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slut4thebroken · 8 months

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Favorite Toy

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Pairing | Jonathan Crane x dom!reader

Summary | Jon just can’t control himself when it comes to you, but you always make sure he cleans up after himself when you’re finished.

Warnings | 18+, smut, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, degradation, praise, objectification, cream pie, cunnilingus, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, come eating, he’s a whore but he’s our whore, dom!reader is so mean and we love it, fluff, aftercare, sub space, a lil bit of soft dom!reader at the end

Words | 2.8 k

Notes | I don’t remember what I saw that inspired me to write this but… god bless whatever that was 🙏🏻 I might edit this again later lol

Ao3 link | <3

Masterlist

“Oh god- please.” He moaned into the kiss, grabbing your hips tightly. You continued grinding on him and pulling his hair, not responding to his plea yet. “Please… fuck.”

Mostly for your own sake rather than his, you relented. You removed his clothes and your own quickly, then placed your hands on his chest as you kneeled over his hips. He let out a choked moan when you sunk down on his cock and you bit your lip to keep your sounds to a minimum. You stared down at him, admiring his flushed cheeks and red lips that were wet from the kiss.

“That feel good?”

“Yes— oh god, yes. Please,” He said through a breath, whimpering and trying to grind his hips up into you.

You lifted your hips slowly, then lowered them just as slow. After only two more thrusts, his eyes squeezed shut and he threw his head back with a low moan, making you freeze. You could feel his cock twitching inside of you and the heat of his come against your walls.

“Hnngh- no.. no, please.” He whimpered, trying to get the stimulation back.

“Did you just fucking come?” You asked, almost in disbelief, once his body sagged into the bed and he started panting as he calmed down.

“I’m sorry- I’m sorry, I— Normally I can last longer.” He defended, cheeks burning even redder now. “I- I can eat you out? To make you come. Please?” You let out a loud laugh, making his brows furrow.

“Oh, angel… you don’t think we’re done do you?”

“W-” Before he could even get the word out, you were continuing, fucking yourself on his length, making him choke out moans and whimpers. “Fuck— fuck, wait… Please,”

“Save it. If you didn’t want to be overstimulated, you shouldn’t have come only a few seconds after getting this pathetic fucking dick in my cunt.” You spat, making him groan. “I don’t care if it’s too much. I’m going to fuck myself with my dildo until I come and you’re going to thank me for using you instead of my other toys.”

“Fuck,” He gasped out, fingers gripping your hips hard enough to bruise, but not controlling your movements. “Oh god— thank you.” He whimpered, face scrunched up in painful pleasure.

“I’m not convinced. Should I go get another toy?”

“No! No- I’m sorry. Thank you— Thank you for using me.” He cried, staring up at you with wide, pleading eyes.

“That’s more like it.” You cupped his cheek, running your thumb over his swollen lips, then suddenly jerked your hand back and smacked him across the face. His head turned from the impact as a loud moan escaped his lips.

“I can’t believe you fuck like a goddamn virgin.” You spat, wrapping your hand around his neck and squeezing. “Is my pussy too much for you, baby? Can you not take it?” You cooed mockingly, making him whine.

“N-no I… I can take it. Please, I can take it, I promise.” He whimpered, eyes welling with tears of desperation and overstimulation.

“Hm… I guess we’ll see then, won’t we?” Your hips started more of a rocking motion as you leaned back up, releasing his neck to steady yourself with a hand on the headboard. “Well don’t just lay there like a fucking pillow princess. Rub my clit, play with my nipples, do something.”

“Sorry— I’m sorry.” He decided to do both, one hand reaching down to rub firm circles over your clit and the other rolling your nipple between his fingers. When that wasn’t enough he snaked his hand around to your back and pulled you down, his head meeting halfway so he could suck your nipple into his mouth.

“Good boy.” He whimpered against you, then kissed his way to the other one to give it the same treatment. “This is why you’re my favorite toy, baby. You do exactly what your purpose is— make me feel good. Sure you can get a little eager and come embarrassingly fast but the pros definitely outweigh the cons.” He whined at the subtle degradation, but you could feel his cock twitch against your walls.

“Don’t tell me you’re about to come again?” You scoffed in mock disbelief, making him lean up even more so he could bury his face in the crook of your neck and trail kisses across it. “Awe, honey… Are you getting a little shy?” You cooed, running your fingers through his hair. “Don’t be. I think it’s cute— reminds me of how desperate I can make you.” You chuckled, making him whine.

“Go ahead then. Make another fucking mess— but just know, you will be cleaning it up later.” He let out a strangled whimper as his whole body stiffened, then started twitching and spasming. “There you go, just get it all out, darling.” You cradled his head and slowed your hips to a stop when his orgasm finally faded. “You make the cutest little whimpers when you come.” His cock twitched inside you again, making him release a pained whine.

“But let’s see now… That was two orgasms for you, and how many for me again? Oh that’s right. Zero. All because you’re a greedy little slut who can't wait longer than a few minutes before coming.” You spat, roughly pulling on his hair to move him away from your body so you could see him. “Fucking pathetic. First I have to do all the work, then you can’t even make me come.”

“No- no… ‘m sorry.” He mumbled. Of course he’s already worn out before you’ve even started.

“God— look at you.” You took his cheeks in one hand and turned his face side to side, examining him. “So fucked out already. You getting tired, baby?”

“No… ‘m awake.”

“If you’re not, you will be soon.” You started riding him again, chasing your own orgasm now. You threw your head back with a low groan, listening to his pained moans and whimpers. “I can’t believe a cock this good is attached to a pathetic little boy who can’t control himself. It’s a shame really.” He let out a choked sob and despite the fact that he was all but begging you to stop, he still continued rubbing your clit, bringing you closer to the edge.

“But it’s okay. I know how to handle bitches like you; just ignore them. Let them whine and beg and tire themselves out until you have a pliant, fucked out toy. I can tell you’re almost there, baby. Just let go.” He whined and squirmed, tears of humiliation and overstimulation brimming in his eyes, making the pale blue all the more beautiful. “I know all you want is to be my good boy, so just let go.” You whispered, gaze trailing all over his face, from his flushed cheeks to his red, swollen lips. “You can do it, angel. I’m right here— I got you. Just let go for me.” He let out one last pathetic whimper as a tear rolled down his temple into his hair. His bottom lip was trembling now and you leaned down to give him a soft kiss.

“There you go. I’m so proud of you, honey. Just let me make us both feel good, yeah?” He bit his lip and nodded slowly, making the corners of your lips turn up.

“Think you can come one more time?” He whimpered and averted his gaze, and for a second you almost thought he was about to say no or the safe word.

“Yes.” He whispered instead, making your heart flutter.

“Good boy. You’re so good for me.” You cupped his face, running your thumb over his cheek bone. “I know you can’t help it, baby. It makes me feel so good though, knowing how much you like it.”

“‘m sorry.” He whimpered.

“I know, angel. It’s okay. Make me come and I’ll forgive you, okay?” He nodded and you gave him a warm smile in return. Your breath caught in your throat and your hips stuttered when he rubbed your clit faster and harder. “That’s it.” You said through a breath. “Just like that.”

You could feel yourself nearing the edge, so you forced yourself to continue even though your legs were starting to burn. When his pained moans turned into desperate whimpers, you knew he was close too. Trailing a hand down his chest, you brushed your fingers over his nipple, then pinched lightly, making his back arch into your touch as he let out a choked moan.

“Oh god—“ He whined, more tears falling. “Fuck, I- I’m close…” He whispered.

“Yeah? Keep it up, angel— doing so good for me, I’m almost there.”

“God- it hurts.” He whimpered, body conflicted on whether it wanted more or less of the stimulation. You released his nipple and slowed into a rocking motion, making him whine.

“What’s your color?” You asked softly, just wanting to be sure. His brows furrowed as his hips squirmed under yours.

“Green…” He muttered, cheeks flushing. You brushed his hair out of his face a little more and he closed his eyes at the gentle touch.

“Tell me the second it changes, okay?”

