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[houseoffett]

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[bchan95]

Shock and Awe (Bang Chan x Y/N)

Based on this performance video I saw on Twitter bc... yeah. Slightly suggestive... but nothing too wild.

You watched with wide eyes, gazing at the gruff performance that he was giving on the stage. Every movement was messy, but he looked so self-assured. His normally warm facial expressions peeled from his face, ripping that beautiful smile away and leaving in its place, a firm brow and an angry, open mouth.

It had been a long time since you had seen him this fired up during a performance. He was so in his element that he’d probably need to take a few minutes after the performance to breathe and remember exactly where he was. You tried to meet his eyes, but you knew every attempt would fail as he was too into the moment.

You kept that smile on your face as you watched him tear up the stage for the rest of the song. His fans screamed and cried out as they watched the whole group jump up and down singing their hearts out. But your gaze never left him.

The way his dark eyes filled with passion, the way his skin shone with sweat dripping down it under the heavy lights… it was amazing that he was still standing at this point. You were drenched sitting in this hot room and you haven’t made a move in an hour.

As the final moments of the stage disappeared, you watched as Chan took his place in the back of the formation, panting heavily as he held up his signature pose, stoic for a moment. Within seconds that smile spread across his face again and he ran off stage as if your heart hadn’t been beating at two-times speed watching him.

You shook your head, tearing your gaze from the stage to look down at your water glass and take a sip as you gained your bearings. You knew you’d have to leave as soon as you came, with the kids jet-setting to another schedule before the show even ended. You gave them a breather of around 15 minutes before one of your staffers came over and tapped you on the shoulder.

You knew the routine. Keep yours and Chan’s profile low as long as you can to not rile up the fans until you can’t anymore. Every sneaky car ride, private plane, and scheduled driver was worth ending up in his arms though. So, you grabbed the bottom of your dress, gripping it above your shoes and making a hasty exit without another word.

You stopped by your dressing room to take off the floor-length dress and slip into something more comfortable, pulling your hair up into a ponytail in an attempt to cool yourself down.

As you slipped into the sleek black car, you took a deep breath, letting the air conditioning kiss your face as you leaned back into your seat. A soft cough caused you to re-open your eyes in a panic. You turned to your left and were met by that bright white grin again. You roll your eyes as you feel his hand grab yours.

“You’re insane Christopher,” you start with a soft giggle leaving your lips. “Anyone could have seen you.”

He lifted your hand to his mouth and pressed a kiss to it. Your nerves slightly left as that knowing smirk pulled the right side of his mouth.

“That’s part of the fun,” he said, a husky tone overtaking his voice. Proving that he most definitely strained his vocal cords with the intensity that he brought to today’s performance. “Plus, these windows are tinted anyway…”

He continued to press kisses up your arm, leaving goosebumps in their path, until he reached your neck. His plush lips met the base of your neck with two open-mouth, wet kisses. Your hand pressed forward, pushing his chest back.

“Do not… get any ideas,” You laugh loudly at your boyfriend’s eagerness. The driver was very clearly still in the front of the car. There was no way you were letting this move any more forward than it already has. “You’re already testing your limits Bang.”

He seemed to ignore your hesitation, pulling himself back into you and bringing softer kisses back to the top of your neck near your ear. He wasn’t going to make this easy. You could hear his smile form again as he leaned in even more to whisper in your ear.

“You know… I could see you watching me tonight…” He started, giggling to himself before continuing that thought. “I feel like you want this even more than me.”

Your blush poured across your cheeks. Thank god for the darkness of your surroundings right now because you would have definitely given yourself away. He’s not wrong. From the moment you saw that homemade jagged hem of his makeshift crop top as the lights brought him into focus, you knew you were screwed. It was only made worse by the almost barbaric energy that he brought to his movement.

But you were a woman of your word. You told him from the beginning of your relationship that you weren’t comfortable with PDA in public. Not yet at least. Even if the "public" spaces were made as private as they could be. You saw boy group members torn to shreds for being seen with a woman before. Campaigns lead against them forcing them to leave the only career they’ve ever known.

You knew your fans would be disgruntled too, but you were far more concerned about Chan. You knew how much he’d always wanted this. All of that training, all of those late nights in the studio… he’s put in too much to have it all taken away for a kiss. A hand-holding scandal. A public relationship.

You sighed quietly to remind yourself of the gravity of your current situation before pushing him away again. You turned yourself toward him and softly touched his cheek with a soft smile. He watched you with wide eyes as your thumb swept left and right. You leaned forward and pressed a short kiss to his lips.

“You’re not wrong, but you need to be careful,” you pressed another peck. “I care about you too much to let my lustful want for you cloud my judgment.”

He let out a sigh and reached out for your hips “I’d give it all up for you.”

You rolled your eyes “You better not.”

He raised his eyebrow in a challenging fashion. His face leaned into yours and the force of his neck kiss pushed you back up against the car door. Your eyes widened as you watched his pupils dilate as he rose up above you.

“Don’t… say that again.”

You nod silently, your hand reaching out to him again. You felt his breathing calm and you lifted yourself up to kiss him.

“You know what I meant baby,” you said before chewing on your bottom lip. “I want you… you know that. Just not here. I promise.”

He nodded, falling back into his seat. You smiled to yourself, thinking about your boyfriend’s intense reaction to a simple denial of a kiss. The smile widens as you hear him huff again.

You look over at him and although he may be looking out the window and keeping his distance, you look down to see his hand in yours. His thumb rubbing circles on the side of your palm as you drive. His compromise it seems as you push forward into the night sky.

[tinycozycomfort]

where you sleep

pairing: jackson era!joel miller x f!reader

day three of @pascalisbaby and i's joeltober: hand kink -> read her day three here

summary: When you swing your neck to face him, he’s already cocked his chin over the hill of his left shoulder to await your gaze—beaming. He knew you’d been watching since you approached the room. Worse, he wanted you to see. 

warnings/tags: pwp!, hand kink, oral sex (m recieving), dom/sub dynamics, masturbation (m), exhibitionism, misuse of underwear/underwear play, pet names (honey, sweetheart, etc), creepy!joel (/dark!joel?)

word count: 1.7k

rating: explicit! 18+ only, mdni

a/n: gotta give an extra kiss to @pascalisbaby for not only saving this from the delete button more than once but for always being the best person alive!!!

main masterlist

You hear him, first—the end of a damp squelch, the sharp intake that breaks between coupling breaths, on a loop—from your place at the front door. It’s only clear enough to be interpreted as motion, disjointed pieces of noise that make you think he might be struggling, or hurt—so you follow. 

Padding lightly down the hallway in the dim afternoon, a twinge of anxiety leans lamely against your heart with all its dead weight; guilty already, even with no cause. Your chest thrums as it tries to hold up, picturing all of the ways he could have ended up wounded while trying to fix your shower, but when you reach the bathroom, it’s empty. No blood, no horrific scene, just a pile of loose tools and a smattering of fine plaster from where he’d dug around in the wall—yet the sounds persist somewhere further. 

You continue down, not quiet by any means, a little disturbed by his lack of interest in your arrival. He’s in your room, you deduce—the only occupiable space left in the home—coming into view now with the aid of long, heavy steps. Announcing yourself, just in case.  

The door is split open enough to see a long strip of empty space—the corner of your unmade bed, the swirling edge of your dresser, a sliver of mirror posed straighter than usual. 

As you sidle up to the frame, the sounds pitch up—strained hissing and sloppy glide of skin reaching a peak—and so you risk a deeper lean to see what it is he’s gotten himself into; what it is that isn’t worth hiding. 

A weak wash of daylight squeezes through the kinks in the blinds, allowing you only the fuzzy edges of what he’s doing. 

Joel sits on the far side of the bed, body angled so that you can see just a little more than profile, hunched roundly over his lap. He’s almost fully dressed—button-up intact right up to the neck, crinkled tops of his jeans still upright on his legs—everywhere except his center. 

He has one hand braced on his stomach, wide and solid and threaded with thick cords of vein, the fabric of his modesty folded up into his thumb. The waistline of his pants is zipped and peeled open at the thigh, the buckle of his belt jolting with faint clinks on every off-beat. A crude frame for the action resting within it.

His cock is slick in his right hand, a band of bright wet flashing between his fingers as he makes rough passes along it, stuttering minutely when he moves down to the base. He fucks the column fervently, the hard muscle of his clutched fist sending a push of arousal between the tops of your thighs. 

He touches himself as roughly as he seems able to tolerate—the sinew between his first set of knuckles dipped harshly, peaks white from strain, the tips of the hand on his stomach turning in against his own flesh enough to ripple.

Something pink, unnaturally so, peaks between his fingers every so often, calling you away from your observation of his abdomen. He’s particularly enamored with whatever it is—panting every time it swirls over the head, dulling the sheen of his pull. 

Fabric, you realize, absorbing the slip on his skin. You squint, assessing the texture of the material as it darkens with each stroke. Lace fabric; scallop-edged lace fabric that looks starkly familiar to what had been discarded in a shallow grave on top of your too-full hamper the night before. 

He shoves into the cloth, webbing it around the points of his fingers like a pocket, canting his hips off the bed to slot into it and he huffs in frustration when he manages to miss a few times, stunted. 

You glance up to see he’s maneuvering himself blindly; despite his intricate goal he looks straight ahead, eyes still open from what you can make out, concentration elsewhere as he fumbles against the make-shift cunt. 

You track his focus, only half-way across the room when you remember just how much the door had been left open, the crease of the frame very visible in the newly-positioned mirror at your bedside—the intention of it. 

The realization rushes between your ribs like ice-water, little knocks of frozen pellets as they swim between the bones on the way down. The force is so fast you feel like you’re going to keel over—not assisted by the way your knees already feel tight from the strain of keeping yourself motionless. 

You hit the end of the line, his expression wild where he meets you in the reflection, pleased.

“You just gonna watch, sweetheart? That’s all?” 

When you swing your neck to face him, he’s already cocked his chin over the hill of his left shoulder to await your gaze—beaming. He knew you’d been watching since you approached the room. Worse, he wanted you to see. 

“Joel—Fuck, I’m… I didn’t mean to-” 

He uses his unoccupied hand to help him rise to his feet, his right not ceasing to work himself as he rounds the edge of the mattress. You cower, still mostly inaccessible behind the wood, so he reacts accordingly—slows, tames his grin, knits the inner corners of his brow to look disarming. 

“Hey, it’s okay. It’s okay. You caught me in a bit of a bind here, honey,” he pumps lazily, head bowing to direct your attention as if you would need the assistance, “No big deal. Wouldn’t hurt if you offered to help—might as well work for the show.”

You stare at him, wide-eyed, afraid to pierce the illusion, the dream in front of you a few words from melting away, and he pouts something disappointed.

“Don’t need to invite you into your own room, do I?”

“Joel,” you try again, weak. 

“Heard you the first time—didn’t mean to. We’re past that. I forgive you. Now c’mon, come take a closer look—like I know you want to.”

Hesitantly, you hook an ankle around the edge of the door, willing yourself forward. Joel nods encouragingly before cutting the distance with his own wide steps. 

He uses his clean hand to cup the swell of your cheek, thumb twisting to dig into the fullest part, the pads against your neck pressing down like a suggestion, and you fold without question, tucking a knee beneath you to guide yourself to the floor. 

Joel releases you, draping the curve of his shirt up into his palm again to reveal what had been only momentarily concealed beneath it. Even so, your eyes stay fixed on the spread of his fingers against his belly, right past the place where his cock hangs between his legs. 

“Didn’t seem to have a problem looking when you thought I didn't know. Don't be shy.” His words are encouraging but his tone is laced with annoyance, frustrated maybe that you aren’t responding with the enthusiasm he wants.

He resumes playing with himself, the stretch of lace in his clutch not enough to claim your favor—the way his nails pierce his stomach far more intriguing. 

He seems to understand, trailing his palm up to his chest, still holding the hem, a smile curling on his lips when you follow the movement. 

“Oh, that’s what you like?” 

He releases his length, letting the lace slot between the crease of his thumb like a bracelet. “You want me to touch you with these, sweetheart?” He waves the wet hand lewdly before offering it to you, “Want me to put them in your mouth?” 

You nod, and he lets the rough tips of his pointer and middle tap on the center of your bottom lip, watching shamelessly as you open up for him on instinct. 

“Look at that. I think we can figure out something here that works out for both of us, hm?” 

He doesn’t bother letting you answer, lining the row of his longer fingers outward against your lower lip, his thumb braced against the upper. You stick your tongue out, curling it around his first finger to try and coax him inside but he has another idea. He spreads his legs, settling his weight before leaning to feed the tip of his cock through the channel he’s created with his hand, breaching the open space of your mouth. 

You take him enthusiastically and he makes a choked sound, the plane of his chest pushing out hard between firm breaths, a stripe of pink crawling up his neck and across his face. He’s ruffled, composure broken, his own mouth agape in veiled mockery.

“There you go. So pretty. You wouldn’t say no if I asked you to come down your throat, would you?” 

You do your best to shake your head, working him deeper, the row of your bottom teeth secure under the line of his pointer.

He shudders, the nail of his thumb pushing you open wider as he slides in as far as he can manage at this angle, with so much already occupying the inside of your face. 

“That’s right, honey. Good girl for me, aren’t you? Walked right into my little gift, eager. Let’s reward you, hm?” 

You hum in response, lost to anything other than the brush of his hand against your chin when he thrusts too quickly, the drag of the inside of his knuckles against your tongue. 

“Fuck. You like it, too. Should’ve come by sooner.” 

Pressure builds in the pit of your stomach, hot and rolling as where it falls over into the cradle of your core. You rub your legs together in an attempt to relieve it and he whines, bucking up quicker into the hollow of your cheeks, the fabric of your forgotten underwear slipping in with the rest of his mess on a jostled punch. 

Joel starts to unwind, heaving in hard gulps and elbow craning out in a jagged, rhythmic sway. He unhinges his jaw like he wants to say more but you bend, taking more of him than you should be able to, the soft wedge of his head prodding your throat and he grunts, rounding out his spine as he comes as far down as he promised to. 

