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#for those reading bless you all so much for your patience
littlejuicebox · 3 months
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Hi! I'm not sure if you take requests so if you don't, please ignore this and I hope you had a wonderful Christmas.
I just read your Astarion X Tav fanfic where Astarion proposes. It is said that the ring he got glows whenever Astarion thinks of Tav. I was just wondering if you could write a slice of life about the ring glowing at the most random times. Maybe during a stealth mission where Tav has to stay hidden or when he is smiling in his sleep and the ring glows. I just thought it would be cute and fun to write about. You can get creative with it.
Thank you for taking the time to read this, whether you end up doing this request or not. I hope you had an amazing Christmas and I hope you will have an amazing New Year's!
Hi Anon! I don’t think this is quite what you were asking for but… this is what came out! 🤷‍♀️ The smut gods blessed me and I cannot deny their gifts. Merry Christmas and Happy New Year! Smut below the cut.
If you haven’t read my other work and would like context, Anon is referencing a two part mini story I wrote. Click here for part 1, and click here for part 2.
Warnings/Tags: 18+ only please, smut, masturbation, sex pollen, swearing/cursing, game spoilers
Word Count: 1.5K
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“I think we’re just… a bit out of practice, darling. It has been nearly a year since we were down here last, you know.” Astarion whispers, crouched next to you behind a Funguswood tree. He’s wiping bits of dirt, twigs, and mushroom pollen off himself with a handkerchief.
“Admit it, Astarion. You just weren’t fast enough.” You respond with a small, teasing poke of your tongue as you rearrange your weaponry and count your arrows.
The pale elf finishes wiping off the debris, and you return your attentions to the mission. You’d been contracted to scout out the vampire stronghold in the Underdark and report your findings back to Wyll and the Flaming Fists. Rumor was that the vampire hoard had wreaked absolute havoc on the Underdark; the city feared the creatures would soon return to the surface if they could not find sustenance here.
“Would you have preferred I let that wild Rothé ram you into those mushrooms in my stead?!” Astarion hisses in return while rubbing his hand over his arm, which now felt unbelievably tingly and was starting to radiate significant warmth, “Hells, what mushrooms were those, anyway?!”
You stifle a chuckle, knowing your fiancé is already past his limits of patience. You two need to get to the scouting point, set up camp, and hunker down for a few days… all while avoiding detection from the vampires or any other nefarious creatures in the Underdark. Best to do it without an ornery Astarion by your side.
“I don’t know what mushrooms those were. I’ve never seen them before.” You admit with a small shrug, “Come on my love, not much further now and then we can get you properly cleaned up.”
Astarion follows behind you in silence, apart from the occasional cursing and swiping at his skin. Gods, the heat had spread up his entire arm now. The scratching seemed to make it worse, but by the hells, he couldn’t stop no matter how much he wanted to. The two of you finally got to the cragged rock that led to a small cave where you would make camp, and he never felt more relieved in his life. He couldn’t wait to clean himself properly and be done with this burning sensation.
You glance at him briefly and then begin climbing the rock. Astarion remains below to keep you covered in case anything decides to attack while you’re left defenseless. He looks up to watch your progress and cannot help but to notice the overwhelmingly attractive curve of your bottom. It was always attractive, of course, but something about it in this moment was entirely… irresistible. Had you been working out recently in preparation for the wedding?
You’re halfway through climbing the rock when your engagement ring bursts into a spray of light. It often glows significantly at the surface, but in the blackness of the Underdark, you’re practically a beacon. Your stomach drops. Gods, how had you forgotten to take it off?
“Astarion!” You hiss in a panicked whisper, “Cut it out! Every being in all of the Underdark will know our position.”
Astarion had realized the issue as soon as the light had flared, of course. He was trying desperately to avoid thinking of you and all the delicious things he wanted to do when you two made camp, but gods he couldn’t control it. What in the hells was wrong with him? He wanted to stop, to ensure your safety, but your plump, perfect ass was practically calling his name, begging for his attention, and he wanted nothing more than to bend you over and—
He shakes his head, trying to rattle the lewd fantasies from his psyche, “I’m trying, my love! I don’t know what’s come over me I just—“
Hags. Hideous shoes. Ghouls. Manual labor. Gale.
The pale elf tries to think of all the most grotesque, unsexy things he can and push you entirely from his mind. You continue to climb, hoping to quickly reach the top and take off your ring as soon as possible. The ring is still glowing like a single star in the blackest night.
Ogres. The smell of Araj’s blood. Rats. Gale.
Gods, it was useless.
Finally, you reach the top. You rip the ring off your finger and shove it in your pack as soon as your limbs land on the surface of the cave. Astarion quickly scales the rock behind you, and when he reaches the top, you’re positively glaring at him.
“Darling, I’m sorry! I really tried. It’s just— gods damn these mushrooms!” The vampire is ripping off his shirt and scratching at his skin as the two of you walk into the little cave. Before long he’s down to his knickers and cursing as he rubs desperately at his flesh.
You’re trying to ignore your fiancé and quickly pitch the tent so you can handle whatever the hells is going on with him. A sideways glance to your pack reveals that the ring is still glowing quite intensely… perhaps more than it ever has before. Was that even possible? At any rate, you can’t get closer to the stronghold with it glowing like that.
“Astarion, I don’t know what—“ You spin around, and you’re surprised to see the elf fully nude on his blanket, doing perhaps the most provocative thing you’ve ever witnessed.
Astarion is beaded in sweat by now, and his hands are wandering over himself, chasing the burning tingle as it travels through his body. Gods, the feeling was becoming absolutely unbearable. He kept seeing visions of you and him in the throes of passion in his mind.
He couldn’t stop even if he wanted to. Did he want to stop? He couldn’t decide. All he knew was the intense tingling and burning coursing through his veins and the wonderful fantasies filling his brain. He needed release from this torture; his limbs were on fire and the sensation was spreading to his groin.
The elf knows by the throbbing pulse in his cock that his erection is at full capacity, and he feels the dribbles of precum slowly sliding from the head, down the shaft. Astarion is, admittedly embarrassed knowing you are mere feet away and witnessing such an erratic show, but he grabs his own cock regardless— gods, it felt like being possessed. He needed release and he needed it now.
As his fingers wrap around his shaft, a burst of relief travels through his body. The tingling ceases for a moment. But then, it flares again and he’s consumed by the burning feeling and vulgar thoughts of the two of you once more. He pumps his hand a few times, bucking into the sensation, and once again the torturous tingle halts.
What in the hells?
Astarion is now rolling his hips towards his own hand, groaning in pure ecstasy at the relief from the burn as well as the delicious sensation of his hands stroking his uncharacteristically sensitive member. His eyes are clasped closed, and his other hand is still wandering over his torso, chasing that burning itch.
Through panting, shaking breaths he murmurs, “Darling, is it— oh gods, is possible that those— fuck — mushrooms contained sex pollen? I’ve never— mmh, fuck.”
You’d been so enraptured by the vision of your lover touching himself in such an uninhibited display of lust that you almost didn’t hear what Astarion asked. The slickness of your arousal was starting to become apparent as you instinctively squeezed your thighs together.
“I’m… I’m not sure, my love. I’ve read of such things but I’ve never come across it… until, perhaps, now I suppose.”
Astarion isn’t really listening. Instead, he’s bucking wildly into his own hand, chasing his own release. He falls apart in front of you, with his limbs tensed and mouth agape in pure, unadulterated pleasure, clasping tightly onto his own length. The gasping, strangled moan of relief that escapes him as he reaches his climax and shoots sticky streams of hot white seed onto his abdomen ignites a fire in your groin. He’s shuddering with the rippling aftershocks of his orgasm and you feel yourself dripping with arousal as you rub your thighs together once more. This display was entirely feral.
For a few moments the vampire is breathing contentedly, eyes still shut. He’s still holding his cock, which continues to twitch insistently despite its significant spend. Your lover brings his unoccupied hand to his hair and rakes it through his disheveled, sweaty curls.
You flick your gaze to your pack and notice that it’s no longer emitting that ethereal glow. But then Astarion groans in dismay and you see light flare from your bag again. When your attention returns back to your fiancé, he’s already grasping wantonly at a second rapidly growing erection.
“Darling, I can smell you,” He hisses desperately, now slathering his own milky juices around the swollen, reddened tip of his thick cock. The veins in his arm and on his shaft are pulsing as he begins to stroke himself again, “Don’t be coy just— come over here and help me with this. Please.”
And by the gods, he asked so nicely, how could you say no?
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koiiiiijiii · 18 days
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windbreaker characters & their possible love trope (part 2)
warnings : smut part with wooin but i tried to make it more sensual then sexy, prob fluffiest stuff i ever wrote, as usual it might be ooc, not proofed read on your own risk!!)🧣💞🦢
thank you all guys for 287 followers!!(i wrote when it was 260!!) i hope my works makes your day a lil bit better and set some mood. i really appreciate all likes, reposts and especially!! comments and replies, in love with @sugardollie-907 @hjunsjoy @cozyunderworld @dialoguestetatet and wildylisa but idk why i can’t tag((( and so so many other people who comment (but i swear this holy five lives rent free in my comment section and it such a blessing🙏🏻)
thank you to every-everyone who supporting me, my works, it’s so gratifying to come here and see all notifications about your feedbacks!! also want to say thanks to all wb authors who ever posted and posting!! another source of motivation and inspiration🫵🏻😌💋💯🎀
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‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.
vinny - a friend’s sister. you were definetely dom's or jay's sister, and vinny was so annoyed by you in the first place. not because of your personality or you annoyed him directly, but you were that "genious" in your sport, and vinny unitentionally compared you to jay jo, who were gifted with talent from birth. he was angry or annoyed to the point of goosebumps, he didn't even understand exactly what he was feeling, but he understood that this was a very strong storm of emotions and he was fixated on you. honestly? when your brother watches your competitions or casually tells about your successes, Vinny records it in his memory and will congratulate you later(dom as an older brother will 100% hype you up, fight me. he would show his phone to hummingbird crew with tearing puppy eyes “look, my lil gremlin winning those competition of hers”🥹🥹)Vinny would rather die by biting his neck than admit his feelings to someone, so it happens accidentally, maybe your chat went further than congratulating each other on winning competitions or your calls to him to find out where your brother is hanging around today. but because you were tired after the competition, you fell asleep leaving the chat open and not responding to his messages, leaving him on read. not to say that Vinny was offended by you, he just snapped at you for 3 days in a row, refusing to respond to messages. you had to take the situation into your own hands and hold his hand after another training and talk. “ta hell you want?” he said, frowning down at you. “just to talk and clearly” - you explained the situation to him and told him why you didn't answer, but since Vinny didn't know how to apologize and he had certain trust issues, it turned into another skirmish. it was evening and it was unnoticeable how the clouds thickened and the rain began to fall, but it didn't seem to bother two of you much because you were standing and yelling at each other for a reason you both didn't understand. Vinny's patience had always been zero, but now it seemed as if he was on the verge of reaching another stage of rabies. while you were shouting at him that you didn't understand why he started this quarrel at all, he just exhaled irritably and unknowingly blurted out “FUCK! because i was worried about you!!” as the argument reached its peak, Vinny's frustration peaked, his heart pounding with a mixture of anger and apprehension. yet, amidst the chaos of their exchange, a surge of emotion overcame him, compelling him to act on the impulse he'd long suppressed. with a sudden surge of courage, Vinny closed the distance between you, his hand reaching out to cup your cheek. eyes met, mirroring the intensity of emotions, as Vinny leaned in, capturing your lips in a tender kiss. the rain continued to fall, its gentle rhythm enveloping both of you in a cocoon of intimacy as you melted into each other's embrace. Vinny’s body pressed to yours, rain-soaked and trembling, as the warmth of the spring evening mingled with the cool touch of the rain. in that moment, amidst the soft glow of the night lights and the soothing patter of raindrops, time seemed to stand still. the world around you faded into obscurity, leaving only the two bodies locked in a passionate embrace. as your lips parted, a sense of relief washed over, breaths mingling with the cool night air as you savored the sweetness of the moment. in the gentle caress of the rain and the warmth of each other's touch, you found solace, knowing that despite the storm raging around two of you, they were anchored in the calm of their love. as you kissed beneath the spring evening sky, a sense of peace washed over them, the tension of their argument melting away with each tender caress. In that fleeting moment, surrounded by the gentle embrace of the rain and the comforting glow of city lights, they found solace in each other's arms, their love renewed and strengthened by the storm they weathered together.
wooin - fake relationship. he commited it in the first place. since his work wasn’t permanent and he was constantly on the move, hanging here and there, Wooin thought it would be nice to have something permanent in his life. he needed excuse to tell his family why he can’t visit them on weekends - his girlfriend doesn’t feel well. them asking him all this “start a family” questions? sorry, y/n isn’t ready yet. some unforeseen situations? oh, y/n can be his trusted person. something didn't go according to plan? he can rely on y/n, if it isn’t something too difficult or dangerous. as a substitute he will gift you something, or will took you somewhere, thanking you for being his backup. genuinely it wasn’t something like friends with benefits, no, you two clearly share a bond, but it was something on the edge, as everybody thought you were dating. and in fact all this acts, you being his backup, him giving you small gifts, taking you on dates, sharing a bed - it all feels more like a relationship. but you never had this conversation, after another hot sex you could fall asleep together, for sure, but in the morning one of you definitely woke up in an empty bed. of course, it also happened that you woke up together, but in the morning Wooin was simply unbearable, and more often it ended with too caustic jokes. and it was always on the edge, you weren't in a relationship, you weren't friends, you weren't strangers, you were all together at once. at some point, it started to get exhausting. you noticed it first, but Wooin started talking about it first... well not actually talk, but mutter in the crook of your neck… today’s sex was different, the encounter was filled with a blend of sensuality and intensity, both of you asserting your desires while maintaining a balance of power. you bite each other, when it feels like too much, but immediately kissing and licking bite place, each of you tried to get leading role while another didn’t let it happen. today, Wooin's approach was different - not sloppy, fast and erratically, but slower, more deliberate, his touch gentle yet his thrusts firm. you were suffocating in his arms, and it seemed to him that he was drowning in the smell of your hair, your moans, how you trembled slightly from his hands on your chest, hips and neck. Wooin burrowed his nose deeper into the crook of your neck, breathing heavily and sniffing your scent. it was intoxicating, that feeling when you were next to him, when his hands slid over your body, your soft sobs, how the emotions on your pretty face changed depending on his pace. now, with his whole body pressed against you from behind, one hand holding your hip, and the other between your head and the pillow, his palm rested on your collarbones. while he was slowly sinking into you, and you were smiling and almost purring with pleasure, he caught himself thinking that he liked your smile. he likes to spend time with you, he likes to use an excuse in front of his parents and call you his girlfriend. his. Wooin liked the idea of you being his. he liked you. along with these thoughts, his pace increased, now he was digging his fingers into your thigh, and the other hand slid to your breast, squeezing it a little harder. you were both lost in your pleasure as you moaned louder and louder, he pressed his nose harder into your neck, whispering something that you couldn't make out. at one moment, he lifted his head, biting your earlobe, and pulling it slightly towards him, in a burst of emotion, he whispered "i like you"*
kwon - stranger to lovers/soulmetes - for the first time it seemed like someone corsed you. you moved to new flat in different district of Seul and now it was time to transport your stuff from old flat. everything started when you recieved message from a men who drove the car with your stuff, saying that he is stuck on a street because there are some stupid cycling competition and usual road is closed. amazing, you already were so stressed and here some cycling competition, but thankfully in the evening you finally recieved your stuff, mostly some boxes, small and big. when you were about to pick another heavy box you felt that it seemed strangely light. when you rise your eyes you saw a young man around your age. you thanked him for helping and he turned out to be almost your neighbor, one floor above and to the left of your neighbor's wall. next time you saw Kwon Hyeok in evelator…and you two were stuck there…for 3 hours…you were about to meet with your friends and, as you learned later, he was about to pick something to eat in nearest market. week later you met him in random cafe, where you decided to have a dinner alone, the owner of the cafe came up to you, saying that all the seats are occupied, but since you are alone, there was an empty place, behind the bar, just next to a guy your age (the old man grinned and has obviously already married you two in his head) so when you sat down carefully and apologized for the intrusion, you recognized that it was Kwon. you ordered your food and few drinks, and had a nice time together. and after a month of such unexpected encounters, you began to suspect 2 things - either fate brings you together, or he is a stalker. thankfully when you ran into each other again in the same cafe and drank a lot more this time, you admitted that you suspected him, and he, in turn, thought the same - that you were weird stalker girl who followed him around, and in that evening you laughed together from many things. when it was time to leave he understood that you were so drunk that you couldn’t even stand straight, so he took you by the elbow, hugged you with his free hand a little bit higher than your waist and led you home. along the way, of course, you mumbled something about how you like one handsome boy and he seemed like not paying attention to you and probably not even interested and why you're still alone…and then, under the soft glow of streetlights, amidst the hushed whispers of the night, it happened. in a moment that felt both inevitable and surreal, your lips met in a tender kiss, sealing the bond that had been silently growing between you. in that stolen moment, amid the chaos of the city, you found solace in each other's arms, knowing that fate had finally brought you together as more than just strangers in passing.
‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.
* i’m sorry, i don’t really know how to finish this part with wooin, as it already feels too ooc, it was more self inserted, like i was inspired by my latest situationship, bc i was in fucking same situation(it didn’t end well) , and it’s still kinda my roman empire, so i leave space for your imagination… if u don’t mind of course…🥹
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writerpeach · 1 year
Text
Undressing Room
Kang Hyewon x m!reader
word count- 7.8k+
⚠ smut, oral, tit-fucking, anal, that dress
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read on AO3
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"Isn't it…a little too tight?" 
“The dress? Or you? Because either way, the answer is no."
Making Hyewon blush was always too easy. Whether it was a simple joke, a compliment on her outfit, or a comment that put her innocence to the test, she could never hide her shyness. And this time was no exception.
"Hey! You're such a pervert. Doesn't it show too much? I feel like you can see everything.” That wasn’t wasn’t too far from the truth. Hyewon wore an off-shoulder blue dress that was the definition of form-fitting—like it had been made specifically for her. Her stylist knew what she was doing. 
"I fail to see how that's a problem, Hyem.” 
The smile on your face couldn’t be wider as you watched Hyewon look at herself in the mirror in the waiting room. “But you know what would make that dress look better?" 
"Don't you dare say it would look better on the floor,” she said, glaring daggers at you. 
Hyewon read you like a book. "What? I would never—" 
"Uh-huh. I know you too well, perv.” You gave Hyewon a discreet glance before your arms wrapped around her slim waist, and you kissed the side of her neck, inhaling her sweet perfume. 
“Then you should know when you wear something like this, it's hard to keep my hands off you."
Once again—too easy. It was like you were tallying how many times you could make her flustered, how many times you could make those adorable cheeks a shade of rosy scarlet. "But we can't right now. Someone could call for me at any moment.” 
Patience was not your strongest trait. But whenever you were with Hyewon, you would wait until the sun rose back up, and then some. You'd gone to these types of events before, and it was always the same type of endless waiting. “We have plenty of time. Don’t these things take forever?" 
Hyewon sighed and sank back into your touch, as you maintained a strong grasp on her waist, continued to kiss her neck, and snaked your hands a bit higher. You couldn’t help but notice her dress offered the easiest access—all it would take was one little tug. 
"But I don't want us to be in the middle of something when they do call me. I'm nervous!" Hyewon pouted when she turned around, and you were blessed with the most gorgeous girl you’d laid your eyes on. 
“You’re going to do great,” you reassured when you met her gaze, and caressed her cheek. “You’re the camera’s best friend, and they’ll fall head over heels for you, Kang Hyewon. You're the perfect woman, and everyone here is lucky enough to be able to bask in your beauty."
“Thank you. That really helps a lot,” she said, as her voice stayed soft and quiet while she gave a peck on your lips. Returning the kiss, your voice sank to a whisper, and a mischievous grin shot across your features.
“But I know a good way to get rid of those nerves…”
You didn’t need to say anything else, because Hyewon knew what you meant—even if it made her blush for the umpteenth time as she buried her face in her palms. "Always one thing with you! So naughty…”
"Not always. But when you look so delicious, who could blame me for being so hungry?” you asked, as you grinned even wider before returning to kiss those silky soft lips. Hyewon let out a short giggle, spun around, and looked at herself in the mirror again.
"I guess I can't. I do look really good in it,” Hyewon said, running fingers through her hair. “I’ve never worn something so revealing. It makes me feel nervous, but at the same time a little—”
"Turned on?" you answered for her and kissed each of her bare shoulders while you watched her reflection in the mirror.
"Well, maybe a little...” 
"And you called me the perv?" 
“That's because you are,” she said, and spun around to throw a playful punch to one shoulder. “This dress makes me feel like everyone is going to be staring at me. But I like that. I love the attention."
"I'm staring at you right now, Hyem. I couldn’t stop if I tried."
"You’re always staring, pervert. Even when I'm not wearing any makeup and I'm in my pajamas. But won't it make you jealous with all those eyes on me?” 
"No, not really. They can drool all they want, but Hyewon is all mine. Only I get to see what's underneath that dress."
"I’m not all yours, you’re all mine, remember?” Hyewon said, before she rested her head on your shoulder and took a moment of hesitation. 
“So…wouldn't you like to see what's under this dress?" 
The question made her giggle, which brought out your own laughter at the sudden influx of confidence. But there was nothing more you desired, no better wish that you wanted granted. "What happened to we can't right now?”
Before answering, Hyewon took a quick breather, like she already forgot those exact words said earlier. "Do what? I'm just offering you a little sneak peek. If you don't want it, I completely understand..."
"I didn’t say that. Of course I want it, you fucking tease."
Hyewon's little, innocent smile grew into a larger one, full of delight at your impatience. "I thought so. Now take a seat, so I can show you how good this dress looks on the floor."
Gesturing towards the large white couch, you sat down on the cushions, becoming as comfy as you could while your attention remained laser-focused straight ahead. So as you patiently waited for Hyewon to undress with bated breath, you kept an ear out for lingering footsteps that might spoil the fun. While Hyewon keeping you waiting wasn't unusual, the amount of time that had passed was almost to the point where you felt compelled to get out of your seat. 
"Do you need help?"
Hyewon shook her head, looking first like a deer caught in headlights until her expression changed into something less serious. "No, I'm good. The zipper got caught on something for a sec, but I got it. There we go."
And just like that, the pretty blue dress that defined Hyewon’s insane curves fell to the floor, confirming in fact, that it did look better that way. You were really staring now, because while she looked stunning in that fancy discarded dress, she looked much better in her underwear. Hyewon exuded confidence, her modelesque body proudly standing with hands on her deadly hips, and a cocky, sexy smirk swept over her features.
It was utterly unfair for someone to have a killer body like that, but even as her ample breasts tempted you to lose your focus in between that deep cleavage, it grew impossible to find a spot where your eyes could fixate. 
"Holy shit, Hyem,” you said, as you lifted your jaw off the floor, drowning in lust when your gaze drifted to Hyewon's tight, exposed body. “Black looks so damn good on you. Your tits look fantastic in that bra." 
When she walked closer to you, Hyewon halted inches from your position, and leaned over to let your eyes feast on a closer glimpse of her breasts. "Thank you, you're so sweet. But just wait until you see the back."   
You were engrossed in Hyewon's ample cleavage to the point where you forgot where you were, that you were still in a public building and not your own bedroom, and took a quick glance towards the door.
"Did we lock the door?"
"I don't know, did we? Who cares?" Hyewon responded with a smug look, no longer concerned as she had been.
"We wouldn't want someone to walk in on you giving me a strip show…"
"Well, it wouldn't be the first time." 
"That was so embarrassing, having to explain that to Eunbi."
"But it worked out in the end, didn't it? And you got to see us both naked for the first time. I should give Eunbi unnie a call." 
"Hyem, you're stalling,” you said, growing more impatient by the second. 
"Oh, am I? Did you want me to turn around and show you my ass? I'm wearing the new thong you bought me. I guess I should show you how it looks."
"Tease."
"I only tease because you like it.” Hyewon generously turned around to give you what you'd been craving for and bent over to show off that magnificent ass before parking it on your lap. Your mind went blank, only filled with depraved thoughts of what you wanted to do to her. 
"Do I?" you questioned, as you gawked at the view of Hyewon’s plentiful backside and the small thong wedged between her cheeks that her plump ass devoured.
"Of course you do, perv. You love it when I make you wait to see me naked. And when I sit on your lap and grind my ass on you like this."
It was almost embarrassing how quickly your pants tightened when Hyewon grabbed your thighs for stability and gyrated her hips. Even through your pants, you could tell how soft those scrumptious buttcheeks were, and they caused a massive bulge in your pants that only Hyewon could be responsible for.
"I do love when you tease me…and I love this tight ass even more. This beautiful ass. Fuck, Hyem. How does your ass keep getting bigger?" 
Hyewon didn't stop rubbing her curvy ass against your clothed erection as she sandwiched it perfectly between her cheeks. Every gyration made your cock throb hard against the frustrating fabric of your pants.
"Because I work hard to make it bigger. For you, and for me. So I can show it off in those tight jeans you love me wearing." There was nothing more you could be thankful for. You couldn't wait any longer to get your hands on Hyewon, so after sliding your eager hands up her tight abdomen, you grabbed both plump buttcheeks, and squeezed until your hands were full of soft, heavenly flesh.
"I think I'm in love with it."
Hyewon giggled as you kneaded her beautiful rear to your heart's content, unable to resist giving it a generous slap. "I don't blame you. I do have a rather nice ass."
"I think I want you to suffocate me with it.” You eagerly pulled your shirt over your head, and watched Hyewon gawk over your chest in the mirror the same way you were staring at her ass. 
“Good, because I think I want to suffocate you with it.” Looking back over her shoulder, Hyewon shared the same glint in her eye as she departed your lap, giving you enough room to lie down flat on the couch, your head positioned just below the headrest. Hyewon then straddled your waist, putting her big tits flush against your chest, and started to kiss your body, leaving lip prints all over your bare skin.
“I hope they never call for me,” Hyewon said, as her long fingers played with strands of your hair, tangling herself up in them before she planted gentle kisses on your collarbones and your neck. She leaned forward to nibble your earlobe with her teeth, sending tingles throughout your body.
“Me too. Now come bring that fat ass over here and sit it on my face."
“I’d love to,” she responded with an eager smile, and within seconds, she positioned herself above your head, a hovering squat with her cheeks prepared to meet your face. From this point of view, you could see everything—the shape of those inviting pussy lips, toned creamy thighs, and a round, shapely ass that had no equal. 
“I love to sit on your face. Your adorable face. Your cute, loveable, perfect face. Are you ready?"