“I will.” You could tell he was getting needy again after being so close to another orgasm. You suddenly picked up the pace and started bouncing up and down, making him throw his head back with a strangled moan. When you rested your hands on his chest for extra support, his free hand shot up to hold your arm, so you grabbed his hand and intertwined your fingers before pinning it to the bed.

“Please.. Want you to come.” He whined, rubbing your clit impossibly faster.

“I will, baby. Almost there.” You said through a breath. He stared up at you with half lidded, glossy eyes, his lips parted in a silent moan as his chest heaved. “You look so perfect like this.” You whispered, making his already flushed cheeks turn even redder. “My pretty boy.” He whined and gripped your hand tighter in response.

If the feeling of hot come hitting your walls wasn’t enough of an indication, his eyes squeezing shut and the long, strangled whine he let out made it obvious. His fingers on your clit faltered, but quickly picked up again once his orgasm started to fade.

While part of you wanted to edge yourself and keep torturing him, you couldn’t hold back at the sound of his pained whimpers, so you let yourself fall over the edge. It was hard to keep up the movement of your hips through your orgasm, but he maintained steady pressure on your clit, letting you ride it out.

“Fuck, good boy.” You groaned, dragging your nails down his chest as your other hand tightened around his. His breath hitched at the sting, but you could feel his cock twitch nonetheless. You panted as you calmed down, needing to bat his hand away from your clit once you got too sensitive.

“Ready to clean up your mess?” You asked, still breathless. He nodded, staring up at you with wide eyes, wincing when you lifted yourself off his softening cock. You moved quickly, shuffling up his body until your legs were on either side of his head. “Every drop, okay?” He nodded again, then eagerly wrapped his arms around your thighs and pulled you down onto his face. He focused mostly on your hole, licking up your shared arousal and fucking his tongue inside you. When you pulled back, he whined and looked up at you, wondering why you made him stop. You reached down and scooped up some of his come, then sucked it off your finger, making his lips part as his eyes widened.

“Tastes good. Want some?” You asked, even though he was already tasting it. He nodded dumbly and you scooped up some more then put it in your mouth and grabbed his cheeks to keep his mouth open as you leaned over him. He let out a choked moan when you spit his come into his mouth and you could practically feel how warm his cheeks were getting under your hand.

“Swallow.” He whined and averted his gaze, but did what you said. “Good boy.” You lightly hit his cheek then got back into position over his face. He picked up where he left off eagerly and you placed a hand in his hair to hold him against you. Your legs were starting to shake and you desperately needed to stretch your knees, but you didn’t want to stop— not yet.

“Enjoying yourself?” He moaned in agreement, making your hips buck against his face. “Yeah I bet you are. Fucking filthy— lapping up your own come from my pussy like a fucking dog.” He whined and looked up at you with furrowed brows, his eyes becoming glossy with tears. “Isn’t that right, puppy?” The new pet name had him working even more enthusiastically, sucking and licking the come out of you and occasionally giving your clit some attention.

Originally you weren’t planning on coming again, you were just going to have him clean up his mess and that was it. But you forgot how talented he is with his mouth…

“You want me to come on your face?” He released a muffled “yes!” against you, not bothering to pull away just to speak. You suddenly lifted yourself off of him and laid down to give your legs a break, making him look at you like a kicked puppy. “Get to it then.” You said, gesturing to your lower half. He quickly got up and settled between your legs, wrapping his arms around your thighs to hold you as he continued. You sighed and reached down to pet his hair, not yet grabbing it, much to his dismay. You moaned lowly and his eyes snapped up to your face.

“At least you don’t eat pussy like a virgin.” You smirked, watching him avert his gaze. “Don’t be embarrassed, honey, it was a compliment.” It wasn’t really a compliment though, which he seemed to pick up on.

The sound of him slurping up your shared arousal was loud compared to your stifled moans and you let your eyes fall shut as you focused on your impending orgasm. When he started whimpering and whining though, you opened your eyes again, finding his hips grinding against the bed.

“Greedy fucking slut. Trying to come again?” He whined and looked up at you with furrowed brows. You could tell he was trying to stop the movement of his hips. “If you like the taste of your own come this much, maybe I shouldn’t let you come inside me anymore. Maybe I’ll just have you come in a cup so you can drink it instead.” He released a muffled whine as a protest.

“How about this, you make me come in the next 30 seconds, and I’ll let you keep coming inside. Sound fair?” He nodded enthusiastically, making you smirk. “Alright. Clock starts now.” The only reason you gave him this challenge was because you’re already close. You like having him come inside just as much as he does and you’re too hedonistic to deny yourself that pleasure.

He ate you out desperately, bringing you closer and closer to the edge, and you didn’t even bother with counting because you knew you were only seconds away from your orgasm. Tightening your grip on his hair, you pushed him into your cunt, making him whimper. Finally you fell over the edge, letting out a low moan and grinding on his face as you held him close enough to suffocate him. But he didn’t even attempt to protest, not when you were literally coming on his face. Once your orgasm finally started to fade, you pulled him away, making him whine.

“C’mere, pretty boy.” You said softly. He crawled up the bed and laid by your side even though most of his body was on yours anyway. You grabbed a tissue from the nightstand and wiped his face before letting him lay on your chest. “Such a good boy. Made me feel so good.” You cooed and he snuggled into your chest even more as he hugged your torso. You ran your fingers through his hair and he let out a satisfied hum.

“How are you feeling, honey?”

“Good. Deep.” He mumbled. The first time he said that, you didn’t realize that he meant deep into sub space and he had a hard time getting the words out to explain. But now you know that it’s as close as he can get to giving you a heads up about the way he’s feeling.

“Tired?” He hummed in agreement. “Me too.” The exhaustion hit you full force once your orgasm finished and you were just laying down.

“I love you.” He mumbled sleepily, making the corners of your lips turn up as your heart fluttered. You pressed a soft kiss to the top of his head before responding.

“I love you too, angel.”

Taglist

@scarecrow-jon-babe @quietnymph11 @obsessiveimpulses

#jonathan crane #jonathan crane x reader #jonathan crane smut #jonathan crane x reader smut #dom!reader #sub!jon #I want to ruin him #so badly

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midnightsnyx · 8 months

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girl at home | mat barzal | part 2

pairing: mat barzal x fem!reader summary: you’re eighteen when you find yourself pregnant after Mat leaves for hockey. nearly eight years later, Mat finds out about your daughter and you have to deal with the consequences of not telling him about her.

warnings: mentions of pregnancy, lil bit of angst with a sprinkle of fluff and not edited im sorry lol word count: 2.1k authors note: *screams internally* thank you guys so much for the love on this story so far. I was super hesitant to post it at first but I am glad you guys like it! I'm posting this a little early but updates will be every sunday from now on. This chapter is kinda sad but happy times are on the way <3 thanks for the feedback, and if you like part 2, let me know!

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Sitting across from Mat for the first time in almost eight years, doesn’t go exactly as planned. He’s waiting for you even though you arrive fifteen minutes before the agreed time, hoping to rid yourself of the anxiety you are feeling which means he’s been here even longer. So you wipe your sweaty palms on your jeans and stride over to where he’s waiting and sit on the chair across from him. He’s staring at his phone so his head jerks up when he hears you.

The first words that come out of his mouth are: “are you sure she’s mine?”

Which, okay, that’s a fair question because you did tell everybody and their grandmother who asked that Mat was not the one who knocked you up. Of course, nobody actually believed you but there were a few people from your high school that believed it. Most girls who had always had a crush on Mat, would say that you cheated on him and obviously Nora couldn’t be his child because for some reason, they never actually accepted that you and Mat were a couple.

So yeah, his question is fair and you did know he would ask.

“Yeah, we can do a paternity test if you don’t believe me,” you say quietly. It’s not something you necessarily want to do, because then you’d have to come up with some reason to tell Nora why she needs to go get her cheek swabbed or blood tested. She’s as stubborn as Mat, and you would probably have to hold her down to get whatever the doctors needed unless she agreed.

“No, I believe you.”

His words take a huge weight off your shoulders but also replace it with a new one. You know Mat, he’s the kindest soul and has the biggest heart and he’s going to want to at least properly meet Nora and might ask to be in her life. In the first few years of her life, there wouldn’t have been anything you wanted more in the world. However, you’ve grown now and so has she. Your number one priority has to be what is best for Nora, and turning her life upside by introducing her to Mat is scary. For both you and her.