You puff up your cheeks around him, an almost-smile, swallowing as much as you can before pulling off of him with a gentle pop, your own palm sliding up to take hold of his forearm. He lets you, deflated from his orgasm, and you run your tongue over what you couldn’t catch on his skin. 

“Should’ve known,” he chuckles, peering down at you between soaked lashes before assisting, sliding two fingers into your parted lips, “Let’s find out what else you like.”

[ssinnerplazahotel]

╭──────────.★..─╮

*Chapter Five*

╰─..★.──────────╯

WC:5k

Warning: 18+, age gap, smut, fluff, toxic elvis, manipulation (kinda?), drug use, it’s the 50s/60s

Pairing: elvis, black reader

Disclaimer: full of inaccuracies, inaccurate timeline, inaccurate depictions of Graceland, historically inaccurate themes and items

Masterlist: Prologue, Ch. 1, 2, 3, 4

You woke up in Elvis’ arms, your throat dry and your limbs stiff as you shifted. It was past noon, making you late for work. You couldn’t bring yourself to jump out of bed, you were drained despite the twelve hours of sleep you’d gotten. You forced yourself out of bed, slipping out of Elvis’ embrace.

You looked down at his sleeping face, wondering what in your life led you to be there—in bed with Elvis after the worst argument the two of you ever had, watching him sleep as if he’d hung the stars and picked out the moon just for you.

“Satnin?” He spoke suddenly, startling you. You didn’t respond right away, thinking he was still asleep until he opened his eyes. “Where are you going?”

“I’m late.” You gathered your clothes from the ground before going into the bathroom to get ready. You stood in front of the mirror looking at your swollen eyes. Not even a touch of concealer could save you this time. On top of your appearance and how terrible you felt, you didn’t think you could get anything done around the house today. You left the bathroom and went to shake Elvis awake. “E?”

“Hm?” He hummed, you shook him another time. “What, birdie?”

“I don’t think I can work today,” You said. “I-I don’t feel good.”

“What’s wrong?” He shifted towards you, opening his eyes.

“I just don’t feel good,” You repeated. “I know I shouldn’t ask but…c-can I stay with you?”

He put his arm out for you. “C’mere.”

You dropped your clothes on the ground and climbed back into the bed, facing him as he covered you with the comforter. You felt conflicted about skipping work without talking to Dawn but you knew that Elvis would talk to her if she got upset.

Before you could fall back asleep the phone rang, startling you. Elvis didn’t react to the shrill ring of the telephone.

“Elvis?”

“Hm?”

“The phone’s ringing.”

“Mhm…”

You shook his shoulder. “Elvis, the phone.”

He opened his eyes then, he looked disoriented and annoyed as he sat up and reached for the phone, snatching it off the hook. “Hello?” You sat up with him, expecting it to be one of the guys calling him to go out with them. “Stay right there, baby,” He whispered as he got out of the bed. “Yeah…” He continued. “I can’t right this second, I’m gonna have to call you back.”

You tried not to listen in on the phone call but it was difficult not to.

“If I don’t call back tomorrow then call me again,” He said, his voice still laced with sleep. “…I said if I don’t, not that I wouldn’t.”

You laid back down in the bed, your back to him as he carried the phone and receiver with him as far as the cord would stretch away from where you were laying.

“I’ll call you back,” He said. “…I will…I do. I promise…you too.” He sighed and he hung up the phone, walking it back to the bedside table and setting it down.

You looked over your shoulder as he sat down on the edge of the bed, rubbing his eyes and raking a hand through his disheveled hair. “Who was that?” You asked. “It sounded like they really needed to talk to you.”

“Nobody,” He said, keeping his back to you. “I have to go for a meeting with the Colonel. You think you’ll be okay here by yourself?”

You found his lack of response to your previous question to be a bit odd, but you tried not to dwell on it as you sat up to get dressed. Once you were standing you were reminded again of your pounding headache. “I’ll be fine.”

“Where’re you going?” He asked, finally turning his head in your direction.

“I should let you get ready for your meeting,” You said, pulling your pants up your legs. “Plus I have homework to do anyway.”

He nodded. “You’ll come back t’night?”

It sounded like a question but you knew that it wasn’t. “I have class, and I like to go to the diner across the street after.”

“Okay?”

“Okay, so I don’t know.”

His eyebrows scrunched but you ignored his expression and focused on buttoning your blouse. “Who’s going to this diner with you?”

“Nobody.” You slipped your shoes on and walked around the end of the bed to grab your bag, putting the books and pens that had fallen out back inside.

“I thought you said you were sick. Shouldn’t you take the day off?”

“I’ve gotten through worse than a headache in the past few days so I think I’ll manage.”

“Who’re you going to the diner with?”

“Elvis~”

“Don’t say ‘nobody.’” To your surprise he didn’t sound angry. “Tell me.”

You put your bag on your shoulder and faced him. “My friends.”

“What friends?”

“Barb and Pat, I met them in class. I told you that already.”

He nodded again, with a hum that you couldn’t interpret. “Barb and Pat won’t miss you too much will they?”

“I don’t see why they’d miss me at all, I’ll be sitting right there with them,” You said, turning to leave. “Good luck with the Colonel.”

You heard him chuckle shortly as you left the room, closing the door behind yourself without another word.

*

By the end of your classes that night you were starting to feel more like yourself again. Your body didn’t feel so heavy and the dull ache in your head had fully subsided.

Barb called out for you when you walked out of your last class, waving you over to where she stood with Pat and Kenneth. “Marshall and James are already at the diner.”

“I don’t think I’ll be able to stay late tonight,” You said as the four of you headed over. “I really have to finish that paper for Winslow, he’s been on me about it for days.”

“There are twenty four hours in a day,” Pat said, linking her arm through yours. “You’ll have time to write it.”

“Right,” Barb agreed from the other side of you. “Life isn’t all work and school. You gotta play sometimes.”

“Easy for you to say, Barb,” Kenneth spoke up. “You could do Winslow’s work with your eyes closed and your arms tied behind your back.”

“It’s not rocket science, Ken~”

“I can’t stay late. Tomorrow night maybe.”

“Fine.” Barb huffed. “But tomorrow, we’re going downtown.”

“Last time we went downtown I woke up with the worst headache,” You complained. “I’m not doing that again.”

“You can drive then,” Pat said, earning a laugh from the others as you all crossed the street and headed into the diner. You found your other friends and joined them in a large booth in the back of the diner.

You always enjoyed late nights at the diner, especially after a long day of work and school. It took your mind off of things and made you forget about what was troubling you. For a few hours each day you weren’t missing your mother, avoiding Dawn, or thinking about Elvis. It was fun, and you needed it.

As you were sitting there drinking your milkshake and watching the guys arm wrestle to see who would pick up the bill between the three of them, you heard a commotion in the nearly vacant diner.

“Oh my god!” Someone exclaimed, drawing your attention to a table across the diner.

“What?” James asked, looking over at the woman that exclaimed.

You followed her wide eyes, looking outside to try and get a look at what she was screaming about. You almost didn’t believe your eyes when you saw three very familiar Cadillacs parked outside, and getting out of one of those Cadillacs was—of course—Elvis. “Oh my god…” You muttered, tearing your eyes away from the scene outside to see the few other people in the diner standing and gawking as he walked in.

“Oh my god, is that…” Pat started, standing up slowly as well. “I-Is that Elvis Presley?”

“Sit down, Pat.” You pulled her back down into the booth, not wanting to draw attention to yourself.

“No way,” Marshall said, looking out of the window. “What the hell is he doing at a colored diner?”

“Maybe he’s lost,” Kenneth suggested.

“Don’t be stupid,” James said.

“You think he’d sign my planner?” Barb asked. “I shouldn’t ask.”

“Are you crazy?” Pat asked. “Of course you should ask. Come on, we all should.”

“No,” You said with widened eyes as she grabbed your arm. “Pat, no~” You tried to protest but you were ultimately pushed out of the booth, Pat tugging your arm and Barb pushed you along. You panicked as they got Elvis’ attention, watching his eyes find yours. He looked down with a knowing smile before walking over.

When he was nearer to you he said your name, his tone was familiar but it still sounded strange. “Honey, I wasn’t expecting to see you here,” He lied, making Barb and Pat’s eyes stretch as they looked between the two of you.

“I could say the same.” You tried to smile and not look like your heart was seconds away from leaping out of your throat. “What brings you here?”

“Me and Doc go way back,” He said. “I like to surprise him every now and then.”

Pat shook your arm, giving you a question look and making you realize that her and Barb had no idea what was happening. “O-Oh, girls, well, I-I’m sure you know Elvis.”

“How are y’all?” Elvis smiled charmingly at them, putting on that smooth tone of voice that always made you melt.

“Elvis, I love just about all your songs,” Pat gushed. “I’ve bought all your records.”

“Me too,” Barb chimed in. “I think you’re just fantastic.”

“That’s awful nice of you girls, thank you.” He smiled timidly.

“Elvis is my boss,” You explained, glancing at your friends. “Elvis, this is Pat and Barb.” You pointed them out before gesturing to the guys that still sat at the table watching the interaction. “That’s Marshall, James, a-and Kenneth.”

“How’re y’all?” Elvis nodded at the guys politely.

“Alright,” James answered on behalf of the three of them.

“What brings you here, Elvis?” Pat asked, looking up at him with hearts in her eyes.

“He knows Doc, Pat, don’t you listen?” Barb said. “C-Can you sign this, Elvis? It’s for my sister, she adores you.”

“Sure.” He took the planner and scribbled his signature across the page, doing the same for Pat.

“These folks bothering you, Mr. Presley?” Doc asked, walking over from behind the counter.

“Nah, Doc, I know this little girl,” He said, gesturing to you and patting the man’s shoulder. “Give Sonny their bill, I’ll take care of em.”

“You don’t have to~” You started.

“Don’t worry about it,” He said. “You guys and girls take care. I’ll see you at the house, honey.”

“Bye, Elvis.” Barb said before he turned to leave, holding her hand out for a handshake.

“Bye, baby.” He smiled, taking her hand and bringing it up to his lips in a brief kiss. “Tell your sister I asked about her.”

“I will,” Barb said, covering her mouth in awe as you all watched him pick up his order from the counter and leave—stopping to sign a few more autographs before making it to his car.

“I cannot believe you!” Pat cried facing you. “You know Elvis Presley?”

“Don’t you think that’s something a girl should tell her friends?” Barb asked, her eyes wide in disbelief.

“So this whole time you’ve been talking about your boss,” James started. “You’ve been talking about him?”

“The Elvis Presley?” Marshall emphasized.

“Are you insane?” Pat asked.

“I-I hardly ever speak to him,” You said. “Why would I tell you?”

“You have to tell us these things!” Barb exclaimed.

“Would the two of you stop falling apart,” Marshall frowned. “Shit, if I had known he was gonna swoop in I would’ve gotten more than a shake.”

Pat laughed as she slid back into the booth first, followed by you and Barb. “It’s not every night you meet ‘the Elvis Presley,’ Marshall.”

“Marshmallow just hates seeing his girl all beside herself because of somebody else.” Kenneth laughed.

“I mean at least I have a girl.”

“Damn,” James laughed, earning a punch in the arm from Kenneth.

“What’s Graceland like?” Pat asked, looking at you. “You’re so lucky to get to work there.”

“He said he’d see you at the house,” Barb said. “You don’t live there do you?”

“I do, but~”

“Oh my god!”

“Girls,” You complained. “Can’t you be mature about this? It’s a job.”

“I’d die,” Barb said.

“Me too,” Pat agreed.

You shook your head, grabbing your milkshake and stirring it around with your straw. “It’s not a big deal.”

“I couldn’t imagine going home to Elvis Presley~”

“I’m not going home to him, Barb,” You snapped. “Stop talking about it already.”

“I can’t, I’m in shock,” She said. “I never thought in a million years~”

“You’re making her upset,” Kenneth spoke up when he saw your expression. “Shut up about it.”

“Don’t talk to her like that,” Marshall said.

“Tell her to shut up then,” James said. “She needs to know when to quit.”

“You shut up, James,” Pat said. “Barb’s just excited.”

“I-I think I’m gonna go,” You said. “I’m tired.”

“No, don’t~” Pat started.

“I’m tired,” You said, grabbing your bag from under the table. “I’ll see you guys tomorrow.”

“Let me walk you.” Kenneth offered.

“No, you stay,” You said as Barb stood to let you out of the booth. “Have a good night guys.”

“Goodnight.” They all hummed in different variations as you smiled and left the diner.

“See what you did, you and your big mouth?”

“It’s not my fault she knows him.”

“I would’ve been asking her to pay every night if I knew she was rich.”

You heard a chorus of laughter from the table as you exited the diner. Their words made your throat feel tight as you crossed the street to get to your car. Knowing that they would’ve taken advantage of you if they knew you worked for Elvis made you worry that they wouldn’t hesitate to do so in the future. You didn’t know if you could trust them without the fear that they were using you. It made your heart sink.

As you drove home, sadness blossomed in your chest. Your friends no longer saw you as you, but as the girl who knew Elvis Presley.

*

Back at Graceland you pulled your car around and moped into the house. You went directly to Elvis’ room, making sure no one was lingering in the hall or on the stairs before walking in.

He looked up from the book in his hands when you entered, closing it with a smirk. “There you are.”

“Elvis.” You sighed with a pout before tears formed in your eyes.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” He asked with a concerned expression as he stood, abandoning the book on his bedside table. “What happened?”

“Why’d you have to go and do that?” You asked, dropping your bag on the floor. “My friend’s adore you.”

“Why’re you cryin?” He asked, putting his hands on your shoulders.

“Barb and Pat went on and on about you after you left, ‘Elvis Presley, this’ and ‘Elvis Presley, that.’” You wiped your tears. “You know what I heard them say when I was leaving? They said they would’ve made me pay for their food every night if they knew I worked for you.”

“Birdie,” Elvis laughed. “That ain’t nothing to cry about.”

“The only reason they’ll want to be my friend now is because of you,” You said, pushing his arms off of your shoulders and walking past him. You sat on the bed with a huff, crossing your arms. “They think I’m rich. They wanna know what Graceland’s like~”

“Bring em over,” He suggested with a shrug.