Before you could answer, you grasped Hyewon’s hips, and pulled down her ass to smother your face with. 
“I guess that answers that…” This was the true definition of heaven—a beautiful girl with her weight down on you, and the aromatic scent of her arousal seeping through her panties. And for the moment, you were content being her cushion, content to see nothing but those buttcheeks that filled your view. 
“God, I love this ass so much. It's fucking perfect. I just want to live underneath these soft, pillowy cheeks. Forever."
Hyewon couldn’t help but laugh. She loved hearing your words of praise and loved how obsessed you were with her body. “Can you even breathe?" 
"No. But I don't want to. You're supposed to suffocate me. Isn’t that what I asked for?” 
"But if you pass out, you can't fuck me." 
That was just a risk you would have to take. Almost a bigger risk than what you were already doing. "Who said I was going to fuck you? You said this was just a sneak peek."
"I did, but—"
"But now you're dripping wet. I can feel it through your panties."
Embarrassment embraced her cheeks once more. "S-sorry, I can't help it. You know what happens when I ride your face."
"There's no need to be sorry. But then—maybe I should help you out. Maybe I should do this—" 
With that, you pulled her thong to the side, and gave her pretty pink slit a long, slow lick. As you tasted the sweet essence that filled your mouth, Hyewon squirmed on top of you, but you held her in place, and took another taste of her sweet pussy, gathering up the slick nectar waiting for you. 
“Oh god, fuck—” she moaned loudly while you turned the tables and teased her swollen clit, tongue flicking against it to draw out more pure pleasure. You held those plump cheeks pressed firmly on your face, then sucked on her clit, for just long enough to grant a modicum of pleasure, earning more moans, more tasty juices that you lapped up as she rocked on your face. 
“You're so wet, Hyem. Your gorgeous little cunt wanted my tongue this badly?”
She hesitated—answering only in erotic moans for the next few moments as you worked your tongue between her messy folds and slurped her juices clean. "Y-yes, fuck yes. I needed this. I needed this so bad.  God, that tongue feels so, so good. Just tease my clit like that—mmm, fuck, just like that."
"God, Hyem, your pussy tastes so good, I just wanna eat you out for hours. We could skip this event. I'll bring you back to our place just to devour you all night. I’ll keep making you cum on my face over and over…" 
To prove your point, your slurps became louder, while your tongue explored every inch of dripping flesh, moving past the point of teasing. 
“Fuck, that would be amazing, oh fuck—right there, keep sucking that clit. But we can’t, I’d get in so much trouble—fuck, fuck, oh my god—your tongue is amazing, don’t stop, don’t—” 
“That’s a shame. Because I could just rail you in the kitchen. Then the bathroom, the living room, the laundry room, maybe even the bedroom eventually, until the sheets get so messy we’d have to get rid of them, and neither of us can walk.” 
“Oh god…I need that more than anything. Just finish inside me in every single room. Then you can cover my tits, my tummy, and my entire body in your hot loads. I’d drain you so many times…” 
“We can’t forget about your face, I’d paint your gorgeous face so many times. You just look so pretty with my thick cum dripping down your face, don’t you?”
“Ah fuuck, you’re making me so wet just thinking about that. I need your cock. Please, can I whip out your enormous cock, so I can suck you off and make you feel as good as you’re making me?”
“You don’t have to ask. Anything you want is yours, Hyem.” So while you kept your tongue buried in her cunt, Hyewon unfastened your pants and slid them down to your knees with your boxers. She seized your throbbing length and furiously stroked it, then puckered her lips to kiss your swollen tip a numerous amount of times, before she teased your length with her wet tongue. 
You let out a breathy moan when Hyewon licked every inch of hard flesh, her tongue frantically moving up and down, and left a trail of saliva on your shaft. She teased your balls, flicked against each one, then cupped them when she returned to your swollen cockhead, and parted her lips with it as it disappeared into her wet, hungry mouth. 
“Oh god, Hyem. That’s so fucking good,” you moaned, as she gently sucked on your tip, and the softest lips imaginable around your cock slurped loudly when Hyewon worked her magic on your hard cock. Eager for more, she pushed her lips further, while her talented mouth swallowed up more dick to suck, desperate for it all. 
So while that hot, hungry mouth sucked on your cock, and her tongue danced across your shaft, you returned the favor. With the same amount of fervor, you feasted on her pussy and suckled on her clit,  tonguing her leaking hole to spill more nectar onto your chin, nearly competing with Hyewon to provide equal parts of pleasure. 
“Fuck, that mouth feels so good, Hyem. You’re making me throb so much, I just need you to take it down your throat, all the way down.” 
Without any hesitation she obliged, and played with your balls, giving them a gentle squeeze while she sucked you deeply, all the way down to your base with ease. 
Hyewon obeyed without hesitation and swallowed you whole, all the way down to your base with ease, taking every last inch, nose flush to your stomach. She played with your tender balls while she held you in her tight throat, and gently squeezed them, caressed them to offer extra stimulation as you tongue her delicious cunt, eager to maintain the mutual goal of pleasing each other. 
“You eat me out so well, I just love how your tongue feels inside me, fuck,” Hyewon said, as she became more insane with bliss by the moment. “I love when you lick my pussy while I drool over this amazing cock. It tastes so good, so, so fucking good, I just want to suck your delicious cock forever. It just makes me so wet when I see how much saliva your cock is covered in. I’m getting so close, I just need, oh fuck—”
When the tip of your wet finger teased Hyewon’s asshole, you hit the jackpot, and garnered even louder, needier moans from Hyewon. It was far too simple to turn her into a mess. With your tongue buried in her cunt, that same finger continued to circle around her puckered hole, daring to slip inside, but withdrew at the last second. 
“Oh my god, please. Just a little more—that finger teasing my asshole is gonna make me cum. I’m so close, please, just wrap your lips around my clit while you finger my ass. Please don’t stop, don’t stop, please don’t fucking stop—” 
You couldn’t ignore her desperate pleas, so after wetting your finger some more, you slipped it all the way inside her tight asshole as your lips went to town on her throbbing clit. After all, you wanted Hyewon to cum, and had no reason to prolong your teasing. You wanted her to cum until her legs shook, and would do anything in your power to achieve that. 
Not letting up, your lips mercilessly slurped and slurped on her swollen nub, and you fingered her tight back entrance. Meanwhile, Hyewon equally slurped on your length, and with every passing moment, you felt your face grow wetter and wetter, welcoming more of her sweet honey. More and more, her delicate movements became frantic, and her sweet moans became more out of control as her limits were being tested. 
“Hyem, I want you to cum. I want you to squeeze my head with your thighs, I need to feel them tremble and shake. You can do that, can’t you? Cum for me, Hyem.”
It took very little time, with how your finger pumped in her ass, and your lips assaulted her clit, but finally—Hyewon reached the moment of bliss. The sheer force of her orgasm sent loud screams of ecstasy that echoed along the walls. Her juices spilled like a waterfall that coated your lips, chin, and everywhere else, while her body shook violently, suffocating your face with her trembling thighs as expected. You licked her through every explosive moment, and after her orgasm subsided, she collapsed onto your body, panting heavily, with just enough energy to stroke your cock while you cleaned her thighs up, not letting a drop go to waste.
“H-holy shit, I came so hard. You made me cum so hard…” The little aftershocks of her climax continued to fire off as you caressed her thighs, while her intense high began to dissipate. Still basking in satisfaction, Hyewon carefully lifted her ass from your Hyewon-covered face, which left you with fleeting disappointment when she rose to her feet, finished removing her panties, and tossed them in a random corner. 
With your hands now free and no longer caressing her, you sat up slowly and lamented the loss of her warm cheeks against your face. You looked at Hyewon, her lustful gaze too much to ignore, as she dropped to her knees and tugged off your pants and underwear. Her delicate hands stroked your naked thighs, and kissed the inside of each one while she gazed longingly. 
“Now, are you ready to fuck me?” 
Even when her climax faded, her craving didn’t, so you gave a singular nod as she reached behind her back to unfasten her bra. “Yes, Hyem. Anything you want is yours.” 
Your eyes widened with anticipation when Hyewon lowered one strap, then the other, and tossed it to the ground to let gravity deal with it. Drunk on lust, your eyes wandered her exposed body, and those delicious freed breasts were a blessing, a gift from the gods that you couldn’t avert your gaze from. 
Hyewon’s flawless figure was easily the best thing you had laid your eyes on, every curve perfectly detailed, each luscious inch of naked skin the true definition of beauty. And you couldn’t decide to tether your focus on her massive tits, that gorgeous shaved pussy, or her lusciously long legs, so for now, you settled on her devastatingly beautiful face. 
“Stop staring for once.” Hyewon giggled, and took your hands in hers, before she placed them on her full breasts that you immediately squeezed, reveling in their weight and softness. Not staring was not an option when this woman was so favored with the body of a goddess. 
The roundness of her soft, supple breasts, combined with the creaminess of her skin, and beautiful taut nipples, every feature made up the very definition of perfection. Every feature filled your fingers when you squeezed Hyewon’s tits, so sensitive to your touch when you played with them, fondled them, and pressed them together, which made them bounce and bounce. 
“I know what you want,” Hyewon said, and you sank back into the couch without your eyes moving from her hanging tits that kept your arousal levels at maximum. “So sit back and relax.” 
Relaxing was the easiest command you could follow. Hyewon moved hair off the side of her neck before she returned to delicately stroking your cock, spitting on it several times until it glistened. She kept lubricating your shaft, and utilized her abundant saliva to also do so between the delectable valley of her breasts. After making sure your gaze was focused on what she was about to do, Hyewon grabbed your cock, slipped it into her silky cleavage, and trapped it in that wonderful flesh. 
“Oh fuck,” you moaned, and you wished you could freeze time. Hyewon wrapped her tits around your cock, and nothing compared to it. Nothing made you want to savor the sensations of her soft breasts more than when they enveloped every inch of your length, and she started to slide her chest up and down, creating pleasurable, unforgettable friction. 
“Fuck, that feels so good, Hyem. Those big tits feel so amazing around my cock.”  
Nothing made Hyewon smile more when you began to match her pace, desperately thrusting into her abundant cleavage as she kept them contained around your shaft, refusing to let you slip out. 
“And I love the way your hard cock feels between my tits. I want you to keep moaning for me. I love hearing how needy and desperate you get.”
Hyewon’s tits were immaculate. Full and heavy, with the prettiest nipples that you were lucky enough to suck on a daily occasion, lucky enough to rest on those soft mounds while you drifted to sleep, lucky enough to be smothered with when she was in that type of mood. 
You didn’t let your eyes stray from the way your cock disappeared between Hyewon’s supple tits, only looking up for an instant to meet her lustful gaze while her cleavage kept your shaft captive. Never would you get tired of this, not when every titfuck Hyewon offered felt different from the one before. Those amazing breasts massaged your length, added undeniable pleasure, and made you throb with every pump whenever she cupped her tits together tighter. 
“You like that? You like fucking these tits?” Hyewon asked, using her fingers to help stroke your cock, while your glistening precum stained her chest. Without a doubt you did, but you were too caught up in the moment to respond, and only used your breathless moans to answer while your cock continued to plunge between her warm heavenly cleavage as you descended into madness. You could fuck those beautiful tits forever, the constant pressure and slippery friction a well of bliss that you never wanted to end.
“I know you do, but I don’t want you to cum yet…but you’ll cum soon if I don’t stop, won’t you? You’ll explode between these perfect tits if I keep squeezing your throbbing cock with them?”
“Y-yea, I’m gonna cum soon. I’m gonna cum if you keep doing that. You can stop.” 
It was both a blessing and a curse. While you wouldn’t mind finishing in between Hyewon’s huge tits and painting that gorgeous face white—you hadn’t tasted the main course yet. So mercifully, she halted her movements to keep the growing pressure at bay and let your cock slip from her tits, but not without a few slaps on them, always one to tease to the last possible moment by rubbing her swollen nipples with your pulsating shaft. 
“Your cock needs to be inside me. I need to feel this inside me. Right now,” she said, gripping your cock with slow, gentle strokes, trying her hardest to prolong your pleasure.
“Then you better get up here and ride it.” 
Without delay, Hyewon climbed back on your lap, and swung each of her creamy thighs so they wrapped around your waist. Her movements had a swiftness to them, eager to keep the train of pleasure going as she kissed you, lips pressed to yours like there was no time left in the world. 
"I'm going to ride the fuck out of you," Hyewon said, her tone something between confident and smug, those wide, stunning eyes brimming with lust.
“Yeah? You think you can handle me? With how quickly I made you cum on my tongue earlier?” you asked, while your hands started to wander her body again, tracing her curves as you met her sultry gaze. Hyewon didn’t bat an eye as she leaned in to kiss you, lips swiping against your teeth, as if she demanded control. 
“That was just to ease the nerves, like you said.” With a steady clench on your shaft, she pushed her hips closer to you and lifted herself up, lining you up between her spread legs, eyes bright and ready. “Or did you already forget how you couldn’t handle my tits around your cock and begged me to stop before you blew your load too soon?” 
Hyewon took a pause to let words sink in—but they were barely a light jab. Returning her kisses with a much more aggressive array of your own, you shoved your tongue in her mouth, trying to take away some of that bravado. “That was just for your own sake. You think I’m gonna let you go out there without a load inside you?” 
“Just don’t cum too fast this time. I want to enjoy fucking you.” 
The heat from Hyewon’s spread legs spread mere inches above your shaft, and slowly, taking her time, she lowered herself onto your cock whether you were ready or not. Moaning in unison, Hyewon took the tip of your shaft into her, head thrown back in pleasure, eyes closed as warmth blanketed your shaft. Despite her abundant wetness, it took her hips some extra effort before she could take more of you, that overwhelming tightness the only barrier to stretch herself out. 
“Ah shit, Hyem. Your pussy feels so good. So fucking wet, so fucking tight,” you said, nearly out of breath at the slippery flesh that surrounded your shaft, yet not even past the halfway point. More shallow movements followed her gyrating hips, and not-so-subtle moans before you could feel more of her greedy pussy swallowing you up. Hyewon tried to fuck herself deeper, insatiable for more as every impale she took moved her closer to the promised land. 
The back and forth and one-upmanship was all but gone, replaced by an excess of lust while Hyewon tried to work more of your length into her. Her walls smothered you with slick warmth, and a harsh grip that suffocated every inch that slid inside that impossibly tight entrance. 
“You want me deep? You want me to ride your thick cock balls fucking deep?” she asked, as her tight gripping walls demanded more and more. 
“Do you even have to ask? You’re going to bounce on this dick until you cream all over me. You can do that for me, Hyem, can’t you? Take every inch of my cock.” 
And with that, Hyewon slammed herself down to the hilt until your cock was fully buried within her delectable hot cavern, with hands firmly on your shoulders. Her head fell down to kiss your lips again, that sweet taste lingering before she began to move—you then relinquished all control when she pumped her hips up and down in a relentless rhythm. A familiar, yet unpredictable pace, mixed with swaying hips, and ceaseless moans that you basked in while you kept your hands attached to her waist, watching the way her perfect breasts bounced and bounced with every fluid motion her delicious body made. 
“Oh god, that cock is so fucking big inside me, so hard. You’re stretching my insides out so much.” 
You could never get enough of seeing Hyewon like this, completely consumed with lust, and an overwhelming desire to take all of you, with the same look in her eyes that meant she wanted to devour all of you. 
After every bounce she took against your crotch, your shaft glistened more. You wanted to sit back and watch the show, so you let Hyewon do all the work, controlling the speed until it increased faster and faster, and her insatiable hunger took over while her magnificent tits jiggled in your face.
Hyewon stayed true to her words and rode you harder than she had before, those meaty thighs crashing against your own as she kept her cunt filled with your cock. Her hips expended more energy, pumping more feverishly, as her insides became warmer and wetter, eliciting more prolonged moans from both of you. 
“You ride me so well, Hyem, fuck. You like my cock that much? You like fucking yourself on it?” 
“Do you even have to ask?” she mocked. “I always love riding you. Your cock is so amazing, fuck—I just love feeling so full like this. I love feeling how your huge cock throbs inside me.” Soon, her breathing became erratic, and she let out heavy gasps, loud pants, deep breaths that heaved her chest with every pop of her hips. 
As the intensity grew, sweat trickled down both your bodies, and Hyewon tested the limits of what you could endure. The slapping of skin grew louder, loud enough to be heard outside the door, and the way Hyewon clamped around your cock, almost painfully tight, made your cock swell and throb and endless amount. 
But nothing would make you want her to derail the euphoria train, or slow down those careless bounces her plentiful ass took on your crotch. Not that Hyewon would stop until she came on your cock, leaving your body lost in a tidal wave of sensations. Those hypnotic tits were the only thing that could distract you from the immense, hot tightness that engulfed your cock, so you captured them mid-bounce and groped them, and gave them your whole attention. 
Once again, you teased Hyewon by flicking her hard nipples with your tongue, switching between biting and licking the sensitive buds, before suckling hard on one breast, then the other, alternating between the two while giving the other a squeeze, and didn’t let them go neglected for any length of time.
“Ah shit! Fucking suck those tits,” she urged, and you complied with eagerness, feasting on her juicy swollen tits until her nipples with drowned in your saliva. Her hips went into overdrive, and she impaled herself on your cock with such force that you had to fight the urge to explode inside her, desperate to keep your focus on sucking her taut, delicious nipples. 
“Holy fuck, I’m so close, I’m so fucking close,” Hyewon gasped as she took you into her warm depths and grabbed your face to press you deep into her sweaty cleavage, smothering you with her voluptuous breasts. “Fuuuuck, you’re gonna make me cum again. I’m gonna cum on your cock!” 
It was with great pleasure that you found yourself in a compromised position where you could barely breathe, let alone speak. Not that you would ever complain about being mashed up against Hyewon’s sweaty breasts as she drew closer and closer to climax. 
She wasn’t holding anything back now.
With your face buried in those immaculate tits, you could hear her loud, heavy breaths while her fingers tugged at your hair, and juices oozed down your cock, dripping down to your balls. Keeping up the breakneck pace, Hyewon used every ounce of power left in those wide hips, until she finally shattered beneath you, and moaned in your ears when she came. Her walls fluttered and turned into a vice grip to suffocate your cock with the tightest clench humanly possible, spilling juices out like a waterfall, as her body shuddered with every explosive pulsation. 
The fireworks lasted for quite some time, and you felt Hyewon's legs violently quivering from the aftershocks, her body following along. 
Eventually, her body settled down. When you were finally released from her deadly clutches, her messy juices smeared your crotch with the remnants of her orgasm, desperate to wring out every ounce of pleasure. Her hips gyrated one last round, nectar leaking down between her thighs and clung onto whatever surface underneath that was in her path.
Resting her head against your shoulder, Hyewon panted and fought to catch her breath. She slowly looked up, eyes glazed over with sweat dripping on her brow, as every exhausted muscle in her body came to a halt. “So good, you always make me cum so fucking hard...”
You didn’t say anything and only stroked her hair, then licked a stripe of sweat from her neck while you listened to the gasps and tired pants she made, eyes glued to her heaving chest. 
“I need you to cum too,” Hyewon urged, that effervescent smile you missed returning to her glowing features. “You said you were gonna leave a load in me.”
A smirk formed across your lips. “I didn’t forget, I intend on doing that. But it won’t be in your pussy.” 
Hyewon’s expression mirrored yours, as you snaked your hands around her toned, slender waist and grabbed two handfuls of her plump, inviting cheeks. “I want my cum to drip out of this.” 
"Well, come get your wish then," Hyewon cooed softly, as she ran her tongue over your lips. So once she slowly detached herself from your cock, your wet cock plopped against your stomach when she lifted herself up. She walked across the room to one of the countertops and pulled something from her purse.
“It’s a good thing I always carry lube in my purse. Never know when my little pervert is gonna need it.” After that remark, she handed the small bottle to you, and it was up to you to do the rest. 
“That’s my girl. Always prepared.”
“You want me from behind?” Hyewon asked, reading your mind. You both knew the answer to that.
Hyewon returned to the couch, facing the wall with knees pressed into the seat cushions, with her hands grasping the sofa's back. When she bent over deeply, those sexy legs spread wide on instinct, and you lined up behind her, perfectly positioned to see that tight, beautiful ass in all its splendor.
“Come pound this ass. That’s what you wanted, isn’t it?” she asked, looking back, like it wasn’t the only thing you had on your mind the entire time. To further entice you, Hyewon bent her ass over deeper and let her body do all the talking. Every deadly curve of her irresistible body would be enough to make you lose control on its own, so you couldn’t help but kiss her smooth, naked back while you opened the bottle of lube and began to prepare her. 
Your mouth moved down her spine, peppering a trail of kisses on her bare flesh as one lubed finger swirled inside her incredibly tight asshole, and spread the slick liquid while both teasing and trying to open her up a little. “You ready? You ready for me to pound this?” 
“I’m always ready,” Hyewon answered with both her lips and her eyes. Before you got started, you rubbed your hardened shaft between those pillowy buttcheeks, and the softness of her delicate creamy flesh made you even more impatient. After you coated your cock in a thick layer of lube, you nudged your swollen tip against her puckered hole, prepared to finish out the trifecta of bliss. You already felt her warm mouth and her wet pussy, so this was the cherry on top, the sweetest dessert after an already satisfying meal. 
You could hear Hyewon take a deep breath, so you did the same, and with one smooth stroke, you plunged into her tight, tight asshole. Another deep breath, and you tried to push in deeper while Hyewon arched her back with a look of encouragement. With some incredible effort, the tip of your shaft disappeared into her snug back entrance, and you let out a sigh of relief—both because it felt so damn good and so damn tight that it almost hurt. 
“Fuck, Hyem, that asshole is so tight. I can barely fit this cock in it.” Your hands held her hips, and you tried your hardest to work yourself into that hot ring of muscle that slowly welcomed you in. 
“You can do it. Come on, open me up, fuck my tight ass. I need to feel every inch of you in me.” 
There was no better encouragement than that. Once her muscles had relaxed, you started to thrust forward, and drove your cock into Hyewon’s plump ass, her pretty moans filling the room with each stroke. Little by little, it became easier to achieve deeper, more satisfying thrusts, with your thick cock pumping into her ass with ease, letting you savor the feel of how goddamn tight she was. 
“Fuck, just like that. Fuck that ass. Fuck that ass like you own it. Because you do, it’s all yours.” 
There was nothing better than those lewd words coming from Hyewon that encouraged you to fuck her in the ass. The secure grip you held on her hips tightened, just like the warmth you felt yourself casually slamming into, until you established a pace you enjoyed and pounded away at her perfect ass. 
“God, Hyem—” you were very nearly out of breath at the pleasure that invaded your body. “Your tight asshole makes me feel so good. You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting to do this.” 
And it was well worth the wait. Increasing your efforts, you drove deeper into Hyewon’s ass, and she took your harder thrusts effortlessly while your hips were relentless. You couldn’t believe how tight Hyewon still was, even after another long stretch of your dick hammering in and out of her clenching asshole. It was impossible to ignore the compulsion to slap those enticing cheeks that rippled whenever they met your hips, and that was exactly what you did, and spanked Hyewon several times until her cheeks turned a delectable shade of red. 
“More. Please—more,” Hyewon pleaded, her voice laced with desperation as you kept the harsh slaps going on her silky, soft cheeks that matched the rhythm of your timed repeated thrusts. “Please keep fucking me in the ass with that cock. Don’t stop, fuck me harder, fuck—you feel so good inside me. You’re stretching my tiny little asshole so well.”
Those frantic cries and pleas made your hips oblige, so you moved with much more urgency, desperately pounding away much harder than before. 
Rather emphatically, you buried the entire length of your cock inside her asshole to deliver a fresh onslaught of thrusts. Each rocking thrust sent her into another bout of pleasurable convulsions, and the harsh sounds of flesh made both of you scream out in pleasure.
“Fuck, this ass is so perfect. So fucking tight, this fat ass makes my cock feel so good. I’m going to pound your tight fucking ass until I explode.” Leaning forward, you kissed Hyewon behind the ear while you pumped in and out of her impossibly snug hole. With every reckless thrust, you were losing more control—your carnal desires threatened to take over, but you continued fucking her mercilessly while her mouth hung agape to let out cries of pleasure. 
“That feels so good. Keep fucking my ass, just keep fucking me until you cum. I want that load deep inside me.” Hyewon had never laid out a better invitation. 
Such a level of intensity wasn't sustainable—even as your sweaty bodies crashed together and begged for more. But for as long as you could, you would savor the tightness of this beautiful ass, even when the unfaltering pace put a countdown to your anal enjoyment. “Fuck, Hyewon. I can’t last much longer.” 
“Good, because I’ve been waiting for your load. If anything, I’m surprised you’ve lasted this long. Between fucking my tits and this pussy, you’ve really got this stamina thing figured out.” 
You heard her words, but they hardly registered. The only thing you paid attention to was the rhythmic beat of your thrusts, and the sounds of hot flesh against hot flesh, as you approached the point of no return. The point where you could finally give Hyewon what she deserved. 
“You’re going to cum in me finally?” Hyewon asked, as she felt the constant twitches your cock made with every forceful plunge. You couldn’t hold back anymore, and held her sweaty body tight, as you made one more pass to wring out every ounce of pleasure into that tight asshole that planned on milking your cock, claiming the bounty of your seed. 
“Yeah, Hyem. I’m gonna fucking cum. You’ve been waiting, right? For me to fill you up? I’m gonna give it all to you, gonna fill your tight ass to the brim until this cum leaks out of you.” 
“About time.” 
One more kiss to her back, and then you dragged your tongue upwards, yearning to taste as much of Hyewon as possible. Your body tensed up, and with one final thrust, you buried your head in the crook of her neck and shot your long-awaited load deep inside her asshole. When you filled Hyewon with cum, you felt an immediate surge of orgasmic relief that kept you pumping, and kept you emptying your balls into that hot, demanding tightness that wanted every drop to be drained. 
“Empty it all, empty those balls inside me, keep filling me, fill me with all your hot cum.” 
Only her voice could make you cum even harder, your orgasm extending when you heard Hyewon’s honeyed words, pleading and begging for more. But even after you had given everything you had, you  continued to pump into her round, shapely butt to disperse your thick load inside her, desperate to keep the pleasure going for as long as your body would let you. 
Utterly depleted, you stayed inside Hyewon, and matched the tempo of her heavy breaths, unwilling to leave the surrounding warmth that you wanted to live in. With your face nuzzled against her shoulder, Hyewon turned her head so her lips could meet yours in a tired, tender, loving kiss, full of gratitude and desire. “Thank you...it feels so warm, so thick…your cum feels so good inside me.”