And Mat? Despite what he might think, he’s nowhere near prepared to jump into being her dad.

“Can I ask you something?” he says, pulling you from your spiraling thoughts.

“Sure,” you say even though you know what he’s going to ask. It’s a question you’re nowhere near ready to answer but you have no choice now.

“Why? Why didn’t you tell me about her?”

He doesn’t sound as angry as you were expecting, maybe thanks to his dad talking to him but there’s underlying hurt. You try to put yourself in his shoes, trying to think if there was anything in the world that would have stopped you from wanting Nora. You know for a fact that if Mat knew, he would have been in her life somehow but you’re not sure if he would have given up the NHL to do it, and that’s exactly why you didn’t tell him.

“I didn’t want to hold you back,” you say softly, watching his facial expression change. He just looked confused before but now he looks sad almost. His eyes close for a moment and when he opens them, you feel like you’ve been punched in the stomach.

“I thought you knew me better than that.”

“I did! I do,” you argue. “If you knew about her, it would have kept you away from everything you worked hard for. Your dream was the NHL, Mat. If I told you about her, it would’ve crushed that dream. We didn’t want to hold you back.”

“Yeah,” he scoffs. “Who’s we? You and my parents? You shouldn’t have made that choice for me, it wasn’t right.”

“This is a child we’re talking about Mat. Were you really ready at eighteen to drop everything and raise one?”

“Were you?”

“No,” you say truthfully. “But I didn’t have a jersey with my name on the back waiting for me.”

He doesn’t say anything and for a moment, it’s silent between the two of you with background chatter from the cafe. You’re sure that he’s just going to get up and storm out but he takes a deep breath and slowly exhales, knotting his fingers together.

“I wish you’d told me,” he mumbles before looking up at you. “I would’ve stayed.”

“I know,” you whisper but you can’t meet his gaze.

. . .

You’re picking Nora up from her day camp a couple of days later when you get a message from Mat asking if he can meet up with you. There’s been no contact since the two of you last met, having left with a short goodbye to pick up Nora. He hadn’t asked to see her and you hadn’t offered so you thought maybe he would leave it but you should’ve known better.

You fire off a sure, see you in twenty, and debate on whether to bring Nora with you or drop her off with your mom. Mat might not even want to see her, but if he’s reaching out to you again it’s probably about her.

“Wanna go meet my friend?” you ask, looking back at her to gauge her reaction. She might just want to go home after all day at camp, but she perks up immediately when you ask.

“The one from the grocery store?” she squeals but narrows her eyes and gives you a suspicious look. “Hey, I thought you said he was a stranger.”

Shoot.

“Well, he was to you,” you try to explain. “I knew him when I was younger.”

“As young as me?”

“As young as you,” you tell her and she grins, nodding her head and shouting an excited yes, so you pull out of the parking-lot and start towards Mat’s parents house. You’re a little nervous to be around his family after dancing around them for so long after Nora was born. Meeting up with Liana wasn’t as hard as you were expecting, but you’re not so sure about his parents. Aside from the occasional awkward greeting, you haven’t properly spoken to them since before Nora and you’re starting to think maybe bringing her will just make things worse but before you can change your mind, you’re parking your car in the driveway.

He’s sitting outside on the porch swing when you step out, and his eyes widen in surprise when Nora climbs out of the car. He definitely wasn’t expecting you to bring her but this could be a good test. If he decides he wants to be part of her life, having all their interactions scheduled wouldn’t be a good start so you decide to just jump in the deep end.

“Hey,” you call out before grabbing Nora’s hand and making your way towards him. He’s already making his way down the pathway and meets you about half way, pulling you into a surprising hug before crouching down to Nora’s level.

“Hey Nora,” he says, smiling gently and offering her his hand to shake just like last time. “Do you remember me?”

She bobs her head once, accepting his hand but tries to hide her face in your leg. Of course now, she’s practicing Stranger Danger, instead of blurting out her full name.

“Mom made dinner, if you guys are hungry?”

Family dinner is just about the last thing you want to do but Nora perks up at the idea of food so you agree, following Mat into the all too familiar home you spent so much time in as a kid. Not much has changed, you realize as you look around the foyer. It feels a bit like coming home but you’re not sure if you were missed.

“Smells good,” you say, trying to make conversation and Mat smiles awkwardly.

“Yeah, mom is making your favorite.”

How she can remember your favorite meal is beyond you, but you’re not about to miss a peace offering and this is certainly one.

“My favorite food is spaghetti,” Nora informs him and you watch Mat nod seriously, taking in anything she says. You try not to look too deep into it because even though he knows she’s biologically his, Nora is still just a cute kid talking a mile a minute about anything and Mat has probably been trained on how to handle excited children.

When the three of you make your way to the living room, with Nora still chatting excitedly, you stop short when you see a picture frame on the wall.

It’s you. Well, it’s you and Mat at graduation. Arms wrapped around each other and Mat kissing your forehead. If you look close enough, you can see past your smile and see the sadness in your eyes. This was before you were pregnant but you were already grieving the loss of Mat. He left for hockey shortly after and your only reminder was the brown haired little girl still talking to Mat.

“Is that you, mama?” Nora asks suddenly, standing on the tips of her toes so she can get a better view. Her nose scrunches up and she looks at the photo, then Mat, and then the photo again.

“Oh,” she says and you sigh.

“Let’s go see Mat’s parents.”

Nadia and Mike are waiting in the kitchen, trying to make it seem like they weren’t listening in on the conversation. Liana is sitting at the table, reading a book casually but you know she was probably listening too.

“This is Mike, Nadia, and Liana,” you tell Nora who lights up at Nadia’s name.

“My middle name is Nadia!” She squeals and you stare at the floor, not wanting to meet any of their eyes. Someone - probably Nadia - inhales sharply and then lets out what sounds like a sob.

“That’s a beautiful name,” Liana says and you look up to see her looking at Nora with a soft smile on her face. Mike has an arm wrapped around Nadia who’s trying, and failing, to hide tears. You’re glad Liana is trying to distract Nora because you’re about two seconds away from crying and Mat must be able to tell because you feel his hand lightly touch your back. His hand lingers for a moment until you take a deep breath and blow it out steadily.

Then his hand is gone and you feel the loss right away.

“Hey, we have a swing outside in the backyard,” Mat tells Nora. “Wanna go check it out while dinner finishes cooking?”

He looks at you for permission so you nod, smiling at Nora when he takes her hand and leads her outside. Liana follows shortly after and then it’s just you, Nadia and Mike. Both their eyes are red rimmed and Nadia only hesitates for a moment before striding over and pulling you into a tight hug.

“Thank you, my girl,” she whispers and all you can manage is a nod because you’ll probably cry now if you try to talk. The two of you just stand there for a couple minutes until Mike chuckles. You pull away, wiping your eyes to see him standing in front of the patio door so you make your way over to see what he’s looking at and almost start crying again.

Mat and Nora are playing what looks like a game of tag, Liana laughing at them while trying to film. It’s exactly the kind of thing you had sometimes allowed yourself to imagine.

“Would you look at that,” Mike says softly.

“He’s a natural,” Nadia agrees. “Always was.”

Then she turns to you with a small smile on her face. “I know the struggles of being a mom. You have to do what’s best for your kids…” she hesitates, gazing outside before looking back at you. “He wants to try, if you’ll give him the chance. We’d all love to get to know Nora.”

You would love nothing more than to have Mat’s family in Nora’s life. For her to get to know her other grandparents but you can’t help but be scared of what could happen if you let Mat into her life. She could get attached only to have him ripped away when he has to go back to New York but you can’t have Nora in Nadia, Mike, and Liana’s life and not Mat’s.

But maybe you owe it to Mat, to give him a chance at having a place in her life after not telling him about her all this time. You were doing what you thought was right - what was right - but if Mat really wants to be part of her life, maybe it’s time.

You look outside and see Nora on Mat’s shoulders with Liana chasing them, before looking back at the woman in front of you and smiling softly.