“No, that’s not the point,” You whined. “I want them to like me for me, not because of what they think I can do for them.”

“They liked you just fine before t’night, honey, why would that change?” He asked, kneeling down in front of you and meeting your eyes. “There’s too much to like about you.”

“That’s not true.”

“It's true, and if they can’t see that, well, it’s their loss. Not yours.”

“They were my only friends,” You said looking down. “I don’t have anyone else.”

“You have me.” He put his hands on your thighs, making you meet his eyes.

“You’re hardly a friend.” You laughed shortly. “I can’t talk to you about the same things I talked to Barb and Pat about.”

“What do little girls talk about?” He asked with a laugh. “Dresses and makeup?”

You rolled your eyes. “You know what I mean.”

“You’ll find new friends,” He said optimistically. “There are plenty of girls in your classes, right?”

“There are.”

“Then talk to em.”

You nodded. “What am I gonna say to Barb and Pat?”

“You don’t have to say anything.”

“But I’ll feel bad if I don’t.”

“You’ll get past it. I don’t like you hanging around those guys anyway.”

You disregarded his last sentence and the touch of possessiveness in his tone. “You almost gave me a heart attack tonight. You can’t do things like that.”

He laughed, clearly finding your nerves entertaining. “You didn’t think I came to make a scene did you?”

“You make a scene everywhere you go. Y’know, I contemplated telling Kenneth to make a run for it,” You said, making him laugh harder. “I’m serious!”

“I was just checking to make sure you were being good,” He said, chuckling as his laughter died down. “I wouldn’t have taken his head off without a proper reason, trust me.”

“You don’t have to worry about it anymore,” You said with a sad smile. “I’m friendless.”

“You ain’t never without a friend.” You laughed. “Don’t worry, pretty, you’ll replace em easy.”

“It was weird seeing you outside of Graceland.” You fidgeted with one of the rings on his hand. “When you kissed Barb’s hand,” You started, almost shying away from the confession. “I wished you were kissing me.”

He looked amused. “Can I make it up to you?”

You smiled as he took your hand and brought it up to his lips, keeping his eyes on yours. You watched him carefully as he turned your hand over and kissed your palm, then the underside of your wrist. He trailed another kiss or two up your arm before standing from where he was kneeling and kissing your left cheek, then your right. You giggled softly as he kissed your forehead, your nose, and your chin before stopping.

“You’re gorgeous,” He muttered, his eyes flitting fondly over your features. When he kissed you your eyes fell shut and your lips moved against his in perfect sync. “My gorgeous girl.” He murmured against your lips after breaking the kiss. “I have something for you.”

“What is it?” You asked as he stood and walked into his closet without a word, returning with a plain white department store box.

“I got it a while ago,” He said, handing the box to you. “To give you once I got home.”

“What’s the occasion?” You wondered with a smile.

“Open it,” He said instead of answering, nodding at the box with an expression you couldn’t make out.

You opened the box, putting the lid on the ground before pushing the tissue paper out of the way. Your eyebrows drew together slightly as you lifted the sheer, white baby-doll nightie from the box. Finding a white set of lingerie underneath it.

“I want you to wear it for me,” Elvis said as he gaged your reaction. He sat down beside you and kissed your cheek. “I’ve been thinkin about you in it for weeks now.”

“Elvis, I can’t wear this.” You shook your head, a stunned laugh leaving your lips at the thought.

“I want you to,” He said, laughing when you hid your face in the crook of his neck. “It’s just me.”

“It’s too much,” You said, pulling away and looking up at him. “I can’t pull it off.”

“Pull what off?” He asked with a smile.

“Being…sexy.” He laughed, making you complain. “Elvis!”

“Baby, I think you’ll do fine.” His eyes roamed over you for a moment. “You just let your body do all the work.”

“I don’t know.” You looked down at the set.

“Try it on and see how you feel,” He encouraged. “I’m not gonna make you wear it if you don’t want to.”

“Fine,” You said. “I have to shower first so keep yourself busy for a while.”

“I could make myself useful and help you out in there,” He ribbed as you stood to go to the bathroom.

“Not a chance.” You grabbed your bag from the ground and walked to the bathroom, shutting the door behind you.

You found your toiletry bag under the sink—hidden away for the nights that you didn’t make it back to your room. You took your time to go through your routine, you even shaved in an attempt to further stall. When the time came to finally try on the set you thought about backing out, but you told yourself not to be a coward.

You slipped into the bottoms first, admiring the floral lace in the mirror before putting on the top. You turned in the mirror after the set was on completely, looking at yourself from different angles. You were never that self-conscious about your body but you were noticing everything you hated about yourself. You didn’t feel confident as you slipped on the sheer nightie over the set, but you didn’t want to let your insecurities get the best of you.

You rummaged through your school bag and grabbed your perfume, spraying yourself twice before putting it back. You checked your face and hair once more and decided that you had hidden away in the bathroom long enough.

“Okay,” You said to yourself, huffing a sigh and shaking your hands out before opening the door.

Elvis looked up from the book he was reading when he heard the door open. His eyes met yours before darting over your body. He closed the book, standing from the bed slowly before stalking over to you in the same leisurely manner. His eyes pinned you to your spot as you waited for him to say something, anything.

“Well?” You asked as he approached you, fidgeting with your hands.

He took your hands in his, bringing them up to his lips and leaving a kiss on each. “You’re beautiful,” He said, breaking the tense silence at last. “So beautiful, birdie.”

“Really?” You didn’t know what else to say.

“Really,” He chuckled, dropping your left hand and spinning you around with the right. “Better than I imagined.”

You were relieved. “I’m glad you like it.”

“Come sit on the bed, let me look at you,” He said, leading you over before guiding you onto the bed. He stood back with his arms crossed and looked at you once you were sitting on the bed. He clicked his tongue and shook his head. “You look like a sin, making me think things I shouldn’t.”

“Like what?”

“I can show you better than I can tell you.”

Your heart rate increased as he sat beside you, kissing your bare shoulder while trailing his hand up your exposed thigh. “Will you show me?”

He nodded and kissed you. You parted your lips, deepening the kiss and letting his tongue touch yours. You brought both your hands up to unbutton his shirt, wanting to feel the warmth of his skin against yours. He helped you get rid of his shirt before pulling you into his lap. You tangled your fingers through his hair as you kissed, moaning softly when you felt his growing erection beneath you.

He lifted the hem of the nightie, removing it and leaving you in only the lace set. His eyes were clouded with lust as he leaned in and kissed your chest, his hands roaming over every inch of your body that they could reach. You became dizzy with want and you absentmindedly rolled your hips against his. He released a pleasured sigh and his lips found yours again.

You squeaked in surprise when he suddenly changed positions, laughing a little as he laid you beneath him. You blindly fumbled with the buckle of his belt until you got it undone.

“Please,” You whimpered. “I need you.”

“I got you, baby,” He promised. “We don’t have to go all the way, we can do other things~”

“I want to,” You insisted quickly.

“I don’t want to hurt you.” He had a serious expression.

You nodded in response and again reassured him that you were ready. “I trust you.”

He kissed your forehead before repositioning himself between your thighs. You had a nervous feeling in your gut as you watched him kiss the inside of each of your thighs. With virtually no warning, your body jolted in response when he touched you and a throaty moan left your lips.

He pulled away to wrap his arms around your thighs, keeping them open as he tasted you. You found yourself grasping for anything to hold onto. He groaned quietly against you, moving his hips against the bed as he watched you fist the duvet.

The pleasure was too intense, but you couldn’t stop yourself from meeting his every movement. If you were embarrassed by the sounds escaping your lips it didn’t show.

You gasped audibly when he nudged his ring finger inside and curled it deep inside you. His name left your lips like a mantra, egging him on. He doubled down on his efforts and pushed you closer to the edge. He reached that spot deep inside of you that made your toes curl and your eyes rolled into the back of your head.

Your back arched and your eyes squeezed shut before you trembled and pushed him away. He came up from between your thighs, kissing you feverishly. You tasted yourself on his tongue.

“You okay, baby?” You nodded your head, not trusting your voice as you recovered from your intense orgasm. “Are you sure?”

“Yes,” You responded.

“We don’t have to.” You could hear the strain in his voice and see the sacrifice in his eyes.

“I want to,” You promised.

“Tell me to stop if it’s too much.” He searched your eyes attentively for any skepticism.

You nodded. “I will.”

He reached over to his bedside table and grabbed a condom from the drawer, getting rid of his pants along the way. You watched him bring the package up to his mouth and rip it open with his teeth. He sat back on his heels in front of you and rolled the condom over the aching tip of his cock.

“You look like a picture, baby,” He said as he positioned himself between your legs. You chuckled at the comment, it sounded more like a nervous laugh to your own ears.

You released a tense breath, relaxing beneath him. He kissed your shoulder, angling himself at your entrance. You tried not to tense up but the pain was immediate. You closed your eyes, and tried to focus on anything else—the sound of his voice, his gentle touch, the warmth of his breath against your skin, anything.

“Breathe, birdie.” You were suddenly aware that you were holding your breath. You released a pained exhale. “I’m sorry,” He whispered into your neck, his breathing becoming more uneven the further he inched himself inside of you.

You had thought about this moment since you first realized you loved Elvis and the anticipation that you had been putting off feeling was all coming to a head now. You were addicted to the way he invaded your senses just by being near you, and now, you were fully prepared to be addicted to this.

The feeling of true invasion.

You expected the initial sting to worsen but you only felt a slightly uncomfortable amount of pressure when he stilled, fully seated inside. He met your eyes with a concerned expression.

“I-I’m okay.”

“Are you sure?”

You nodded your head, trying not to let your discomfort show. “Yes.”

He didn’t move for a while and when he did he gave you fair warning. You reassured him that it was okay. He thrusted shallowly, his strokes becoming longer the more accustomed you grew to his size. He was gentle and careful with his movements, praising you the entire time.

You whimpered out a moan when the pain subsided and the foreign feeling began to morph into something more pleasing. You closed your eyes in relief.

“Look at me, honey,” He said, bringing his hand up to caress your face, groaning when he met your eyes. “Keep your eyes open.”

His thumb grazed over your parted lips, slipping between them and pressing against your tongue. You wrapped your lips around his thumb and he seemed pleased as he watched you suck his thumb, slowing his pace and thrusting deeply. You gasped when he brought his hand between your legs. His pace increased and you were suddenly verging on your second orgasm of the night.

“Oh g-god,” You stammered through your cries of pleasure, digging your nails into his shoulders in an attempt to remain grounded.

You forced yourself to continue meeting his eyes and wrapped your legs around his waist to pull him impossibly closer. His clenched jaw and his thrusts deepened before the knot in the pit of your stomach began to unravel.

“I can feel you,” He groaned, his eyes threatening to fall shut.

Suddenly you tensed and Elvis’ thrusts faltered as you trembled around him. When he reached his high his jaw went slack and his hips stuttered. He panted heavily, his pleasured sounds mixing with yours. He halted inside of you, staying there until the final pulses of his pleasure came to an end. He pulled out after a moment, leaving you feeling empty as he collapsed beside you. You turned onto your side facing him.

“You okay?” He asked after he’d mostly caught his breath, rubbing your back as he held you.

“I’m okay,” You said, lifting your head to look at him.

“Are you hurt?”

“No, I’m perfect.” You smiled as you leaned in and kissed him. “I’m so happy.”

He hummed in response, pressing his forehead against yours. “I’m so glad you’re mine.”

“I love you.” You didn’t wait for a response. You didn’t care if he said it back, all you cared is that he knew.

The two of you eventually decided to get out of bed to clean up. You stood together at the sink, smiling each time you met each other's eyes in the mirror. You didn’t exchange more than a few words, the silence was comfortable and it felt natural.

As you were wrapping your hair for the night you noticed Elvis rummaging through the drawer of his bedside table before retrieving a small prescription bottle. He examined the label for a moment before opening it and shaking a few into his hand.

“You okay?” You asked, pulling the duvet over your legs.

“Yeah.” Shifting to you, he examined the label of the bottle again. “They help me calm down.” You nodded in response. “D’you want one?”

“No,” You chuckled, remembering how horrible you felt the last time you took one.

“It’s not gonna hurt ya.” He smiled. “You trust me, don’t you?”

“Yeah, but…” You sighed, you met his eyes as he smirked at you, waiting for you to continue.

“It’s not bad for you.”

You put your hand out, letting him drop a single pill in your palm. He threw the other two in his mouth, twisting the lid back on and setting it aside. He grabbed the glass of stale water that had no doubt been there since the morning and washed them down. You took the glass when he handed it to you, putting the pill in your mouth and swallowing it down.

You felt anxious waiting for that same dizzy feeling to come over you, but it never did. Instead you felt more relaxed, slightly drowsy but exhilarated at the same time. You had moved into Elvis’ arms after he’d climbed under the duvet.

“What’re you smiling about?” He chuckled. You weren’t sure how long you’d been laying there in silence. All you could focus on was how his embrace felt warmer than it usually did.

“I don’t know,” You explained. “I wish this was real.”

“This is real.”

“You’ll go away again.”

“I know, but I’ll always come back.”

“Things are going to change eventually. I’m gonna finish school one of these days and your career’s taking off more and more everyday~”

“No~”

“It’s the truth.” You didn’t know how to articulate your fear of the future—of the unknown. “I wish I could stay in this moment forever.”

He sighed softly, it was obvious that he didn’t know how to respond. “We’re here right now, together. I’m gonna be here t’morrow, and the next day~”

“It still scares me, Elvis.”

“We can’t predict the future. All we got is right now, that’s what I’m tryna tell you.”

“I’m afraid to lose you.” You shifted so that you could look at him. “You’re the only person in the world that really knows me. That understands me.”

“That can’t be true.” He looked at you with heavy eyes. “Dawn’s your family.”

“Dawn hates me,” You said. “I don’t speak to my brother and my friends from school…they never really knew me. If I lose you, I’ll have no one.”