“Anytime,” you muttered, letting tired syllables from your mouth as you got lost in the luscious taste of Hyewon’s lips, still sheathed inside. You rested against her sweaty body, knowing you would eventually have to retreat from her asshole that still gripped your shaft tightly, but you wanted to savor every second. 
One more kiss, one more long, satisfying kiss, with neither of you willing to let go, but then in the middle of it all—you heard someone knock at the door. Panic immediately filled your veins. You had both forgotten this wasn’t just to serve your collective lust, but to pass the time. 
“Kang Hyewon! We’re ready for you. Kang Hyewon?” 
“Shit,” Hyewon whispered, while your dick still remained inside her tight hole. “Ah, yes! I’m here. Just a minute, please. I had to fix my dress, I’ll be out in a moment!” 
“Nice save.” 
“Shut up! Get your cock out of me and go hide in that closet. I’ll get dressed and deal with them.” 
“Fine…” 
“I’ll see you after the event, pervert.” As soon as your bodies detached, your pearly cum leaked from Hyewon’s wrecked, gaped hole, and it was a pity there wasn’t enough time to enjoy the sight of it. You scurried to grab your clothes and swung the closet doors open, stepping in bare-assed without a second thought. 
Moments later, you heard the sound of a door being shut, and then silence filled the room. Hopefully, that meant no one else would enter the room to take notice of the mess left on the couch, or the smell of sex that permeated the air. How long you would be stuck in the closet, naked, you weren’t sure. But you would ride that euphoric high until Hyewon’s return, until you could get your hands on her body once more and repeat the process, albeit in the privacy of your own home. 
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WHICH GODDESS FREQUENCY IS CALLING YOU? PICK A CHARACTER.
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Hey! So today is a beautiful venusian day. And every venus day I love to express gratitude to the goddess flow. I picked four from egyptian mythology and wanted to do something connected to the energy.
Alright. So lets begin :)
GROUP 1 - BASTET
You are being called to higher ground. You're absorbing too much of other peoples bullshit and boundaries are needed. Peasants are trying to take your charm and your beauty as it is a priceless energy. She's connected to you through your joy and need for stability. Your energy is heighten when alone, and giving yourself time off from things that are exhausting you are important. The Emperor card comes up in the reading for you as a way to give you justice as karma is coming for the ones who tried to break you. Bastet doesn't play hard to get, she doesn't play the fool is all. She's not one to be taken lightly however, and needs you to remember who the fuck you are. Dont quit. Dont beg. And make them wait for it. Ase!
GROUP 2 - SEKHMET - Goddess of the underworld. Scary dreams brought to reality.
Those nightmares are from the unconscious realm. Your fears are wanting to have a dance with you, will you let them? You're being called into the underworld, to process the magic you carry in your psyche and bringing it to the other realities you're scared to walk away from. Your truth is connected to your sexuality, can you let yourself live for once? Secretive by nature, don't let anyone in unless they worked for it. Open books in this group this may have cost you a bit. Be more open about your day to day life, not your private one. Choose wisely. Speak wisely, and open the door for your psychic gifts to pull thru. That fear your feeling as well as that paralyzing sensation when going fast to sleep is your subconscious mind astral traveling and going into other realms of consciousness. Have a light snack or some lavender tea before bed and allow yourself to do some breathing exercises to relax your body before sleeping. This will prepare your body and mind for the astral travel. God Bless.
GROUP 3 - ISIS - THE GREAT MOTHER
You are being called to dance with the great Isis. She is calling all the mothers to awaken their divine essence and grace the world with your remarkable beauty. Your guidance is needed as the world heals from the war and trauma everyone is being induced with. Women and children are needing your help and in some way or form your gifts are the catalyst to stopping the wars inside of our bodies.
ISIS is asking for you to have more boundaries around you and your space. Like your friends in group one, you're priceless beauty can be taken advantaged of if you are not careful. You guys take a lot of time into building your self up so why allow others to bring you back down? You guys have a spiky tongue, only use it when necessary. Know your boundaries as well as your opponent. If they cross them then karma is surely about to deliver. Do not worry about the aftermath, it's exactly what they had coming.
GROUP 4 - HATHOR - Covered In Chocolate. Venus. Restoring Beauty. Divine Counterpart.
There is a sweetness coming into this reading that I adore. Art, sex, and sensuality are a theme for this group. You guys love interest may be the one, and it might need some boldness on your end as well as some patience. Be ready for the ride or die acquaintance that will be coming in very soon. Hathor wants you guys to appreciate the finer things in life instead of worrying about every little detail. Enjoy the fruits of your labor and take some time to live like the divine empress that you are! Take it easy on yourself these next few months doll face. The girls are looking to you as a form of inspo so just remember you are MUVAAAAA ok? You are strength, you are the muse, you are the moment. Hathor needs you to know this and fully accept it. Ase !
Hope you all enjoyed !
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another-lost-mc · 11 months
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Blasphemy
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When you pray to him, it's not forgiveness you're asking for.
MICHAEL x gn!Reader 1.8k words | NSFW | Obsession | Sexual Themes Content Warnings: Obsessive thoughts, invasion of privacy, suggestive themes and some sexual content. A/N: Read the sequel here.
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It starts when Simeon gives you the lost Ring of Light.
You think it’s a dream at first, the blinding golden-white light that overwhelms your senses. Suddenly a man’s voice, clear as if he was at your side, speaks to you and offers his blessing and good luck. The demon brothers panic later about seeing light from the Celestial Realm spill from your room, and you freeze when you realize the person you spoke to must’ve been Michael himself.
You tell yourself it’s simple curiosity that motivates you to learn more about him. The very mention of Michael’s name brings up so many varied, intense reactions depending on who you talk to. You speak to the angels first. Luke admires him wholeheartedly, but Simeon’s forced smile and carefully guarded answers to the questions you ask make you feel guilty.
It’s more complicated talking to the demons about him. Sometimes, they say his name with cloudy expressions and pursed lips like they just bit into something sour. Other times, they look far-away and try not to smile when they reminisce about events that happened long ago.
Mammon complains to you about Michael’s no-nonsense approach to work and discipline, and Asmodeus tells you some abstract memory about Michael while he paints your nails. He sounds nostalgic when he mentions all the ways Lucifer and Michael are similar, and the ways they’re also completely different.
Lucifer doesn’t talk about Michael very much, but he’ll usually answer your questions so long as they’re vague and not too prying. When he speaks about Michael, he wears the frown of someone that remembers hurting and being hurt by someone he loved, but it was so long ago the pain is a dull throb he can ignore.
No matter what the angels or demons tell you, you can't shake your interest in the archangel that is admired and feared in equal measure. Curiosity turns to fascination, and you feel some ravenous need to learn more. The things you’ve learned about him so far - the awe-inspiring feats, the high expectations he puts on those serving him, the cruel punishments for those who fail him - scare you and captivate you.
You spend more time with Luke who shares his memories of Michael so easily. It’s no wonder Luke enjoys baking so much - he tells you about Michael’s sweet tooth, the things Michael particularly likes to eat and drink the most, and Luke even offers to make some Celestial Realm desserts for you to try. When you eat them, you pretend it brings you closer to him, like you share something in common.
One day when you visit Luke at Purgatory Hall, he casually mentions getting a message from Michael and you nearly choke on your tea. He keeps talking about whatever task he’s been assigned, but your mind is racing. How did you not think of this sooner?
“I forgot my D.D.D. at the House of Lamentation, can I borrow yours?” The lie rolls off your tongue easily and Luke eagerly hands you his device without a second thought. When he runs off to the kitchen to check on lunch, you immediately pull up his chat history with Michael. You don’t have time to read everything properly, so you take as many screenshots of their conversations as you can, and you send them to yourself. When you’re finished, you close the chat app and head to the kitchen to help Luke.
Later that evening, you read and re-read the message history between Luke and Michael. You smile when you read about Luke’s versions of events in the Devildom, often skewed to make the demons look worse than they (usually) are. You’re touched by the way Michael seems to genuinely care for the young angel too. He responds to Luke’s messages with enthusiastic encouragement or gentle reminders to show his demon hosts grace and patience. 
Your eyes widen comically when you come across your name during one of their older conversations, and you feel your cheeks grow warm when you realize they were talking about you.
Luke: They’re so nice! They told me about some human world desserts that sound amazing. I’m going to ask them to teach me one day, if I can get the ingredients.
Michael: They sound like a wonderful friend to you.
Luke: I wish you could meet them!
Michael: Perhaps one day I will.
Those seemingly innocent words shouldn’t have this sort of impact on you. The logical part of your mind knows Michael is probably humoring Luke, grateful that he’s found a friend in the Devildom and happy to see that you’re a positive influence on him. The desperate part of your mind, the one that fixates on those words, reads them almost like a promise. One day you'll be able to see him in person, or perhaps even touch him if you’re brave enough. 
Their conversation lingers in your mind for the next several days, and you can't stop fantasizing about what meeting Michael might be like. The first meetings that you dream about skirt the line of innocent curiosity and unashamed blasphemy. One morning you wake up with your hand between your legs and the name of a faceless angel on your lips when you come. The memory of his voice rings in your ears and you still want more. You’re not sure what it says about you that you don’t feel ashamed at all.
You grow bored of re-reading the same juvenile conversations between Luke and Michael, and you turn your sights to accessing Simeon’s D.D.D. next. Simeon is older than Luke and you know his relationship with Michael is more complicated. You’re not sure if it’ll be as easy to get access to his phone, but fate is on your side.
The next time you visit Purgatory Hall, Simeon comes to see you and Luke in the kitchen. He looks a bit embarrassed and he’s scratching the back of his head while he holds his phone out to you.
“If you’re not busy, do you mind helping me with this?” he asks you a bit sheepishly.
You have to remind yourself not to be too eager when he hands over his device. “Of course! It’s not a problem at all. If you want to finish helping Luke, I can see what the problem is.”
You leave the two angels in the kitchen and retreat to the living room. The problem is obvious - the screen lighting is so dim it’s hard to read, and somehow Simeon changed the default language to some sort of demonic script neither of you understand. They’re both easy things to fix, and that leaves you with a few spare minutes to check his message history.
As you suspected, his conversations with Michael are more mature. They’re less focused on the daily sights that Luke is amazed by, focusing instead on Devildom life and politics. Michael is curious about Diavolo and his fallen brothers most of all. He asks pointed questions and makes subtle comments that seem purposeful if you read between the lines.
One of the more recent conversations he and Simeon had seems serious. You had no idea that Simeon stole the ring he gave you. It’s always difficult to read tone through words alone, but even you can decipher the undercurrent of disappointment and anger in Michael’s messages.
You understand now, with more clarity than ever, that Michael is intelligent, cunning, and should not be crossed. This realization should frighten you and put a quick end to your silly little crush. However, the temptation of forbidden fruit is too much for you to resist, and this knowledge fuels your fascination instead.
When you’re alone in bed at night, you give up all pretenses and surrender to lustful urges. Your thoughts of the mysterious archangel are steeped in lust. You remember the rumbling sound of his voice in your mind, and you can still feel the warmth of the Celestial Realm’s light. If he were to put his hands on you, would he feel that warm too?
It’s so easy to give into the fantasy that it’s his hands moving between your thighs while you touch yourself. You imagine returning to the Celestial Realm and finally meeting him in-person. You picture him towering over you, the embodiment of grace and power and absolute authority. You wonder what you might have to say or do to tempt him.
Thoughts of him - dark, depraved, delightfully sinful thoughts - are enough to push you over the edge while you stroke yourself beneath your sheets. You come once, then again not long after, riding the high of sin and corruption. You try to stop the whimpers and moans that threaten to spill from your lips. Breathy whispers that sound suspiciously like his name break the silence of your room, hushed secrets for your ears alone.
You’re still panting lightly, mind foggy from the pleasurable daze of your last orgasm, when your D.D.D. vibrates on the nightstand next to your bed. It’s an automatic response when you reach for it - with your clean hand, the one that isn’t saturated by the scent of your arousal - and mumble a quiet greeting when you answer. It wouldn’t be the first time one of the demon brothers got himself locked out of the house after partying all night.
“Did you think I would ignore your filthy prayers forever?” the smooth voice on the other line asks you.
Michael. You recognize who it is instantly and sit up in bed.
“Wait, how did you—?” you ask nervously, because how the hell did he get your number?
“You’re not the only one Luke trusts with his belongings,” Michael says knowingly, with a hint of amusement.
Oh no. Has he been watching you this whole time, waiting for your most vulnerable moment to surprise you like this? What does he know? What has he seen, or heard?
You’re completely unprepared for this conversation because he's rendered you speechless. Your mouth opens and closes uselessly while you try to think of something to say. What can you say? You’re excited and embarrassed, and your body warms up suddenly, like it’s on fire. 
He chuckles quietly, like he predicted this reaction from you. Your silence speaks volumes, and you realize you don’t need to say a word for him to understand you perfectly.
“Humans are such fascinating creatures,” Michael’s voice drawls, low and intimate in your ear.
You whimper and try to clamp a hand over your mouth to muffle the noise, but it's too late. He chuckles again and he sounds far too pleased with himself. "You were intriguing before, but not many are able to surprise me the way that you have. Perhaps you deserve a reward for your efforts.”
You can’t help but shudder from the lust simmering deep within your belly. Is he trying to sound seductive on purpose? You don’t know and it’s impossible to tell.
It seems like he can read your thoughts because he hums approvingly. “Yes, I think a proper meeting is in order, don’t you agree?”
He doesn’t wait for your answer, and before you can attempt to speak again, the line goes dead.
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applestoashes · 15 days
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An update on Apples to Ashes
Hi, it's Prima, the creator and sole developer of Apples to Ashes.
Wow, it's been two years since I conceptualized Douglas and the idea for a visual novel. I think about how much has changed for me personally since March 2022, the different things that have happened to and for me. It's hard to sum it all up into a few words, but to put it plainly, there's been a lot of hardships I've encountered in my personal and professional life since starting this journey, along with some blessings that kept me going along the way.
When I first dreamed up this concept, I was experiencing a lot of new things. I was participating in fandoms for other indie "yandere" VNs, I was drawing a shit ton and garnering a following. I was actually becoming the active, well known artist I'd been striving to become since around 2015. I was so inspired and, somehow along the way, I gained the attention and respect from a lot of other creators. It was so insane to think so many talented people cared about what I was making, considered me worth following, etc.
That only grew as time went on, especially when I started the A2A project. From that point, I watched in absolute shock as people engaged with my own ideas, drew my own characters. They were hyped for this visual novel, they wanted to know more. Douglas started to get associated and drawn with other indie VN characters. This feeling of being put beside all these other amazing creators was disorienting to say the least.
Due to a lot of things I've been through, it feels like the magic wore off a bit. A lot of the drive I experienced at the peak of 2022 kind of plateaued, and... lots of things changed for me. I started taking commissions, I started doing more than just art, like getting back into video editing and voice acting. I got hired by a studio, I got a lead role in another visual novel. I told myself that I can do all these things that I want to, despite the additional need to work a regular job, and the fact that ADHD VERY much has hands. Financial hardship and mental illness... double homicide
A lot can change in two years. My inspirations for the setting in A2A came from my experiences with a job I had at the time. Well, needless to say I've had a few jobs since then, and been through a few very... jading experiences. The person I was when I conceptualized Apple to Ashes and the person I am now are two different people. I was very bright-eyed and inspired, especially by my peers. I wanted to attempt to do something I'd dreamed of for a long time: make a visual novel, and it felt possible, tangible.
I've learned a lot since then. There's a lot that goes into making a game, especially considering I'm largely pursuing it alone. Due to that, and the choices I've made, the things I've been through, Apple to Ashes progress has largely been halted. I feel a lot of pressure to make it something satisfying for everyone that's given love to this project. I feel a lot of guilt about the lack of progress, and feel like I'm earning the ire of people who are tired of waiting, or perhaps losing any momentum or interest I had originally garnered.
All that being said, I'm not saying all this to come to the conclusion that this project is canceled. It's not. I want this story to come to fruition. I want to give everyone waiting the experience they deserve. I want to reach the full potential this concept offers. I want to explore the themes I've attached, use the experiences I've had and witnessed. I want to bring light to these issues using this medium.
The TLDR of this is... Apples to Ashes will happen when it happens, but it is going to happen. To those of you who have offered your patience, I really appreciate it more than I can put into words.
Thank you for reading.
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icyg4l · 1 month
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Pick-A-Poet: How Can You Heal Your Ancestral Trauma?
Paid Readings
Hello people, thank you for your patience. In honor of Black History Month, I am dedicating a series to Black American icons. This post is dedicated to Black American poets. Below, there will be a quote that was chosen from one of their poems to go along with the reading. The deck that will be used in this series is the Hoodoo Tarot deck. Without further ado, please pick the poet that stands out to you.
***Disclaimer: Some topics may be triggering to whomever is viewing.
Left-to-Right (1-3): Maya Angelou, Countee Cullen, Reneé Watson.
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“Love strikes away the chains of fear from our souls” - Maya Angelou, Touched by an Angel.
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Cards Used: Three of Coins, Dr. Buzzard, Dem Bones (RX), Mother of Baskets, Ten of Coins, Strength.
Pile One: For those of you that resonated with the quote from Maya Angelou, I have a question for you. You do know that you don’t have to be anyone’s ride or die, right? You are loyal to a fault. But it’s literally within your bloodline to be that way. There could be someone in your family who was scapegoated, falsely accused of a crime or could have went to jail for something that was easily avoidable. I heard, “Make it right. Do what’s best for you.” You could be in the process of making a life changing decision right now but the air is foggy. It’s okay to be selfish, if it means you’ll be led down the right path. You don’t need to follow what everyone else is doing. Your ancestors want you to know that you don’t need to be so hard on yourself either. Compassionate TLC is what you need to give yourself. I keep seeing images of quick weave hairstyles in my head & my head got itchy while I was doing this reading. I think you need to take a break from these & let your scalp breathe. Let yourself breathe in general. For those of you that are darker skinned, there is a female ancestor (grandmother or aunt) that wants you to know it’s okay to experiment with your personal style. I’m channeling Doechii’s energy. You don’t seem to be conventional, they respect it. So don’t be scared to look different. People will always have something to say but your beauty is admired by all.
“Death cut the strings that gave me life, and handed me to sorrow” - Countee Cullen, Saturday’s Child.
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Cards Used: Black Herman, Ace of Knives, Nine of Knives, Eight of Coins, Aunt Caroline, Daughter of Knives, Three of Knives, Six of Baskets.
Pile Two: You do know that you don’t have much to worry about, right? Throughout American history, we have seen the documented struggles of Black Americans. With each generation, the next would have one less thing to worry about. Your ancestors want to tell you that you are more privileged than you think you are. You tend to worry about things that are out of your control. I feel that a lot of you could have dealt with unexpected death a lot in the past couple of years, specifically dealing with the lungs/heart. Your ancestors could have a history of heart disease/lung disease. This could have been a family member that you drifted apart from & you feel guilty for it. But there’s nothing that you can do to change the past, my love! What you can do is take care of your physical body. Join the gym. Drink lemon water. Eat when you feel like it & don’t label any foods are ‘good’ or ‘bad’. I heard someone coughing; you should avoid smoking cigarettes & weed as well or really any substance intake. Eat bananas too! You can only control what goes on with I also feel that some of your ancestors could have been hypochondriacs, had OCD or suffered from religious delusions. I would considering talking to a therapist if you feel that you’re headed down that path. Make decisions that are beneficial to your freedom but remember to count your blessings.
“Our bodies, a mosaic of languages forgotten, of freedom songs and moaned prayers” - Black Girls Rising, Reneé Watson.
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Cards Used: Big Mama, Miss Ida, Ace of Sticks, Mother of Sticks, Six of Knives and Three of Sticks.
Pile Three: You’ve been saying you’re going to move out of the city you’re in for too long. Get out and stop talking about your plans to relocate. Your ancestors don’t think that there is anything there for you anymore. Your family could have lived in this city for decades but it’s changed so much that you don’t even recognize it anymore. Some of you could be from the East Coast, specifically Philly or Baltimore. You need to get out before you talk yourself into circles again. Some of y’all could be in school about to finish up a degree; keep going. A grandmother spirit is so so so proud of you. Before you relocate, take some days off to visit so that you can see what this new city is like. Many of your ancestors were not able to make plans and go through with them because of unfortunate life situations. Teen/unexpected pregnancy, severe mental illness and/or murder could have been factors that prevented them from following their dreams. If teen pregnancy runs in the family, you should acknowledge this as a fear of yours so that you can make smart decisions in regard to sex rather than making costly choices. Also, practice safe sex with a partner that is equally as conscious as you. Your ancestors want you to know that you can accomplish anything you put your mind to. You have bright ideas and you should share them with the world. Be confident in your spotlight. You deserve to take up space.
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roseghoul26 · 19 days
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Part 4
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Arthur Morgan x f!Reader
"'Do you love me?' You asked, voice barely louder than a whisper.
Arthur nodded, gazing at you like you hung the moon and the stars.
'Then say it. I promise you, nothing bad is gonna come from it.'"
Synopsis: A retelling of the mission "Blessed are the Peacemakers", where instead of Arthur getting kiddnapped, it's you.
Tags: fluff, friends to lovers, eventual smut, smut, torture, mentions of sexual assault, no actual SA, dutch is father figure, so is hosea, arthur morgan deserves everything, fem reader, afab!reader, she/her pronouns used for reader, not beta read
Author’s Note: this part is the smut part, with some story too. i struggled with this chapter cause i’ve only written smut like twice so here we go lmao.
next fic i’m thinking of doing javier or charles (loml), and i have different ideas for both. and i’ll def. write for arthur again, and feel free to send requests or ideas (or literally send whatever i love getting messages)
Taglist: @photo1030
part 1 ❉ part 2 ❉ part 3 ❉ part 4
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And it was a long ride, done in silence as the two of you made it to the meetup place. The cowboy occasionally looked over his shoulder at you, but other than that there was little interaction. There was tension between the two of you that was on the cusp of snapping into a million pieces, but there was nothing you could do about it right now. Mustering what patience you had, and also pushing down your desires, you made your way to Emerald Ranch. 
Lenny arrived a short while after you and Arthur, sweaty and anxious, but thankfully alive. And he wasn’t followed, so you thanked the universe that luck was on your side that day. 
After meeting up, you’d sold the stolen goods to the fence, and with the combined cash you’d pick up, the three of you had a nice haul of about 750 dollars. After everyone received their cut, there was almost 400 dollars left to donate to camp, which you stuck in the box with a proud smile. Not bad for your first job back, you thought. 
Dutch seemed to think so too, complimenting you as you wrote in the ledger. “How we managed to survive those weeks without you, I’ll never know. Thank you, dear.”
You just shrugged. “Don’t mention it. And you can thank Arthur for keepin’ us afloat.”
Dutch didn’t say anything to that. Instead, he lit a match for his cigar, moving so his back was facing his tent as he smoked. Now facing you, you saw him in your peripherals observing you as you finished writing, letting the ink dry before closing the book. Not appreciating his staring, you questioned him with a look. 
“Take Arthur to Saint Denis to… look for leads. Yeah, go look for leads.”
“Huh? Right now?”
“That’s what I said, right? I’ve heard that the hotels ‘round there are brimming with opportunities. And take as much time as you need, if you catch my meanin’.” He gave you a wink, but you continued to stare at him like he grew a second head. “You’re smart, dear. You’ll figure it out. Now go, before I change my mind.” He dismissed you with a wave, staring out at the open water as you left.
“Oh… o-okay?” You were halfway to your tent when it dawned on you: Dutch was giving you permission to leave camp for a bit, which was convenient, to say the least. You turned to thank him, but he seemed lost in thought, so you saved it for later. “Make sure Lenny gets sent out too,” you still shouted out, hoping that Dutch heard you. 
Entering your tent, you found Arthur already there, which was no surprise. He had practically beelined there after you all arrived at camp, barely giving you a passing look. You hadn’t given it much thought at the time, but when you saw him hunched over as he sat on the edge of the bed, knuckles white as he gripped the edge of the cot, you immediately became concerned. Racing through your thoughts, you tried to remember if it seemed like he was in pain earlier. It wouldn’t be unlike him to get injured and then hide it. 
Rushing to his side, you were on your knees as you looked at him, scanning his body for any blood or obvious injury. When you found nothing, you looked into his eyes which you found closed. “Love? What’s wrong? Are you alright?” you asked, brushing back some of the hair that had fallen in his face, his hat discarded somewhere nearby. His cheeks were rosy too, you noticed.
When he opened his eyes, you were startled to find how dark they were, and he stared through you. “Shit, did you hit your head?” You moved to stand and examine his head further, but a gentle hand on your shoulder had you sinking back down to your knees. 
“I’m alright,” his voice was strained. Arthur didn’t provide any more details, and you heard him let out a huff of air when your hands rested on his knees, your face only a few inches away from them as you peered up at him. 
“Then what’s goin’ on, Arthur? You’re scaring me.” He placed one of his hands atop yours, fingers shaking slightly from the strain of gripping the cot. It tickled when he started dancing his fingers across the skin, but you kept your face still as you watched him. 
“Oh, princess. You’ve got no idea what you do to me, do you?” His voice was breathy, barely audible to you as his hand stilled. Finally, his eyes focused on yours, growing impossibly wider when he realized the position you were in. “Here,” he extended a palm up, offering you to put your hand in his. When you did, he kissed the back of it gently, before bringing it right above his heart and pressing it to his chest. Even through his shirt, which you had just noticed he had a few more top buttons unbuttoned, you could feel his heartbeat, which was beating like the speed of a hummingbird’s wings. 
Suddenly things started making a whole lot more sense with the dilated pupils, heavy breathing, and his sporadic heartbeat. Immediately your concern was replaced with something less selfless, a hungry need growing in you as you took in Arthur being in such a state, and all because of you.
“Since last night, I can’t stop thinkin’... and ever since the house it’s gotten worse. I can barely look at you without remembering the way you felt… and you’ve got me so damn turned on I can’t function.” His voice turned into a growl at the end, and you felt yourself pressing your thighs together, trying to ease the growing tension building between them from his confession. God, everything felt warm. 
Arthur didn’t miss the movement, as subtle as you tried to be. With a knowing grin, he pressed one last kiss to your hand before setting it back on his knee. “It took everythin’ in me to not take you right there in that house,” he said it so casually that you almost didn’t register what he said. Your grip on his legs tightened, and you found yourself sitting up straighter on your knees, now at chest level with him. 
“I would’ve let you,” you confessed, and Arthur moved closer to you, almost touching his lips with yours. Slowly, just like Arthur had done to you, you brought your hands up his thighs. You felt them tense under your touch, and you heard Arthur let out a little noise as your hands traveled up.
And up. 
