?”

“Give me the rest of the flight to figure it out.”

“So have you done other audio readings?” he asked after dinner. Maxie was asleep and hopefully would stay that way for the rest of the flight. The lights were dimmed and Dieter had ordered what looked like all the sweets of the bar. 

“I’ve done a couple. But yours are the ones I kept up with.”

“Any… steamy stuff?” he wiggled his eyebrows. You huffed a laugh. 

“Wouldn’t you like to know…” you hummed with a teasing smile.

“Fuck yes I would,” he whispered and you bit your lip.

“I haven’t done readings,” you finally said. 

“But way back I might have done some… dubbing for European porn.”

“They dub that shit?” he asked and you laughed quietly, nodding your head. 

“It was only two movies and it was awkward as fuck.”

“I wonder how you…” he stopped himself, biting his lip as he looked at you. 

“You wonder how?” you asked expectantly.

He leaned in, and you could feel the warmth of his body against your side. You gulped.

“I wonder how you sound when you cum,” he whispered against your ear and you shuddered. He kissed you beneath your ear before he sat back in his chair, watching you the whole time. 

“I… Maybe this was….” you stuttered.

“Maybe this was?”

You turned his body towards him, looking into his eyes. 

“Okay so. Isn’t it crazy that we met each other like that? And… you feel that too right? I never felt… I… Whatever this is?” you gestured between you and him. 

“Yeah. I mean… Not to be too forward but I think I fell in love with your voice years ago. Even when I was fucking high and out of it, you could calm me down. And meeting you? Yeah… Yeah I feel that.”

“How long are you in spain?”

“Four months. Shooting a series. You?”

“Three weeks but…. I work from home and my sister’s husband is fucking loaded so maybe I could stay….”

“I want to get to know you. I wanna take you out on dates. I wanna get to know Maxie and feed her as much Ice Cream as possible.”

“Don’t you dare,” you laughed, but he took your hand. 

“Give me your phone so I can give you my number.”

The flight was spent talking with Dieter. At some point Maxie woke up and climbed into Dieter’s lap before she continued to sleep. You were… You were as much confused as he was but he assured you it was okay and that he had many nieces and nephews who did the same. 

He helped you get your things together once the plane landed and you arrived in Barcelona, keeping Maxie in his arms as you walked out of the plane.

“So…” he said. 

“So,” you said, Maxie already sitting in the black car that would bring you to your sister. 

“I’ll see you soon?” you asked. He nodded. 

“If there wouldn’t be these two paparazzis around I would kiss you now,” he whispered and you smiled. 

“I would let you,” you grinned. 

“Text me when you get to the hotel,” he said.

“You too.”

He hugged you then and you inhaled his scent. 

You said your goodbyes and got into the car, unknowing that you would see Dieter for dinner with your sister and fiancé later on the same day.

Because as it turned out, Dieter Bravo was the cousin of your sister's fiance Javi Gutierrez. 

[theonevoice]

Sorry if this is a little foggy and poorly worded, but I have been sitting on this thought all day, after working on a scene from Mamoru Hosoda's Wolf Children, and might as well put it here. The scene in question is the one where little wolf-boy Ame, sweet child who loves stories and picture books and who struggles to come to terms with his hybrid identity, one day while out in the woods with his sister and his mother on a sort of wolf-training excursion suddenly starts crying. And the reason why is crying is that, in all the picture books, he keeps seeing the wolf depicted as the bad guy that ends up shooed away or killed. And because of such representations, now he wants to repress his wolf identity, that has always been a lively and funny, although hard to figure out, part of his life. He is terrified of being what he is because the narrow representations that he has access to tell him that the world does not like people like him. It's a powerful little moment in a beautiful movie, that always makes me tear up, and if you missed it I highly recommend you watch it. If you are not into anime movie and just curious of the scene, I found a clip on YouTube:

Anyway, this scene made my lonely braincel twitch, and I was thinking, now that we are approaching the end of this glorious - as far as the mediascape is concerned - year 2023, that many people underestimate the enormous power of fantasy narratives in expanding the borders of gender (and minority in general) representation. Having an author canonically establish that certain fixed categories do not apply to one or more characters for in-universe reasons takes away that nasty oblique excuse that some people use to deny and disparage diversity in media (where I live they usually sound like "they only made this character a person of color to please the woke liberalsTM even if the historical context doesn't allow it", or even, comically, "it is narratively implausible that this character is or shows to be queer but they were forced to do it by THE GAY LOBBY" - yes, this is an actual conspiracy theory loudly promoted by Italian journalists and politicians, and yes, I am personally deeply ashamed by it). Obviously, almost none of said people has the faintest actual interest in narrative aspects, but they still use the excuse to pollute the public discourse and attack minorities. And I am aware that there is a possible dark pitfall here: in the best possible world, we should not need to take the route of fantasy settings to have something that should never have been denied in the first place, but from a pragmatical standpoint it does work. Having authors saying "nope, sorry not sorry, they are wolf-children / angels and demons / weird vampires / anachronistic pirates in a fantasy context so your self-proclaimed laws of plausibility do not apply and you can shove them where the sun does not shine while we enjoy the show and put this beautiful, funny, delicate, deep and sad things on screen", is like having a cultural picklock which is also a cultural battering ram thrusting the representation-door open. Shows like Good Omens, Our Flag Means Death, What We Do in the Shadows (and their fandoms with their massive collective creative endeavour), by offering the symbolic shield of a fantasy setting can establish a safe space where 1. queer people (especially young people but not only) can finally recognize themselves and stop feeling like they are alone and don't have the words and images they need to describe themselves; 2. not queer people can get used to a larger set of possible identities and not only realise that 100% of said idenities are in fact - hold on to your butts - still people with thoughts and feelings and needs, but also, through the power of mimesis, acquire a deeper understanding of forms of life that they don't directly experience. Including, hopefully, understanding how similar we all are when it comes to us being ultimately a bunch of naked apes who walk on this spinning rock trying to be as little miserable as possible.

Again, sorry if this sounds clumsy and blunt, given how delicate and complex this subject is (one does not simply walk into Mordor talk about the lives and needs of other people like that), but I had this thought stuck in my shallow brain wrinkles and I wanted to try and put it into words.