“Goddamnit, birdie,” Elvis started, exasperated but still gentle. His eyes bore into yours and he looked conflicted but you couldn’t fully read his expression as your eyes grew heavier. “Dawn doesn’t hate you, she loves you to death, that’s what’s wrong with her. And me, baby, I’m not going anywhere. I’ll do whatever I have to do to keep you with me, whatever it takes.”

You allowed yourself to be swayed by his words. “Really?”

“Really,” He confirmed, his thumb grazing over the apple of your cheek. “I need my favorite girl.”

“I’m your favorite girl?”

“And my best girl.” He pressed his forehead against yours, his thumb still moving over your cheek. “My sweet girl.”

You closed your eyes as Elvis continued to whisper sweet nothings to you, his low voice morphing into what would become your favorite lullaby as you soon drifted off to sleep.

[rivangel]

(っ◔◡◔)っ ♥ Levi Month - Day 4 ♥

⇨ BDSM

♡ ship ⇨ Captain Levi x afab!taller!Reader

♡ content ⇨ oral (afab receiving) // subby Levi + dom!Reader // impact play // vaguely canonverse // established relationship // bondage (collaring, restraints) // hurt/comfort // brief mommy kink // petplay?????? we call levi kitty idk why shh // use of safeword

♡ word count ⇨ ~1.8k

♡ note ⇨ *drops this in front of you and runs away*

It must truly be horrible for your love—horrible feelings, a horrible state of mind, a horrible sense of missing you, because Levi had a messenger bring you a letter describing which he wouldn’t be caught dead saying aloud verbatim. Perturbed, you read it quietly by the morning light coming in through your office window. You got ready quickly, because Levi was set to return from the two-day trip to Interior with the commander in half-an-hour, and Levi was nothing if not punctual.

As it would happen, Levi was one minute late.

You pulled opened the door upon his—if there was a word to describe it—bored knock. His expression, was properly apathetic, with a mackintosh tucked over his arm, fitting button-up, and crisp cravat. One thing he wanted was not to talk, but, and because he didn't mention anything about it in the letter, you did take his hand, and him past the threshold and wrap him in your arms first.

He didn't tense up. He brought his arms up and returned it, shifting the coat, but quite purposefully. He pressed up more snugly against you, slotting his pelvis in with your thigh. He wasn't wearing underwear, but even more importantly, he was a little bit hard.

He wanted it mean. It wasn't unlike Levi to not explain these things, but you would wish he had.

The air in the bedroom isn't so cold anymore, dense with hot anticipation. The difference in your power dynamic is knife-pointed—you fully dressed down to your shoes and his own raincoat he brought in with him for the hell of it. Levi stands immaculately exposed, naked and tense on bated breath in the middle of the room like a center stage. You stand behind him, silent, practically nonexistent—he has no way to tell when or what you'll do—except for the leather riding crop grazing the beet-red rear of his thigh. It looks like it hurts, burning and tender not unlike his ass. His toes are curled into the floor, similar to his fists, trapped together with sleek rope as though he was gripping a weapon behind his back.

You act—not speak, while your absence, you can tell, gets to him. His shoulderblades even seem subtly pointed at you.

You lay the riding crop on the foot of the bed in silence before stepping towards him, the only indication one faint step. His breath catches, then gasps as you calmly cup in your hands the bold weight of his ass. His air leaves him in an injured whine while you groan just under your breath, squeezing indulgently and not letting go. His back arches slightly, the pain drawing heavy panting from his lungs. You press your lips to his shoulders, tasting his sweat before doing the same to his clean, sweet-smelling hair above the collar, then right on top of its cool leather. You see the cords of his neck pulled taut, and you kiss him there. It's tight on him, more like a ribbon to the eye. He must've put it on when he got dressed in the hotel this morning, and wore it under his cravat through breakfast and the whole ride home. The thought turns you on unbearably.

"Down."

You snag the cool leather and pull down, not with enough force by itself but Levi is obeying, falling down hard onto his knees with a whiny huff. Despite his cat-like nature, it's cute during times like this when he reminds you of a good dog. It makes you smile.

"Mm..." he chokes out.

"That already? 'Mommy'?"

His back is straight again, but he shivers. You lower your hand, neatly carding your fingers through thick silky hair, fixing it. He knows the punishment for not answering you—or could it be that's what he wants?

Your hand stills but grabs hold. You know it stings. “I'm going to tie you down... stuff a cock in you, and leave you like that if you keep ignoring me, kitty."

He gasps through his teeth right before you yank, forcing his back to arch and his weak gaze straight up at your unfeeling face.

His eyes shut tightly for a second. “P—Pause.”

Your tone immediately shifts with Okay, It’s alright, and stepping around to lower yourself down to his level. Levi hardly ever pauses a scene and he’s never stopped one before—nothing bad ever happened, but knowing Levi, you’ll take the time and effort to be completely confident that he won't be forcing himself to keep going. By practically soaking him in affection, for whatever reason, by stroking his back and avoiding eye contact while gently praising him, is much more effective than you’d expect.

You ask, a few times over the course of some minutes whether the binds are really okay right now. He nods and murmurs yeah. He has his eyes lidded or shut the whole time.

Eventually, through doting touch, you place your palm on his warm cheek. Levi turns his head on his own, and rests his forehead on your shoulder. It’s easier because you’re taller. You lean closer, your hand resting on the leather which hugs the nape of his neck. Soon you remind him again that you can do something else if he doesn't want this right now.

He shakes his head a little, again, but says something for the first time. “Crap I never think about has been on my mind. It catches me off guard.“ His voice trembles when he says that. His tone implied there’s more he wants to say, but he just shakes his head again.

“It’s okay now,” you soothe.

“I want you to... leave that place alone for now… Act in the opposite way, and make me do something…”

You nod, half-smiling to yourself. It’s cute the way he asks, quietly, almost with an innocent quality, giving you most of the choice of what to do to him.

“You don’t have to move," you preface. You begin unbuttoning your shirt with one hand, the slight little snaps thickening the air. Part of acting in the opposite way is evening the balance of power. It seems to ease the rest of his uneasiness.

You start by caressing the nape of his neck, giving it a squeeze through that nice leather collar. When he’s utterly relaxed, you ask him to straighten up, be a good boy, and still to answer when he’s spoken to, but he's allowed to use his voice or nods and head-shakes. He can keep his eyes closed too, or, he can get the blindfold.

He nods at that. His breathing hitches as your palms slide up the solid length of his upper thighs before you stand.

In no time, you fetch the white handkerchief off the dresser and return to him. With some simple practiced movements, you secure it snugly.

“There we are. Can you see?”

“Mm-mm.”

“That looks very nice,” you purr, cupping his cheeks and tracing the fine line between the cloth and his cheeks. They warm. “Does it feel nice?”

“Mhm.”

“That’s what I like to hear. That sweet voice of yours. Look at that… how much you’re blushing from a little word. That’s my baby.”

He takes light shivery breaths. Under your touches and praises, he’s getting hard again, too.

You take in the sight of him once again, on his knees and rendered utterly vulnerable for you. Levi is defenseless. He wants to be if it’s you. You like the shiver you draw from him by skimming your fingertips down the underside of his pale neck. You love how effortlessly gorgeous he is, and how even like this, one of the words that jump to your mind as you take him in is powerful.

“Spread your legs as much as you can, and as much as you’re comfortable, okay?”

His stiff cock bobs gently as he obeys your command, and you hum, sighing at the heat pelting off his smooth, soft inner thighs. He whines quietly when you touch him there. You enjoy yourself with no rush, and praise him still. His thighs are so pretty, they really are, and You’re making a bit of a mess, aren’t you. We’ll lick that up later, kitty, hm?

But, you never touch him where he’s silently begging for you to, coming within an inch of his firm cock that’s now swollen and stiff against his strong abdomen. The tip is all glistening, dripping down his shaft.

A whimper escapes him when you stand up. He leans forward in the slightest way.

“Awe, it’s okay…”

You stand closer, then closer still and adjust your stand so that your feet rest outside his thighs. Levi takes a slow, deep breath before kissing your mound, his lips pressing precisely.

Swallowing a moan as he dips in between with his lips, you spread yourself. His breath is hot before his lips close on your swollen clit, swallowed by the heat of his mouth. He instantly starts to suck, his tongue quickly darting out to lap up the sticky wetness.

“Oh god, good boy, Levi. Do that some more.”

He groans, swallows, and buries his face in deeper in your pussy in a shameless display. He’s starting the get the bottom of his blindfold wet. While he’s fixated on you, you firmly press your hand on the nape of his neck to hold him in place, and place your foot between his inner thighs. You lightly fondle his balls with the tip of your boot, forcing a raw moan out of his chest, sharply leaning with his hips. You play with his balls while he eagerly indulges in your clit and cunt, soft slick noises mixing with your mutual labored breathing. You moan softly as his tongue flicks it, which he seems to embrace as approval.

“You’re just a tongue for me to use, aren’t you. My tight toy. My fucking dildo.”

Levi whines loudly, which sounds like a resounding yes.

“Oh, yeah. I love playing with you. My sweet kitty.” You lay your hands on his cheeks and jaw, tilting his head up just because you can. Everything glistening and hot. “Do you want me to decide again? Nod or shake.”

His head nods up and down.

“Good kitty.”

Your palm comes down sharp and short on his cheek, a small bite of pain. He takes it well, gasping and leaning harder into your truly safe touch.

“My good kitty. You like that, don’t you, my little slut?”

“Yes,” he gasps, his cock throbbing, dumbly open-mouthed, and cheek reddening from your hand.

“Good kitty.”

Levi month masterlist | More Levi

[anitabighug]

❥ A Perfect Experiment : Wally x Reader (She/Her Pronouns, Named) ✿

Chapter Masterpost: [  ♡   ♡    ♡ ]

Chapter Five; Can’t Help Falling in Love ( A/N: This chapter has a lot of music involved with it! If you’d like to listen along, click the [♫] SONG NAME - ARTIST as you see them! ) ●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・● The four of you arrive in the square, and go your separate ways. Barnaby, who had carried Wally limply under his arm all the way over for some reason, dragged the boy over to the snack table to start the party up straight away. Howdy had his work cut out for him, that was for sure. You and Poppy scooch over to an empty table, and are quickly met by Julie, hiding her intentions with another pot of flowers that she sets up next to your record player. “Did you bring the goods, Buttercup?” She asks in a hushed tone, pupils darting from side to side. “Buttercup?” You raise your eyebrow, and Poppy pulls the cable out of your hand to start plugging things in. “Its your code name!!! I thought of ‘em myself. You’re Buttercup, Poppy is Pigeon, Sally,” She points across the field where Sally is, running an extension cord from Home to plug in the lights, “Is Honey, and I’m the Captain!” She shoves a thumb against her chest proudly. “Why do we need code names?” You settle into one of the folding chairs, and rest your head on your hands, peering up Julie. Your eyebrow remains cocked. “Every successful mission has code names. Scientific fact.” Julie waggled her eyebrows at you oh-so charmingly. Well, you can’t argue with that logic. You lift the record up from its resting spot, and Julie squeals, grabbing it from your hands and spinning. “There he is!!! The King Himself! This is going to be PERFECT!” She hands it back to you, bouncing up and down vigorously. Elvis’ face gives you a suave smile from the record sleeve where he rests, and you nod. Excellent choice. “Now!! Here's the plan.” Julie slaps a crudely drawn crayon map onto the table, pulling the two of you in close… ●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・● Julie’s plan had you DJing the event, to wait for her signal. This was more than fine with you, you loved your record collection and were beyond psyched to show it off. Besides, you could dance just as well from the comfort and privacy of your chair. The sun had just set, and with a nod and a flourish, Frank had lit his project ablaze. It turned out to be an intricate bonfire, and it lit up the clearing beautifully, well worth his hard work. The beats from your speakers bounced around your neighbours, their booties shaking wildly. Phase one; Lull them into a false sense of security. It takes a boatload of willpower to keep the malicious smile off of your face. Something about this secret agent mission thrilled you, though you would never admit it. You’d gone home earlier briefly to change into something more party-appropriate, as had everyone else, it seemed. Your party outfit was based on extensive testing and focus groups, discussed amongst groups of experts, and had 100% chance of making you look ‘Just cute as a button!’ according to the top expert, Julie. By ‘extensive testing’, you of course mean that it won third place in the fashion show that you, Julie and Sally had put on in the comfort of your home. You’d claim nepotism, but the way the girls had looked at each other, it was obvious that they’d already tied long before you’d even moved to Home. The dress itself was pastel pink, some sort of pleather, tighter than you’d like, with a tall white collar and no sleeves. What it lacked in sleeves though, it made up for in a big poofy skirt, pink with a white underskirt as well. You paired it with a white belt, a pair of go-go boots that Julie had gifted you, and a bow sitting off to the side of your short hair, feathered back for the occasion. Just perfect, you concluded, and perfectly matched to your classy, fashionable friends!!! Sally’s outfit was out of this world. She had glitzy striped pants with frills going down the side, and the poofiest blouse you’d ever seen. Next to her, dragging Frank on to the dance floor, was Julie. She was absolutely dolled up, taking every advantage that this party gave her. You didn’t think her hair could get bigger before, but seeing it curled up into a beehive proved you wrong. No amount of science would be able to figure out how she got it to stay in place with all that crazy dancing. Frank had barely changed up his own outfit, merely opting to swap out his dress shirt with one with shorter sleeves for the heat, and leaving his bowtie at home– you weren’t sure what you preferred! You watched as Julie popped his collar, causing the two girls to start to giggle madly. Poppy’s usual shawl had been switched with one made of a beautiful lace, and the pearl necklace she’d included added that touch of grace and maturity you expected from her. Howdy had a short-sleeved dress shirt on, burgundy with little white flowers on it, and you had to admit he looked so charming with his hair slicked back like that. Barnaby might’ve been your favourite of all of them, you took one look at the vest he was wearing and wheezed out a laugh. It was the EXACT same as his usual vest, but with layered frills for days. It was probably to match Wally’s outfit, an expertly starched white dress shirt, and striped pants with the same layered frills on the ends of the legs. They looked adorable apart, but together it was almost too much for you! That left Eddie Dear, who had apparently only left to finish his evening rounds for the mail, returning a little shocked to find that everyone else had dressed up so fancy. Julie had a solution, however, discarding his cap and bag and setting a flower crown on his head. He looked absolutely delighted by it. [♫] Jailhouse Rock - Elvis Presley “Well don’t you just look cute as a button,” You almost couldn’t hear Wally’s suave tones over the music, but the compliment made you light up. “Th-thank you, Mr. Darling!!! I was a little worried I’d never get the chance to wear something like this,” You admitted with a laugh. He settled in next to you, and set a plate of snacks down beside the record player, “Ha ha ha. Who would’ve thought a little spit and polish would make everyone so happy?” He wondered aloud, “I thought you could use some company. You looked awfully lonely over here.” “Who could be lonely when they’ve got the king around?” You ask with a cheery laugh before lifting and taking a bite of one of the sandwiches he’d brought, following it with an appreciative ‘Mmm!’. Wally started looking around, checking behind your chair and frantically checking behind the two of you. It takes a few moments before you realise he’s looking for the King, and you nearly choke on your bite when it comes to you.