And up until they rested at his belt, and you toyed with the loopholes as he started down at you. You could feel his breathing grow rapid, huffs of warm breath against your face. As you halted, you heard him groan. “You want me to touch you?” It was a redundant question, but you asked anyway. 
Arthur swallowed. “Yes.” He tried to press his lips against yours, but you kept your head far enough away. The hands on hips helped him stay put, and you relished in the fact that he could easily break free from your “hold”, but he didn’t.
“Then tell me. Tell me what you’ve been thinking of.”
You saw his blush extend past his face and down his chest. “That… it ain’t proper.”
You chuckled at that. “Since when do we care about what’s proper, Arthur?”
“I suppose we don’t,” he agreed, and he relaxed some. A few moments passed, then he was resting his head against yours. “You want me to tell you, or show you, princess?”
“Why not both?”
“Can’t do that.”
“Can’t, or won’t?” You pestered, a teasing grin on your face.
“I can’t, cause there ain’t gonna be much talkin’ when my head’s between your thighs.”
Whatever rebuttal you had died instantly in your throat. “Oh,” was all you were able to get out, your mouth growing suddenly dry at Arthur’s boldness, and that tension growing was starting to become unbearable. 
“Oh?” He mocked, laughing when you softly slapped him on his leg.
“Shuddup,” you rolled your eyes. Placing your hands back on his thighs, you felt the thick muscles there, built from years of a hard life and survival. “Tell me more,” you asked, moving your fingers closer and closer to the zipper of his jeans, looking down at your task at hand. Your face flushed when you saw the very noticeable bulge between his legs. 
“You never answered my question,” you felt rough, calloused fingers under your chin, which gently brought your gaze back up to Arthur’s. 
“Show me, Arthur.”
He nodded, a light smile on his lips. “Alright, princess. We’re gonna have to be quiet though.”
The whole reason why you came into the tent came back to you. “Well, maybe we don’t have to be. And I did say I was gettin’ you out of camp, and, well, Dutch has told me to bring you to Saint Denis to ‘search for leads’,” you said, hoping that Arthur got the hidden meaning quicker than you did. 
“Did he now?” You nodded. “Well, why didn’t you say so sooner. Don’t wanna waste any time now, do we?”
“In my defense, I thought you were in pain when I walked in. You jerk,” you bopped him again. Arthur just shook his head at you. 
Standing up, you supported your shaky legs by holding onto his shoulders. Despite being fully upright, you still held on, not really wanting to stop feeling him. You now stood above him, able to look down at him as he sat on the edge of the bed. Bringing your face lower, you kiss the space between his brows, then moving down the arch of nose and planting one on the tip. Then kissing the apples of each cheek in quick succession, you hovered just above his own, and you cupped his face in your hands. Your thumbs rubbed the stubble of his cheeks, and you couldn’t help but wonder how it would feel between your thighs. It wasn’t the first time you’d wondered, but you hoped that soon your questions would be answered. 
At last, your lips finally made contact with his. If there was one thing you would never tire of, it would be kissing Arthur. His lips were surprisingly soft, plush yet firm. Even though you had kissed him many times before, each time felt like the first, the overwhelming feeling of him taking over every sense, every nerve in your body buzzing with energy. Eagerly Arthur reciprocated, lips moving against you like they were created to fit with yours perfectly. Before you allowed the two of you to get swept away, kissing his forehead before stepping away.
“C’mon, pretty boy,” you grabbed his hat, affixing it atop your head with a wink as Arthur scoffed. “Let’s go to Saint Denis. I’ve heard the hotels there are… lucrative.”
Arthur stood now, rebuttoning up his shirt and attempting to make himself more put together. “I’m sure they are, princess.” He gestured you out of the tent, and the midday air did little to cool you off. 
Walking toward your horses, you saw Dutch talking with Lenny, before the older man patted him on the shoulder and walked away. Because Lenny was facing you, you gave him a questioning thumbs up, and he nodded in return. “Have a good night then, Lenny,” you called out. 
“You too, miss.” You saw his eyes flick behind you. “Both of you,” he added, before walking to a nearby campfire and plopping down, laughing lightly to himself. Reaching your mount, you patted TT on his neck, and then offered him a sugarcube from the saddle bag. He gladly ate the treat, snorting when he finished. 
You went to mount TT, but Arthur calling your name had you halting, only one foot in the stirrup as you turned over your shoulder to look at him. He stood beside his horse, holding the reins in his hands. “Ride with me?” he asked, smiling brightly when you made your way over to him. 
When you got close enough, after giving you a quick peck on the cheek he placed his hands on your hips. Easily lifting you on the rump of his horse, you immediately wrapped your arms around him when he mounted. Scooting forward as best you could while sitting sidesaddle, your chest pressed against his back, and you rest your head on his shoulder. His hat was kind of in the way, but you didn’t dare take it off. 
After ensuring that you were secure, he began moving, the camp quickly leaving both your visions shortly. He kept his horse at a fast pace, which was nowhere near as fast as you were going earlier, but you didn’t mind. You sighed in contentment, finally able to be alone with Arthur and place any worries about camp behind you, at least for a couple days. No petty squabbles, no jobs, no Pinkertons. Just you and Arthur. 
Arthur seemed to feel similarly, based on the way he relaxed in your grasp, leaning back slightly against you. Letting go of the reins in one hand, he rubbed your leg affectionately. His chest tumbled beneath your hands, and you realized he was talking, but you could barely hear him. 
When you asked him to repeat himself, Arthur turned his head to the side, making it easier to hear him, but it made you have to lift your own off his shoulder. “I said ‘thank you’.”
“Okay? You’re welcome?” you responded with uncertainty. 
“For gettin’ me out of camp like this, and despite how much I wanted to fight it, you knew I needed it.” 
“I mean, I wasn’t the one who got you out. You can thank Dutch for that.”
Arthur shook his head. “Sure, only after you presumably said somethin’ to him. And you’ve been the one trying to get me out all day! Don’t downplay yourself like that.” Arthur paused for a moment before continuing. “And you’ve always stuck your neck out for me like that, even before,” he gestured to your arms wrapped around him, “this. You’ve always seen me as more than the camp workhorse, more than a means to an end… more than myself… and I guess what I’m tryin’ to say is I appreciate it. For carin’ about me.” Arthur sighed. “I don’t really know what I’m saying…” he trailed off, refacing forward.
The sincerity in his voice had you heart breaking, but you also felt angry. Not at Arthur, but at the others, for using Arthur until he wore thin. Angry at the world that told him he wasn’t worthy enough to be loved, to be cared for. And you were angry at yourself, for holding off on telling him how much he mattered and meant to you. 
Grateful that he had his back to you so that he couldn’t see the tears in your eyes, you clung on tighter to him. Your voice cracked as you spoke, and you prayed that Arthur didn’t hear it. “You don’t gotta thank me for that. You deserve more, so much more, but I’ll give you all I have. I love you, Arthur Morgan, and I mean it. I’ll never stop sayin’ it until the day I die.”
Something wet hit your hand, and you realized Arthur was crying. Not sobbing, or making any audible noise; his shoulders didn’t shake either. But a few tears had left his eyes, one of them hitting you as they fell. “Arthur?” You asked, concerned.
Arthur, who clearly wasn’t expecting you to see his tears, quickly wiped them away, his hand no longer resting on your leg. “I… shit. Sorry.” You could tell he was embarrassed, trying to gloss over his emotions.
“I didn’t mean-”
“You ain’t done anything wrong,” Arthur reassured. “It’s just… I never thought I’d feel this way again, not after… not after Mary. I thought this part of me died a long time ago, and I just accepted that. I thought I’d never be loved again.” He chuckled humorlessly. “A part of me can’t believe this all ain’t a dream. I’ve wanted it so long that it seemed unobtainable.”
You knew about Mary, from the bits and pieces you learned from Hosea and Dutch. Arthur had never spoken about her with you, and you never asked, not wanting to push that boundary. Shamefully, you expected to feel some tinge of jealousy at the mention of his ex-lover, but you didn’t. You felt angry at her, for the way she broke his heart, and made him believe that he was unlovable. And strangely enough, you felt the tiniest bit of gratitude, but you weren’t quite sure who it was towards. All you could say is that you were thankful that you were now entrusted with Arthur’s heart, and you were going to cherish it. 
“Well,” you returned your head on his shoulder, “you’re very much awake, and I hate to break it to you, but you’re stuck with me now.”
“Thank God,” he responded. You couldn’t tell which part he was thankful for. 
Glancing around, you saw the outskirts of the town or Rhodes behind you, and the fence marking off the Gray’s property ahead of you, meaning you and Arthur were well on your way to Saint Denis. Another ten or so minutes of riding would get you there. Arthur had returned his grip on your thigh, and you settled in for the remainder of the ride. 
─•~❉᯽❉~•─
You weren’t a fan of Saint Denis, with the polluted air and dirty streets, and the equally filthy people. Although it was deemed to be the pinnacle of modern civilization, you had to disagree. What “great” city like this would leave parts of their population unhoused, unfed, uncared for. Or elect snakes in positions of power instead of people, whose only interest in mind was their own. Or how the joy of living seemed to be sucked out of the people, and how they’re now only soulless husks whose only purpose was to work and sleep. 
You voiced your thoughts to Arthur as you rode in, the metal archway proudly reading Saint Denis disappearing behind you. Passing by a group of well dressed individuals, Arthur nodded in agreement. 
“And to think, they wanna make everywhere like this.”
Arthur didn’t respond, just continuing to lead his horse though the streets. The sounds on hooves on the cobblestone was quite loud, but it was still barely audible over the sound of machinery and engines. People stared at you two as you passed, and their eyes lingered on you for longer than necessary. It occurred to you that you probably looked quite out of place because of the way you were dressed.
You wore skirts and dresses from time to time, and you liked wearing them, but they weren’t the practical option for days like today, where you’d need to quickly get on and off your horse, and would have to move quickly and silently. But every scrutinizing glance from well-dressed strangers had you regretting your choice of apparel. You told yourself that you shouldn’t care what these people thought of you, but the innate human desire to fit in and be accepted was overwhelming, especially now. 
“You’d think I’d grown a third arm, the way people are lookin’ at me,” you joked. 
“Don’t let ‘em get to you,” Arthur sent a deadly glare to one said person, whose face turned ghostly white as he scampered away. 
Chuckling, you kissed Arthur on his cheek. “My knight in shining armor,” you swooned, earning an eye roll from the cowboy. 
“Not like you need one.”
“Maybe not. But if my knight was you, I wouldn’t say no.”
He chuckled lightly. “What’s so funny?” you questioned, laughing slightly yourself. 
“Nothin’. Nothin’ at all, princess.” 
Turning the corner, you were met with with a rather crowded street with buildings towering over you. But directly ahead of you stood your destination, a large hotel that spanned three floors and the name of the establishment sprawled across the front in a language you didn’t recognize. 
As Arthur made his way to one of the many hitching posts in front, you felt your heartbeat begin to accelerate as you remembered why you were here. Anticipation had your body on edge, almost tense in the way you held on to him.
You were always impressed at the way Arthur seemed to notice every small detail, but right now you found yourself cursing that ability. He took note of the way your body went rigid, and he reassuringly squeezed your thigh. “You good?” You knew that he wasn’t just talking about right now; he was asking if you were still comfortable continuing what had started last night. 
“Yeah,” your voice was breathier than you would’ve liked. “I’m just… excited.” Sure, you were nervous as well, but it was easily alleviated by the trust you had in the man. 
“Good,” he smiled. Bringing his horse to the post, he quickly dismounted, securing his mount with a loose knot. Next, his hands met your waist as he helped you off. Your legs were slightly numb from the way you were sitting, but you stayed steady as your feet made contact with the ground. 
After double checking that his horse was secure, and had plenty of food and water nearby, he held out his hand, pulling you along when you took it. He held the door open for you, and the joke you were about to make fell short as you took in the interior of the hotel. 
Large, swooping archways cascaded above your head, the large vaulted ceilings filled with paintings and statues that observed you as you walked in, your hand still linked with his. It reminded you of something you'd heard about a while back, some chapel in Italy with painted ceilings like this. The walls were stark white, and no less decorated, paintings with golden frames facing you, and the marble floor beneath you clacked as your boots made contact. An ornate chandelier lit the room, located directly in the center of the entrance area. Its jewels glinted in the light, reflecting tiny rainbows across the walls.
It was breathtaking, to say the least. Eyes wide, you let yourself be pulled by Arthur as you took it all in. “Maybe it ain’t so bad they’re tryin’ to make cities like this, if this is what it turns into.” You laughed in disbelief. “It’s beautiful.”
Arthur seemed less impressed than you, eyes barely glancing over the various art pieces adorning the walls and ceiling. “Don’t go changin’ your mind now. This,” he waved his free hand around, “is how they get ya. This is all just a front.”
“You’re no fun,” you chidded, and your vision was suddenly obscured as Arthur flicked the hat down on your head. A very improper squawk left you as you quickly fixed the hat, glaring up at him with no real heat. 
“I’m plenty fun, princess.” By this point, you’d reached the front desk, where a very impatient looking man stood. As Arthur ordered a room, you continued to peer around, not paying much mind to the conversation. We weren’t only distracted by the art now, but your mind began to wander to the events that were sure to transpire shortly. You shamelessly ogled his body, now realizing he left his usual jacket back at camp, only down to his undershirt now. His well built shoulders caused the fabric to be pulled taught against his body, leaving little to the imagination. How would they feel under your touch? Would you grip on to them tight as he took you, letting you leave scratches down his back? Would they spread your legs apart as he-
Your thoughts were broken when you felt a tug at your arm, and you glanced at Arthur who regarded you with an amused glance. Based on the way he was grinning at you, you knew he knew where your mind had gone. “Bath?” He asked, and your mouth felt dry as you tried to respond.
“After.” The clerk couldn’t have done a worse job hiding his disdain, but you ignored him. Arthur took the room key from him, not even thanking him before heading up the staircase behind the front desk. 
It felt like forever, the walk to the room. You’ve had your share of encounters in the bedroom, but it had never felt like this. It never felt this right. 
It seemed like hours went by before Arthur was unlocking one of the rooms, letting go of your hand for the first time to get it open. Like the gentleman he was, he held the door open for you again.
The rooms were no less decorated, but once the original splendor wore off, you found yourself caring less and less. A large four poster canopy bed sat in the center of the large room, a plush fur carpet beneath it. The room was well lit, with a balcony on the right side that was allowing copious amounts of sunlight into the room. The window for the balcony was left open, and you found yourself quickly closing it, the curtains settling as the wind was cut off. A basin with water along with a few towels and rags occupied the leftmost side of the wall with the balcony, with a wooden dresser neighboring it. 
Now in the room, you took off your boots and socks, not wanting to track too much dirt across the carpet. Leaving them near the wardrobe, you made your way to the bed. The fur, which had to be some kind of large white bear, felt pleasant against your bare feet as you approached. The sheets felt even better than the carpet, rich silks flowing through your fingers like water. 
Sitting down at the foot of the bed, you dragged your hand across, and you made your way up one of the wood posts, the material sturdy and well polished. You wondered how much a room like this cost to rent for a night or two. Turning to ask Arthur, you found him at one of the nightstands that framed the bed, unholstering his gunbelt and placing it there, as well as taking off his own boots. 
When he felt your attention on him, he smiled warmly, leaning up against the post you were examining after reaching you. He had his hands on his hips, about where he would rest his hands if his gunbelt were there, looking at you with such fondness that you completely forgot the question you were going to ask. Staring up at him, any rational thought went out the window to your right; the only thing on your mind was him. He must’ve seen this change in your demeanor, pushing off the post and stopping now right in front of you.
“Show me, Arthur.” It came out less like a request and more like a demand. 
Arthur chuckled, a low yes ma’am leaving him before his lips were on yours. It wasn’t soft like you were expecting. The force in which he kissed you had you nearly landing flat on your back, but you caught yourself with one arm, the other finding purchase on the side of his face as you cupped it. Kissing you like you were the only thing keeping him alive, he leaned over you now, but the angle he was doing it was not the most comfortable, relying on only his core muscles to keep him upright and not crush you.
Breaking away, you took a gulp of air, laughing at the way Arthur chased after you, like he couldn’t bear to be without you for only a few seconds. Scooching back on the bed until your back was resting against the multitude of pillows available, you opened your arms up. Crawling up after you, Arthur sighed, content, when your touch returned, still holding him in one of your palms.
Wasting no time, he fervently resumed his kiss, teeth grazing your bottom lip gently. His hands tangled into your hair, his hat falling somewhere on the bed, but you were too engrossed to care. One of his knees slotted between your legs, the other resting by your hip. As the tension in you returned, you found yourself inadvertently grinding against his thigh, trying to find some sort of relief. Arthur groaned when he felt you begin to use him, his mouth going slack against yours. 
Moving from your mouth to your jaw, he pressed open mouth kisses as he went along. When you tried to move your head to follow him, you felt his grip in your hair tighten. Not enough to cause any pain, but it kept you still as he continued his exploration. You weren't able to do much but sit there, hips grinding against Arthur, but it wasn’t doing anything except get you more and more heated.
You expected to feel him start to leave hickies across your neck, especially when his mouth started trailing down your throat. But he didn’t, rather he was gentle with the soft skin, leaving no physical evidence that he was there. Before you could even comprehend what you were asking for, you were speaking, combing your fingers through Arthur’s hair like it was going to help convince him. “You can mark me, Arthur. Please. Let everyone know I’m taken.”
Your whispered pleas were not met on deaf ears, an almost painful sounding moan leaving the man as he buried his face in the crook of your neck. His breath tickled your ear as he panted, his hands releasing your hair as they framed each side of your head. You thought he was going to turn the idea down, but you were elated when you felt his lips return to your neck, now sucking and biting as well. 
“Anythin’ for you, princess.” He sounded positively wrecked. Traveling down the column of your neck, you felt him leave marks, marks that you were certain were going to be dark purple by tonight.
“Fuck, yeah, you’re so good to me. My pretty boy,”  You cooed, nails scratching his scalp lightly. “Everyone back at camp is gonna see these marks; they’re gonna know what you did to me. They’re gonna know you fucked me so good.”
Arthur sat back on his heels, hair in disarray from your fingers. The sunlight filtering in caused the strands to become golden, like the color of the frames you saw downstairs. He looked almost heavenly in this light, the way the sun illuminated him. God, he looked beautiful. His blue eyes were nearly black with lust, and the normally stoic man seemed to be falling apart. “You- you can’t keep sayin’ things like that… then sayin’ I’m beautiful,” he murmured, running a hand down his face. 
So your thoughts weren’t as secret as you believed. “Why not?” You questioned, a teasing smirk on your face. “I’m only tellin’ the truth.”
“Truth or not, if you keep goin’ on like that, I’m ‘fraid this night’s gonna end quicker than either of us would like.” Glancing downward, you saw Arthur readjust himself. The bulge in his pants looked uncomfortable, painfully even. With a sympathetic noise, you reached for the zipper on his pants, ready to alleviate him. 
You were surprised when he stopped your hand, his fingers wrapping gently around your wrist. “Next time. I… I need to taste you, princess.”
“Is that what you were thinkin’ about earlier?” You tried to sound unbothered, knowing damn well that you were practically throbbing at the idea of him going down on you. The desperation in his voice added fuel to the fire in you, finding yourself growing increasingly wetter at each thing coming from his mouth. 
“One of many things,” he confessed. “Is that a yes?”
“Arthur, if you don’t get your ass-” your comment was cut short by his mouth on yours. It didn’t last long, before he was returning to where he left off on your neck. This time, however, you felt his hands work at your belt, throwing it somewhere behind him when he got it unlooped from your pants, which were next to go. It took a little bit longer, but eventually they were tossed behind as well, leaving you in only your undergarments from the waist down.
You went to start unbuttoning the shirt you wore, but Arthur beat you to it, his dexterous fingers quickly undoing the buttons. He rested his head against yours, eyes looking down as we worked, grumbling obscenities when one of the buttons was stubborn. Eventually it was off as well, the shirt and the bandana adding to the growing pile on the floor. “I thought you liked me in your clothes,” you teased. 
“I think I like you better without any. Now,” he nudged your arms, “up.” You complied, lifting them to allow Arthur to slip your chemise up and off your body, and, like the other articles, found a new home on the floor of the hotel. The cold air on your bare chest caused you to gasp, goosebumps erupting across your skin. All of that was forgotten when you saw Arthur, the heat in his gaze easily melting the chill of the air. 
He sat back on his heels again, taking in your almost entirely exposed body, the only remaining thing on your body being your drawers. Letting out an appreciative noise that sounded almost like a purr, he rested his hands on your hips, squeezing lightly at the flesh there. Bringing his hands up, more and more goosebumps formed following his path, like your body was mapping out the way he touched you.
“God, you’re so gorgeous, princess. Even more so than I imagined.”
“You imagine me naked a lot, Arthur?”
He was right below your breasts now, running his fingers right below where you wanted him to touch. “You already know the answer to that.”
“For how long?”
Arthur stilled at this, a flash of panic cutting through his lustful eyes for a split second. “You want the truth, or a lie that would make me less of a creep?”
Well, now you were curious. Raising a brow, the man on his knees in front of you gave out an exasperated sigh, no longer looking you in the eye as he responded. “Roughly two years ago. I…” he trailed off, moving to rub the back of his neck, but you caught his hand in yours, forcing his eyes back on you. 
You laughed, mostly at Arthur’s expense, but also at how long you firmly believed that your attraction was one-sided. “You silly cowboy,” you urged him back by tugging his arm, and he rested on his forearms, caging you in. “I’d be a liar if I said I hadn’t been doin’ the same.”
He hovered a few inches above you, and you could feel the heat emanating from his body. “I’ll have to see that sometime,” he spoke low in your ear. “You spread open, touchin’ yourself to the thought of me.” He paused for a second. “But that’ll have to wait. You,” he tugged at the lobe of your ear with his teeth, “keep distracting me. Let me get back to work.”
Sitting back up, he returned his hands to your body, still keeping away from where you wanted, just taking you in with his eyes. When you tried to push your chest up into his hands, he gave you a disapproving frown before pushing you back down. “No one ever teach ya patience, princess?” The absence of his body heat caused you to shiver, your nipples pebbling from the cold and arousal. 
His hands brushed over the scars across your body, his touch lingering on the one on your left shoulder, the one the O’Driscolls gave you over a month ago. You didn’t have time to feel self conscious before his lips were pressing light kisses on top of it, murmuring soft words under his breath. Finally, you felt his hands cup your breasts, kneading the mounds in his hands, his mouth leaving marks as it joined his hands in his touch. His hands did feel even better without a shirt blocking them, the callous of his fingers deliciously rough against the soft skin
He didn’t stay there long, his own patience being worn thin. He moved down your body now, pepper kisses across the various marks on your body. His fingers pulled at the strings of your drawers, quickly unlacing the bow there. Lifting up your hips to help him, he pulled them off, and they joined the pile. Finally, you were completely bare to him, and you heard him groan appreciatively. Trailing his mouth down your body, he halted just below your belly button, his hands resting on your thighs. 
He looked up, and his smirk was downright sinful as he lifted one of your legs across his shoulder, further exposing yourself to him. One hand held your hip, the other lying unused by his side. Your hands clutched uselessly at the pillows supporting you, gripping even harder when you felt him part your folds with fingers. His eyes were fully locked onto your cunt now, letting out a whistle when he saw how obviously wet you were. “This all for me, princess?” he asked, peppering kisses along the inside of your thighs. 
“Just for you. It’s only ever you.” You panted.
You felt him smile. “Good.” He removed his hand, and you almost let out a small whine at the loss of contact. You were quickly silenced when you felt those same fingers sweep through you, gathering your arousal on them. The digits were soaked, but you had little time to feel embarrassed before he was running his tongue up them, tasting you. You let out a noise, somewhere between his name and a moan as Arthur cleaned his fingers, his eyes closed as he savored the taste.
“Gonna get me addicted, princess,” he groaned, his fingers leaving his mouth and resting on the inside of your thigh, keeping your legs propped open. “But I bet ya taste better right from the source.” You felt him place one last kiss on your thigh before his mouth was on your cunt, his tongue following the same path as his fingers through you. Going bottom to top, it was a broad sweep of his tongue, not targeting anything specific but you still felt your hips buck against his face when he grazed your clit. 
The hand on your hip moved, resting across your lap to keep you still as he passed his tongue through again, and again. “Easy, girl,” he rumbled, and you would’ve been offended that he was talking to you like a horse if he wasn’t currently buried between your legs. Instead, you threw your head back, the soft feather pillows preventing you from smacking the headboard. Your grip moved from said pillows, moving to burrow into Arthur’s hair. Your fingers went to weave between the strands, but you second-guessed your decision, especially when he started focusing his tongue on your clit. 
You tried to retract your hand, but Arthur caught it no longer holding your legs open. He brought it back to his head, and you gripped on to his hair. Arthur let out a pleased groan at that, and it seemed to spur him on more, lapping at you like he was dying of thirst. Every flick of his tongue sent jolts through your body, cries and whimpers of his name leaving your lips every time. You knew he had a silver tongue, but you never expected to be falling apart on it. 
Because he was no longer holding you open, your thighs closed around his head with both legs on his shoulders, but you were too lost in your pleasure to notice. Now you were able to feel his beard against the sensitive skin, feeling better than you’d imagined. It would probably be chaffed and irritated in the morning, but every time you felt it you’d remember the way Arthur was devouring you. 
You were so caught up on that new sensation that you hadn’t noticed the newly freed hand move between your legs, a gasp leaving your lips when you felt him pressed against your entrance. He stopped at your reaction, but he continued to use his mouth, the tension in you growing and growing at each flick.
When you provided no protest, he continued, slowly pressing his finger into you. It didn’t take much effort, your arousal helping to ease the digit in with little resistance, and within moments he was knuckle-deep. He was big, far bigger than your fingers, and you let out a small noise at the stretch. “You’re doing so good,” Arthur praised, his finger not moving to let you adjust. “My good girl.” His words were muffled, tongue still pleasuring you between words, but you heard them loud and clear. 
You weren’t quite sure why that got a reaction out of you, but a very audible moan left you, and you clenched around Arthur’s finger, pulling even harder at his hair. He let out a surprised groan that turned into a chuckle as he felt you, and you could hear him smirk. “You taste so good, and you’re so tight,” He bent the digit inside you, almost in a beckoning motion, which caused you to see stars. “My good girl’s gonna cum for me, right? Let me feel you, princess.”
You were close, that was certain. That tension, the one deep inside you that had been begging to be released since what seemed like forever, was about to break. You just needed one more push. 