“I think Nora would love that.”

tag list: @dasiysthings

#hockey imagines #allies writing #nhl fanfiction #hockey fanfiction #nhl imagines #hockey imagine #mat barzal x reader #mat barzal imagine #mat barzal fanfiction #mat barzal fluff #mat barzal fic

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f1nalgirlz · 24 days

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least to most likely to have a mommy kink: Rory characters edition!

(not all characters, mostly ones i'm more familiar with to make a proper judgement, clearly i take my job seriously /j also this is purely my opinion and if you disagree that's totally fine :P) The demons in me couldn't rest until i wrote this so :}

Warnings: NSFW, use of mommy (duh), sub!Rory characters, dom!Reader (for the most part), explicit language

Least:

Kappa:

- to be honest i just don't see him being into the whole mommy situation...

- like sure he could be **kind of** submissive at times, but mommy just isn't rolling off the tongue for him.

R!Euro:

- honestly kinda similar to kappa in that, mommy isn't rolling of his tongue particularly easily HOWEVER

- he's definitely further up on the list because i definitely see him subbing easier than Kappa lmao

- he most likely wouldn't use something like 'mommy' though, R!Euro is a 'mistress' man and i'll stand by that (probably)

Ollie Sway:

- he's at this placement for way different reasons than the others lmao

- he'd be wayyyy too shy to bring it up to you despite it being something he could see himself liking

- and if YOU'RE the one too bring it up he's still too embarrassed to voice it's something he might like or be interested in

- would be the type to 'ew' his way out of it simply to avoid any perceived embarrassment about being submissive.

- would come around later (give it 2 days MAX) and admit his feelings when he felt comfortable enough.

- would be totally open to mommy or even other names after coming to terms with his own feelings towards it

Jack Thurlow:

- he would, but not for the same reasons as everyone else

- he has a crazy breeding kink & you cannot tell me otherwise!!

- when he calls you 'mommy' it's almost always condescending or laced with fake sympathy

- when he calls you mommy, it's because he's threatening to make you one

- fucking you so good and saying the filthiest shit ever in your ear with mock sympathy

- "you like that, hm? like it when i fuck you full of my cum? gonna make you a mommy."

(nearing most likely territory here)

Clyde:

- i was torn on who to put in this slot between Clyde and Charlie...

- it's not that Clyde WOULDN'T be into it, he'd just be hesitant

- he has absolutely no problems subbing, but the specific name threw him off a bit at first

- 'mommy' doesn't exactly roll off his tongue with ease regularly yk??

- HOWEVER ,,,

- once you get him pretty deep into subspace, it comes out a lot easier.

- if you're fucking him really good 'mommy' just slips out so easily, he's just not thinking about anything other than how mommy is making him feel in the moment :(((

- the first time he moaned it out, you hardly heard him, it was so soft and quiet.

Charlie Walker:

- he definitely wouldn't be the one to bring it up first but... come on.

- he'd probably be a lil embarrassed about it and it might take quite a bit of encouragement to get him over that little bump of embarrassment

- but after that he *loves* it, not that he'd actually say that.

- he's more of a show how you feel than say it kinda guy.

- surely willing to be such a good boy for mommy <3

- he's literally obsessed with you and would do *anything* for you anyways.

Danny Cooper:

- DUHH !!!!! the subbiest sub to ever sub, you guys

- he's the one who brought it up, extremely shyly i'll add

- once it's been discussed and in action, he's not shy at all though. he's definitely not too shy to moan out for mommy to his hearts content <33

- he thoroughly enjoys calling you mommy, he loves belonging to mommy,

- ESPECIALLY when he's being reminded of how he belongs to mommy !!!

- he adores being mommy's good boy and he is a good boy. the best even.

- when you're fucking him so good he's just a drooly teary eyed mess, and you compliment him, "mommy's baby is so pretty"

- he might just cum on the spot :'))

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moni-logues · 9 months

Text

Practice

Pairing: Namjoon x f. reader

Genre: pwp, smut, established relationship

Summary: Namjoon has a baby niece and it gives you both baby-making thots. Time to get some practice in.

Word count: 2k

Content: unprotected sex (but reader is on birth control); oral sex (f. receiving), lil bit of biting

A/N: I think this was a request? Pretty sure because I don't tend to have baby-making thoughts lmaooo not even for Joon 😂 this has been moderately edited but please forgive any typos lmao I've been belting out ballads as I've been writing whoops

You stared, transfixed, at the tiny, precious bundle in your arms as she yawned widely and shut her eyes. You lowered your head to give hers a big sniff. Who knew what that smell really was? A scent that all brand-new babies shared and no one had yet bottled. Intoxicating.

“God, smell her, Joonie. Isn’t it the best?”

Namjoon did as you instructed and grinned.

“Yeah, it’s pretty good.”

You gently leant back and Joon scooted closer, resting his chin on your shoulder, both staring down at the tiny human in your arms. She was brand new – brand new! not even a week old! – and utterly perfect: enormous dark eyes framed by the thickest, darkest lashes you’d ever seen; podgy little thighs and miniscule fingers curled into the softest little fist. It almost brought you to tears. You couldn’t believe how perfect she was.

You had hoped that his sister bringing new life into the world would have distracted his family from asking you and Joon when you would get your act together and marry… In a way, it had: they just started asking when you would be having kids. His sister and her husband hadn’t been together that much longer than the two of you had, but had somehow made it down the aisle and into the maternity ward already. You and Joon had talked about having kids ‘sometime’, ‘in the future’, ‘when we’re ready’. You had to admit this was accelerating those timelines. You couldn’t help but think about what your baby might look like, what Joon would be like as a dad, what you’d be like as a mum. Your heart clenched at the thought.

“I can’t believe I’m an uncle,” Joon says as you enter your apartment later that evening, kicking off his boots and shedding his puffer coat. “I don’t feel old enough! I’m not grown-up enough to have a niece!”

“Get used to it, old man! This is just the start!” You laughed as you took off your scarf, gloves and hat. “Wasn’t she perfect?”

Namjoon wrapped you in his arms and kissed you lightly. You shivered, maybe from the change in temperature from the cold outside. Maybe.

“She was pretty perfect, but I reckon our babies will be better.”

He kissed you again.

“Oh, our babies, eh? Tell me about them.”

“I think we’ll have three,” he began as he kissed your neck. “Two boys and a girl, boy first. Close together in age so they can be close. Obviously, they’ll have your eyes-”

“And your brain.”

“And your heart.”

He tightened his grip on you and kissed you deeper.

“And when are we expecting these kids to come along?”

He pretended to think about it for a moment.

“Well, the first one probably in about nine months’ time, what do you say?”

He grinned at you and you laughed.

“Wow, one niece and that’s all it takes? Have you thought this through?”

“Ah, we can practise, can’t we? It does make perfect, after all.”

“You’ve got a point.”

Namjoon swiped an arm over the sideboard, shifting keys and bags and wallets onto the floor, and then he lifted you onto it, kissing your shoulder and your neck and your jaw. You hadn’t expected such a reaction from him, hadn’t thought that he’d be the one needy and desperate after an hour in a baby’s company, but you weren’t complaining. Far from.

You grabbed his hair to pull his face to yours and you kissed him hard, taking his bottom lip in your teeth. His hands found their way under your jacket, under your jumper, and he ran a thumb over your nipple, cupping your breast as his tongue tangled with yours. You were quick to pull Namjoon’s hoodie off and quicker to be frustrated by layer after layer of warm clothes. You were burning up all over, the cold outside a long-forgotten memory now. All you could feel was the heat, on your skin, in your core, between your body and his. You were simmering, the flame growing taller, licking across your hips, down your thighs.

Namjoon shiver, finally naked from the waist up, and you kissed the goosebumps rising all over his flesh.

“Maybe we should go to the bedroom,” he laughed.

“What? You mean you don’t want to have sex right by our front door? I mean, I guess we can go to the bedroom, if you really want, if-”

He silenced you with a kiss and picked you up. You kissed his face all over and bit down on the soft flesh of his earlobe as he carried you to the bedroom. When he let you down, you discarded your remaining close with as much haste as you could muster. The sight of his naked body would never get old for you: his strong, thick thighs; perfectly defined V-line; the little happy trail of hair leading to his belly button; his soft, smooth skin; his stiff cock, hot in your hand as you wrapped your fingers around it and pumped.