You manage to swallow it, and reach over, lifting up the record sleeve and pointing at the picture on the cover. Realisation floods the puppet’s face, followed swiftly by a blush across his cheeks. How cute… You hand him the sleeve to examine further, returning your attention to the sandwich he’d so kindly brought for you. Wally checks the sleeve over thoroughly, making sure that this ‘king’ wasn’t some strange intruder he had to be wary of. When he was satisfied of the lack of sentience, he finally took a good look at Elvis himself. He sure had excellent taste in hair, that was for sure. It was weird, though… Why was there a big lipgloss mark on The King’s cheek? You seemed to be so protective of your record collection… He felt a weird feeling shoot through his heart, and shoved it along with the record sleeve away, turning his focus on the rainbow monster that had scurried to the tableside. “Are you ready for phase two, Buttercup?” She asked, slamming a hand on to the table. The record skipped, and it only took one sour look from you to get her to apologise, giving the record player a gentle pat. “Ready and waiting, Captain!” You give her a lazy salute, and are given a determined nod from her before she hurries back to her station. You hear another monotone laugh from beside you, and peer back towards Wally. “Buttercup?” “... Its my code name,” Your cheeks feel red hot, and you reach up instinctively to cover them. He laughs again, and you swear you hear him mumble ‘Adorable.’... But that just can’t be right. Ugh, you can’t afford to be distracted now, no matter how sweet his compliments were!!! You take in a deep breath, and take note of where everyone is on the dance floor. It was time for phase two. Group one had Honey and the Captain herding the target to the center of the dance floor; distracting him with hijinks and pranks and lightening his usual dour mood. They were right on track, and you make a mental note to compliment them on their excellent espionage. Group two was doing even better! Pigeon had lured the bait into the perfect spot, the two of them bounding to the beat almost next to the bonfire, and Howdy gave you a nod from where he stood, ready to swoop in. “Just.. A second… More…” You mumble to yourself, your trigger happy hand sitting above the needle. You’d know where to move on the record even if you were blind and deaf; the trap was only the most beautiful song that the King had made, and you’d get this to go off without a hitch. You’d promised her, after all. Wally squints at you, and only just manages to start asking you what on earth you’re up to when you see it; the signal. Frank’s back is turned to you, and Julie gives you a spastic wave. Not the most subtle, but y’know, it worked. The record scratches. The music stops. Everyone stops dead in their tracks. The Bait and the Target look around with concerned expressions, and Howdy dives from his hiding spot. [♫] Can’t help falling in love - Elvis Presley The music starts back up. The piano is soft. Dancers pair up as if it was planned– even though it totally wasn’t, you swear. Sally grabs Julie, squeezing her girlfriend close and leaving Frank floundering. Poppy is scooped by Howdy in a very, very subtle move that leaves Eddie flushed. You’re on the edge of your seat, squeezing the tablecloth anxiously in your hands. Eddie seems to realise whats happened first, and with a nervous laugh, he turns to Frank, offering a hand. But… Frank hesitates. Your heart stops, and without thinking, you’re gripping Wally’s shirt and sinking back in your chair. Oh, you didn’t think of this happening. What if he blows it? What if he gets mad? Oh, you can’t watch. But you also can’t look away. You feel Wally’s other hand rest on your head, not petting or rubbing, but just resting. Even that kind gesture couldn’t pull you from this train wreck. “OOPS!” Julie to the rescue! She shoves Frank hard with her hip, the puppet stumbling forwards into Eddie’s arms. Yes!! The whole neighbourhood watches with baited breath. Eddie laughs heartily, and takes that as a yes, starting to move backwards to get Frank back on his feet, and leading him in the dance. You can’t contain your excited wiggle. Yes! Mission accomplished!! Julie and Sally each shoot you a wink, and you give them two big thumbs up. Wally is practically in stitches next to you, and wipes a tear from his eye,

“Is this what her big plan was?” He asked, peering over at you quizzically. You laugh, and nod in response. Wally scooches his chair closer to listen as you explain the plan quietly to him. You lean a little closer to him, your arms brushing against each other as you watch the fruits of your labour. The two of them look to be having a serious conversation under their breaths, both with blush tinged cheeks, and tiny smiles across their faces. Absolutely flawless. You take in a deep, calming breath. Wally smells like apples, naturally, along with distinct undertones of… licorice? Haha, weird. It suits him, strangely enough. You wonder briefly what you smell like. Probably latex gloves? How disappointing. You wish that there was a nice smell that late nights at the observatory could give you, aside from graphite and notebook pages. “Weird,” You mumble under your breath, eliciting a questioning noise from Wally. “Oh. Well, the lights can make it hard to see the stars, but… Ah, it must be a new moon. Silly me.” Wally stiffens next to you, but you don’t have time to question it before you’re scooped up unwillingly into another puppets arms. [♫] A Big Hunk O’ Love - Elvis Presley “C’mere, you!” Barnaby sets you gingerly on one of his arms, lifting you out to the dance floor and the giggles erupt from you, no matter how hard you’re trying to hold them back with the nervous hands over your face. “You didn’t think you’d get to just sit there all night, did’ja??? Time to boogie!” His laugh was deep and you could feel it through his arm, him not even bothering to put you down before he started shaking his booty to the new song. You can’t! It’d be too embarrassing! You can’t see them, but there are definitely eyes on you. No… Noooo! The boogie, alas, was too infectious for your weak heart, and you felt the wiggles overtake you in Barnaby’s arms. Your shoulder dance seems to be the secret key to him putting you down, and he gives you courage in the form of a hand held and a big grin on his face. Can’t say no to that face, or the king’s bouncy tones, for very long at all. Before you realise what's happening, you’re swinging to the music, and the idea of embarrassing yourself has floated somewhere into the upper atmosphere. Maybe you’d find that fear again one night while stargazing, floating through the stars where no one can hear it. ●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・● Wally relaxes through the next few songs, leaning back in his folding chair and taking the occasional unseen bite from the remaining sandwich on the plate. Barnaby was right, of course, he was going to be sore in the morning. Maybe for a few mornings after that, too. Something about the reckless abandon with which you took to the dance floor, though… He couldn’t take his eyes off it for more than a moment. You look so, SO unbelievably silly. Like you’d practiced these spastic wiggles a million times before. He leaned forwards, setting his head dreamily in his hands. Ha ha ha… Was that an air guitar he saw? “Absolutely… Adorable.” He drolls, and his brain takes a quick halt. Adorable. It wasn’t the first time he’d said this about you, not even tonight. And it's not like he didn’t compliment his other friends… A pang shook through his chest, and he clutched the front of his shirt… No, something about this was different… And something about your questioning gaze earlier… This was oh, so dangerous for him. So why hadn’t he stopped you yet? There were countless ways, methods he’d used before, methods he’d use again… Maybe you just needed… More distraction. Right; that was the problem. Well, that much he could do without arousing too much suspicion. He unbuttoned his top button, and smoothed his perfect hair, and stood up. If there was one thing Wally Darling could do, it was dance. With a pop of his collar, he strode on, ready to show these kids a thing or two. ●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・● [♫] Devil in Disguise - Elvis Presley You’d been tossed between a few eager partners at this point, including but not limited to: A dance with Julie in which you’d mostly just shook your hair, a brief exchange with Eddie Dear, who’d thanked you under his breath while staring across at a certain someone, and a wild dance with Poppy who shook her feathers in ways you hadn’t even imagined before. This latest one was graced with Howdy, and you’d made a comment about how you needed to run an experiment to see if your hypothesis was correct; more limbs DEFINITELY made for more fun in a dance partner! You had him almost completely hysterical when something stole his attention away. Apparently it was someone cutting in, and you’re shocked when one of your arms is pulled upwards, giving you a spin and a dip. Wally Darling grins down at you, and you melt in an instant. Whoa. He gives one of his slow, droning laughs and pulls you back up, leading you with both of your arms now, swaying you quickly back and forth with the bouncing melody. It was as if he was shaped perfectly by the gods to swing it to Elvis. He switches from a slower portion of the song, swaying back and forth with you, to effortlessly spinning you out and then back in, your hand landing smack dab in the middle of his chest. You felt like your brain was going to pop. He lands the finishing blow perfectly, and as the song ends, he bonks his forehead against your own, staring in to your eyes briefly before stepping back. He pats you on the shoulder and moves on to his next victim; leaving you standing there as if nothing had ever happened. Your hands fly up to hide your red hot face. Uuuugh! You deserve a good sit down after that. (A/N: I was asked to tag @elegantkidfansoul with the update! If you’d also like to be tagged, feel free to let me know! ^v^ This update was a little long, but it was so fun to write eeee!!!)

[snackugaki]

... just make an iteration* for fun, I said

a universe where they've made it into their late 30s-early 40s and they chill and can be serene in the company of friends and family for once. maybe a flashback or two for the action moments

"fix" your childhood turtles so they can have a reprieve and some shenanigans, i reasoned with myself--

WELP.

my tmnt au iteration (where everyone made it past their 20s, splinter’s alive just old, venus is here, and they deserve some goddamn respite and shenanigans)

tmnt au iteration part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 | part 6 | part 7 | part 8 | part 9

tmnt au iteration omake 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11

lny visit 1 | 2

is this actually new ramblings for the iteration or like one new lore bit and just a rerererererehashing of lore i sprinkled across the other posts.

first though, with my sorta-outsider-not-active-participant-in-fandom history I realized "au" isn't the proper term for what I've been doing, the more suitable term is "iteration".

and we're gonna sit with the fact that even someone at my old-ass age recognized my previous understanding of a term was, for all intents and purposes, not entirely correct and that I acknowledged it, rectified when I could, and that's it, it can be that easy.

...

okay back to the bullshit.

so my Mondo was introduced in the Archie run, a funky guy with a metal band called Merciless Slaughter, dressed like a punk Hulk, all around good peoples, hung out with the Mutanimals.

His design cobbling isn't too deep, I don't think. Just thought it'd be more rad if he looked more like a guy who fronts a band called Merciless Slaughter while remaining the same ol' Mondo inside, post mutation.

Kept some of his original color palette around in his hat, his pants, his NYHC logo (links) knockoff, and his little dyed leather cord bracelets.

the letters for the logo are for, Skate or Die (across), and Merciless Slaughter (down)

hmm still waffling on if I'm more tickled by him being taller than Mikey or the same height (5'4")

_________

and now for the rererererehash rambling because none of this design progression is coming out linear for me. so super quick, am an original 90s turtlemania survivor, Rise brought me back, gorged Rise then Bay then 2007 movie then rererererewatching of Next Mutation and the 90s trilogy for fun then hacking my way back through the Archie and Mirage runs then caught up with IDW and then just... slogging through 2003 and 2012 which honestly I feel like I got the gists of through gif sets alone.

one hand I can see why old fans (90s turtlemania) didn't seem to like the Rise designs, ours really were just the same li'l green dude but in different colors and hit sticks looks-wise. But here comes Rise with all the character design classics: different shapes! different sizes! exaggeration! and that's on top of all the nudges and twists made to the usual lore; Raphael is now the oldest, Leo and Donnie are now twins, they're different species of turtles, they're tools for war, brand new antagonists etc.

idk, to me when I was watching that shit, it was fun and refreshing so... ionno, built different cope maybe to the other oldheads pissing their pantaloons still ig whatevs

what tickles me most, personally, is the utter fuckton of Rise AUs, and a few Rise-driven iterations, and also some of the other non canon media iterations. so tickled that I got hit by the makeaniterationigitis itllbefunoccocal virus too. UnU (i'm kidding, i'm having so much fucking fun) just I'm addressing the flowers I wanna give to the kids who took Rise's take on tmnt and just RAN with the "different turtle species" from full out coloring their turtles the same as the species they picked to mimicking Rise's design language with different markings.

God, the markings thing just really nestled into my heart, it's such a simple thing and yet it took Rise to just try it, not even a lot, just a little for flavorrrrr. It's just enjoyable as fuck to me tbh and I'm sharpening my teeth when I revisit my coloring choices for the 8th time... fuck where was I?

right, mine are mistakes. wrongright place at the wrongright time, mutagen was there and now they can swing swords around and eat pizza.

someone(s) was high tailing it outta a TGRI lab with some mutagen barrels, driving recklessly while a bunch of eco-vigilantes had broken out of a pet shop that was the face of a black market pet trade/medicine/exotic food racket of endangered species. hence where their bit of human pre-mutagenic contact comes from (the strike team of people who freed them from their cages because all of them were endangered species & destined for a tank, a cutting board or a pill box); including a sea turtle Venus, Leatherhead, Tokka, Rahzar, Man-Ray some others etc etc. Jennika keeping her origin because it was dope as fuck. splinter was just there watching this symphony of human fuckery happen and decided to adopt some kids with no one asking (it was tang shen's onryo that is rooted in Splinter's mind that was asking, shh)

and ever since it clicked when I was gathering ref shots, ✨sea turtle Venus just makes sense✨ to me, it's taken my brain stem and rung it like a bell for new year's nonstop and i am not mad

... fuck, I am but also am not looking forward to when I start delving into ninjutsu, ninpo, Venus' whole schtick and how the supernatural fits into this world that I definitely don't need to be fleshing out this much just to draw them chilling on April's couch.

i've got like over 70 refs, holy shit

[hecatemoon87]

ABCs of Smut with Tom Hardy Characters

It starts off smutty - no minors allowed.