He started slowly pistoning the finger in and out of you, at least as best he could with your thighs in the way. Before long, he was adding a second finger, the additional stretch just about making you finish right there. You tried to convey that to Arthur, but it was coming out as an incoherent ramble. “Arthur… I- I’m… please…”
“I know, princess.” He kept at the same pace, drawing your pleasure out of you. The thing that broke you was seeing Arthur rocking his hips against the bed as he laid on his stomach, trying to find some relief. With a loud wail of his name, you came, trying and failing to thrust against his face as he pinned you down, fingers flexing against your hip bone. It felt like every nerve in your body was alive, buzzing with energy as pleasure wracked your body, and your eyes shut on instinct, which seemed to heighten the sensations you were feeling. Arthur removed his fingers from you, but he kept his tongue moving, obscene noises leaving him as he worked you through your orgasm. 
Boneless, your thighs went lax against his head, hands slumping to the sides of the bed, releasing the man from your death grip. But he either didn’t notice or didn’t care, still drinking you in. But you were starting to feel overstimulated, and you let out a small noise of complaint, which got Arthur to stop. He tried to hide a proud smile as he came back up, but you saw the corners of his mouth were raised slightly as he lay on his side next to you, letting you take a moment to recuperate. 
You took a few moments to just breathe, regaining control over your body and heart rate. Turning your head to face him, you slowly opened your eyes, and you nearly immediately shut them when you saw your arousal absolutely soaking his face. “I-,” if you weren’t flushed before, you sure were now.
Now Arthur was grinning, realizing what you were looking at. He wiped his mouth like he just finished a delicious meal. “I could do that all day.” He brushed his fingers across your body, not demanding anything, but just feeling you. “You doin’ alright?” 
You scoffed. “You’re askin’ me that? I nearly killed you with my thighs!”
“I told you I don’t mind if it hurts. And it’d’ve been a hell of a way to die,” he joked, and you slapped him lightly on the chest, which, much to your disappointment, was still covered with a shirt. You noticed, as your gaze went south, that he was still fully clothed, and you found yourself frowning at that.
“What’s wrong?” Arthur asked, confusion and worry now etched on his face, and he began to retract his hand slowly.
“You’re wearin’ too many clothes,” you whined, tugging at Arthur’s shirt.
He sighed in relief. “Whatever my good girl wants,” he chuckled, even more so when your breathing hitched. He got up, standing right next to the side of the bed. He slowly began unbuttoning his shirt, and you sat on your heels in front of him, waiting. 
When you deemed that he was taking too long, you started untucking his shirt, working the buttons at the bottom. “Impatient?”
“I’ve waited two fuckin’ years, Arthur.” You hadn’t meant to sound angry, but your patience was truly wearing thin. You didn’t feel too bad when he started unbuttoning faster, the article off before you realized, joining the pile beside him. His pants were off shortly thereafter, the belt still in them hitting the ground with a clang, and he kicked them off his feet. 
You moved back to let Arthur get back in the bed, and he sat where you were minutes prior, back against the pillows and headboard. Straddling his waist, your hands immediately started roaming the newly exposed skin, his muscles twitching under your touch. He truly was beautiful, almost aggravatingly so. He was well built, strong muscles protected by a healthy layer of fat that made him even bigger. 
Various scars and marks littered his body, all proof of surviving a hard life; you kissed each one you saw. Your fingers ran across his abs, the muscles tensing as you went along. You were surprised to find that his entire body was covered in hair, not just his arms and legs, but you definitely weren’t complaining, the pure masculinity from it all the more attractive. 
Speaking of masculinity, an experimental roll of your hips against Arthur’s had the man groaning, head rolling back slightly. But it also let you know that he wasn’t just well built, but well endowed. Quite endowed, if you were being honest.
After giving him a quick kiss, you moved back until you were more on his knees, and you tugged at the waistband of his undergarments. Like you, he lifted his hips up, and you quickly discarded it behind you. 
One look and you knew you were in for a long night. He was long, yes, but thick as well, able to stretch you out in all the right places. You tried to wrap your hand around the base of him, your fingers nowhere close to reaching each other. Slowly, you began to pump him, and he let out a strangled moan. His tip was red and leaking, and you wanted nothing more than to lean forward and lick it. And you tried to, at least, but he redirected you with his fingers around your jaw, bringing his lips crashing against yours. 
The kiss was filthy, his tongue sweeping into your mouth like he owned it. The fingers on your jaw kept your mouth open, a moan leaving you when you tasted yourself on him. He pulled back, eyes shutting when you continued to move your hand up and down his length. He stilled you by grabbing your wrist, pulling you back up so that you were straddling his waist again. 
“Y’feel amazin’, princess, I just wanna last.” He let go of you, settling his hands on your waist instead. “You ready?” 
“Please, Arthur.” One hand gripped his bicep, the other on his shoulder. “I need you.”
“And you’ll have me. Just don’t wanna see you hurt.” You felt his hand creep up your front, hovering just in front of your face, and his pointer and middle fingers brushed your bottom lip. “Suck,” he instructed, digits pressing gently against the seam of your lips. You parted your lips, enthusiastically taking them into your mouth, running your tongue alongside the bottom of them. Your eyes never left his, and you felt him twitch beneath you as you bobbed your head up and down. “Atta girl,” he praised, “get ‘em nice and wet for me.”
You’re sure you were soaking his lap at this point, but you didn’t care. Working your tongue along the knuckles, his hand quickly became covered in your drool. With a pop, his fingers left your mouth, leaving you panting around nothing. You watched, transfixed, as Arthur brought his hand to his cock, slowly stroking himself as he coated his length. He let out a soft gasp, eyes rolling to the back of his head, and the delicious noise had you clenching around nothing.
After a few passes, he stilled at the base, holding himself upright. Urging you to get up on your knees, you scooted until you were just hovering above him. His tip nudged your entrance, and you both let out similar moans as you slowly sunk down on his length. Your fingers dug into the muscles of his bicep, most likely leaving crescent-shaped marks in their wake. 
“That’s it. Nice and slow now…” he spoke, voice strained and clipped. The hand on your waist was vice-like, Arthur using every ounce of restraint in his body to not just sink you down on to him. 
Even though Arthur had done some prep with his fingers, and your mixed arousal and spit helped to ease things along, the stretch still burned. You rocked up and down, slowly taking more and more of him in you. Small noises left your lips as you worked yourself down, feeling every ridge of him in you, and your face buried into his neck. “Relax,” Arthur murmured, the hand on your hip rubbing reassuringly on your back. “We’ve got all the time in the world.”
“Arthur…” you moaned, your legs beginning to shake at the exertion.
“I know, princess. You’re doin’ so well. Just a lil’ bit more.” He kissed the top of your head, which would’ve been more wholesome outside the current circumstance. 
It took a little bit of you moving up and down him, working yourself open until you were able to take him completely. Eventually, your hips were flush with his, and your head rolling back as you finally felt him fully sheathed in you. You’d never felt so full before, his cock reaching places you’d hadn’t realized existed. 
When you leaned back, it puffed your chest in his face, and his mouth was on you in seconds, lapping and sucking and kneading at the soft flesh there. “Oh, Arthur.” Your hands were in his hair, keeping him close as he lavished your breasts. “You feel so good.”
Not stopping for a second, you heard him something, and the tone was almost proud, but it was hard to tell over the blood rushing in your ears. As you let yourself get used to him, rocking up and down him slowly, you moved your head to the side to let him bring his mouth up your neck, and you saw something brown out of the corner of your eyes. Turning even further, you saw Arthur’s hat a few feet behind you, and a wicked idea crossed your mind. 
It took a bit of reaching to get the hat, causing you to pull yourself away from Arthur’s mouth. He let out a noise of complaint, hands trying to bring you back until he realized what you were reaching for. “Princess…” his usually gravelly voice was even more so, the word barely audible through his clenched teeth. 
“What?” You flashed him an innocent smile. Clutching his hat in your hand, you slowly rode him, sinking up and down his cock. You tried to seem unaffected, but you couldn’t stop the whimper that you let out. 
You secured it on your head, clenching around him when you heard the almost predatory growl that left him. He was losing the battle with his restraint, and you wanted nothing more than to see him succumb to his desire. Running your fingers though the hair on his pecs, you brought your lips close to his, only a hair’s width away from connecting. “Princess.” It was more of a warning than anything, and you felt him let out a huff of air.
“What’s the matter?” You teased. 
“Nothin’,” you watched his eyes flick down to your entrance, watching his cock disappear into you. You would’ve believed that he was content with you just using him for your pleasure, enjoying the feeling of your walls fluttering around him, but you’d seen the look in his eye when you put his hat on, and felt the way his fingers tightened on you as he fought to not to just take you as he pleased. 
You wanted to see him lose the control he fought so hard to maintain. 
“Really? Cause you seem tense, cowboy. Like you’re holdin’ back.” You smiled gently, rubbing his chest reassuringly. 
“Dunno what you mean,” he tried to play dumb, looking away from you as he spoke.
You brought his gaze back to yours, caressing the side of his face as you did so. “I don’t want you to.”
It took a few moments for Arthur to respond, eyes not leaving yours as you continued to ride him. “Are you sure, princess? I…” he exhaled shakily, “It might hurt-”
“I know what I want, Arthur. You’re not the only one who likes it a little rough.” You brushed your lips over his, and you could tell he was still fighting himself. “I wanna feel you for days after this, Arthur. I wanna be able to feel you whenever I walk, every ache I feel remindin’ me of when you absolutely ruined me. I need you to ruin me, Arthur. Please, fuck me-”
Your rambling was cut short when he smashed his lips against yours, muffling your noises as he effortlessly lifted you off his cock before slamming you back down. He set a brutal pace, hips snapping up as he fucked up into you. The kiss didn’t last long, your head rolling back again, hat barely staying on your head as he took you as he pleased.
The sound of your collective moans filled the air, the sound of skin-on-skin muffled by your voice. “Yes, Arthur!” you cried out, and you felt yourself working up to another climax, already worked up from riding him previously. You tried to praise him some more, but you words came out garbled and incoherent, too overwhelmed with what he was doing to be able to develop a sentence. 
“What’s that, princess?” you could hear him smirk. 
You tried to respond, but all you could let out was a loud moan. You were just happy you weren’t back at camp, or else you’d never be able to look anyone in the eye ever again. 
You heard him moan out your name. “You feel so good, you know that?” He panted. “Like you were made for me to ruin.”
You let out another cry of his name, growing closer and closer to your release. “That’s right, let everyone know who’s fucking this pretty cunt so well.”
In the back of your mind, you knew that Arthur was going to be embarrassed as hell afterwards, saying stuff like this. But the filthy words coming from his lips had you gasping, a jolt of arousal shooting through your body. You said his name like a mantra, spurring him on even more. “Arthur, I’m- I’m so close,” you moaned.
“Fuck, me too, princess,” he didn’t slow down his pace, and you felt him bring his fingers to your clit, caressing the bundle of nerves. “C’mon then, cum for me.”
The added stimulation from his fingers, plus the sharp drag of his cock across your walls was enough to make you cum, his hat finally falling off as your head was thrown back in pleasure. This one was much more intense than the the last one, and you swore you blacked out for a second. 
You probably did blackout, because you hadn’t realized you were on your back until a few moments later, Arthur’s hips snapping into you as he chased his own release. He pulled out suddenly, and you felt yourself pulse around nothing, feeling empty at the lack of him. Arthur was on his knees above you, pumping himself quickly as he came all over your chest, hot ropes of cum hitting your stomach and breasts.
He sagged forward once he finished, hands on either side of your body as he laid there catching his breath, being mindful to not crush you. You ran your nails along his scalp, the man shuddering under your touch. A few moments passed, both of you just basking in the afterglow of your release. The room wasn’t cold anymore, the heat generated from the both of you causing a sheen of sweat to cover your bodies. A bath definitely sounded good right now, but you didn’t want to get up, body pleasantly sore and exhausted. 
You felt Arthur sit back up, getting off the bed entirely. You watched him grab one of the rags from the water basin, pouring a bit of water on it before returning to you. You let out a small hiss as the cold water made contact with your skin, Arthur apologizing as he cleaned you up. His touch was light, reverent, his eyes filled with an emotion you weren’t able to place as he wiped down your body. As Arthur walked away, wiping down himself as well, you situated yourself under the covers, the silk feeling wonderful against your skin as you nuzzled into the pillows.
Arthur joined you shortly, the bed shifting under his weight as he joined you under the covers. You watched him open his arms for you, and you gladly let yourself be wrapped up in them, your chests pressed together, and you felt him press a gentle kiss to the top of your head. “You alright?” 
Smiling, you looked up at him. “I’m amazin’,” your voice was scratchy. “Just sore. And don’t you dare apologize,” you glared at him when he opened his mouth to do just that. 
“We can get you a bath later, if you’d like.”
“As long as you join me.”
You felt Arthur chuckle, his chest rumbling against yours, kissing you now on the forehead. “Whatever you want.”
Sighing contentedly, you stared at Arthur, who had now closed his eyes, his tiredness now making itself known. You were too busy scanning his features that you hadn’t noticed him cracking an eye open, raising a brow quizzically at you. “What?”
“You’re very beautiful, Arthur.”
You watched him stammer for a second, the bright red flush returning to his face from minutes prior. “It’d be pointless to disagree with you, wouldn’t it, princess?”
“Yup,” you giggled. The two of you sat in comfortable silence after that, until a question you’d been meaning for a while came back to you at that moment. “Why’d you call me that?”
“Call ya what?”
“Princess. I thought we already established that I ain’t one.��
“You want me to stop?” 
You shook your head. “You better not. I like it. I’m just curious why you use it.”
“To be completely honest, I ain’t quite sure why either,” he chuckled. “It started as a bit of a joke, before we became serious. But I liked the way you reacted to it, so I kept callin’ you it just to see your reaction. I kept sayin’ it after because you deserve to be called somethin’ unique, somethin’ that’s special to us.”
“Earlier, you said I was something’ better than a princess. What’s that?”
“It’s cheesy,” he tried to avoid the question, but you gave him a pointed look. Sighing, he relented. “You’re, well, you. You’re an outlaw, a gunslinger, a survivor. You’re a confidant, a friend, a leader. You’re my girl, my angel, the best thing that has ever happened to me. All things that are infinitely better than some royal title.” He shrugged. “And sure, maybe you ain’t a princess, but you deserve to be treated like one. I guess callin’ you that, it’s a constant reminder for me to treat you like the incredible person you are, and to not take your love for granted.” 
You held back the tears that threatened to spill from your eyes. “You’re oddly poetic at times.”
“I told ya it was cheesy,” he grumbled, the bashful smile on his face dropping when he saw the tears in your eyes. “Shit, it wasn’t that bad, was it?”
Despite the single tear rolling down your face, you laughed. “I love you so much, Arthur Morgan.”
He said your name slowly, wiping away the tear with the pad of his thumb. “I love you too.” You tried to smile at him, but a yawn overtook you, causing Arthur to laugh lightly. “Let’s get some rest. I’ll be right here.”
“You promise?”
“I promise.”
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Text
𝑊𝑖𝑠𝑒 𝑀𝑒𝑛 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑇ℎ𝑒𝑖𝑟 𝐹𝑜𝑜𝑙𝑖𝑠ℎ 𝐿𝑜𝑣𝑒
Even the wisest of men are no strangers to the addicting feeling of love. A feeling no darshan can explain, an emotion that can make even geniuses such as them - crumble into irrationality, moronic actions unexplainable, acting like fools pining for love.
Sumeru Men Story Teasers : Cyno x Reader; Tighnari x Reader; Cyno x Reader x Alhaitham; all gender neutral
(Read: teasers for my WIPs that I'm too slow to work on)
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𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐎𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐫𝐬
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He should have been stronger.
Cyno was no stranger to prejudice and judgment, but he had the greatest patience and the iron will to not be moved so easily. It came naturally as a desert dweller among the sea of Akademiya scholars, their side glances and hushed whispers in the dark.
The forest never took kindly to those born over the scorching sands, so when you came up to him with innocent excitement and unadulterated passion, he was unprepared by the strength of your heart.
Against his iron walls, they turned into sand dunes easily swept away. He was no stranger to prejudice and judgment, nor to temptations and vices, so easy to whisk him away in your presence so welcoming of him.
He should have been stronger.
He should have been strong enough to resist your warmth. To refuse you despite you accepting him wholeheartedly.
He should have been strong enough to refuse your reckless offer.
He should have been strong enough to keep you safe.
But Cyno is just as human as any other person in Sumeru, he was no iron wall. There in the depths of the ruins his wails echoed with raw emotion as he gripped your motionless body closer, growing colder against his chest.
He freely cried in desperation knowing there were no audience to his vulnerable state, only the constructs that caused both of you to bleed, and the remnants of a spirit you were deadset on knowing. The main reason the both of you had fallen into this place, and soon, the reason you fall.
"Please, someone," the desperation in his hoarse voice felt foreign even to himself. "Save them, please. Anything... I'll do anything, just save them."
Cyno swore to no religion or deity, but that day even a stranger would have owed his life if they were to save the one he loves. Was it a blessing or a curse for his prayer to be answered?
"Your heart is light, worthy to be a vessel." There is a weight on his shoulder and power behind him, stealing the air from his lungs in waiting tension. "I will give you the strength to save them, human, but from then on your heart will be weighed, judged until you are no longer worthy."
Cyno was a man that can't be moved easily in the face of danger and temptation.
Yet when his hand went to cradle your bloodied cheek, he knew from the very beginning that he would move the stars, the moon and the sun to keep your warmth alight and aflame. He seals his promise with a bloodied kiss.
And with a steeled gaze, he lifts his head with voice filled of pure devotion. "Anything."
You offered an inch, he's willing to sacrifice a mile in return.
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Komorebi
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At one point he thought to ask, since when did he care so much about anything beyond his darshan? When, oh when did anything beyond plants ever intrigue him like this?
"Box wrench, 8 points," your gloved palm reaching out brought him out of his musings, his own hand scrambling to pick up the tool from the table, hoping that was the right one. "Thank you."
Tighnari never imagined that he would find himself here, inside a workshop devoid of the greenery he'd loved, the scent of grease and rust in the air so foreign to him. Cogs and metal scraping grating in his sensitive ears.
Why was he here? Right, to accompany you on your current project.
Inside your room that became your garage of inventions, it smacked Tighnari on the face just how different you two are.
Kshahrewar and Amurta. Metals and plants.
"That should be it," he watched as you removed your googles, planting it atop your head. It gave way to your wide eyes, practically glowing in contentment. That was always the best part of coming here, watching you in your natural environment, in a place you fit in so easily.
Perhaps this was how you see him when he talked about the successful growth of the flowers assigned to him in Pardis Dhyai.
"Thank you for the help as always, Tighnari." While you worked on removing your gloves, you can't seem to peel your eyes away from looking at him. "There's something on your face."
What? "Here?" The ravenette furrowed his brow in confusion, rubbing at the spot you were eyeing with the sleeve of his robe. A dark spot now stained it.
"Here, let me." Tighnari's eyes widened as you licked your thumb without hesitance before rubbing it on the spot where the grease stain dirtied his light skin. "There we go, much better."
The damp touch had his tail, ears, and the hairs at the back of his neck stand straight. Tighnari was never shy, never quiet. Yet he couldn't stop himself from burying his face in his hands, his embarrassment ever more apparent from the warmth he felt from it.
What is he supposed to do? Especially when he's with you?
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𝐄𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐫 𝐈𝐧 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐖𝐚𝐲𝐬
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Alhaitham wasn't one to dwell on regrets regarding his decisions, especially not one this long.
But he couldn't help but wonder how things would play out in an alternate timeline where he had chosen differently, where he didn't adhere to his principles and instead taken what he was first offered. A guiltless, unrestrained pursuit of knowledge —
Would he be so willing to give that up just for you? Just for you to look at him again?
At the very least, his choices had lead him here, to not be the victim of your cold, indifferent gaze.
Quietly he followed your line of sight to his companion standing next to him, the General Mahamatra. "Former General Mahamatra." Cyno's grip on his staff tightened like his scowl. "Surrender yourselves right here and now."
From the short time that they had been forced together, the Scribe knew that expression were different from the irritation of stalling culprits, nor rage for the Akademiya minions that recklessly used the lives of the Village Keepers. This was not a bitter look shared between enemies, or those one perceived as enemies.
Then and there the lunatic realized that perhaps the both of them had at least one thing in common.
Clearing the pained expression from his face at the sight of your red Akasha and polearm readying to fight, Cyno (with great reluctance) readied himself for a fight next to Alhaitham, the air holding its breathe as the your gaze continued to size them up. In that moment, the two men shared a look -
Before dispersing their weapons away in favor of their fists and raw strength.
Dispose the Akasha terminal in your ear, quick and painless.
"If I ever see one cut on them," Cyno's voice was borderline murderous. "I'll make sure to give you tenfold of their pain."
"We may be temporary allies right now," Alhaitham's voice was taunting and confident, paired with a smirk that contrasts Cyno's scowl. "But that doesn't mean I'm letting you win."
And the long, dreaded fight started the moment your controlled self triggered your Delusion, forcing them to dodge as you made the first strike.
They'll free you from the vile control of the Akademiya, there is no doubt on that.
It's just a matter of who can do it first.
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Based on my brainrots here and here. I'm quite the sapiophile - ohhh that's a potential title right there. I've changed Cyno's story title too many times and I'm still not satisfied.
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kissami · 1 year
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☄︎. *. ⋆ PLEASE DON’T LEAVE ME SO ALONE •°. *࿐
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➵ in which cloud needed a reality check before it’s too late.
➵fem!reader with she/her pronouns!
➵ warnings: OOC cloud ??? jealously, mentions of aerith and zack, NOT PROOF READ BECAUSE IM LAZY LOL
‎ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀ 𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊
‎ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀ ‎ Pearls~ Sade
‎ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ 0:20 〇────── 4:33
‎ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⇄   ◃◃   ⅠⅠ   ▹▹   ↻
‎ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀VOLUME: ▁▂▃▄▅▆▇ 100%
‎ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀‎ ‎ 𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊
Cloud never felt such confusion and heartache until this very moment that he was sitting in Seventh Heaven, drinking to his heart content.
Why did she leave me so alone?
He felt his hand itch towards his pocket, his phone that had her picture as his lock screen that he remembered taking when the two left Midgard for a small trip to watch the stars for the first time, had showed no notifications from anyone.
I miss her.
He thought as he chugged down the last remaining sips of his drink. He looked up, making eye contact with Tifa, his eyes pleading for another.
“I’m cutting you off tonight, Cloud. I can’t stand seeing you mope around like this anymore. You need to talk to her.”
He wanted to stubbornly say no and say he would do it later, that he just wanted to relax and drink to really think of what to do, but he knew she deserved better.
A better explanation, a better boyfriend even. But he was selfish. He was so selfish to leave the way he did and still wanting her back in his arms right after.
“I…I can’t…she hates me.” He whispered, playing with the red string on his arm as it seemed rather interesting now that his best friend had her attention on him.
“You know [Y/N] better than all of us, Cloud. You know she would never hate you no matter what you do. Bless that girls heart because she has more patience than anyone I’ve known.”
Cloud knew she was right, tifa always was as annoying as it was.
But yet, he still felt embarrassed, insecure, and scared that if he went back home, this would be it, that this was the end of the two.
“[Y/N] told me what you did. You’re a mean loser who deserves to sleep on the streets tonight.” Yuffie huffed as she juggled around three materia orbs in her small hands.
“I didn’t mean it.” He tried to explain, but his friends glances were all he needed to know to really fix things up before everything became worse.
“Sometimes I wish I didn’t meet you so soon after her.”
He felt his chest ache and his eyes burn as he remembered those veil words escape his mouth earlier that day.
The two were arguing about god knows what, it was a pointless argument but you were so head on to stay talking about the situation instead of walking away like he would do, you really wanted to resolve this.
But he wouldn’t listen and you felt like you were talking to a brick wall.
You rather a brick wall than having to hear that sentence leave his lips.
You rather not ever hear a response from him again than ever feel the way you did the moment he yelled at you the way he did.
“For what it’s worth, Cloud. Y/N, truly loves you. Nothing would ever make her hate you, no matter how much sometimes we wish she did…maybe there would be someone who would truly love and appreciate her kindness.” Tifa bit her lip at Reno’s sincere words, everyone knew he what he said was honest from his heart.
Cloud knew it as well, which made him clench his jaw even harder.
Yuffie groaned, glaring at the red head as he shrugged, but everyone knew why he was pushing Cloud this way.
‘Just a little closer to the edge and he’ll jump.’
“I wonder how Zack would react with you crushing not only on his dead girlfriend, but being so hung up on her that you’re abandoning your own. I’d be embarrassed to even be mentioned in the same sentence if I were him.”
“You bastard!” Tifa made a small squeak as all the drinks on the bar were splashed away, a frail body now taking their places as the blond held a deathly grip on the turk’s neck.
“Cloud!” Everyone yelled, trying to get his steel grip on Reno off, but he wasn’t giving up just yet.
“Hurts doesn’t it? Words cloud, words hurt.” The two stared at each other, trying to beat the other from the harsh glares the two were piercing one another with. Usually Reno would back off rather quickly, joking around how serious Cloud looked.
But cloud was the one to look away this time. No words came from him as he picked up his buster sword, ignoring everyone’s concerned looks as he walked out of Seventh Heaven and into the cold night.
He grimaced as he saw his apartment that he lived with his girlfriend up ahead. No lights shinning like they usually would, the curtains drawn and no noises were heard. You could hear a pen drop from how quiet it was.
That scared him.
Cloud quickly unlocked the door, frowning as it already was unlocked when he knew [Y/N] and how she’d always lock the door after she came in or out, paranoid of the possibilities that could happen.
He almost lost his balance as he saw all of her clothes thrown all over the place, her shoes in the mix as well.
He walked slowly, gripping his sword tightly and made his way to their shared room. He couldn’t think straight, scared something or someone had taken her away from him once again.
But he felt a sense of relief when he heard sobs and sniffles coming inside yet his heart was aching at the same time.
Knocking on the the door slowly, Cloud felt his heart beat going faster than usual, hearing the way it gotten quiet all of a sudden.
“Go away, asshole.”
Ignoring her words, Cloud opened the door gently, his eyes immediately falling on her form that was sitting next to the window, the moon looming over her as her crystal like tears illuminated in the moonlight.
She looked so pretty when she cries.
Cloud placed his things down, making his way over. He felt his hands begin to shake as he gently picked her up and placed her on his lap.
A tight yet soft grip was launched onto her waist when she tried getting up, but to no luck she was staying put.
“Please just listen to me, okay? I want to apologize to you, baby.” He placed his cheek onto hers, feeling the tears that streamed down her face onto his as he held her and he continued.
“I’m so sorry. I’m sorry for saying such hurtful things. I’m so glad I met you when I did. I said that out of anger, out of frustration and you didn’t deserve that. It was so wrong of me.”
He felt his own tears brim his eyes as he spoke and felt her form pausing as she took everything in.