He grabbed you by the back of the neck and brought your face close to his.

“You know they say you’re more likely to conceive if you have at least one orgasm,” he whispered to you. You chuckled.

“I don’t think we’ll have any problems there, will we?”

Namjoon pushed you onto the bed and leant down from above you. The dark lust in his eyes lightened for a second as he looked at you and he kissed you gently on the lips.

“I love you, really; I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

You kissed him once and then again and then again, each a little less soft than the one before. Because you loved him, because he loved you, because you were so sickly sweet, gooey and soft for each other, but you were also needy now, thirsty, hungry for him. Love was all well and good but you wanted to be fucked.

“Now are you going to make me come or what?”

He laughed and playfully tapped your cheek before offering you a cheeky salute.

“Yes, ma’am.”

He kissed your collar bone as his fingers found your clit. He kissed your breasts as his fingers slipped and curled inside you and his thumb rubbed your swollen bud. His kisses trailed down your stomach and his tongue replaced his thumb against you; he sucked hard as his fingers thrummed and you let yourself go to him, melted into the mattress, limbs heavy and hot.

“Fuck,” you breathed, moaning as his tongue flicked back and across. It surprised you still, every time, how quickly he could turn you to jelly, how easily he could get you off. He knew your every move, every gesture, every twitch, every flush of your skin, every different, little noise you let slip as he worked you over. Practice, he’d said. As if he needed it.

Namjoon removed his fingers briefly and ran his tongue across your entrance. Taking one of your lips in his mouth, he bit lightly and you squirmed.

“Harder,” you panted and you could feel him grin against you. He clamped his teeth harder and his fingers returned to your clit, rubbing your arousal all over, making a mess of you. He trapped it tightly between two fingers and rolled them back and forth. He bit the soft flesh of your inner thigh and hot skin of your mound; he kissed the crease of your hips and pushed your legs open wider. All the while, you could feel the pressure build inside you, you walls spasming and clenching as you neared your climax. You gripped the bedsheets tight as you moaned, pulling hard as the waves rolled through your body.

Namjoon’s mouth was back on your clit, sucking and licking; his fingers back inside you, hooking and curling against you. He held you down as you bucked beneath him, crying out as pleasure overwhelmed you. He didn’t stop, didn’t falter, didn’t stutter as you came all over him, gushing over his hand, clenching his fingers inside you. Unable to utter a coherent string of words, you tapped him on the head for relief. He came up for air, mouth shiny and sticky, and lay a line of sloppy kisses across your stomach and your breasts and your chest.

You pulled his face to yours and kissed him, tasting yourself all over his lips and his tongue.

“Ok,” you said, breathlessly. “Orgasm, check. Time to pretend to make a baby?”

He chuckled, the noise rumbling deep in his chest and kissed you again. He seemed in no rush, but you had never had the patience. You reached between you to take him in your hand again; his tip was slick with pre-cum and your thighs trembled in anticipation of him inside you.

“Imagine, though,” you whispered as he guided himself towards your waiting wings. “If we had a baby-”.

You gasped as he pushed himself inside you, your eyes fluttering shut, your cunt fluttering around him.

“Babe,” he said, his forehead resting against yours, his eyes looking deep into yours when you opened them. He rolled his hips. “Our baby is going to be the best baby there’s ever been.”

You nodded and let your eyes roll back, feeling every contour of him against your tight slip. A baby. Namjoon’s baby. Couldn’t be anything but the best.

“Best baby ever,” you agreed, breathless and whiny. “’Cause you’re the best.”

Namjoon nipped at your earlobe.

“No, ’cause we’re the best.”

“I love you.” The words barely audible as your breath escaped in shallow bursts. “I love you, I love you.”

He lay so close on top of you that your torsos met as he thrust harder and harder, his breath becoming laboured, his groans louder. You whined quietly in his ear and tugged at his hair; you wrapped your legs around him and the two of you moaned in unison when he hit deeper inside you. He lifted himself up on to his hands, looking down at you with half-closed eyes. He wanted to come on your tits, spray himself over your chest and mark you as his own, his and only his, but then he thought about coming inside you, making a baby – even a pretend one – and he felt all his muscles twitch. You were on birth control so it wasn’t as if this was the first time he’d ever come inside you, but it felt different this time. He felt closer to you. He felt like this meant something different. This was something you had done dozens, even hundreds of times, but it was different this time.

“Fuck,” he growled, feeling close to the edge.

He thrust faster, breathing hard, looking down at you: your messy hair, hand over your eyes, mouth agape, your smooth skin and kiss-swollen lips, the mole on your left breast, the tiny scar by your hairline. As the blood roared in his ears, he felt his heart clench, not knowing how it was possible to love one person quite this much. With a sudden shudder, he came, shooting his hot seed inside you, his muscles tight, his jaw clenched.

He fell on top of you, still inside you. You both lay still for a moment, no sound in the air but your breathing, no sound in your ears but the thumping of your heart. You felt hot inside and out, tingling with pleasure and relief.

“I love you,” he whispered, bringing your hand to his lips. With your legs still wrapped tight, you wrapped your arms around him too and kissed his forehead.

“I love you, too, Joonie.”

“That was-…”

“Yeah.”

You patted just above where your uterus rested.

“See you in nine months, mate!”

Namjoon laughed and you felt it in your own chest.

“Maybe next time, it shouldn’t be just for practice.”

He looked at you searchingly. Your heart flipped.

“You want to have a baby with me for real, Joon?”

“I want to have everything with you.”

You shuffled beneath him, bringing your faces closer.

“Ok,” you whispered, your faces so close that your lips touched his as you spoke. “I’ll make an appointment and get my IUD removed.”

Namjoon nodded.

“But does next time have to wait ’til then? ’Cause I’d really like to practise some more.”

Namjoon grinned.

“Well, it does make perfect.”

#namjoon x reader #bts x reader #namjoon fic #namjoon smut #bts smut #bts fic #mmm repost

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nyarlathotep-thecrawlingchaos · 6 months

Text

I did the thing guys

I did another CHAPTER GUYS

I DID IT

Gods I love being able to write on an actual computer again. My glorified typewriter. So happy.

So here we are, chapter two!!!!

My poor socially awkward lil swordsman bb I lub hims

Strawhat Stowaway

Chapter 2

Ch. 1 link

Little bit of hurt/comfort, slow burn, silly, fluffy, will be trigger warnings in later chapters but not this one

Wordcount: 3.2k Taglist thingy that I just had to edit in because I forgot I'm so sorry: @dimplewonie @hearts4zoro @kawennote09

After an alcohol drenched Halloween party at your friends' dorm, you wake up to find yourself in a strange place. This might not be quite as alarming...if not for the fact that it's an entirely different world, enshrouded with pirates and strange magic.

♬♫ Desperate Guy - The Fratellis ♫♬

Hear me now, hear me now, there’s nothing very much I wouldn’t do to catch your eye

And you can’t see me now, see me now, there’s just so many things I’m haunted by

He heard Nami offering to loan you a change of clothes as he crossed the deck, but that was drowned out by your words from minutes earlier, still echoing around Zoro’s head; your cheeky smirk while your eyes passed over him, blatantly checking him out.

I’d settle for a date.

Zoro had been on his own for a few years before meeting Luffy. He’d had a handful of one night stands, but this was new. You had appeared out of nowhere, less than an hour ago, and now you were flirting with him—and all he had managed to do in response was stare at you and stammer like an idiot.

You had to be joking.

You were probably joking. You seemed like the type, already had been joking around a little about the gravity of your situation, taking it in stride instead of shutting down in fear and defeat. That was pretty cool in itself. You definitely had resolve.

And you seemed pretty smart. And pretty hot—

“God dammit,” he grumbled under his breath, rolled his eyes at himself as he entered the small cabin with the hammock stretched across from one wall to the other. He pulled his t-shirt off a little more aggressively than he intended and tossed it at the hammock, digging through his belongings for a new one. He had to get a hold of himself; you had made one little comment and he was acting like an idiot.

“…seem to be taking this pretty well.”