Part II

Angry sex with Alfie

"Now, what did I tell you about being a needy brat, eh? You come in my office, straddle my knee and grind that perfect cunt on me thigh? I'm in a fucking bad mood, luv. And I'm going to take it out on your poor cunny."

Bondage sex with Bane

You wiggle with anticipation as Bane wraps a black silk cord around your wrists. His muscles bulge as he settles in front of you. "So it's the darkness in me you wish to see, hmmm? Well, I'm going to give you a taste of it. Now open your mouth like a good girl. Let's see how much darkness you can swallow."

Erradic sex with Eddie

"I'm sorry, I just gotta have you again." He whines gruffly against your ear. He is behind you, his strong arms holding you against his chest, his pant covered erection grinding over your bottom. You two are rival journalists. You should be competing, not fucking. But, god, you want and need him too, don't you? So go ahead, relax and let Eddie’s thick cock glide up your cunt as he sets you on top of your desk. You were after all, supposed to have a meeting.

Fertility sex with Forrest

Forrest doesn't like to fool around. He wants to settle down and have a family. He's traditional, no sex before marriage. But as soon as you become his wife, he's your sugar bear between your legs. "You're beautiful, baby girl. Mind if I fill your sweetness up? I'll be gentle. You'll be such a good mama."

Freaky sex with Freddie

"Bloody hell, baby. I knew you'd look sexy as fuck wearing that." Freddie gazes upon you with lust as you walk into the bedroom dressed in a French maid outfit. He likes to fuck you in every position he can think of, and that outfit just adds to his kink. He's all about domination with a touch of humiliation. But that's just fine, because you enjoy everything he has to offer. "Why don't you spread those gorgeous legs for daddy, you little slut."

Hedonistic sex with Heathcliff

This man has utter disregard for society. He likes to push boundaries and the limits of other people. It means he does the same in the bedroom. He likes to indulge in kinky sex on occasion, but mostly, he enjoys teasing your clit and nipples until you're a trembling mess. Your cunt will be aching and your honey will be coating your thighs. You will beg him for cock, and you'll have it...when he's good and ready. "That's right, darling. Beg you little slut. You've reached your limit, haven't you? Good, let's push you some more."

Intimate sex with Ian Eames

No doubt this man can deliver some delectable intense sex. But he's a bit of a stickler for the intimate side. He likes thrusting at a slow pace as he gazes down into your needy eyes. You think he does this to tease you. As you badly desire him to rail you. But the slow burn, the build-up of his lovemaking has always delivered some explosive orgasms. So just lay back and enjoy his cock between your legs and his tongue inside your hungry mouth.

Jesuitical sex with James

James doesn't often speak. He is a thinker, a man of action. When he does something, it needs to have a purpose. You have a purpose, a use for him. You weren't exactly certain what that was until he has you naked in his bed, covering your quivering body with hot, wet kisses. "You are part of my soul," he whispers as he enters your tight little core.

Lazy weekend sex with Leo

Leo works hard during the week. When the weekend comes, he wants nothing more than to stay in bed with you. His agenda is to spend time with you, especially between your legs. "Please, malyshka, say it again." He moans as his cock is planted firmly in your cunt. You tell him what he wants to hear, "I love you, my lion."

Tantric sex with Tommy

Tommy is a bit naive when it comes to experimenting with sex. He knows how to do it the good old-fashioned way, but when you tell him about tantric sex he wrinkles his nose. "That some sort of new age stuff?" You laugh, then proceed to show him how it's done. Through sensual kissing, touching, stroking, and petting, you are successful in getting Tommy hard as a rock. "When can I be inside you?" he almost whimpers. "You don't," you whisper against his ear and kiss his temple sweetly. "What?" He is very frustrated. "It's all about our aura and sensual contact, baby boy." He stares at you in disbelief, causing you to laugh again. "Just kidding!" "Oh, I'm so gonna give your bratty pussy a good pounding." He says.

[dreamingkatie]

Night Out/In

From a follower prompt in 2023.

William hollers up the stairs asking if I’m ready. Nearly, I say, and I take care to pull on my dress so that it doesn’t touch my face, just barely touches my hair. I peer into the mirror and pull out the mascara because the right lashes are just a touch heavier than the left. I wrap the cord around the curling iron, cool now, and put it away, and then I take a towel and wipe the counters down one more time. Setting spray, good contour, the absolute perfect shade of shimmery lavender on my eyes. It’s good.

“Perfect,” he says when I’ve come down the stairs. 

I smile and tell him thank you and notice that he’s tidied up and so I tell him thank you again, because it’ll be so nice to get home from this party and go right to bed. I tick through what we need – the gift, my purse, his keys. 

“Ready?” I ask.

He looks at me funny and takes off his belt.

“I’m sorry, baby, but–”

“William, we’re going to be late if we don’t leave right n–”

“I’ll be quick,” he says, “C’mon.”

“My face,” I point at my makeup but I put down my purse on the entryway table and set the keys and the phone on top of it.

“I know, but that’s why I need to fuck it. Good, get down. Open… Oh, God. No, Meg, don’t use your hands, stop.”

“William–”

“Slower, baby. Perfect, thank you. Let’s make it last a little while.”

“Mmfp…”

“I know, it’s so good. Don’t ignore my ass, Meg, go on.”

He hits me with the belt.

“Better, good. You just needed a little encouragement.”

He hits me again and I lick more enthusiastically. My face is soaked, my back burns. He shoves himself back into my mouth.  

“It’s ok, stay open. It’s ok, just gag and drool. Don’t pull away.”

“I can’t breathe.”

“You can breathe. Try again. Stay down, why do you fight the retching?”

I can’t breathe.

“Shh, don’t worry about what I’m doing, just do your job. Don’t push me off.”

My eyes water. 

“No, no just stay. I’m going to come down your throat.”

“You ready?” he pulls up his pants. 

I look at him from the floor.

“I can’t…I can’t go like this.” I rub my hand over my face, and my fingers come away black and shimmery. I smell like spit and cock and my dress… 

“I guess you can’t. Thank you for making me feel so loved, Meg.”

I drop my head. 

“It’s ok. Come on, let’s get you nice and comfy and secure in the bed.”

“I wanted to go,” I say, but I’m already walking back up the stairs.

“Maybe next time, right?”

“I guess so… I could just wash my face and change, though?”

“Oh, baby. No, this is a special dinner. You’d be embarrassed. Here, lie down. Let’s just lock you in. It’s ok – I’ll be home in a few hours. Want me to turn on the tv?” “Please,” I whisper. 

“Of course,” he says, “Here, this is eight whole hours of the porn you love.”

He ties my legs apart.

“Just men coming over and over. Good? I’ll see you soon and you can show me what you’ve learned.”

[kaytheday]

No One Left Behind… Ever (Part 2)

This is part 2 of my gender-bent Pony series thing. If you’re new to the story, I’ve linked part 1 here!

I figured I should give some context if I’m going to continue this little series. This story takes place 6 months before the events of part 1. Thanks for following!

6 Months Previous

It had been particularly cold after the dance. Patricia had been walking ahead of me and Cinda by a few yards. I could still see the red in her cheeks as we poked fun of her and Nathan. She’d been upset so she’d walked ahead. Suddenly a blue corvette pulled out of nowhere and four boys jumped out. Two of them grabbed Patricia and pulled her into the nearby alley. Cinda’s cold hand shocked my skin.

“Pony, we have to get out of here!” She sounded scared.

“What about Pat?”

“I don’t want any part of what those boys are doing to her.”

“We have to help her.”

“Us against four boys? You’re crazy. I’m getting out of here.” She took off running the other way. I felt bad. I had to help Patricia. I grabbed an empty beer bottle and smashed it against the ground. The sharp jagged edges might be enough for us to get out. I walked into the alley. I saw traces of blood and pieces of Patricia's dress discarded. I shuddered in horror and turned to the corner to see one of the boys on top of Pat. Her head lolled to the side, she’d gone unconscious. This would be harder than I thought.

“Hey!” I yelled, attempting to draw the attention off of her. “Get off of her!” three of the boys turned. The one on top of her started zipping up his pants.

“Oh, her little friend came to help?” I raised my bottle and repeated my statement from earlier.

“Get off of her!” They turned to me, I had just enough time to hit one with the bottle before two of them grabbed my arms and pinned me down. My breathing grew shaky, they were going to do the same thing to me as Pat.

“Wait a minute, I know this one. She’ll be tough. You like math don’t you? Maybe we should give her some tattoos?” He pulled out a switchblade and sunk to the floor. He pulled my dress up and started to carve the soft flesh of my stomach. Tears filled my eyes as a scream died in my throat. I wouldn’t give them the satisfaction. Two of the guys pinned my arms, my legs were free. I jolted back and hit the ringleader with my elbow. He fell back letting out a string of curses. I took the opportunity and tried to pull myself up. The one on the floor punched me in the face three times. This dazed me a bit, making me go dizzy with pain. He lifted my dress and started carving again, every muscle in my body clenched into knotts and tears were leaking down the sides of my face and into my ears. White hot pain burned the skin of my abdomen.

“Scream then!” The boy started. “Just one little scream.” I managed to get an arm free only to be punched again. Pain exploded through my eye as it filled with blood.

“Is there one math problem you know the answer to?” They hit me across the face again. “Quit trying to get away!” He started carving again, then he stuck his hand up my skirt. My vocal cords were dominated by a blood curdling scream.

“There it is.” I could feel blood dripping down my face. “A few more numbers, alright fellas let's get out of here!” They got off of me, and in doing so, slammed my head against the sidewalk. That’s when I fizzled out of consciousness.

When I came to I could only see out of one eye, a figure was over me, shaking my shoulders lightly. I gasped, still not registering that it was only Two-Bit. He grabbed my hand.

“Oh Pony baby, it’s just me, Two-Bit.”

“Oh Keith, thank god.”

“Can I pick you up?” He didn’t wait for an answer and only hefted me up. I could feel blood everywhere. I closed my eyes and slumped against him in relief. He set me in his truck gently and closed the door. My good eye was still closed. Who knows how long I had been unconscious. “Pony, what happened?” I thought about telling him everything, but I couldn’t. I tiredly slumped against the chair as Two-Bit drove. We stopped at a gas station.

“I’ll make a call to your brothers and buy a few things.” He was gone for what seemed like an eternity. Soon the truck door opened and he sat down next to me. The truck started up and we drove off. Everything ached and I could barely think straight.

“Oh Pony, you’re shakin’.” Two-Bit grabbed my hand and held it tight, proceeding to nervously mumble about how we were going to fix it. My eyes stayed closed, but I could tell when we pulled into the driveway. Two-Bit picked me up, muttering something about how I needed to eat more. He laid me on the couch and grabbed a blanket. “Where is it?”

“They used a blade on my stomach. I think they tried to make math equations.” He lifted my dress to reveal the horrible wounds.

“Those sons of bitches are going to pay for this.” He said through gritted teeth. I sighed as he started to clean. His hands were gentle and soft, stark contrast to the hands that had held me down and thrown punches at me. “Darry will make sure they pay, what else did they do?”

“They punched me in the face a couple times. I think there might be some glass in my eye.”

“They slugged ya more than a couple times Pony. Alright I'm gonna pour some cleaner stuff on this.” As he did I hissed in pain, and clenched fistfuls of the blanket I was laying on. Then the door burst open. Out of my one good eye I saw Soda and Darry. Soda was holding a pair of my clothes and it looked like he’d been crying. Darry looked like he could kill someone, he also held a menacing bike chain.

“Oh Pony, what did they do to you?” Soda dropped the clothes and held my head in his hands. “Don’t worry honey, Two-Bit knows what he’s doing.”

“I was hoping so Soda, otherwise what would he have been doing?” I made an attempt at a joke, it only brought a tearful smile to Soda's face. Just looking at him hurt my eyes.

“Pony, we gotta get this bandage around you, can you stand?” I nodded slowly and stood. My good eye blurred and I started to sway. Darry dropped his chain and held me up as Two-Bit bandaged all the way around my torso. Darry laid me back down on the couch. He was always gentle with me. I think my five foot one hundred pound frame scared him. “Let’s start on that eye now.” Two-Bit picked up a flashlight and a pair of tweezers. “Here Sodapop, why don’t ya wipe the blood as it falls?”

“Sure.” Two-Bit set to work, talking as he did.

“I wish my Ma hadn’t had her stroke. She did stuff like this all the time. She was a helluva lot better at it than me.” I thought of Two-Bit’s mother, asleep in her room upstairs. She’d had a stroke three years ago. She’d forgotten a lot, she shook uncontrollably and didn’t know how to do things that she used to. Two-Bit told me that all his life she’d taken care of him, so now he had to take care of her. He said it restored balance. He was good at taking care of people. My head pounded as the last of the glass was ripped out. There was a small jolt of white hot pain that seemed to echo off the walls of my head, this made it impossible to sit still. Darry held my hand, weirdly out of place for him. Soda was muttering something, maybe a prayer.

Soon I was bandaged and laying on the couch. Two-Bit went into the kitchen for a beer before heading on the back porch. Soda followed, likely needing the story. My head pounded and the scent of blood stuck inside my nose, despite all the blood being cleaned up. Darry sat on the floor next to the couch, holding my hand.

“Do you have any names? Do you know who they were?”

“No, just some soc boys in lettermans. They were at the dance too, does it really matter?” He nodded, before picking up his chain and setting it on his lap.

“I’m going to kill them.” I didn’t have the energy to tell him not to, frankly I didn’t really care if he did. “Let’s get you home baby.” He said picking me up and bringing me to the truck. I let out a soft whimper at the pain but let him set me in the seat. Soon Soda was next to me and Darry was driving.

“It’ll be okay honey.” My head was on Soda’s shoulder and the next thing I knew, I was asleep.