“What Aerith and I had…it’s over and done with. Even if she…even if she was alive right now, deep in my heart I know I’d still fall for you. I’d go through that pain all over again just to be able to see a glance of you for just a second even if it meant you’d never would’ve been mine. You make everything worth fighting for and I’m so sorry.”
No words were spoken for a good while, but Cloud cried as he felt her sob in his neck, wrapping her arms around him as she faced his front in the chair they both sat on.
“You’re such a jerk.”
“I know baby, I know I am.” He moved her hair out of the way as he looked deep in her eyes, taking every crevice on her pretty face that he would never get tired of looking at.
“I love you, so much. Please don’t hate me.” A soft chuckle escaped her mouth and her head shook in disagreement.
“I could never hate you, Cloud. No matter the circumstances I could and never will hate you.”
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jhoneybees · 25 days
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Obsession?
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Alright! It's back and ready for you all to read! So this one isn't like my other fluffy fics but a spicy type(my first ever!) so if you're looking for a fluffy fic, this one might not be it 😅 My girl @elvisalltheway101 helped me with this and I'm so thankful, mwah mwah to you sista🫶
Thank you so much for your patience!
Characters: 50s!Elvis X reader
Warnings/triggers: spicy fic, mentions of y/n, crying, swearing, Elvis being obsessed, mentions of worship, sub!elvis???, obsession talk, mentions of God
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There’s just something about you that makes Elvis go weak in the knees. He doesn’t know what it could be that attracted him so much but everytime he tries to find the possible answers, his brain just goes static when his thoughts gradually form into a daydream about when you would pass-by giving him one of those gorgeous smiles of yours or when you would stare into eachothers eyes for a split second, even when he watched you from afar as you laughed with the middle aged women at church and wearing that damn dress that made you look too tempting for your own good at a party you two were invited to.
Elvis' heart and brain might not know that he’s obsessing but that occasional stir in his stomach sure does, It’s almost like he’s worshiping you but how can he not? Your humor, your kind-heartedness, your attentive nature, your eyes, your hair, your voice, your smile lines, your pores, your breathing, your lips, they’re all better than any morning coffee, any fulfilling meal and it sure doesn’t help him when you would ask the simplest of questions like “Sugar in your coffee?” or “How was your day today, Presley?” with that pretty voice it turns him into a blushing, stuttering, shaking mess and when he would get a glimpse of you everytime he walks past the diner you work at.
Boy his heart starts racing like he’s about to have a heart attack.
It’s been so agonizing for him because he’s had a crush on you for as long as he can remember, the first day of Junior year. Others may say to just ask you out and see what happens but to him he can’t do that, how could he? He may act all confident and slick in his daily daydreams of you but in reality he’s just a mere country boy with a funny sense of style and girly eyelashes that everyone laughs at and your the Preacher’s daughter who everyone loves, who couldn’t possibly like someone as foolish as him, you’re divine and he’s just…well him.
But he feels like something’s gonna happen.
He just can’t quite put a finger on it.
One day as he browses around the Memphis record shop, he accidentally gets nudged. looking up to be blessed by those Godly angel eyes. “Oh I’m so sorry! I didn’t see-” His heart skips a beat “Elvis, Hi! It’s been a while”
God must be watching over me.
“Hello?” Elvis shaking his head out of his trance with a sharp inhale “H-Hi” seeing a soft smile grow on your face “How are you?” Elvis grins shyly and scratches the back of his neck “Uh..I-I’m good” his eyes averting away but snap back to yours as he straightens up “H-how are you?” mentally cringing to himself.
“I’m great, Thank you for asking”
You thanked him, you wasted an ounce of that precious voice of yours to Thank him.
By this point, the record he’s holding slips out of his hand, just for a moment he realizes and with a clumsy attempt of trying to catch it, he accidentally steps on it the wrong way causing the record to break.
“Shit-” he swears under his breath, hearing you gasp quietly “Oh…” crouching down to pick the damaged record up. He sighs and moves his hand to grab his wallet from his pocket only for him to notice it’s not there, his eyes widen to which your eyebrows raise slightly “Did you leave your wallet behind?” he glances at you and quickly looks away ”Uh-'' feeling your hand touch his arm making him gulp “Hey, I can pay for the record..” you offer softly, his eyebrows furrow and his head turns up at you “No, it’s-”
“I insist”
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“Thank- thank you for paying for that, I-I-I-I’ll have ta pay you back somehow” Elvis’ voice falling soft as he nears the end of his sentence making you smile “Don't mention it, wouldn't want you getting in trouble” a happy angelic laugh fills his ears, his brain going fuzzy as he looks at you through his lashes, falling into a short trance until your voice snaps him out of it “Well I better get going” Elvis clears his throat following with a nod, Seeing your small wave but the moment your head turns the other way, his gut feeling urges him to yell out “Wait Y/n!”
Oh God.
“Yeah?” his hand moving to scratch the back of his neck and his eardrums hearing the bottom of your shoe scraping along the concrete as you come to a halt “Um…To- to pay you back…” stuffing his hand in his pocket. His heart punching him in his chest.
Oh Lordy Lord.
“Can I take you out?”
Oh why did I say it like that?
His heart ringing wedding bells as a giggle emits through your lips and his breath stills when you nod quietly “Of course, that'll be very nice, Elvis” his knees are damn. near. weak. Nodding his head silently with his crooked smile showing “Uhm…at 6?....I’ll..I’ll pick you up” he questions to which you nod again.
Did I just?
You walk away the second time, his eyes brightening as you look over your shoulder.
“See you then, Presley”
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It feels like a dream, how did he manage to ask you out, for you to agree? God, Elvis hopes he doesn’t wake up from this dream, if it is even one.
His palms rubbing along his slacks as his eyes try to stay watching the movie on the screen. By now he's lost the plot of the movie because of his thoughts.
He's alone with you in his daddy’s car.
And lord his nerves are kicking him like crazy.
Leg bouncing nervously and a deep breath escapes his mouth. He's trying, he’s trying to keep his attention on the movie but he’s on a date with you-
a hand falling on his knee and his eyes trail up an arm, landing on your eyes that he couldn't help but soften at.
“About to make a hole in the floor soon” you laugh, making him clear his throat and smile shyly “M’sorry” once again blessed by your smile “It's alright…you seem a little distracted, is everything ok?” pressing his lips together tightly as your eyebrows furrow, shaking his head “Oh, no it's nothin’ “ he inhales deeply when you quirk an eyebrow “You sure?” he nods.
Stupid.
Be. more. discreet.
Elvis turns his head to look out the side window as your attention falls back on the movie then as he begins to bite his nails, sinking into his seat a little, he freezes as he feels your knee gently tap against the side of his thigh, gulping and pushing himself back up to sit up properly, resting his arm on the car door and wiping his palm on his slacks.
“Are you sure you're ok? You seem to be a little off, Elvis” his head whipping towards you “I-I'm fine, really” looking at each of your eyes with so much adoration as your words flow off your tongue “You can tell me…” you say with a slight smile.
A big gulp.
Elvis lowers his head and looks at the floor of the car “It's noth-...” glancing at you as you sit up in your seat, facing him, waiting patiently.
His eyes avert from yours and his heart beats out of his chest, mentally cursing to himself as his hands grow increasingly more sweaty. He’s been dreaming of this moment and he’s been praying for this to happen but…He’s scared-
“I like you”
Glancing up to see your eyes widen, surprised.
He said it.
It's out in the open, he can't take it back.
“Elvis…” your voice soft and quiet, his vision turning back to the floor, brimming with tears “...I’m sorry” his voice quiet, picking at the fabric of his slacks, bringing his palm up to wipe at the tears that manage to escape.
Then…
He feels a hand smooth along the front of his neck, cupping his jaw with a thumb on one side and two fingers on the other. Forcing him to turn his head, His voice releasing a pained whimper of his heart clenching at the sight of your angelically sculpted face.
His breath hitches as you suddenly ever so gently, plant your soft lips on his, closing his eyes. A single tear falling down his cheek.
Absolute. Pure. Bliss.
The slightest his hands begin to tremble as his skin tingles from your exhale through your nose. His spine shivers as your hands cup his cheeks, pulling him closer to bring his lips further onto yours making you lean back a little.
A small whine emitting through his lips as you pull away breathlessly, Elvis looking into your eyes “Y/n…” your eyes that could outshine any jewel before shakily slithering his hands around your waist, pulling you into another kiss. His eyebrows frowning and his body physically melting as you hum against him.
He hums softly, out of nowhere feeling your knee pushing in between his legs, causing him to moan.
With a soft push on his chest, Elvis leans back against the pillar between the car seat and the car door, the sound of your lips separating filling the car as you lean down to peck along his jaw, Elvis' breath hitching and sighing. With shaky hands squeezing your waist gently for you to push your knee in between his legs again with a little more pressure.
Oh Lord, help me.
His stomach fills with butterflies as you nip at his jaw a little and your hands brushing down his neck down to his belt to pull his shirt out of his pants, his breath stutters as you slide your hands under to rub against his tummy, your soft lips returning to his. Hands traveling up to lightly graze over his nipples, making him squirm.
Feeling you smirk against him, A very unexpected noise escapes his body as your palm presses on his manhood, slowly adding pressure, his breathing frantic and groans squeezing out of his throat.
Elvis inhales sharply as you shift onto his lap, his puppy eyes looking straight up into yours as your lips separate, seeing you in front of him, your bodies just a few inches apart.
Tears building up in his eyes, he glides his hands down to your hips, almost about to sob at the feeling of you as he gives you a little squeeze.
Gulping before saying just above a whisper “You’re so beautiful…”
His eyes roaming all over your body from your neck, down to your chest then to his hands on your hips but as he caresses you with his thumbs, his head gets lifted by your finger under his chin. Shocked to find a glimmer of lust, a need but also a sparkle of kindness…Love.
His breath drains out of him as you lift his hand in your small ones, kissing each of his fingers, making sure to keep his eyes on you.
“Take me, Presley”
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READ PART 2!!! Written by @elvisalltheway101
😵‍💫Addiction😵‍💫
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highpriestessaset · 5 months
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Pick an image: allow your intuition to guide you in your selection.
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BEG- This is a time to focus on overcoming your fears. Your mind can be your greatest ally or your worst enemy. It may be worth asking yourself, “what’s the worst that can happen”, and go from there. The High Priestess sees the past, present, and future. Try expanding your view to be open to possibilities you haven’t yet considered. Recovery is on your side.
MID- You may have some emotional upset about a loss you may be experiencing but again, recovery is on your side. When one door closes, another door opens. On this part of your journey, you will find happiness that your new beginning is exactly where you need to be.
END- At this point in your journey, you may be called to step into more of a leadership/independent role. You may be feeling more deserving and start to cultivate new standards for who or what is worth your time. Your time is valuable- always.
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BEG- At this time, you are extremely intuitive. You may be getting signs or gut feelings about what direction to go or decision to make. See this as guidance in alignment with your desires and purpose. Any rejection you may experience is only to steer you in the right direction, see it as a blessing. Divine timing is on your side, be sure to practice patience in the meantime.
MID- If you are considering cutting ties from something, this may be in your best interest. This can be a person/people or thoughts that are keeping you from trusting yourself. I feel that whatever you may need to cut ties from is something that makes you feel stuck or limited. I see a change being made that can bring more balance into your life. Your voice is powerful.
END- For some, I see a separation or “falling out” between people. The communication has mutually stopped or is not returned by the other.
For all, this is a period of change to adapt to a new life. Cancel out the noise of outside sources so that you can truly hear your own voice. What do you need? What is best for you? Have you been expressing yourself or holding back? Why? At this time, “be cool as a cucumber”- practice calmness and patiently observing your inner senses.
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IMAGE 3:
BEG- At this time, you may be learning more about the gifts of nature. I see someone who is stepping away from drama and focusing on how they can be rejuvenated by the sun, moon, or the earth. Partying or gatherings may become less appealing to you. You might have different interests in shows, make changes to your diet, start drinking less, or spending more time outside. Ultimately, expect changes to your life style that brings you fulfillment and healing through nature.
MID- On this part of your journey, you may be falling down a rabbit hole of knowledge. Go at your own pace! Be warned that your journey is yours, not everyone will be able to understand it or come with you. Simply lead by example, others will be ready on their own time.
For some: I see vegetarianism or veganism being apart of your journey. Get as much information as you can and then, always try it for yourself. Worry less about labels/“do’s and don’ts” and more about how it makes YOUR body feel.
END- You are an agent of change. You model empathy, compassion, and forgiveness. Although, it may be difficult to do, people are observing you whether you know it or not. Practicing these things lets others know that finding peace is possible. Strive to be the best you through the hurt of loss and uncertainty. Whoever or whatever you have lost brings room for gains- new people, places, and opportunities. The more you seek out your true self, the easier it is for those things to find you.
*Readings are for entertainment purposes only.*
-//Blessings 🌺
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taduki · 11 months
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The M6 w/ an MC that acts like a grandparent
Grandparent as in the, “you want a hard candy, baby?”, grandparent who thinks every living being is their grandchild. This post has been brought to you by the multiple people who tell me I have grandma rizz. (I put so much love into this, it took me like 4 nights to write — goodbye forever).
Asra
Your mannerisms are slowly but surely rubbing off on them.
If you carry around hard candies and sweeties, Asra 100% enables it by asking if they can have some. They will also buy exotic sweets from their travels for your collection, though the children might not like them.
Y’all are ROCKING the grandparent look !! Crocheted cardigans and flower-patterned shirts in every color of the rainbow are hanging around the bedroom(s) because I KNOW Asra don’t got space in their closet. They probably utilize the Magician’s Realm as a secondary closet to be honest.
Speaking of crocheting, Asra gets a great idea going with the grandparent image and decides to take up either a crocheting or knitting class. The respective instructor may or may not have fainted upon seeing one of their patterns…
Asra finds customers with children much easier to handle with your added patience and patented jar of caramels on the counter.
You want to kill Azz? Fix the buttons on their top like how the wife in Pixar’s “Up” fixes her husband’s tie.
When they had to reteach you how to do daily things again, they thought, in their own guilty conscience, that this was some way of repaying the favor to you. All of the favors. All of your love to everyone.
Julian
He’s used to being the charming one!!
Though, you leave him lots of room for his signature drama and flair, so he warms up to it after a bit.
He wasn’t as easily charmed by your demeanor as the average person was at first. He thought of you as a little lamb in the streets. He could swear you would be the biggest target for getting pickpocketed in the Red Market, but damn you are CAPABLE!!
Madly in love with your capabilities, magic or not. Takes him a bit to get used to your overflowing sweetness (and pocket sweeties), but finds he is also madly in love with those too.
You are like his pocket Mazelinka, and it horrifies him to no end. At least you don’t spike his soup with sleeping potion…
You force him to bedtime and he isn’t up for it until you read him bedtime stories and sing lullabies. He is definitely embarrassed... He’s like, “I’d never fall asleep to MC’s bedtime singing and stories! ZZZzzzzzzZZZZZZzzz”.
Portia
You two are the world’s best grandparents.
Unlike Asra, Portia pursued crocheting/knitting and never stopped. Though she can be busy, she enjoys it as a hobby as has you to thank for it!! (As you stand there confused why she’s thanking you for it).
She didn’t mean any harm by it!! She just wanted to try new things and you happened to be an “inspiration”.
You two have interactions like The Golden Girls. Zero elaboration.
One of the books she read while teaching herself to read was The Secret Life of Bees by Sue Monk Kidd. She quotes many things from the book during her work life, but her favorite quote has become, “Every little thing wants to be loved”, before booping yours or Pepi’s nose.
She says it constantly and you’re starting to think it’s just her way of saying you’re cute and she loves you.
But the truth is that and she just loves the way YOU love things. The way you squish Pepi’s face in your hands and sing/talk to the flowers are just a few examples.
Nadia
She might actually tear up.
Could you possibly get more endearing?
To her, you’re the entire package. You’re a blessing in a bundle. You’re strong enough to beat the Devil and sweet enough to cream butter. If she wasn’t so refined and kept, she’d be kicking her feet and rolling around on her bed.
Alas, she knows many other ways to exert her love for you. What? No, she wasn’t going to spoil you with rich delights! — as she inconspicuously waves a hand behind her back to hide the palace tailors in the hall…
Nadia is very well aware of her many duties and obligations, but she knows to leave a generous amount of time for you. After a rushed, exhaustive day of hard work, Nadia gracefully lays her head in your lap and lets you coddle her. She will accept your head pats, listen to the most storybook-like day you’ve had, and talk about her troubles. All the while, you tell her allllll of the things she should do like more frequent breaks and standing up and saying no when she simply cannot do something even though she already knows.
But she loves it. She loves your care, the little things you do around the palace that make her think of you. You recommended the gardeners sing and talk to the plants and she was delighted to hear it made a difference, but every flower in that garden paled in comparison to you. She believes you are Mother/Father Nature.
She frequently has you accompany her during dignitary meetings, etc. as her magician consultant, and as such, you take no “hoot-a-nanny” nor “monkey business”. (Nadia has never had to hold her laughter in this hard). She regains her composure quickly though, and soon discovers many visitors find you very charming and welcoming. She finds this to be a strategic play in negotiations, so she invites you to meetings more often, definitely not because she just wants to see you more…
Muriel
He too thinks it’s the cutest thing ever.
You tend to feed Inanna many treats because she's just such a good girl!! Muriel gently tries to tell you when she's had enough, but Inanna seems to be starving even after his generously suggested amount…
You could paint his face bright red by pinching his cheeks and calling him something cute like sugar or honey or, god forbid, pudding pie.
You went to help him out with the chickens one early morning and apparently one of the chicks was sick and she wasn’t eating enough. So after Muriel was done checking up on her, you bent down and gave her a nice little lecture how she’ll grow nice and strong after she eats. And Muriel DIED.
He firmly believes the chicks are your grandchildren now because they love you back. (Their cheep cheeps are full of love, he insists).
A good half of Vesuvia are your grandchildren now too. You guys are hero grandparents, I don’t make the rules.
Amongst the minimal duties of being hero grandparents, one of them includes having a baking morning and going to the docks in town to call the children over and hand fresh food out later in the day. The kids call him every unflattering name from Peepaw to Gramps, but he assures you he doesn’t mind at all.
Lucio
He finds you so endearing and sickeningly sweet, he can’t handle it.
He dies from the granny pet names too. He acts like they’re regular pet names, but he expected stuff like babe or darling, not butterscotch pumpkin puffball...
He’s met his fair share of old folks at the snooziest diplomat parties, and even though he’s got that worry in the back of his head that he’s getting older and older too, he’s finding it easier to go through it with you.
He enjoys if you sing him old folk songs, some he may have never heard of. (HUGE bonus if he dances with you to your singing).
It is THE most entertaining thing to him when you’re mad at someone. You wave a stern finger at them and lecture them like you’re their parent. It could literally be the most buff, drunk, muscly regular at the bar and you’d scold them ‘til they’ve recoiled back into their seat, and Lucio, of course, brags about it to the world. “Why use magic when you could’ve just scolded the Devil into submission, MC??”
As you two go through each passing day, he appreciates your slow and caring nature more and more. He’s begun to appreciate the little things like the rise and fall of Mercedes and Melchior’s stomachs during their afternoon naps.
If you knew him years ago, he would’ve thought you were strange and not worthy of his time, but now he quite enjoys your mannerisms and spending time with you.
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missmaywemeetagain · 2 years
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Pink Scarf - PART 12! (Elvis/Austin!Elvis x Reader)
Character/Fandom: Elvis - Elvis (2022)
Requested: kinda
(Read more here--Pink Scarf Series Masterlist!)
Prompt: You are part of Elvis Presley's coveted inner circle, and the currently-disgruntled wife of one of the members of Elvis' famous entourage, the Memphis Mafia. After Elvis' dynamite first performance in Vegas, you find yourself in deep water when his magnetism finally gets to you after all these years.  [ Fem!Reader ]
TW: Spanking. (If spanking is not your thing, I have marked those parts with ~ at the start and end of them so you can read past them.) Dom!Elvis and dom/sub dynamics. Sex. ANGST. Jealousy. Cussing. Infidelity. Historical inaccuracies in the Vegas timeline. Priscilla doesn't exist in this timeline.  
Rating: Explicit/Mature (NSFW, 18+, so minors Do NOT Interact)        ||     Word Count: 10,660
A/N: We're back, y'all and this part is a MONSTER so you're gonna have to carve out some time (it's what you deserve)! It took on a life of its own, honestly. I really wanted to explore the darker sides of both our Reader and Elvis and their choices. It is important to me in this piece to show that Elvis was a very complex human with very real faults, which can throw some people for a loop if they idealize him or don't know much about him, so be warned.
With that said, the convo between him and Anita in 1961 is real. I transcribed his parts as best I could with the quality of the recording. Hopefully, I did his mood justice in the writing (in terms of how Reader is interpreting it), but if you do choose to listen, I recommend headphones and patience. It's a long one and not a great recording. And once again, depending on your point of view, it shows a not-so-flattering side of EP, so proceed with caution.
Thank you all SO MUCH for your love, patience, and distractions as I've been ill! This community has been so wonderful and it's been amazing getting to know you all better and to be able to share our love of EP in all the ways! 💖
As always, to all my babies, honeys, and lil' mamas supporting me out there, your reactions, reblogs, messages, asks, and comments you've given me have been a blessing beyond expression. I will say I'm a bit self-conscious about this part for a variety of reasons, mainly covid-brain, so be gentle! I'm sorry in advance if it's not up to par.
If you feel so moved, please let me know what you think or how you're feeling (or send me asks)! I think I put everyone on the taglist who requested it, but please let me know if there are any issues or if I missed anyone.
I imagined this with Elvis in mind, but Austin!Elvis works here, too, whatever floats your boat! 
Apologies in advance if there are any grammatical errors or TW that I didn't catch. 
(I did start cross-posting Pink Scarf to my long-neglected AO3 account (which some of you already discovered!), so if you are so inclined, you can check it out over there, though it's not all updated yet!)
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Los Angeles, 1961
Walking down the hallway, you cannot help but be drawn to the perturbed sound of Elvis’ unique cadence from beyond the door of the den. It is cracked open just enough for the sound to come through, which must have been a mistake by whoever left last, probably one of the guys. You had seen Red come from this direction not that long ago.
You’d come out to LA at Elvis’ behest to join them all for a visit while he was filming his latest movie. You were happy to see Jack after so much time apart, and you’d instantly gotten swept back up into the Elvis lifestyle while being here, though it was moderately toned down considering his filming schedule. It was a nice change from what was becoming a bit of a lonely existence at Graceland. It wasn’t that you were alone, per say, it was just that the other wives were having and taking care of their little ones, which was a constant reminder of a life you couldn’t have. You loved spending time them and with the children—they just weren’t your own.
You certainly don’t mean to snoop, you’d only been making your way through the California villa to the bedroom to grab something out of your bag, but your curiosity wins out. You stop just shy of the door, head bowed, ear to the crack, wondering who has Elvis in such a state. Of course, you can only hear one side of the conversation, but you try to piece together as best you can what might be going on. You know you shouldn’t, but you do anyway.
Elvis responds to the person he’s talking to in an exasperated tone, “You know why—you know why I don’t call you anymore? This very reason, right here. This very reason right here…I-I-I-can’t talk to you, hon. You mess with my damn head, man. I-I-can’t count on a decent conversation with ya. Ya start throwin’ up all kinds of shit to me. Look, if I called you e-e-every damn night, you’d start bitchin about something different. You’re just a fuckin’ nag, that’s all, you’re just a nagger that’s all.”
Your eyes widen at that, at how mean he’s getting with whichever one of his women he’s talking to. You have seen his temper firsthand over the years, but not directed at you and you’ve never heard him talk to a woman this way. After knowing him all this time, this side of him shocks you a bit, and you stay rooted to the spot.
“Well, that’s the way I feel about it, a-a-and y-y-y-you don’t have to be that way either. Not to the extent that you are, you don’t have to be that bad,” he says vehemently. “I just know you’re gonna start throwin’ something up to me a-and I ain’t got time to hear it. You turn me the fuck up, you know that?”
And he certainly is turned up, you think. His annoyance and frustration are coming through loud and clear on this end, punctuated by his stutter. The woman must be talking because he pauses before continuing.
“Yes, all the time. I-I-I can’t stand it, I-I can’t stand it, Anita, I swear I can’t stand it. I call you and do right, my ass,” he says, annoyed. “I do, do right! My ass. If I called you e-every night, you’d start that shit.” Elvis starts mocking her in a whining, high pitched voice, “‘Who’d you see today? You g-got a girlfriend, I’m surprised at you, blah blah,’ that bullSHIT!” He spits it out at her, angrily. “Naw, it ain’t no lie. Naw, you bring it up every time I talk to you.”
Your heart races a bit just hearing the confrontation and at the thrill that you shouldn’t be eavesdropping in the first place. Of course, it’s Anita, you think. He’s been seeing her the longest of any of his girlfriends, even through Germany. You are friendly with her, but not very close. Although she is always nice to you, she has an air about her that rubs you the wrong way. Not that you’d ever show it, but she just seems a bit self-important to you, what with her beauty queen titles and flitting up to New York or out to Hollywood for her singing or acting. She is a little too pretty, a little too nice, and sometimes it just feels underhanded.
Or maybe you’re just jealous, a niggling voice in the back of your mind says.
You scoff at that. Jealous of what? Sure, it seemed like she had a glamorous life, what with all the things she did, and how beautiful she is, and being the girlfriend of THE Elvis Presley, but you know better than that. And right now it sure doesn’t seem like you have much to be jealous of, considering the way he’s talking to her. She’s been around four years, and there is still no true commitment from him. At least you have a husband who loves you and you are a permanent fixture in Elvis’ inner circle, giving you a leg up in this situation, you think a little haughtily.
Good god, what is wrong with me? Why am I being so petty?
You don’t have an answer to that.
Obviously, Anita is not happy, and it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out why. Anita’s not dumb, even though she can play that part if needs be. She knows he’s seeing other women, and just because you’re not her biggest fan doesn’t mean she deserves to be treated poorly, by him or anyone else.
The thing is, you realize suddenly, even though he is likely in the wrong, you are still going to take his side in the end because he’s your friend. And that thought surprises you a little bit. But at the same time, there is anger starting to simmer in your chest at his poor behavior, at the way he keeps some of the women in his life hanging, waiting with bated breath to see if they will be the one to win his undying and singular attention.
You, of course, know better. Elvis is needy and fickle and loves being adored by as many women as possible. If there is one thing he’s addicted to, it’s girls. But he would no sooner give up his freedom to love as many of them as possible than he would to give up his career. Not to say that he doesn’t genuinely care for some of them; in fact, he is overly loving and demonstrative in some ways. It’s just that the standards for his love seem different than anyone else’s, and he gets away with things he might not otherwise because of who he is. But in your experience, the girls all figure it out eventually, and it seems like Anita is finally getting there.