“I mean, I can’t really do anything about it if I don’t even know how I got here.” He glanced sharply toward the doorway when he heard your and Nami’s voices drawing nearer, crossing the deck as he pulled out a black shirt and red haramaki. “And I’ve never been on a ship before, so that’s pretty cool once you get past the existential dread.” You glanced through the doorframe as you were passing by with Nami, meeting his eyes for a moment, and he was pretty sure you smirked again and glanced across his shirtless torso before disappearing past the view of the doorframe. “And I’m not complaining about the views, either.”

Yeah, you had definitely smirked again.

The swordsman could do little more for a long moment than stand there staring at the doorframe, frozen in place, gritting his teeth and twitching slightly. It was like you were intentionally trying to get him flustered—and he had to growl a few swears under his breath as he shook out his shirt and pulled it over his head, because damn it if it wasn’t working.

“Hey, Zoro!”

Zoro jolted in alarm halfway through straightening his haramaki, jerking his head to look over his shoulder at Luffy.

Hanging upside down in the doorframe, presumably by his feet from the deck above, given he was holding his straw hat in place with both hands.”Hey, how come you’re red?”

“I’m not red,” he said through his teeth, adjusting his waistband.

“Uh…yeah you are,” said Luffy slowly, tilting his head.

Zoro rolled his eyes. “The hell do you want?”

“Oh, yeah—what’s the deal with the stowaway?” Easily distracted as ever, Luffy launched into a tirade of excitable questions. “Where’d she come from? Did you talk her into joining the crew yet?”

“Yeah,” Zoro scoffed, fixing his swords in place at his hip. “Crew therapist.”

“Whoa, seriously? That’s great!”

Zoro stared at the self-proclaimed captain for a long moment, raising an eyebrow at him. “That…that was joke.”

“Aww….” Luffy frowned, swinging back and forth in the doorframe like some strange clock pendulum. His frown turned thoughtful after a few seconds. “What’s a therapist do, anyway?”

“Give advice for money, apparently.”

“Sounds weird.” He finally dropped down, flipping over to land on his feet in the doorway and straightening his hat before tucking his hands behind his neck. “Could be useful, though. Good for morale.” He gave a resolute nod with that brief assessment, hitting his fist into his opposite palm. “We’re recruiting her.”

Zoro just gave a sigh and shook his head in borderline disbelief—though only borderline, because this was Luffy, and he had already come to expect this level of childlike impulsiveness out of him. He turned to the side to move past Luffy in the doorframe. “Good luck with that.”

Though there really wasn’t much else you could do right now—no one had any idea how you had ended up on the ship, and there was at the present no way for you to get back to where you came from. You were, in a word, stuck.

“Oh, come on, you have to help, too.” Zoro rolled his eyes as Luffy clapped him on the shoulder. “You’re my first mate! And besides, you’ve talked to her more than anyone else.” Luffy nodded as they reached the deck railing, hopping up to sit there. “That’s your first official assignment as my first mate—recruiting a crew therapist.”

“Yeah. Sure thing, ‘Captain.’”

There was really no point in telling Luffy that they weren’t a crew—it fell on deaf ears. Zoro really didn’t have any major issue following him at this point; Luffy had more than proven himself an able fighter against both Buggy and Kuro; had, even if half of it was purely luck, managed to procure them a ship, and protect said ship against a Marine vice admiral. Even if his methods weren’t exactly conventional…they had worked. No one could deny that.

But it was a little more of a stretch to recruit you, when it was pretty clear that you didn’t even want to be there.

And yet you seemed pretty cozy with both Nami and Usopp when you emerged back onto the deck with them, the three of you looking at some rectangular device in your hand. The gaudy costume tricorne hat you had been wearing when you showed up was now on top of Usopp’s head, and you had changed into a black patterned tank top and dark shorts, and at this point Zoro was just doing his damnedest not to even look at you.

“…makes calls, plays music, takes pictures,” you were saying, as the other two stared over your shoulders at the device in clear bafflement. “You really don’t have anything like this here?”

“Den den mushi, but all they do is make calls,” said Nami. “But this thing is—” She shook her head, laughing. “This is weird.”

“Hey, can I—?” said Usopp, holding his hand out, and you shrugged and handed it off to him. He laughed and pushed himself between Luffy and Zoro at the railing. “You guys gotta see this, it’s a cell phone. Hang on, hang on—”

Zoro looked over at the device, his brow furrowing as Usopp tapped at it—and then all three of their faces appeared on the front of it.

“What the f—?”

“Whoa…” Luffy waved his hand in front of it, and the picture on the device mimicked him perfectly. “That’s so cool!”

“Yeah, and you touch this, and…” Usopp tapped a circle toward the bottom of the device. “And it makes it into a picture—”

It—how—?!” Luffy grabbed it from Usopp, gawking at the picture of the three of them. He looked between it and Usopp and Zoro, eyes wide as saucers. "It—it just—? So cool—”

“Yeah, and it saves it, look…”

Usopp touched the device, pulling his index finger across it, and the picture changed to one of him, you, and Nami, with Usopp openly gawking and Nami staring at you in alarm while you seemed to be giggling at their shock. Zoro tilted his head a little as Usopp went on scrolling through pictures, tuning out his explanation that it operated via some weird otherworldly magic called a “battery.” The majority of the pictures seemed to be of you, or of you with other people, maybe family and friends. There were quite a few of you with a younger girl that resembled you a great deal, and just as Zoro had opened his mouth to ask about it, he abruptly found himself unable to form any words at all at the sight of the next picture.

And barely managed to catch the device when Usopp dropped it in equal shock—and barely caught Luffy by the back of his shirt when he nearly fell backwards over the railing.

There was no denying at all that Zoro was more than a little red in the face now—why the hell were there pictures of you naked in the thing?

You and Nami exchanged a glance as Zoro stared off to the side and held the phone out at you, mumbling some incoherent apology that was somewhere between sorry and didn’t know. You made a weird sort of strangled squeak in your throat when you glanced at the screen, and Nami gave a snort of laughter as you shoved it back in your pocket.

Luffy recovered a great deal more quickly, turning and flopping over the railing. “Can we go eat now? I’m starving.”

“What else is new,” Nami commented.

Down on the docks below, Luffy set immediately to his plans to recruit you onto the crew, explaining how they definitely needed a crew therapist for the sake of keeping up morale on long journeys, and you seemed more amused than anything at his antics. “What we really need is a musician, a pirate ship has to have a few good musicians. Can you play music?”

“Well, I played the flute in band when I was in high school,” you said, frowning a little.

“Perfect! Have you got one?”

“Ah…didn’t think to pack one before I got isekai’d into this shit-show, sorry.”

He tilted his head like a curious puppy. “Ise-what?”

“N…never mind,” you said, shaking your head. “Not important.”

Still, he was undeterred, practically buzzing with questions—what was high school, how did this “band” thing work, sports games, what sports? Soccer? As you explained the basics of the sport, also explaining that you weren’t sure because you didn’t exactly play it yourself and Usopp chimed in that he was kind of an expert at it, Zoro lingered behind the three of you, still trying to get the mental image of you sans clothes out of his head, to absolutely no avail—the picture seemed to have imbedded itself into the back of his eyelids.

“You look like a tomato.” He glared over at Nami at her snickering as she pointed between his face and his hair. “Red and green—”

“Shut the hell up,” he growled through his teeth

“She said you turned red when she asked you out, too.” He rolled his eyes when Nami elbowed him in the arm. “So the big bad swordsman doesn’t know how to talk to girls, huh?”

“Shut. Up.”

It normally wasn’t an issue for him, but for some reason it was quickly turning into one with you. How forward you were being about flirting when you had only laid eyes on each other for the first time barely an hour ago, how you had that little smirk any time you did—and that picture definitely hadn’t helped at all. Nami wasn’t exactly wrong, then. You definitely were having an effect on him that he wasn’t used to, but being taunted about it wasn’t going to do him any good.

Nor was nearly walking headlong into you the second that he entered the restaurant, his hand shooting out in reflex and grabbing your waist—and letting go just as quickly.

“Uh—sorry.”