[houseoffett]

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[babybatscreationsv2]

Don't know if it'd be your thing, but if you want any smut prompts, what about "Phone Sex But With A 50s spin"? Like a "(ditsy?) Peter carrying the phone (pink, rotary) around the house while twirling the chord and wearing nothing but a pink negligee" kind of vibe?

I've been trying to write this in my own time for a non-fandom piece and I've got a handful of ideas (something-something-businessmanhusband!Tony-with-an-office-in-town, something-something-wolfish-handyman, pervy-older-WASPy-neighbor, the-phone-chord-ending-up-between-peter's-legs, etc.), but I'd love to see your take on it, so feel free to pick out whatever you like.

Xx

Here's what I came up with

*The only warning is for D/s

...

....

The sound of the phone ringing had Peter jumping up from his vanity table. He'd been just about to put wrap his hair in curlers, but that could wait. Only one person called his time of night.

Peter picked up the phone and brought it to his ear. "Hello?"

"Sweetheart, I'm so sorry. Something came up," Tony's voice came over the line, muffled with that familiar phone static.

Peter pouted his lips at the pink plastic receiver. "Something's always coming up. Don't you miss me?"

"Of course I do, baby. You know you're my everything."

"Tell me." Peter grinned. "Remind me." He picked the base in his hand, the cord long enough to let him pace the length of the bedroom. He walked to the window and sat down on the sill, looking out at the city that kept his husband from him.

"For one thing, you're incredibly smart, wicked funny, and handsome beyond compare," Tony cooed.

Peter blushed. "That's three things," he giggled.

"See, I said you were smart. Did you get the gift I sent you?"

"The flowers are beautiful, darling. Thank you. I wish I was there to thank you in person," he teased, letting his voice drop smooth and sultry.

"Oh? How would you thank me?" Tony purred.

Peter licked his lips. He knew exactly what he'd do, but he knew his man and he knew he could get a rise out of him. He picked up the phone and walked back to the vanity, looking at himself in the mirror.

"I can't say. It's not proper to say things like that."

"Not proper? We're married!"

Peter smiled, but he held back a laugh. "Should I tell you what I'm wearing?"

"Tell me, kitten." There was hunger in his voice. It felt good to hear how much he wanted him. He soaked it up and let it encourage him.

"Remember that pink night dress? The one you said was to die for?"

"Oh I remember, sweetheart."

"It's so beautiful, Tony. The way its sheer in all the right places. How it rests just at the bottom of my ass. So it sticks out if I bend forward just a little."

"It," he heard him swallowed. "It looks beautiful on you, I know. You're beautiful."

"Oh, but Tony. I'd look so much prettier with your hand prints on my hips. I wish you were hear showing me how much you appreciate me."

"I'll be home soon, sweetheart. I'll only be an extra hour or two."

"I can't wait that long." Peter sat on the vanity. He picked one foot up and set it on the table top with the phone between his legs. The cord dangled down, brushing against him, the ghost of Tony's touch. He let his fingers join in, teasing the bulge in his panties and gasping a bit louder than he needed to.

"Kitten, you'd better behave yourself," Tony growled.

"It's not like you're here to stop me. A man has needs you know." He traced the tip of his cock with his fingers and gasped into the phone.

"Kitten," Tony warned again.

Peter moaned. "Gonna come home and punish me, daddy? Gonna make me cry?"

"You know I will. Grab you around the throat and bend you over right in the foyer."

"Yes," he panted. "Where the neighbors can see through the glass how good you take care of me."

"They're gonna hear it, too." Peter heard Tony's zipper come down as he shivered.

"Daddy, please."

"Touch yourself for me, sweetheart. Can't work now with this can I?"

"I'll take care of you," Peter said sweetly. "Let me help you cum."

"That's right. Touch yourself for me. Let me hear you."

Peter rubbed his cock through his panties, enjoying the silk against his skin. He moaned into the phone, keeping it close to his lips where Tony could hear him gasping.

"That's a good boy. Make yourself feel good for me. Get me off."

"Feels so good, daddy," Peter moaned. "Wish I had your cock in my mouth. Wish I could sit under your desk while you finish your work and make you cum again and again."

"Such a good boy. You're so perfect," Tony moaned. Peter could hear him jacking off through the phone. The sound only made him want more. "I'm gonna fuck you over my desk and let the whole office hear you scream my name."

"Please," he moaned. "I want them to know who owns me."

"I do, sweetheart," Tony growled. "Tell me who you belong to."

"You!" Peter gasped. "I'm yours! I belong to you, daddy!"

"Fuck!" Tony groaned. Peter's rolled back as he realized he was cumming. Pleasure rolled through him.

"Daddy," he panted.

"Such a good boy. I'm so glad I called." Peter's eyes prickled at the humor in his voice.

"Don't you dare." He narrowed his eyes.

"I'll be home in two hours. Don't bother waiting up, I'm sure my cock in your ass will wake you."

"Tony that's not fair," he whined. "I want to cum, too."

"On my cock or not at all, kitten. You know better. I gotta go. Love you, sweetheart."

"Love you," Peter grumbled. He slammed the phone down and smacked it off the vanity.

[spyvstailor]

Burn, Baby, Burn - Chapter One

@acapelladitty I wrote a Firefly and Baby Doll buddy comedy, with a dark edge to it. I dunno...it just sort of came out.

If this was salvation, why did it buzz so loud?

Green eyes fluttered closed as the cacophony of the angels sang around him, they blended with the buzzing until they became a low, droning tone. The music set the soundtrack for the orange glow that bathed a pale, weary face.

Pyromaniacs burn out, someone had once joked. Was it the Joker who said that? Even doped up on powerful anti-psychotics as he had been, the green haired man was hard to keep docile.

You're just a match.

Burning.

Burning...

Burning......

Burning.........

Out.

Ashes.

Only ashes and smoke.

“Hey, man, we gotta close up. You buying or what?”

They call me "hell"

They call me Stacey

They call me "her"

They call me Jane

The music of the angels choir morphed into something else entirely and the Fireball Whiskey neon sign blinked out as the man speaking with him pulled the metal bead cord. It clinked against the wall behind the sign, as the man turned to face him.

Garfield turned away, forgetting why he had even entered the liquor store. He wasn't supposed to drink on his meds.

He shuffled towards the door in his scuffed brown Oxfords.

At the door his reflection stopped him and he gazed back numbly at himself, dressed in what he assumed was a dead man's clothes, looking like an old man before his time.

It was probably the chino's that were too short, the argyle socks that showed in the span between the oxfords and the pant hems, and the knit cardigan over a button up that created the effect. The clothes were given to him by the Sister's of the Veil of Tears, and he was very certain they had robbed a corpse for them.

It didn't matter, the cardigan was warm and it was the heat he craved. The world was too cold.

“Dude go!” The man behind him shouted.

Garfield pushed open the door, shoving himself aside, and stepped out into the night.

He found his way to the only place he felt like he was accepted, which fucking sucked, because it was full of lowlife scum and high class whores, and every rogue that ever coloured Batman's bulletin.

The Iceberg Lounge was dim enough, and quiet enough, and classy enough that it wasn't a shit hole, it was just full of shit people.

But Ozzie was warm enough to him, and every now and then the other criminals of Gotham's underbelly would give him a respectful nod.

He was technically supposed to be there, it broke his parole, but it was either sit and rot in a dark booth there, or sit on the edge of his sagging, spring trap bed in his miserable hole in the wall halfway house apartment.

And Ozzie never forced him to pay a cover charge, though he did watch Garfield very carefully some nights through his office window, overlooking the dancefloor.

It was unspoken Garfield would take a stool at the bar if the place was packed.

The criminals in Gotham were an interesting breed. You had your popular clique, your Joker's and your Catwomen and your Two-Face's, but then at the far end of the spectrum were your pathetic losers, your Calendar Men, your Mr. Camera's, your fucking Captain Blimp's. The criminals that were so embarrassing, you felt second hand shame if you stood too close. They were real stinkers, fucking mouldy cheese on the charcuterie board that was Gotham City.

Every now and then you got a glimpse of the top dogs, the cream of the crop and it felt like a goddamned celebrity sighting.

Garfield fucking hated it, but then again his meds made him irritable and exhausted, which naturally lead to him being so tired of everyone's bullshit.

The Riddler built a fucking puzzle box inside an abandoned warehouse and trapped the Mayor's daughter in it?

Whoop-de-fucking-doo.

Poison Ivy infected half of the greater downtown area with a sex pollen that only infected adult men, and only enticed them to fuck trees?

Get fucking splintered assholes.

Oh, Freeze coated everything on the upper east side with ice?

Sarcastic applause, that's never been done before.

Maybe it was time to up his meds? He thought as he drank his soda pop like a fucking child and sat in his old man pants, thinking bitterly of the world like a teenager.

“Who the fuck let this kid in here?!” Someone shouted from the bar, grabbing Garfield's attention and he looked over and up to find a little girl sitting boldly at the bar, swinging her feet in her lovingly polished Mary Jane's.

“Get fucked asshole!” The child snapped at the bartender.

“You can't be in here, kid,” the bartender said. “Where's your parents?”

“Tag teaming your mom, pal,” the girl replied. “I had a rough goddamned day and I just want a gin, okay?”

“Get the fuck out of here! Where's Carson?! Carson! We got a kid in here!” The bartender called for the one armed bouncer. Carson had said he had lost the arm to a fight with Killer Croc, but damned if he wasn't made of harder stuff than to quit his job.

Garfield smiled to himself.

Carson knew and he knew, but the bartender was new since Garfield had been in Arkham.

The poor woman. She was 30 years old, but she small, maybe 4'8” with heels, if she could find ones small enough, and 75 pounds soaking wet. Her face was delicate, youthful for sure. It would be easy to take her for a 10 year old if you didn't look hard enough.

Carson wandered onto the scene with a grin. “It's fine. That's Baby Doll, she's good.”

“She's a fucking kid,” the bartender argued.

“Want me to show you the hair on my snatch, jackass?” Baby Doll demanded.

For the first time since he had gone maniac before Arkham, Garfield laughed, it wasn't just a chuckle, it was drop your head into your hands and muffle your belly laugh, kind of laughter.

He wasn't alone, half of the Iceberg were cutting up, laughing as the bartender turned bright red and sputtered, not knowing how to respond to a petite, 30 year old offering to whip out her puss just to prove she was at least a grown assed woman, despite the clothes that looked like she bought in the children's section.

Oh, the criminals in Gotham were fucked up. He mused as he dried a tear. He had only personally met Baby Doll once in passing, and that had been long, long before the mania, when he was just Garfield Lynns, pyrotechnics expert, working the silver screen dream of burning shit safely and dramatically, and she had just been Mary Louise Dahl, 'child' actor. She was a bit of a brat, but he didn't mind, she wasn't as bad as most actors.

After a considerate moment, he raked a hand through his hair and got to his feet, approaching the bar and the small woman sitting there. He eased down a couple of stools away from her and took a surreptitious look in her direction as she sipped her gin and tonic with the cherry in it.

“Get lost creep,” she murmured, not even breaking eye contact with her phone where it looked like she was playing some kind of game.

“I'm not...we met once before,” he began simply helping himself to a bar peanut and shelling it.

“And?” She demanded, still playing her game.

He moved a few stools closer to her and snacked on his peanut. “You know, if you want people to stop mistaking you for a kid, maybe you should stop dressing like a kid.”

“Great,” she muttered, “I'm getting fashion advice from my 90 year old grandpa.”

Garfield nodded and looked down at his cardigan and button up shirt. “Okay, fair point.”

With a sigh, she set her phone down and looked over at him. “You look like shit, Firefly.”

Startled that she knew who he was, he floundered for a moment, before recovering. “I'm, uh...heavily medicated.”

She glowered a little at him.

“I just...we met on set once, a long time ago. I was rigging the pyrotechnics for a firework scene on your show, Love That Baby? Remember?”

“No, I don't remember you yelling at me for standing too close to the rig,” she returned dryly.

He smiled only a little, pleased she remembered him. Not many people did when he wasn't burning their shit down.

Mary Louise smiled a little in return, but it was still coated with a heavy air of annoyance and she all but rolled her dark, almond eyes. “What do you want, techie?”

“I really don't know, maybe I just wanted to sit beside someone having a worse day than me,” he said.

They were quiet, both of them nursing their drinks, his soda pop having gone flat years ago.

“I have to wear kids clothes,” she finally admitted, brushing her raven black hair behind her ear, “because clothes in the adult section don't fit and I'm not rich enough to get my shit tailor made.”

He knew since her show was cancelled, since she had gone through the whole 'criminal of the week' like he did, that she had fallen from the starlit grace she had been accustomed to when she was actually younger. Back when she was a young twentysomething, playing a ten year old girl on an after school special type show, back when people adored her and her looking young enough to play the part without the union having to adhere to the rules of an actual child actor. She was in the same hole he had dug for himself, only Baby Doll was clawing at the sides of her hole, trying to find her way out and Garfield was thinking of getting a houseplant for his and settling into the earth to wait to die.

He took a long swig of his flat soda and tried hard not to gaze into the flickering flame of the tabletop candle burning on the bar near them and said, “I got my clothes from the homeless bin at the local church, I think someone died in them, so...that's what's going on here.”

“Gross,” Mary Louise said. “You're going to get like cholera or something. You know people shit themselves when they die.”

“Yeah,” he murmured into his soda. “What is cholera, anyways?”

“I don't know, like an old man disease,” she replied. “Why are you still bothering me?!”

At first Garfield thought she was yelling at him, but she was waving her hand irritably at the bartender.

“The talent needs space,” Garfield said to the man. As he glanced over at Mary Louise, he found her smiling a little proudly, that shine of being a star once more lighting up her face and he nodded firmly once at her as though he was agreeing silently that she was still the talent.

Mary Louise sighed. “Sorry I implied you're a pedo. Experience says only one kind of man approaches me at a bar.”

“I didn't...I just...” he faltered.

“I get it,” she said sincerely, gazing at her gin as though mesmerized by the drink. “Familiarity can be a comfort...”