It sounds like she is giving Elvis the business about it, which he doesn’t like one little bit.
“Why can’t you be sweet instead of bitchin’ like an old naggin’ ass wife, huh?” you hear him say, a little viciously, your eyes going wide. “I can’t stand that, I can’t stand it. Baby, you’ve got me crazy, you know that? You get worse a-all the damn time, a-and th-th-that’s why I don’t talk to you on the phone.”
You really, really should leave and get your nose out of his business, but it’s like you’re incapable of getting your feet to move. You’re mad at him for speaking this way to her, even though she likely IS nagging, you know it’s for good reason. She is right. He wants to have his cake and eat it, too, and he does not like being called out on it.
You hear him backtracking now, almost wearily telling her how much he loves her, over and over. The man doth protest too much. And the way his stutter pops up now, it sounds more like a child covering a fib than agitation. But you hate to assume.
“I told ya that I’m in love with ya. I-I-I-I-I-if I—if I—if I didn’t love you, I tell ya, I wouldn’t waste my time with you. I don’t have to,” he rebounds bluntly, harshly, then recovers quickly, “Well, I-I look forward to being with you, and I-I think about you a lot. But because I don’t call you three or four times a damn week, you say to me ‘Why don’t you…?’” His nastiness gets the better of him again, as he starts to mock her, but then he stops, his frustration evident. “Aw, HELL. I tell ya how I felt aboutcha, you oughta know how I feel. I mean, three long years, w-we’ve been battling this back and forth this same thing. You know I love you, darlin’.”
It all sounds rather unconvincing to you, as he seems to bounce so quickly from one emotion to the other. Maybe he believes it, you think, but you don’t think she’s buying it, not by the way he continues to reassure her, nearly pleading in some moments, and calling her pet names before that indignant tone returns to his voice. Even from out here, you can feel just how hard he’s trying to be patient, trying to placate her, with the many declarations of his love.
Silence falls for a moment, and you wonder what she must be saying to him, whether she’s falling for this or if she’s just as disbelieving as you are. You think she might be coming around based on how his voice changes yet again, how he’s both gentle and matter of fact, then his tone becomes almost boyish and sad.
Suddenly, you hear footsteps coming down the hall towards you. In a complete panic, you nearly jump out of your skin before looking around frantically for an escape. Desperate, you fling yourself into the room across the hall, but in your excitement, the door slams behind you.
Your hand pops to cover your mouth, as if this action alone will have kept anyone from hearing the door.
There is silence for a moment before you hear Elvis shouting, muffled, “Cliff? Cliff!”
Your heart thunders in your chest as you chastise yourself for being so damn stupid as to be eavesdropping on Elvis of all people, then you say a silent prayer that no one finds you as you hear more footsteps and another door slam. The footsteps head away, and with shaking breaths, you slowly open the door to find the hallway empty once more.
You tell yourself you are gonna skedaddle right out of there and go on with your business, but then you hear Elvis lay into her yet again:
“I-I-I love you very much a-and q-quit-quit-quit bitching and nagging me so much. I get so mad, I could break your neck.” That takes you aback, the way he just throws the phrase at her before going back to imitating her meanly, “’I can’t help it, I can’t help it! I can’t help it!’” W--w-w-w-what are you gonna do when I’m nuts and in an asylum?” Then he mumbles something you can’t understand but you hear him chuckle before he sighs big and loudly.
He's telling her he loves her but in a way that makes it obvious that he wants off the phone. She’s not having it based on the silence from his end.
Then he’s back to talking real nice and low to her, seemingly contrite and sorry, his stutter emphasizing it all. The stutter gives him away, you think, though you aren’t sure if it’s more agitation at her or that he’s feeling guilty. Perhaps it’s both.
“Well, m-maybe I’m not doing my part right now, but I mean give me a chance, you know. Just give me a chance. Don’t-don’t-don’t worry, j-j-just give me a chance, I-I, it’ll all come out in the long run. Okay? Take my word for it, hon, I wouldn’t lie to you. I love you, Anita.” A pause and then he giggles, “I’ll enjoy it. I love you very much darlin’. I do, Anita, I do…w-w-w-why would I lie to you, baby? I-i-if i-i-i if I’m l-l-l-lying…” he says, his stutter so bad now it’s hard to understand anything he’s saying.
You internally scoff at this. He’s been lying to her for years. But part of you wonders if he truly believes it will all turn out for them in the future. He is something of an idealist, after all. Maybe he really does fear losing her. Maybe that stutter is betraying his nerves rather than his guilt.
You aren’t sure how you feel about the prospect of him actually settling down, especially with Anita. For one, you don’t think it’s in his nature, but two, something about him doing it turns your stomach. You can’t pinpoint why, exactly, but the idea of him being married with little ones running about Graceland makes you want to scream.
You quickly push that thought out of your head, convincing yourself that your broiling frustration at him has more to do with his treatment of Anita than anything else. If he loves her and needs her so much, maybe he should just tell her the truth. You continue to listen in as he talks baby talk to her and emphasizes just how much he really will call her more, and then you hear him yawn.
“Hell, I’m tired. Oh, yeah. You do? You do? Well don’t sound so damn serious. How much you love me? How much you love me? Maybe? Baby? I love you. I love you. I wish, I wish, I wish I was with you,” he says, weary and tired of the conversation. There are long moments of silence, and you wonder what she is saying or if she’s hung up on him.
“I gotta go. There ain’t no party, I just gotta go. I’ll talk to ya later. I will. Don’t throw up more ideas…” He starts that terrible imitating of her again, “’I can’t! I can’t help that!’ I could slap your face right off.” He laughs through the rest now, and you know him well enough to know he’s being an asshole, provoking her. You can practically hear her shouting through the receiver, she’s yelling so loud.
“I think you’ve lost your damn mind. Yeah, ya have,” he says gently, quiet but cutting. Then he continues to chuckle, seemingly finding her agitation amusing. “Well…we’ll see. I’ll talk to ya later. Okay? Okay? Take care honey, be patient. Alright. Take it easy. Bye.” You hear the receiver click as he finally hangs up the phone.
You’re fuming now, a bit off the rails considering none of this has anything to do with you, and you know it. The gall of him to behave that way when he knows he’s in the wrong, that he is lying to her. For god’s sake, he is having a party right now and there are girls here that you know were invited by him for a particular purpose, and he’s over here telling Anita how tired he is and how crazy she is when she is right all along.
The now-small logical part of your brain is screaming at you to leave and to get your nose out of his business before you do something stupid, but instead you listen to Elvis as he lets out a huge sigh that ends in a frustrated growl.
“Who in the hell is out there lurking in the hallway?” you hear him shout out of nowhere.
Shit.
Your heart pounds, knowing you are caught, and you are mad enough that you refuse to run away. You take a deep breath instead, pushing the door open slowly.
Elvis looks up through his dark lashes from behind the huge mahogany desk, his hands steepled and his jaw set. Surprise flashes over his features when he lays eyes on you, his left eyebrow shooting up, but his eyes quickly return to a steely blue, hardening.
“How much did you hear?” There’s no preamble, no beating around the bush, no charming quip.
You consider lying for a moment. “Enough,” you finally say, knowing lying would be futile—he knows you well enough to see through your deceit. You are angry enough at him for it to show on your face.
“Hmmm. Mmm hmm,” he tuts, seemingly disappointed in you, his anger still simmering just below the surface. “What the fuck were you thinkin’, listening to my private conversation?” It comes out frighteningly low and biting.
You open your mouth to speak, but before anything gets out, he’s yelling, “What is it with the goddamn women in my life sticking their noses where they don’t belong?!” You cannot help but flinch at his outburst, even as angry as you are.
Elvis gets up so fast and so violently the rolling chair he’s sitting in flies backwards, hitting the bookshelf behind him. Rounding the desk, he advances on you, and you stumble, countering by stepping back. With his dark hair and flashing eyes, his features both soft and severe all at once, his natural beauty is intimidating.
Already angered by his conversation with Anita, he is teetering right on the edge of fury, on that blinding temper of his. Which is why you have no idea what comes over you next.
“So, how’s Anita?” you ask sardonically. A small part of you is hoping that your sarcasm will deescalate the situation. It does not. More likely, for whatever reason, you have this urge to push him right over the edge. He’s never turned his temper on you before, and his temper can be blindingly terrible, yet still you persist.
“Don’t be insolent. It doesn’t become you, y/n,” he seethes, his soulful eyes now a churning, hard, steely blue, like the northern Atlantic during a storm.
You continue anyway, “You should just tell her, E. She obviously suspects what you’re doing, wouldn’t it just be easier—"
“I didn’t ask for your fuckin’ opinion!” he shouts at you. Your heart begins to pound in your ears, along with the ringing of his voice, but you are stubborn as hell and pissed off, too, so despite all the warning bells, you keep going.
“You’re right, you didn’t, but I’m telling you anyway as your friend and as a woman who knows—and more so because no one else will dare to call you on it—” you shoot at him, trembling with anger, “Being cheated on and then being lied to and made to feel crazy about it when you know something is wrong is awful. That’s why she’s nagging you all the time. You are making her feel crazy. You should either tell her or leave her, Elvis, but this isn’t right.” You let out a breath, your body hot with anger and you are surprised at your boldness.
“Aw, hell, y/n, you gonna be bitchin’ and naggin’ now, too, huh?” he barks, his eyes flashing.
More words, ones you didn’t expect to speak, come rolling off your tongue. “Why are you hanging on to her if you are just gonna constantly screw around behind her back? How can you really love her and do that to her? You have to know after all this time that she wants you to marry her, but I think we both know that’s not going to happen, is it? What exactly is the point of all this, then, Elvis?”
You expect him to scream at you again and you brace for it. But instead, he steps closer, cornering you. Anger is rolling off him in waves but now it’s tempered by something else, too. Something heavy and thick that starts to suck the air from the room as his deep eyes lock onto yours, unwavering.
“Why y/n, you sound almost jealous.” It comes out smooth, too smooth, with a dark chuckle as he takes one more bold step into you. Your back hits the wall, breath catching at the insinuation.
“W-what? No,” you eek out defensively, in a voice far too high for your liking. You feel your cheeks flush. You know objectively what he’s trying to do, distract and deflect blame for his situation off him and onto you. It’s manipulative but effective because you are flustered beyond repair now.
And maybe because there’s a little truth to it, that small voice from earlier adds. Though you have no idea how Elvis may have pulled that deep thought, one that you barely acknowledged yourself, from the deep recesses of your brain.
Faltering under the pressure of his gaze and the closeness of his lean body practically pressing up against yours, you try to skirt around him.
He slams his hand onto the wall next to your head and you wince as his arm blocks you in. You’re breathing hard now, feeling something between shock and fear and exhilaration as his beautiful face comes too close to yours, forcing you to turn back to him.
Elvis will not be ignored.
“I’m not sure I believe you, baby,” he purrs. “Why else would you be snooping into my private romantic business?” His nose almost grazes your face, tantalizing, the scent of his Old Spice filling your nostrils, consuming you. You realize you’ve never been this close to him, not like this.
Maybe there’s a good reason for that.
Your heart drops into your stomach, but you roll your eyes. “Don’t be ridiculous,” you respond, glaring at him. It sounds almost convincing.
Elvis chuckles meanly, not believing you, his lip curling into a grin, but the smile doesn’t meet his eyes. He’s a panther stalking his prey, and you have come crashing into the jungle, demanding his attention. 
His wrath is laced with something fervently sexual, and anything sexual coming from Elvis is ten times what it might be from another man. It’s intoxicating in the worst way possible, clouding your thoughts, distracting you from your frustration at his behavior. It’s as though, over time, he’s learned to wield his charismatic essence and his sexual energy into a weapon, one which he is now turning on you.
You realize you are in way over your head, but you’ve left yourself no room to backpedal out of this.
Elvis’ icy eyes roam over your face. For a moment you think he might close the gap between you two and press those pillowy lips to yours. For a moment you allow yourself to wonder if they feel as soft as they look, if they taste as sweet as you imagine.
What would he do if it were you that closed the gap? Would he be shocked out of his rage and pull away? Or would he kiss you back? Would you want him to?
Guilt washes over you, a cold shock, in response to these thoughts. What in the hell is wrong with me today?
But right now, cornered as you are, you feel like you might do almost anything to get out of this intense limbo he has you trapped in. You decide to call him out and see what happens.
“Oh, please, Elvis. Does this bull work on all the girls?” you hum almost nonchalantly, even though your heart is galloping, but it has the desired effect. He bites his tongue and shakes his head, leaning back from you. “What, you think you can just try and beguile me, of all people, and I’ll forget about what a jerk you’re being?”
“That’s not—,” he begins, through gritted teeth.
“Oh, shut it,” you interrupt, even more mad now after calling him out on his bad behavior for the second time. “I have half a mind to call Anita up myself after the stunt you just pulled!”
“The hell you will!” Elvis growls, eyes heated, yanking you by the arm towards the desk. “I’ll teach you what happens when you stick your nose where it don’t belong.”
~
You yelp in surprise as he pulls you over. It all happens so fast; you barely resist because your brain doesn’t comprehend what’s happening until he’s planted himself on top of the desk and bends you over his knee.
“Elvis, what are you…?” you yell. He cannot be serious, there is no way he will—
The first smack hits your backside hard. You choke in shock, not just at the sting but at his audacity. You are frozen, speechless, until you realize he’s aiming to do it again. You try to wriggle off his leg, flailing your arms for purchase, but he is much stronger than you. His arm clamps down on your back, holding you fast.
“Elvis!” you shriek at him, “Don’t you even think about—!” The second smack lands harder than the first, on the other cheek, and you squeal, kicking your legs.
“You gonna stay outta my business, y/n?” he asks.
“Goddamnit, Elvis!” you hiss, trying to glare back at him, but he holds you fast.  
“Takin’ that as a ‘no’,” he muses, and you can hear the smirk in his voice as he brings down his hand again. You yelp again, then grit your teeth. He’s not going easy on you, though you are absolutely sure he’s not anywhere at full strength, either. He’s not truly trying to hurt you. While your dress is softening some of the blow, it still smarts, sending your eyes watering.
You are livid, but much to your shock, you are also finding yourself exhilarated, stimulated. Your heart races and you have no idea what’s gotten into you. It’s like everything you’ve done in the last thirty minutes—poking your nose in where it didn’t belong, becoming so angry at him, pushing all of his buttons on purpose—was some strange way to get here. Not that you knew, not at all, that this would be your punishment, but it was almost as if you were crying out for his attentions all along.
This realization stuns you into stillness, and you barely register him talking to you again.
“I can do this all day, y/n, until you tell me what I need to hear,” he says in a sing-song voice. He’s enjoying it, his anger still there, but no longer at the forefront of his intent. No, now he is entirely focused on getting you to cry uncle.
You are stubborn and silent, though still reeling with confusion from your realizations of what got you here, slung over Elvis Presley’s knee, and that you, too, might be enjoying this, but in all the wrong ways. When his hand slaps your ass this time, you bite back the sound that wants to come forth, because it is no longer one of shock. Never in a thousand years do want to admit that you are relishing the feel of his hand on you like this, that the sting is having the opposite effect of what he wants or what either of you expects. It is wrong in so many ways.
Your lack of response must confuse him because you feel him hesitate in the slightest. You are unsure what comes over you, other than the impulse that you don’t actually want him to stop, which means he definitely should stop, but you can’t let him know why and instead it all comes out jumbled. The intended, “Elvis, please don’t!—Stop!” somehow (perhaps a little less than subconsciously) turns into a breathless, pleading for him to continue, “Elvis, please…don’t…stop.”
And though you feel his leg tense under you slightly, the only outward indication that he takes it any other way, he indeed does not stop. You squirm at the last second, realizing your mistake. And when his hand lands this time, fingers splayed wide, he hits decidedly lower and more centered than before. There is no way to know if it is purposeful or accidental, not that it matters in this moment because you cannot help the way your fingers dig into his thigh and the embarrassing moan that escapes your lips when he slaps your center along with your ass.
There is no denying what that sound meant. There’s no way to play it off or pretend it didn’t happen. You are fully aroused and completely mortified.
And Elvis knows it. You know he does by the way he stills, how his other hand clenches your dress at your waist, how you can feel his chest heaving along with your own in the thick, heavy silence that comes after.
For a moment, you wonder if he will push, if he’ll try to continue under the guise of this insane game, and a shameful part of you almost wants him to, wants to see how far you’ll both go, but that thought is fleeting.
~
He releases you, and you scurry off his lap as though he is on fire. And he might as well be with that tell-tale twinkle burning in his crystalline eyes, which are no longer stormy with anger but brimming with amusement and surprise and curiosity and heat. Then, as if he can’t help it, those pink lips pull up into a wide, cheeky smile, his tongue peeking out between his teeth and the tip touches his top lip. The look is somewhere between bashful and positively sinful.
You smooth your dress frantically with your hands, your face burning. Flustered beyond repair, you swipe at your watering eyes, feeling the heat scorch through your body. You are so utterly embarrassed that you could cry. Neither of you speaks at first (what in god’s name can you say??), but Elvis starts to giggle—giggle—that hiccupping little laugh of his that you know will spiral into a fit if he really gets going.
“Don’t you…don’t you dare laugh at me, Elvis Presley!” you sputter and stamp like a child, pointing at him, but his face is going red now and he’s starting to lose it.
“I’m-I’m n-n-not! I just c-can’t…” he stutters before he erupts into full blown belly laughs.
“Oh, my god,” you cry, bringing your hands to your face. You are both livid at him and mortified at yourself, but the situation is completely ridiculous and his laughter becomes contagious. “I swear to god, this isn’t funny!” you wail, fighting back your own laughter.
This just sends him into fresh peal of laughing, and he doubles over.
You finally break down, laughing, too. “Shut up!” you yell, but all the sting is out of it with your own giggles. “This is all your fault!”
“MY fault?!” he cries, trying to catch his breath, tears leaking from his eyes.
You don’t have an answer to that. You know it’s very much on both of you, especially you.
Finally, the laughter starts to die down and you both are wiping at your eyes and catching your breath. Silence starts to hang heavy again, but you break it with ferocity.
“Let’s just pretend that none of this ever happened, okay? I’ll forget everything I heard, and you’ll forget…the rest of it, and we’ll never, ever speak of this again,” you say seriously, with conviction. “Deal?”
As absurd as the whole situation is, you both know there are very real consequences, for both of you, if any of what’s transpired leaves this room. The problem is you know he can be terrible at keeping secrets; however, there is no way for him to tell yours without exposing himself. You can see him work through this now that he is calmed down, his blue eyes regarding you carefully.
You force yourself to remain steady under his intense gaze, trying your best to ignore the way your body wants to involuntarily respond to him all the sudden. You need him to know how serious you are because if this somehow got back to Jack, or to anyone at all, you would be humiliated at best and divorced at worse.
Maybe that’s a little dramatic, you think, but it wouldn’t be good for anyone. But it lights enough panic in you to get your head on straight.
“I’m serious, Elvis. Not a word from either of us,” you reiterate, as Elvis’ face has become unreadable. Your body still feels hot and you will your heart to slow, praying that he’ll give you the answer you need so you can get the hell out of here.
After what feels like an eternity, he finally nods, “Not a peep.” He purses his lips and mimes locking them and throwing away the key. You want to roll your eyes, but instead breathe a sigh of relief. You turn, quick on your heel to leave, needing as far away as possible from this whole situation. Far away from him.
“Y/n?” he calls out from behind you as you reach for the door.
Your heart drops into your stomach and you brace yourself for a quip. You turn, not expecting to see the apologetic look on his face that you do. It’s almost childlike in its sincerity, his eyes big and mournful.
“I-I’m sorry I lost my temper. I-I-I shouldn’t have put my hands on you like that,” he says, playing with his ring nervously.
Your jaw nearly drops to the floor. An apology is not at all what you were expecting. You blink a couple of times, your whirlwind of emotions calming for a moment.
“Thank you, E. And I’m sorry for sticking my nose where it didn’t belong. It really is none of my business,” you add, cheeks warming again as you look down, feeling embarrassed for all the reasons, feeling exposed under his gaze.
“Naw, baby, you’re just callin’ it as you see it. You’ve never pulled punches with me, and I don’t expect you to start now,” he replies, lip curling up in a smile.
You nod. “Even so, I’ll do my best to refrain from spying on you in the future.”
“Okay,” he says.
“Okay.” You turn and leave before he has a chance to stop you again. Hurrying to the bedroom you are sharing with Jack, you lock yourself in, lean back on the door, and slide to the floor with your head in your hands.
What in god’s name came over you? Why would you do such a thing? And why in the hell did you like it when he touched you like that? Panic and guilt run through your veins like ice. You push all the thoughts away, as deep and as far as they will go.
Not a word. Pretend this never happened. Nothing is wrong if it never happened.
You repeat it in your head until it sticks.
*
Carrying the black folder with your sheet music, you take a deep breath and take a seat on the stage behind the curtains that hide the backstage from the audience. You’ve never been backstage for one of his shows, and it is bustling with musicians. Your job tonight is to follow along with the Sweet Inspirations and see if you can find your footing in the music while the show is happening. With the volume on stage, no one should be able to hear you from out front.
Nerves flow through you, nevertheless. It’s been a crazy three days with the vocal coach, who has assured you that, yes, you have the capability to do this and are “a natural,” but that you need to work through your stage fright. You’re not sure if it is her idea or Elvis’ to put you backstage during a performance, but here you are, your heart pounding as though you were going on stage with the rest of them.
In those three days, you haven’t seen Elvis alone, either. This has made you incredibly uneasy for a variety of reasons. Part of you is glad because you feel like your head is clearer about the whole affair, that you have some semblance of control, that if you want to end it (and you should) that you can.
However, another part of you craves his attention, missing him desperately, worried that he’s gotten what he wants from you and now is moving on. You keep thinking about how if he’s not spending his nights with you who might be keeping his bed warm instead. This fear is beginning to wreak havoc and is at odds with your logical thoughts. You know you need to get over it, to get over him, that all of this is just for fun anyways. It’s just sex. Nothing other than that was ever promised. He’s free to do what he wants with who he wants.
It's not as though you haven’t seen him, though, it just hasn’t been alone. Between your lessons, his schedule, and Jack seemingly looming everywhere, it’s been hard to steal any time away. As soon as you told Jack you were staying, that Elvis was offering you a job as part of the show, you couldn’t quite get a read on how he felt about it. Jack seemed surprised, a little annoyed, and wary when you told him. You were sure he wouldn’t want you around anymore, but instead he has been more attentive than usual, which has also thrown you for a loop. You don’t know if he suspects something might be going on, but he hasn’t been off cavorting until all hours of the night anymore, instead staying with the guys at the after party every night in Elvis’ suite.
In any case, all you and E have had are a couple of fleeting, longing looks and the occasional touch, which is maddening. He did come to one of your lessons, but remained professional in front of the coach, only giving you a quick peck on the cheek and left a lingering hand at your waist, burning through your dress and threatening to set you aflame right there and then.
During the after parties, where the gang, plus a lucky group of fans (usually pretty, young things), would come up and join you all. You smiled your way through the gatherings trying to appear as normal as possible as the girls flirted endlessly with Elvis, and he flirted back at them. Not to mention the way Jack would look at the girls, too. The whole situation was becoming untenable.
Thank god for Sandy, who always seemed to be there when you needed her, with a squeeze of a hand or a bump of your shoulder, stealing away with you to the bathroom when it all became too much.
But, lucky for you, you at least had a distraction of learning all the music for the show, hence why you are here now, amongst the fervent energy that is building backstage. The Sweet Inspirations just finished their set, and now everyone is waiting on the man of the hour.
You finally see him round the corner, clad in his black herringbone suit, the one you find impeccably flattering on him. He looks gorgeous but is vibrating with nervous energy and seems like he could be sick at any moment, his eyes focused on something only he can see. Involuntarily, you rise out of your chair in his presence, wanting to go to him, to comfort him, but you stop yourself. It isn’t your place, and you don’t want to distract him or possibly make his nerves worse.
Much to your surprise, Elvis seems to sense you, turning to you, and his cobalt eyes light up when they meet yours. He switches gears, much to the surprise of some of the guys, and walks towards you. They don’t follow, which you are glad for. You meet him, desperately wanting to pull him in for a kiss, but everyone seems to be watching. His eyes travel over your face, needy under the fear he’s experiencing.
“You’re here,” he says gratefully, as though it is a surprise that you actually showed up.
“I’m here,” you reply. “How are you feeling?”
“Nervous. But better now,” he says, those big blue eyes blinking at you with an almost shy smile.
“Me, too,” you laugh. God, you want to touch him so badly, it’s like an itch you can’t scratch.
“I miss you,” he whispers, and it nearly breaks your heart with the way it makes it swell in your chest.
“I miss you, too,” you nod breathlessly, “and we’ll talk later, but right now, you need to go out there and kick some ass, yeah?”
“Yeah,” he nods, taking a deep breath, puffing his cheeks and letting it out slowly. He reaches out and grabs your hand, squeezing it tight, his huge rings cold against your skin. Then he turns abruptly, heads off, and cues the band to start.
Your heart is pounding in your chest. Seeing that side of him, so needy and small, is such a contrast to how larger than life he is as he walks on that stage. It reminds you so much of the young man he once was, so different from the cocky, self-assured man he can be today.
Then the show starts in earnest and you sit back down, realizing you have a job to do and can’t just moon over him the entire show. You do your best to follow the music, humming along, quietly finding the high harmonies to the songs you feel like you’ve heard a million times but are now experiencing differently because you are listening for other things.
You do notice that some of his jokes are falling flat and that the audience isn’t responding as enthusiastically as they could be. Elvis fights for their attention, being the consummate performer that he is, and you can tell he’s a bit ruffled by it.
By the end of the show, you’ve been swept up in the music and it feels like no time has passed, your nerves long forgotten. It’s an amazing feeling, really, as the crowd applauds and the curtain falls and everyone bustles with after-show energy. Even though you weren’t officially on stage, you still feel swept up in the high of it all and it’s invigorating.
Elvis, of course, is soaked with sweat, breathless as the swarm descends with compliments, though he doesn’t smile or seem to believe them even though he nods through them. You know he is a perfectionist in his own right and by his demeanor, he seems agitated by how the performance went. His eyes find yours only briefly, guarded, before he is hustled away. You hide your disappointment in collecting your music and instead focus your energy on conversing with some of the musicians as they pack up their instruments. The mood feels sour, dampened, as Elvis’ displeasure radiates even after he leaves. Your emotions are tumultuous, as you feel neglected, and you are glad when you see Sandy waiting for you so you can go up to the penthouse together.