But you were far too busy staring straight ahead as Luffy and Usopp spoke to the host, a little pale in the face, to even seem to notice or hear him. He gritted his teeth a little when he heard Nami give a small snort of laughter behind him, and that did seem to snap you out of your trance, as you looked at her sharply. You leaned to the side a little toward the other girl, eyes still glued to the fishman host, as you whispered, “Wh—what exactly is that?”

“That…” Nami glanced between you and the host, lifting an eyebrow. “You’ve never seen a fishman?”

“I don’t think we have those where I’m from,” you muttered through your teeth, and Nami had to cover a laugh with a put-on cough at your borderline panic. “They—they just—what, half fish half man?”

“Kind of,” she said. She approached the host herself when Luffy and Usopp tanked at their attempt to get a table at the evidently overbooked restaurant, and slipped him a small stack of berry notes, changing the man’s tune quickly. “They’re really not much different from humans,” she said quietly as all of you followed him down the stairs and into the dining area. “They can breathe underwater, though.”

“Can they?” you said, a little weakly.

The host led the group to a large, rounded booth, and Luffy hopped into it first, shifting over to the opposite end. Usopp took the next seat, followed by Nami and you. Zoro glanced between either end of the booth, decided he was probably better off not sitting that close to you, and made to sit down at the end of the booth by Luffy.

And promptly realized that this was going to be impossible with his swords at his right hip, as he got the sheathes briefly stuck between the booth and a few pillars situated next to it. He jerked them back out quickly.

“I’d be happy to check your swords for you, sir,” the host said pleasantly.

He glanced at the man—and briefly at you as he heard you giggle, your hand curled over your mouth to muffle it.

No choice, then. Great.

“I got this,” he said shortly, heading over to the opposite end of the booth. He sat down heavily, adjusting his katana, and made a point of not looking toward you again. The host left you with menus and a promise that your waiter would be with you all shortly, while Luffy leaned toward Usopp and wondered aloud what kind of food they had here.

Zoro, flipped open his menu and set immediately to seeing what kind of drinks they had—because dear god did he need one.

He kept mostly quiet during the brief wait, listening to the others and you discuss the menu. Discuss the restaurant. Discuss the crew—as Nami pointed out once more that they weren’t actually a crew, and Luffy brushed it off as he always did. You seemed more and more interested, and you honestly got along with everyone like you had been there for far more than just the last hour or so, joking around and laughing with Nami, calling Usopp out on one of his bullshit stories without any hesitation at all.

Maybe Luffy wasn’t too far off the mark in trying to recruit you.

The idle chat at the table was interrupted by a commotion at another end of the dining room by a couple of diners arguing with each other, a pirate and a marine lieutenant, with the situation being abruptly diffused by a waiter quickly knocking out both offending parties.

And, of course, Luffy already had the spark of recruitment in his eyes as the waiter approached the table and set down a plate of rolls, speaking in a curt tone.

“Hi. Welcome to our shitty restaurant, where the only thing worse than the ambience is the food.” Luffy made a grab for the plate without any hesitation at all. “My name is Sanji, what can I get for you?”

“One of everything, please,” Luffy said through a mouthful of bread,”

“Any drinks?” he said, glancing around the table. “One of our signature cocktails to help choke down your meal?”

“Giving us the hard sell, huh?” said Nami, leaning back and stretching her arm across the backrest.

Zoro glanced over when he heard you chuckle a little—and back at the waiter as his eyes flitted between you and Nami, his tone and expression shifting immediately as a smile curved at his lips.

“Apologies, ladies. Didn’t see you there. Would either of you care for an apéritif to start? We have several rare Micqueot vintages in stock.” Luffy and Usopp both looked between you and Nami, and Zoro just crossed his arms, waiting for the idiot to finish. “Or perhaps you’d like a glass of Umeshu? You know…something sweet for someone sweet.”

And the audacious bastard winked.

Nami raised her eyebrows. “Something wrong with your eye?”

“Just blinded by your beauty.”

“I don’t know about my friend here, but I’m not really into sweet things, sweetie.” The waiter’s attention immediately turned back to you, and Zoro glanced over at you as you spoke up—as you leaned forward on the table, curling a hand under your chin, fluttering your eyelashes. “Whiskey for me. Lowball, on the rocks,”

So flirting was your thing, then.

Zoro cleared his throat loudly before the guy could fire back. “Waiter, can I get a beer? And something for my friends.”

“Two beers,” said Usopp. “I usually have three, but—”

“And a milk,” interupted Luffy, raising his hand.

“Water,” said Nami shortly.

“Three beers, one water, one milk, and…” He turned his attention straight back to you again—you, still leaning forward with your elbow on the table, your chin resting against your knuckles, your lips curved into a small smirk. “One whiskey, on the rocks? Any particular preference, madam?”

“Whatever vintage you recommend,” you replied coyly—and then you winked.

And his smirk only widened at that as he turned to leave. “Right away, madam.”

Zoro glanced over at you slowly, his eyes shifting between you and the departing waiter, lifting an eyebrow. You rolled your eyes over to him, still smirking. “Yes?” you said, waiting for him to respond.

“Nothing.” He rolled his eyes—it still seemed very much like you were doing this on purpose, toying with him just to get a reaction.

And if you were....

He rolled his eyes back over to you, “Madam,” he said sarcastically. “Forgive my rude behavior, madam. Would madam prefer her whiskey in a crystal glass, or would a golden bowl be more madam’s style?”

There was a fair bit of chuckling around the table. Nami nudged your shoulder, and you leaned to the side, your smirk widening into a grin as she whispered something behind her hand into your ear. You straightened back out, your eyes glinting with mischief as you met his gaze and laid your hand lightly on his bicep.

“Aww, you’re not jealous, are you?” And you only leaned in closer, laying your temple at his shoulder and fluttering your eyelashes again, and he immediately regretted opening his mouth as he felt his face heating up. “Should I tell our handsome waiter that you wanted to be flirted with too?”

“Wh—what—”

And the chuckling around the table turned into hearty laughter, as you pulled away and leaned toward Nami instead, leaning into each other as the pair of you more or less cackled at your quip.

He was taking all of this way too seriously—and the sight of you laughing like that, despite how desperate your situation was, made him smile a little. Made him laugh a little himself, tilting his head back against the backrest of his seat at the booth, and speak up amid the laughter, almost affectionately.

“I hate you guys.”

#opla #one piece #zoro #roronoa zoro #zoro x reader #roronoa zoro x reader #zoro opla #zoro one piece #fluff #opla fanfiction #one piece fanfiction

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demonvibez · 10 months

Note

Hmmm another character I think would be fun to write for a soft fluffy shower scenario would be Beel, Mammon or Levi!!!

I imagine Beel's quite happy and delighted when he gets to pat you down with a towel and occasionally eat the toothpaste when it's time to get ready for bed, which is cute and soft!!! He's just a fluffy man!!! He wants to be drowned in that domestic love for sure!!! He likes ruffling your hair down with a towel and drying you off in his lap after a nice hot shower.

I can imagine he's too big and bulky to move efficiently out of the way of the showerhead so usually the water cascades all over him and barely on you. But don't worry!!! He'll just rub all the water on him back onto you when he's got you against the wall.

Mammon would be interesting because he's super bashful but he doesn't turn his nose up at the chance to bathe with MC, he's a lil nervous and doesn't exactly know where to glue his eyes or where to rub you down with bodywash because he keeps getting distracted by how pretty and sweet MC looks like this, but he's got the right spirit!

Eventually I imagine he gets quite comfortable rubbing MC down with soap while humming to himself, he seems so blissful he keeps lathering more soap onto you no matter how many times he's already done it. He just likes being able to touch you and be there with you, he likes when you let him take care of you and of course he loves it when you wash his hair out with him! I imagine he loves a mixture of baths and showers.

Levi's also quite sweet because I can imagine he's so shy! Poor guy doesn't know what to do in such a scenario!!! He wants to enjoy this intimate moment with MC in the bath so bad but he's so fidgety and blushy he can barely put his hands on you without overthinking it. He lets you wash his back even when he squirms around from the touch, the water swirls everywhere and eventually he's the one sitting between your legs so he can hide away that blush on his cheeks.