Garfield gazed past her, eyes drawn to the candle flame flickering at the end of the bar, he watched the flame as it danced and pulsed, before closing his eyes tight and dropping his gaze to his own drink, his hands shaking.

“Can I get a whiskey, a double?” He asked the bartender without looking up from his flat soda.

The man nodded from his place a couple feet away.

Baby Doll downed her gin and set it on the bar hard, slamming the glass down. “And give me another one of those?”

Set light to this fucking night, Garfield thought as his whiskey arrived, watch the powder keg go off.

The rest of the night happened in flashes, between whiskey and a couple of shots of something Mary Louise had ordered for them, was colours and lights.

“You do it like this,” Mary Louise was explaining to him a new dance all the kids were doing as he drank deep from his glass of whatever it was he was drinking.

Laughter.

“You're paying for that,” Ozzie said as Garfield stood over a broken stool.

Falling down in the alley.

“Can you introduce me?” The Mad Hatter was asking, eyes looking past him to Mary Louise ordering more drinks at the bar.

A blink.

Putting the Mad Hatter into a headlock.

Laughter.

“No, the Charleston is more like this,” he shouted at Mary Louise over the noise of the dancefloor of some other club.

Falling down on the sidewalk, or was he being shoved down.

Holding Mary Louise back from beating the shit out of some lippy young woman who was shouting back at her, the words lost to the liquor.

Garfield tilting his head back to stop the blood from dribbling out of his broken nose.

“That's...that's not dabbing!” Mary Louise was laughing at him.

Music, so loud it vibrated in his ears.

“No! No that's...no you're thinking of the Deer Hunter!” He shouted.

Laughter.

A taxidermy fish?

“We should steal that orb!” Mary Louise was talking.

Someone falling down beside him on the pavement.

“...I'm sane, but I'm overwhelmed!” They belted into a microphone. “I'm lost but I'm hopeful, baby!”

Knocking over a stand of potato chips.

Wal-Mart?

“That's still not...no it's not...that isn't dabbing!”

Laughter.

“No, he's not! That's...you're just...it's a conspiracy theory! Bruce Wayne can't be Batman! Because he's rich and Batman is...a man who dresses like a bat!”

Falling down on the railway tracks.

“'Cuz I've got one hand in my pocket and the other one is giving a high five!”

Throwing a frozen crab into the bay.

“Okay, but then...which is the one with Robert DeNiro?”

Falling onto a couch.

Death.

His first thought when his eyes cracked open was that he wished for death. Afraid to move, knowing that what awaited him was pain and vomiting. So he lay as still as he could and suffered in silence as his head throbbed.

He needed water and a gun.

Outside the sun was mercilessly shining, the birds were chirping and the sounds of the city were so fucking annoying.

Garfield chanced a very, very slow turn of his head so he wasn't just staring up at the ceiling above him.

Thank God, he was home in his shitty fucking apartment.

His mouth tasted like a leprechaun shit in it with a hint of ash and he really, really needed water.

“Are you dead?” He asked the other presence he sensed in the room with him.

“Unfortunately no,” she muttered from behind his couch.

“Are you on the floor?”

“I think so.”

He grunted as he shifted into a position to get ready to move into a sitting position.

“You're younger,” he sighed giving up. “Get me some water.”

“Get fucked,” she replied weakly.

“Get grandpa some water,” he tried to sweeten her up with a joke.

She snorted. “Go back to sleep, if you sleep long enough it goes away.”

Sounded plausible, he closed his eyes again.

[subiysu-chan]

My Dark Academia Magical Girl desings

Magic School uniform:

-So the school uniform would be comprised from:

-A light under chemise with reglementation panties (cotton, old fashioned and with the waist at the natural waist) or pair of combinations. Many might choose to wear a corded corset to have a better silhouette and when the weather gets cold. This one wouldn't be school themed per say, and some students might wear their personal underthings instead.

-According to dress code, stockings must be black, grey, brown, kaki, beige or white. Shoes must be black, but any style would do.

-Girls are free (and encouraged) to wear a washable petticoat or shorts if they want to.

-So, the uniform itself would be comprised for girls of: a white blouse, blouse, a bellow-the-knee skirt of tweed and a waist coat of the same material. The school uniform also has an apron, to protect the clothes from more dirty tasks, and younger students are encouraged to wear it most of the time (kids are messy and adventurous). Boys would have a similar uniform, exept the waist coat would be straighter and the skirt is replaced with mid-calve shorts. There waist coat would have the school symbol on them, same for the aprons.

Casual form:

-So, MC-chan, her name might be Cordelia. Inside her dorms, she'd wear sturdy cotton canvas pants that are dark greige in color, with a cream-colored supportive tank top, a very worn buttoned shirt for men that is dark grey (with the dye somewhat dilluted and discolored) with a faint cross pattern, with a cropped oversized light purple home-knitted sweater. It would be her beginner project, so, it'll be quite messy and crudely knitted, nothign special, but be very warm. On warmer days, the pants could be replaced with her old denim shorts (made out of a pair of jeans that would otherwise be way too ripped and the knees) that she typically wears underneath her school uniform. With her school uniform, she'd wear Mary-Jane shoes and opt for some denim shorts ending near her mid-thighs beneath her skirt. Her clothing style would always cover her chest, because of that birth-mark with the special special stone is. Whenever she doesn't have gym, she would accessorize with faux-feather earrings that are also purple, that are a somewhat dustier shade. I think her natural hair color would either be red or black, but she'd wrap some strands in embroidery thread, most often some shade of purple or blue with pinkish undertones.

-So, Drow girl, her name would be Rodoeé ("pink eyed" or "most beautiful", but goes to school as Liïa ("rain"), would wear on casual day a long shift of thristle and nettle cloth and pantalettes of the same material, and would wear them beneath her uniform. Would wear her school uniform even in casual setting, since she would not know of high elven styles of dress or even own any of them. Would however wear green-tinted glasses whenever she cannot deal with the metomorphosis drops for her eyes, and she'd wear them even indoors. Her clothes and uniform would be fittely, as she's a child, and one unused to wearing a lot of clothes (underdark has limited supply of clothing material). Her shoes would be made of fish leather, quite narrow, and not covering the top nor the sides of her feet. Her hair would usually be kept in a low pony-tail.

-Crazy masochist would be the most. Her name would be Rozenn. Colorful of the bunch. She'd wear inside her dorm a simple white blouse with a short, pink sleeveless sarafan, and a oversized, thick and fluffy gradiant multicolored pastel cardigan with cute buttons. Her favorite stocking would be white-thighies with some cabblewire patterns. Around her neck would be a lacy collar. Beneath her uniform, she'd prefer a pair of combinations, quite lacy ones at that. She'd usually wear her side-hair braided, while the rest is loose.

-So, the super sweet mermaid girl would be called Leucosia. Her mermaid nature would rapidly exclude bifrocated garments, and inside her dorm, she'd wear a light, unpadded linen crop-top or a loosely croched-one and a macrome skirt. She'd wear her unifrom blouse and vest open so that her gills are more comfortable, and her long hair on proud display, loosely braided so it doesn't get caught in her wheel-chair. Would gladely circulate in her dormatory nude, but the school wouldn't allow it. Because of how mermaid skin work, she would find the uniform unbearably hot, and would not wear any corset for sure, prefering beneath her crop top and a short petticoat. She eventually gets a special permission after nearly fainting of heatstroke to not wear much in class unless it's a school photo. Her hairstyle is a -Cleopatra bob with neerly waist-long side burns.

-I think the headmistress' granddaughter would be called Agnes. I think inside her dorm she'd wear a well-ironed pastel house dress, of course yellow, and with an apron. Her hair would most likely be styled in a bun with a custard yellow ribbon. She'd wear her uniform with a pair of combination, corset and petticoat, itself quite well-ironed. Her shoes would be Oxford shoes.

-All these girls share a dorm, and Leucosia sleeps in a cave connected to the sea and protected from predators by a grid and a safety handcuff.

[casspurrjoybell-33]

Wreckless - Getting settled

*Warning Adult Content*

Emmett

The chicken is cooked well and still juicy and even if it weren't, the amount of salad dressing that Finnegan dumped on his salad would have hidden it.

I tell myself that he's still getting all the nutrients and fiber from the salad which is what really matters.

I'm definitely going to need to buy more dressing.

Something has been floating around in the back of my head all through dinner and I finally realize what it is.

"I think Andy has an extra desk. I'll have him send over a picture and you can decide if it'll work for you or not."

"I can just buy one and get it delivered," he says as if it's not a concern. 

I will never get used to him having so much money. 

Furniture is expensive.

"Or we can save some trees and cash and have it here tonight and get you settled."

I'm already texting Andy.

"Do either of you have a steamer? My suits are probably a rumbled mess by now."

"Is that like an iron?" 

Steamers are yummy but that's definitely not what he's talking about.

"Yes and that question means you don't have one. No worries, Amazon will save us."

That I'm going to let him handle because I don't even know exactly what one is.

Andy comes through with the picture and I show my phone to Finnegan.

"Actually that will work great and I love that it has drawers."

A few more texts and it's set.

"I was going to borrow your fancy SUV and go pick it up but Andy's brother is over and offered to help load it so Andy's going to drop it off here which gives us a few minutes to get your office cleaned up."

"Not what I was hoping to do tonight, Emmett but thank you. Just tell me what to do." 

"Patience, darling, patience."

The first thing he needs to do is put on some pants.

He doesn't seem happy about that but soon he's presentable. 

It doesn't take us long to get ready, the room is mostly empty because it's ferret-proofed.

I keep the whole upstairs pretty sparse, actually.

I get the top half of the bookshelf cleared off and Finn vacuums while I empty out the closet except for the highest shelf.

I didn't realize how much shit I have.

Still, there's plenty of room for the desk and he decides to put it right under the back windows.

He runs extension cords and dusts while I wait for Andy.

He's right on time and ten minutes later the desk is up and in place.

He's even brought over a wheeled chair although it's definitely seen better days.

Finnegan tugs on my sleeve and whispers

"Should I tip him? Pay him?"

"No, darling, this is what friends do."

"My friends have never loaned me furniture," he replies and I believe him.

He's probably never used anything second-hand before but that's also a bit sad. 

Maybe his friends just loan him planes, I don't know.

"Nice seeing you again Finnegan," Andy says as he heads out the door.

He really is a good guy.

"You too, Andy and thank you."

As soon as the door closes, Finnegan is taking back off his jeans.

"I can unpack tomorrow, really."

"No, tonight."

"But why?" he whines.

Fine? He wants to know?

I walk up behind him and press my chest against his back.

"Because once we start making up for the past month, Finnegan. You're going to be in no shape to bend, lift or even think. I'm going to take very, very good care of you so you need to have everything ready for Monday. Do you understand?"

"Yes Sir. I'm going to need more hangers. Pants hangers too and a tie organizer. And a chair. I don't think I can sit in that one for more than an hour without my ass being sore in bad ways. And a steamer."

"I'll go get you some hangers and look for a steamer and chair. You'll have to order whatever I can't find at Walmart."

"You don't have to..."

He's being impossible.

"Finnegan? Let me do what I want."

His eyes cloud over and he's cute as hell.

"Yes, Sir."

"Get as much done as you can while I'm gone."

Against all odds... I get everything he's asked for and then some.

I get a little desk lamp and small trashcan for him.

I grab some curtains for the windows.

I never bothered before because I have mini-blinds but he might prefer curtains since his desk faces that way.

I get him a notepad and some pens because it just seems like something he should have and might not have brought with him.

Good enough for today.

When I get home he has one suitcase almost emptied and his laptop is set up on the desk.

He's sitting in the chair and turns, handing me a check.

"What's that for?"

"It's what I would have paid for my apartment this week. If it's not enough just let me know. How much do I owe you for all this?" he asks, smiling as he pulls out the lamp.

"So thoughtful."

I take the check and glance down.

"No, not happening."

"Emmett."

He's serious... Just saying my name like that says a whole paragraph.

"It's my room allowance and you are providing me room and board, plus laundry and shopping and all kinds of things."

He heads into the bathroom, then plugs the steamer in and starts hanging up his suits.

"It's too much."

"No it's not. I'll give you another one next weekend. Look, I want to pay my way while I'm here, it's the least I can do."

"This isn't paying your way, this is most of my mortgage."

That seems to surprise him.

"You got a good deal but it's irrelevant. It's what I would have spent. Just take it, Emmett. Take it and buy me toys and cute undies and gel pens. Put my chair together for me and take the fee out of that. I don't care how you work it out in your own head but I'd really like you to accept it."

It's not that I can't use it but not every week, no.

"This check is for the whole month. That's as much as I'm willing to take."

He turns and stares me down.

"Twice a month."

"What? That's your idea of compromising? Bartering like we're in a Mexican market?"

"If the shoe fits. Twice a month. That's my final offer."

He steps up to me and gives me a kiss on the cheek.

"I don't like worrying about you, either. I don't want to mentally keep track of how much the presents and yummy dinners cost. I don't want to feel bad about using a ton of electricity. I'm just not going to have much brain space to deal with it and it would make things a lot easier on me if I could just pay you enough that I know the little incidentals will be covered."

Incidentals? This is more than some people's paychecks. 

"I don't like the idea of being paid to take care of you."

"I pay Megan to take care of me. True story, my dad always says that every man needs a good woman in his life. When I came out to him I told him that I was just going to have to find a good secretary instead and he joked and said that at least he didn't have to worry about me getting her pregnant. Look, I'm not paying you to care, Emmett and I'm not paying you for sex."

'That's true, I suppose.'

"Okay."

"You say I'll get used to your cock and if I can do that, I think you can get used to this. Now, steamer time."

How can he just SAY that? But, he may be right.

He's also a little scary waving that steamer around so gleefully.

I make my escape and head into the hallway to put his chair together.

[lairaam]

Black Cord Sets

A co-Ord set dress typically consists of a matching top and bottom, such as a blouse or crop top paired with a matching skirt or pants. This coordinated set is designed to be worn together, offering a stylish and cohesive look without the need to mix and match separate pieces. Black Co-Ord sets are popular in fashion for their convenience and the polished appearance they provide, making them a versatile choice for various occasions.