“How’d it go?” she practically bounces. “How nervous were you?”
“Pretty nervous at first, but after the first song, I just kinda got swept up in the music. It was pretty remarkable, actually,” you reply. “Though E didn’t seem very happy with the show.”
She pulls you along, through the curtains and out into the hallway. “And how is…everything else?” she intones with a knowing look.
You sigh, shifting your music folder to the other arm, looking down. You hurry her along, away from prying ears. “He came up to me before the show and told me he missed me,” you whisper.
“Oooh, really? That’s good, right? Sometimes a man needs to know what he’s missing to really appreciate it,” she muses. “Do you miss him, too?”
“I don’t want to! But as soon as he was there in front of me, I felt like I was gonna come out of my skin to get to him. I’m just…having all these feelings I don’t know what to do with, San,” you fluster. “Every time I think I have a handle on it, something happens to remind me that I’m completely off the rails.”
“You’re not ‘completely off the rails’, y/n. You’ve just got it bad,” she says almost nonchalantly.
“Ugh! I’m desperate to see him alone, and seeing him but not being able to touch him or to do anything that might give us away is hard. Not to mention, all these girls hanging all over him is making me crazy, and Jack seems to be everywhere under foot all the sudden, which is even more maddening. Oh, I need to end this. I can’t keep doing this,” you whine.
“Listen to me, we are just gonna go upstairs and hang out with everyone just like normal, okay? And we’ll try to get you two alone at some point. I’ll talk to Jerry, okay?” Sandy says, grabbing you by the shoulders. “I’ve got your back.”
“Thanks, babe,” you sigh. “I’m fine, really.”’
Sandy side-eyes you as you both head up to the top floor.
The guys have procured yet another gaggle of women and a few men to join the party tonight. Jack has planted himself next to you, uncharacteristically putting his arm around you. Surprised, you try not to stiffen, reminding yourself that this is your husband and it’s totally normal for him to put his arm around you, but it feels more possessive than affectionate. Or maybe you are just imagining it.
You busy yourself making small talk as you all wait for Elvis to appear. When he does, freshly washed, the smell wafts over you, reminding you of your most recent escapades in the shower. You flush a little at that, hiding your face by taking a drink.
Elvis glances at you only momentarily as he enters. He seems a little off, you think, a little edgy, as he commands the room and finds a seat amongst the girls. Your jaw tenses as they fawn and fall all over him, and he flirts back as though he can’t help it. This makes you insane to watch for the third night in a row. All you can think about is his hands on someone else the way you want them to be on you.
And the more you want Elvis’ hands on you, you instead get Jack’s, which seem to be gripping you at all times in some way. Over your shoulder, on your knee, on your hand…you’re trapped in this tortuous hellscape where you would do anything to get him to stop touching you, but you can’t, you can’t without it giving yourself away.
You are equally trapped as you watch your lover give his attention to everyone but you. Every time Elvis laughs or smiles or his eyes sparkle flirtatiously, or if he touches one of them or when they touch him, you want to launch right out of your chair at him.
He wants them, you think. That’s why he hasn’t seen you the last few days. He’s been with other women.
The thought drips like poison into your heart, twisting it, filling you with anger and sadness.
Why would he want you when he can have any pretty young thing? No one wants you. No one chooses you. It drips again, icy and brutal.
All of it goes on for what feels like an eternity, and you want to scream, to cry, to escape, but you’ve made this bed and now are being forced to lie in it. It’s your punishment for all your misdeeds, you think. But your stomach is rolling with an ever-growing fury at Jack, at Elvis, at those girls, at yourself, and you start to squirm in your seat.
Finally, your jealousy gets the better of you. If Elvis won’t pay attention to you, then you’ll find someone else who will. It makes the most sense that it’s your husband, of course, who is already strangely attached to you tonight, so you bite your tongue and force yourself to return his affections instead of shirking from them. You lean into him, you put your hands on him, on his chest, his arm, his leg. You pretend it was like it was years ago, when you still both wanted each other more than anything. You throw yourself into the act because it takes your mind off the women across the room.
Jack is surprised, you can tell, but he’s not too far gone into the bottle and soon is returning your affections, pecking at your cheek and neck. After a while, when he whispers in your ear that he wants you, part of you is exhilarated, powerful, because finally your husband wants you again.
It’s in that moment when Elvis’ eyes find yours for only the second time since you’ve been here, those intense blues locking on as Jack’s breath tickles your ear. Elvis’ gaze darkens dangerously, and you watch his jaw clench as he watches you and Jack. And when Jack takes your hand, pulling you off the couch, you feel Elvis’ eyes burning holes into your back.
Finally, is all you can think. Finally, the men in your life are paying attention.
You are so wrapped up in this game, in your anger and your jealousy, that when Jack yanks you into the bathroom and locks the door behind him, you aren’t even upset about it. You want to be disgusted at him (and you are—you still hate him for what he’s put you through), but in this moment, he only has eyes for you and that’s all you want right now, even if it is misguided. Even if the love isn’t there like it’s supposed to be.
When he kisses you with his whisky-tinged breath, it almost feels like he cares. When he gropes you and touches your body in the places he thinks he knows will turn you on, you pretend that it does. You let yourself get swept into a fantasy, into the act, because at least it’s something to chase away all the terrible things you’ve done and all the terrible thoughts in your head.
When you grab at the straining erection in his pants, the heat of him burning into your palm, and hear his gasping moans in your ear, you feel powerful. As you sink to your knees, you relish the look of lust and surprise in your husband’s eyes, and it’s enough to keep you going, even though part of you is appalled. You take him into your mouth, closing your eyes, wishing he was someone else. Jack twists his hand in your hair as he leans against the counter, slack jawed, and you know this won’t take long. It makes it bearable. You’ve known him long enough to know exactly what to do: how to lick, where to touch, the noises you need to make. And you relish in the control you have as he comes undone in record time.
Jack is still gasping for breath when you stand, spitting what he left in your mouth in the sink and washing your mouth out. He grabs at your ass, panting, “Jesus, treasure, what’s got into you? That was fuckin’ hot.”
You shrug coyly at him in the mirror. “I gotta pee, sweetie,” you say, shooing him out, wanting him away from you. More than anything, you want to be alone to simmer in your anger and revulsion.
“Mmm, okay. Thanks, babe,” he hums, still obviously refracting, drunk on you rather than whisky for once. He kisses your cheek sloppily before zipping up and heading out. It doesn’t escape you that he didn’t even make an attempt to get you off. Not that he could, but it figures.
You look at yourself in the mirror, hair askew and cheeks red, eyes blazing. This is the woman I’ve become, you think bitterly. I’m either fucking my lover with my husband in the next room, or I’m sucking off my husband with my lover in the next room.
It leaves a bitter taste in your mouth. You don’t recognize yourself anymore. You ache for Elvis, but you cover it with anger and jealousy and fear. You hate Jack for what he’s done to you, yet you fall into him and use him the first chance you get.
Rooting around in the drawers, you find some toothpaste and swish it around in your mouth, hoping, wanting to get the taste of Jack, the taste of your own bitterness out. You wash your hands and comb your hair, wondering if this was enough, if you can go back out there at watch Elvis with those women and not die a little inside.
Knock, knock.
The insistent rap on the door startles the hell out of you and you jump. “One second!” you shout with one last look in the mirror. You open the door quickly, not wanting to keep whoever is waiting, and walk out.
And you run smack into Elvis’ chest. You don’t even need to look up to know it’s him—at this point you know his physique and his scent anywhere. A little yelp escapes your lips, and you feel the heat, the anger rolling off him in waves. You gulp, raising your eyes to his and they are as hard and dark as you’ve ever seen them. Your heart jumps into your throat as he grabs you by the arm and yanks you across the hall, throwing you into his bedroom and slamming the door behind so hard that the wall shakes.
You stumble for a second in your heels but recover quickly, turning to face him. Elvis is furious, in that terrifying way you’ve seen before, nearly blacked out with rage. You can see him barely holding on, gripping to a sliver of sanity as he faces you, chest heaving.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doin’?” he seethes, his hands fisted and jaw clenching and unclenching, black hair tumbling over his forehead.
Your heart sprints in your chest and you unconsciously step backwards before you catch yourself and stop, lifting your chin at him. “I don’t know what you mean,” you say almost haughtily.
“The fuck you don’t,” he says, advancing on you. You scurry back again, putting the large couch in between the two of you. “You think I didn’t notice the way he was all over you and how you were all over him out there for everyone to see?? You think I didn’t know what was goin’ on when you left?? You think I didn’t see his fuckin’ face comin’ back into the room, grinnin’ like an idiot?!” he screams, grabbing a bottle of water off the coffee table and hurling into the wall.
You flinch as the bottle explodes, glass tinkling down to the floor. “Elvis, stop it! Calm down, everyone can hear you!” you hiss, trying to knock some sense into him, but he’s way beyond that.
“I don’t give a shit!” he yells. “How could you fuckin’ do that?” The rage and the hurt you see in his blacked-out eyes is more than you ever expected and tugs at your heart. But you are still furious in your own right, furious at him for this display, furious at the whole situation.
“How could I do what, E? What? Be with my husband? My husband? Or have you forgotten since the stunt you pulled the other day in the bathroom that I have one?” you throw back at him, “That I have to go back to my room every night to him, pretending like everything is fine? Did you forget that?”
You’re not even sure if he hears you with how gone he is. He rounds the couch, coming for you. Scrambling back, you find that you have nowhere to go, your back is against the wall. Reaching you, he grabs your face in his large hands, his intense eyes drilling into you. “I don’t ever want to see you looking at another man, touching another man. I’m a really jealous motherfucker, y/n. And I don’t ever, ever, ever want you to be with another man, I don’t care who he is. I want to know that you’re mine and all mine,” he heaves.
“Are you kidding me?” you say, wrenching out of his grasp. “How can you demand that of me when you know it’s not possible? I have to keep up the pretense of my marriage! And you think I don’t know that you’ve been with other women? It’s been three days, Elvis, I’m not an idiot!” He looks at you with a mix of dumbfounded innocence and rage. “Oh, don’t look at me like that. Maybe it was the girl in your lap just now or the one kissing you that gave it away!”
Elvis growls, shaking his head, staring down at you with those endless eyes. “You’re just fuckin’ jealous. You’re so jealous you went and fucked your husband in my bathroom to get my attention, is that it?” He slams his hand on the wall next to your head, but you refuse to react.
You know you shouldn’t say it, but he’s right and you know it. You did do it to get his attention, and now you have it. “No, baby, I didn’t fuck him. I just sucked him off and spit him out,” you say demurely, cutting, batting your eyes at him, knowing and not caring how awful you’re being.
The way his eyes widen betrays his shock, but he covers it quickly as they narrow. You wonder for a moment if you should be truly afraid because you have pushed him too far, but you almost don’t care. Part of you wants him to feel all of this, a fraction of the tumultuousness that you’ve been feeling for the last week.
“Hmmm…,” he hums, then clicks his mouth. His eyes are black and blazing as they pass over your body. This stillness is almost more frightening than the shouting. You shiver, trembling, but it’s just as much from your own anger as from his, and you can feel the fury laced with something else entirely. You refuse to back down or look away.
~
“You goddamn fuckin’ little brat,” Elvis finally snarls and yanks you with him to the couch. He slams down and pulls you over his knees, and suddenly, a memory from a long time ago flashes in your brain, one you had entirely pushed out of your mind. You choke on it as it floods back to you, knowing he must remember, too, knowing that everything is quite different this time around.
You gasp when Elvis pulls up your dress and yanks down your panties, the cold air of the room hitting your most sensitive areas. “Elvis! Elvis, don’t you dare, don’t you even--!” you shriek, writhing in his lap, not knowing if your words are protests or encouragements at this point.
When his open palm slaps your ass, the sound reverberates through the suite, the sting radiating down your thighs and sending water into your eyes. You gasp again, more from surprise than anything. Surprise that while it smarts, it doesn’t feel bad.
“Elvis,” you breathe out, wriggling in his lap.
He holds you to him. “Oh, don’t you ‘Elvis’ me. You’ve been an obstinate, naughty lil’ brat, and I ain’t havin’ it,” he says through gritted teeth before bringing his hand biting down onto the other cheek.
You hold back your cry, digging your nails into his thigh instead, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of a big reaction. Beyond the sting, you feel heat gathering in your belly, but you don’t want him to know that either.
“Seems ya need a lesson or two about how to behave, now don’tcha, you naughty lil’ girl?” he seethes, laced with a sneer. He brings down his hand again, and this time you can’t hold back the sound that emanates from your throat, a whiny moan.
“Ah, that’s what I thought,” Elvis purrs wickedly, rubbing your stinging skin with his fingers. You are completely at his mercy now, your frustrations unravelling under his touch. You buck in his lap, needing more, needing him to ease your toxic thoughts.
“Hmm, you like rilin’ me up? Like gettin’ me all worked up and jealous, huh?” He smacks your ass again, this time his fingers grazing your core. You moan fully now, unable and unwilling to contain it, tears running down your face, your heat building in the most confounding of ways.
“Answer me—didja pull that lil’ stunt on purpose, baby?” he asks, his hand reverberating on you again.
“Y-yes,” you breathe out.
“Yes, what?” he pushes, palming your ass, leaning down towards your ear, his breath hot.
It takes you a second in your haze to piece together what exactly Elvis wants, and once you do, it sends a delectable shiver down your spine. Once again, he never ceases to amaze you in how he can bring out pleasure in you that you never knew you craved or needed.
“Yes, Daddy,” you whine.
You hear him choke back a groan at that and next to your arm, you feel a twitch in his pants. You can’t help but smile.
“You wanted my attention, and now you’re gettin’ it, honey. Is that what you want?” he says, heat leeching from his voice.
“Yes, Daddy,” you breathe again.
He brings his hand down one more time with a grunt, and you cry out in pleasure and pain, ass raw but you are somehow feeling a release that you didn’t know you needed.
~
“Look at you, baby,” Elvis says, somewhere between pride and surprise, running a finger through your folds, which unbeknownst to you are dripping wet. You bite your lip at the contact, sucking a breath in. You want him to touch you, but instead he pulls you up to face him. You hiss at the feeling of your raw ass hitting the backs of your heels as you kneel on the sofa.
He takes your chin in his hand, forcing you to look at him, tears staining your cheeks. “I need ya to look at me, honey,” he orders. You do. His eyes are still dark, but his fury has been tempered by lust.
“You been waitin’ eight long years for me to do that, haven’t ya?” he murmurs. Of course, he remembers exactly how long it’s been.
Your heart flutters and you nod, admitting to yourself that it may have crossed your mind once or twice, in your most secret moments.
“Ain’t nobody else touched you like that, baby?” The way he asks it is almost laced with hope, hope that this is something of you that only he gets to have.
“Never,” you whisper, shaking your head, his hand still gripping your chin.
“Only me, huh? Good girl,” he says, pleased. He lets go of your chin, wiping the tears off your face with his thumb. Then he looks in your eyes.
“I need you to be truthful with me now, baby, yeah? Don’t just tell me what you think I want to hear. Do you want me to keep bein’ rough with ya? Are ya likin’ that? Because if you don’t, I’m gonna stop,” he asks, voice real low.
You appreciate him pausing long enough to ask you and you consider him for a moment, though it doesn’t take long. “Yes, I like it,” you say, surprising yourself with the truth of it.
That dark look flashes over Elvis’ face again, and it sends a thrill right through you.
“Okay, but you tell me if you need me to stop, promise?”
“Promise.”
“Good, cuz I don’t think you’ve learned your lesson yet and I’m still fuckin’ pissed,” he growls. Your heart plummets into your belly with excitement as you watch the sweetness drain from his eyes, replaced by his fervent anger from earlier.
And you smile.
**
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pinkykats-place · 5 days
Text
Bungo Stray Dogs BL Fic Recs
Archive of our own
Tumblr media
Disclaimers!
None of the stories linked are mine.
Some contain mature content.
Read tags. Check Ratings.
GIF not mine.
Note: If you read any of these stories and like them please let the author know with a kudos and/or comment!
Dragonfruit by CheeseSandwjch
Summary: Akutagawa shows up at Atsushi’s house injured from a mission; Atsushi takes care of him.
{One Shot}
Rated - Teen & Up
Of Pinot and Patience by ChaoticQuill
Summary: In the morning hours after a night with Dazai, Chuuya finds himself addled by doubts that he'll be left behind again. Dazai, in an uncharacteristic move, offers to be patient.
— — —
Or: Chuuya worries Dazai is going to leave him, and they decide not to have sex again until Chuuya has overcome those doubts. Hilarity ensues.
{One Shot}
Rated - Explicit
I'll call your name by caramelt
Summary: “Of all places to discuss the case,” Atsushi said as they made their way back to the busy crowd, voice getting louder with every step as he fought to compete with the noise around them. He had finished his chazuke not long ago. “Why a summer festival?”
“Has it not occurred to you that I'm taking you out on a date?”
Oh. Oh.
 — — —
Basically Akutagawa and Atsushi get together fluff.
{One Shot}
Rated - Teen & Up
I Love You (deeply) by SapphireSunstone
Summary: Akutagawa almost wishes he hadn’t heard it.
He wishes that there wasn’t another figure pressed up against him underneath his own bedsheets. Wishes that he hadn’t invited Atsushi to stay for the night when he realised how dark it had gotten. Wishes he hadn’t opened the door when the were-tiger had knocked.
Because now he has to deal with this.
{One Shot}
Rated - General Audiences
With the Warmth of Your Arms, you Saved Me by Glenraven
Summary: Atsushi sputtered, eyes widened and cheeks red. Ryuu could practically watch his brain malfunctioning at the nickname. Since he was still wearing his shirt, he summoned a few tendrils of Rashoumon and had them wrap loosely around Atsushi’s wrists.
“Can you keep them there for me, sweetie?” he smiled. “I need the use of both my hands to worship you.”
Atsushi simply nodded, tugging lightly at the restraints to test their give. He could have easily ripped through them, but Ryuu knew that he liked the resistance and needed the reminder. He tended to have trouble keeping his hands off of Ryuu, and though Ryuu preened at being so irresistible, sometimes he really did like his dessert to sit quietly.
_______
Ryuu makes it very clear to Atsushi how much he treasures him.
{One Shot}
Rated - Explicit
Unexpected Heat by Princess_Cherry
Summary: Akutagawa almost never even got his heat, Mori and Yosano agree that the cause is a combination of his sickness and his malnutrition as a child, his body couldn’t afford to have his heat often but once in a blue moon he got his heat and no one was ever ready for it
———————-
In which Akutagawa goes into unexpected heat and his mates need to be there for him.
One Shot | OmegaVerse
Rated - Explicit
Love to spare by Princess_Cherry
Summary: Dazai smiled, he felt blessed to have these three people in his life.
He really had love to spare. 
— — —
In which Akutagawa, Atsushi, Chuuya and Dazai celebrate their 2nd anniversary, it starts wholesome but quickly turns steamy.
{One Shot}
Rated - Explicit
Pretty Kitty by scribespirare
Summary: Certain things make Atsushi...well, lose control, so to speak.
{One Shot}
Rated - Explicit
electric by quitepossiblyjanuary
Summary: They're always a little sloppy, but it's one of Atsushi's favorite parts about them, that messiness. He loves the feeling of Akutagawa's nose squished up against his face, changing every few minutes because Akutagawa likes to tilt his head this way and that, testing which angle is best for sliding his tongue against Atsushi's lips. He loves the feeling of Akutagawa's lips slipping and catching on his chin, his cheeks, as they blindly move their mouths against each other, eyes closed and too happy to care about neatness.
{One Shot}
Rated - Explicit
Something, Somehow by the_cricket
Summary: Atsushi doesn't meet Dazai by the river, and he doesn't join the agency. He saves himself from starving and figures out how to live, but he still ends up involved with both the Port Mafia and the ADA. Also, it's silly.
Complete | 3 Chapters
Rated - General Audiences
Be Good by orphan_account
Summary: It came out more or less by accident.
--------
“Are you okay, Ryuu?” Atsushi’s concerned voice finally broke the silence that had descended on the table.
“Oh I think Ryuu is much better than okay,” Dazai answered for him, glancing at Atsushi out of the corner of his eye before returning his attention to the man in front of him. “Could it be that our little Ryuunosuke likes it when we tell him just how good he is?”
{One Shot}
Rated - Explicit
Hidden Colors by we_burnin_shit_yo
Summary: Atsushi brings in a pouch of fingernail polishes and Chuuya proceeds to do their nails while Dazai and Akutagawa hang out in the kitchen for food before joining their boyfriends which results in a fluffy polysoukoku evening.
{One Shot}
Rated - n/a
24 notes · View notes
familyvideostevie · 2 years
Note
hi !! can i make a request for domestic fluff with our stevie boy. i’m craving it so bad rn, literally anything from like waking up in the morning with him after moving in together to doing household chores with him - i just NEED.
also just a quick like, thank you for putting your time into this blog, i love your writing so much i think you and upsidedownwithsteve are like my top two writers for steve on this app, i cannot get enough. i dabble in writing here and there but my adhd never lets me finish my wip’s but going through and reading both of your blogs always gets me in the writing mood and i’m pretty sure you guys are the reason i’ve improved too if im being honest. anyways sorry for rambling lolz, just wanted to thank you and praise you for your work bc it’s actually amazing and im love with it <333
wow!! you are so kind to say all of those nice things!!!! <3 u r wonderful. i loooooove this idea, too! thank you for your patience <3 i just wanted to get it right, so here is folding laundry w steve! | 1.2k, fluff fluff fluff, fem!reader
Chore days with Steve are maybe your favorite days. The small apartment you're renting takes quite a bit of elbow grease to keep clean, so you tend to split up the responsibilities and tackle it all at once. Today Steve is cleaning the floors and on kitchen duty while you're handling the bathroom, dusting, and the laundry.
You've hardly seen him -- most of the morning has been you yelling back and forth from different rooms when you sneeze and he says bless you, and singing along to the radio. Every time you pass each other in the hallway Steve pauses to kiss you quick and hard, delighted as if he had no idea you'd be there.
"What're you doing here looking so pretty?" he says. "Unbelievable." In short, your chore days are full of laughter and love. After the bathroom has been scrubbed and the kitchen has been wiped and there's no more dust and Stave has swept and mopped and you've helped him vacuum you find yourself on the floor of your small living room with the basket of fresh, unfolded laundry, just waiting for him.
Okay, this is actually your favorite part: folding the laundry together. Even when Steve does the wash when you're at work or you do it in the middle of the week you both save the folding until you're together. Even if it causes some wrinkles, but who cares -- you just love to sit on the floor and talk while you do it.
"Are you waiting for me?" Steve says, folding the chord of the vacuum and shoving it into the small hall closet.
"'Course I am. But no rush."
"I've been looking forward to this all day, baby. Nothing hotter than pairing up your socks." He grins at you as he fights with the door, giving it a shove that's a little harder than necessary in his need to be on the floor with you.
"Yeah, since you just end up stealing so many of them!" He winks at you and you laugh.
"Shit, I'm so hungry." He plops down on the other side of the basket, the pile of clothes between you as he reaches for a shirt of yours and starts folding. "Cleaning is hard work."
"You say that every time we have chore day, Steve." He smirks and starts to tell you about something Robin did at work this week. Obviously talking to him is great, but you love this routine because you get to just look at him for most of it. Steve looks divine, as always, tired but happy, glowing in the afternoon light of your home. Your chest is a mess of fondness and warmth, your happiness so strong you think it must be shining out of you like sunbeams. Your fingers brush every once in a while and your cheeks heat like it's the first time. Steve wiggles his eyebrows at you whenever he finds a pair of your underwear or a bra, but he folds them tenderly the way you like even as you roll your eyes at him.
It's just laundry, but it's peaceful, it's soft, and it's your life. You're folding clothes that belong to the boy you love in the home you have together. Sometimes it feels like a dream.
"I was serious about being hungry. What do you want for dinner?" Steve asks when you reach the bottom of the basket.
"Well, I don't want us to ruin the spotless kitchen you worked so hard on." You finish off the last pair of socks -- Steve's, with cats on them.
"We could go for a drive and get some burgers. And maybe milkshakes?" He stands and stretches, the soft skin of his stomach and the dark trail of hair exposed. You don't even pretend you aren't staring. He catches you and looks down at himself. "We should probably change first."
He's in mismatched socks and boxers and a t-shirt that's been shrunk and is a little too short for him. You love him so much.
"No, I like you like that."
"Oh, you do, do you? Like me with my belly button out? I see how it is."
"I mean, I look like I got dressed in the dark." Steve reaches down to pull you up, spreading your arms over the laundry basket to look at your outfit. You're in pj pants and a t-shirt that was clearly a gas station buy -- you think Robin bought it and Steve stole it -- and no socks at all. He's looking at you like you're magic.
"Don't even get me started on how you look," he says, his voice deep and gravelly, bright eyes trailing over you. You never feel more beautiful, more wanted, more loved, than when Steve is looking at you.
"Well, good thing we have all these clean clothes," you say, pulling your hands from his to grab a pair of jeans from one of the piles for him. "Put these on. They make your ass look good. Keep the shirt, though." He flushes, flicking his hair back as he takes the Levi's from you.
"My ass always looks good!" He's pouting and you want to kiss him. You just laugh, even though he's right. He snags a pair of jean shorts for you and hands them over before he pulls on his own pants. You shed your bottoms right there in the living room and tug on the clean ones. You can feel his eyes on you the entire time, a gaze you're used to and crave even though as makes you shiver.
"Eyes to yourself, Harrington," you say sternly. "I want a burger and you will not get in my way."
"You sure about that?" He steps around the empty basket and over the piles of folded clothes to slide his palms into your back pockets. "Standing there in a shirt that's probably mine --"
"I think it's Robin's actually, Steve," you interrupt.
"--and taking your pants off in front of me?" he continues over you. "It's like you're trying to seduce me. In my own home!"
"Well, is it working?"
"It's always working, baby." You slide your hands onto his exposed midriff and feel his warm skin, the edges of the scars he no longer hides. Steve leans in to kiss you and you're smiling so wide, unable to contain the happiness. It feels impossible that you're going to spend the rest of your life this happy.
"Food, Steve!" you say against his mouth. He pulls away, a thumb coming to brush against your lower lip.
"Yeah, yeah. There are like, a million dirty things I could say right now, you know?"
"I'm sure there are, baby," you say, patting his cheek. "C'mon." You extract yourself from his hold to put your shoes on, leaving the laundry to be put away for when you're back.
"Hey," Steve says, grabbing his keys and sliding into his sneakers. He just looks at you for a second, face soft and his lips quirked into a small smile. "I love you."
"Hey," you say. "I love you back."
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