It stays that way regardless of how much time has passed, he's always thankful to have such an angel taking care of him in such a vulnerable state :,,,((( Eventually I'd say he becomes quite cozy staring at you! His eyes always linger in places they shouldn't and his cheeks erupt into fire when he figures out that MC does not at all mind when he lets his eyes and mind wander.

Wawawawa I like the boys :,|

An honourable mention I'd say would be interesting to write for is Solomon!

His pact marks are everywhere and he likes when MC scrubs down his marks in exchange for your's. When he smoothes his hands over the marks on your skin with soap he feels strangely calm, he likes how when it's just skin to skin, the both of you aren't so different afterall. Stripped down to the barest parts of you, MC is almost like him. Human! With the help of a few demons.

Oooo, all of these are definitely worthy contenders! I definitely wanna write the full versions w/ allllll of them, and have some pretty devious ideas about each. Your honorable mention of Solomon has inspired quite a few ideas that I'll have to keep in mind 😈

Until then, love what you wrote above, so I put my lil reply/spin below. ♡ I left out Solomon because he's just gonna have to join the party later!

Edit: am realizing I may not have put as much softness into parts of this but, oh well, enjoy!

warning: no real smut but it's quite suggestive (minors dni)

I definitely see Beelzebub being nervous at first, seeing as he is so damn polite when it comes to how you feel, whether it's about consent or the breakfast menu. He might fumble about the shower the first go round, which you both still enjoyed quite a bit, but the second time he is ready with a plan. He'll tell you to step into the shower first, the water cascading over you and onto him as he hands you the soap with that innocent smile of his. Time to rub down all of those muscles with your tiny little human hands. A blush creeps across his face as you look up at him with a devious smirk, gently pushing him down to the shower floor so that you can finally climb him and have your way with him . . .

Always the greedy demon, Mammon would never miss the chance to bathe with you. The greedy part of him just wants to take you, to feel every part of you while you share the shower together - to make you feel as good as you make him feel. Sometimes he has to remind himself that you're both here for a reason, 'gotta get clean n get ta breakfast before Lucifer kicks both our asses!' and you both fall into the routine of helping each other scrub. Sometimes, on a day where you both have nowhere to be, you find yourself in a bath together. Mammon suddenly pulls you into his lap, his grip on you firm and the golden glint of greed in his eyes. He has you all to himself today, and he will not be holding back . . .

Bathing with Leviathan is a double edged sword - when it comes to being in water, he is in his natural element. Demon form or not, he loves water and it's his safe space. On the other hand, Leviathan is not only very shy, but also self loathing. It isn't until you come along that everything starts to change. It takes some time for Levi to bathe with you - even the idea initially had him shut into his room for three days. But who else but you, his Henry, could help him break out of his shell?! And after a few attempts, here the two of you were. Eyes wide and cheeks painted with blush, Levi was lathering up your shoulders when he heard you giggle. He noticed that his tail had wrapped around your leg, and was snaking it's way upwards. Mortified, he began to stammer when you placed your hand on his tail and assured him that you like it. Emboldened with a small wind of confidence, he let his tail continue on, wondering what else it can do that you like . . .

#ghost chats ♡#not me getting carried away again #obey me #obey me beelzebub #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me x reader #obey me smut #obey me drabble #ghost writes om

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wheeboo · 10 months

Note

helloooo... i just read the 'my gf is mad, im bout to die' (i think that is the name) and immediately thought about cheol... i think he might be the type to spoil or buy you expensive stuff so that he can make up to you..

oof anon i definitely agree! seungcheol is definitely the type to spoil and pamper you in general, regardless if you were mad at him or not tbh and because he's whipped and knows you don't ask for much stuff from him (he would quite literally give you the entire world if he could fr). if you are being a lil moody menace and refuse to communicate w him abt anything, he'd just sigh, assuming that you need some space away from him and leave for a bit.

then he'd return some time later with bags in his hands that you notice seem quite expensive, expressing how he came across them and why he thought they would help cheer you up. whether it was an outfit that caught your eye or a rare special edition book you wanted to read, you'd realise the lengths he would go to make up with you and please you.

"cheol, what is all this?"

"they're for you," he says sheepishly. "thought it would make you feel better, you know?"

"how did you... how did you even find this?" you pull up a book from one of the bags. "it's like limited edition and rare."

seungcheol just chuckles at you admiring the book with awe.

"I have my ways, sweetheart," he tells you, and when you look back at him, he just gives you a warm smile. "do you feel better now?"

you just roll your eyes. "yeah, a bit. just mad that you were hogging the blankets all night and making me freeze."

now, his eyes grow wide to that. "that's why you were ignoring me the entire day?"

"um, yeah, and the fact that you rushed out of the place without giving me a proper goodbye kiss-"

"I was running late!" seungcheol stops himself, meeting eyes with yours and seeing that I-told-you-so kind of look on your face. gosh, he can't believe he was suffering the entire day only for you to tell him that you were mad at him for unintentionally hogging the blankets and rushing out of the house.

though he doesn't fail to catch the small smile to your lips, to which he finds his face softening to.

"but thank you... for this," you motion towards the book and other things he had bought. "I don't think I deserve all this."

that makes him lift a brow, and you already know he's going to go on a spew. "baby, you deserve the world. I'd give you all of it if I could just to see you happy."

#anon ༊#answered #seventeen imagines #seventeen fluff #seventeen x reader #seungcheol imagines #seungcheol fluff #seungcheol x reader #scoups imagines #scoups fluff #scoups x reader #soft hours!

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be-my-ally · 1 year

Text

The Return Flight

Big Bunny #2

As always it's super late here, I will re-edit grammar etc tomorrow! enjoy!

Summary: It’s the next day and they’re off on their return flight. Elvis and Bunny get up to panicking and meditating, and then a couple hours of later one of the other bunnies joins them. Idk I just really can’t see elvis missing out on such a prime chance for a teeny lil bit of voyeuristic action.

I truly tried to wiggle the wrist weights in but alas, not to be today - next time though, next time.

Warnings: 18+, p in v penetrative sex, handjobs (v), oral (p and v), mentions of drug use, graphic description of a panic attack, f/f touching, elvis is kinda sweet in this one - except for the voyeurism + girl on girl action; TO CLARIFY - this is asked for by elvis + both parties consensually agree however, I am warning about very teeny tiny elements of internalised homophobia + the fact that reader implies she only does so (at least at first) to please elvis - she is not, however, reluctant nor unwilling.

wc: 11.4k

FYI: I’ve updated my bio to say I’m pausing requests - just until I get my inbox cleared down + posted! xx Also!!! I’ve had a couple of requests for a taglist - so this is my official mention of that; lmk if you want me to tag you in future posts! FINALLY found images of Elvis AND big bunny! pictured on the left and top right below!

Your brief encounter with Elvis had been your first experience of anything casual, or meaningless, and you’ve never had to navigate the emotions or situations before. It makes you antsy that you don’t know the correct procedure even before you’d left the plane; what do you even say to him? ‘Thanks for the sex, see you on the flight tonight?’ You’re not proud of it, but you ultimately panic to such an extent that you hide in the powder room until they’ve all disembarked. You’d not realised you’d have to hide from the other bunnies too though; they’d all converged on you as soon as you’d left - desperate for any morsel of information you would give. You’d somehow, thankfully for your dignity and the taxi driver’s ears, managed to prevent them from asking too many questions until you’d all arrived at the hotel where you would be staying.

You were looking forward to ensconcing yourself in the hotel room, a proper shower and time to relax for the night and day or so before the return flight. That was, however, not to be, and you were thankful that you’d had the chance to at least wipe yourself down before getting redressed on the plane; your sudden lack of tights had forced you back into your dress - unwilling to be so exposed in your bunny corset. Instead of the peaceful night you had planned Daisy and Maggie were forcing their way into the room (of course, they’d have been sharing with you anyway but you can’t say that you didn’t try to run in and close the door on them) with Darla and Michelle close behind; you forget sometimes that even though they may be more ‘senior’ bunnies, they were still only two years older than you. They sit down around you, demanding you tell them everything, wanting you to fill in the gaps between the assumptions they could make from what they’d heard and when things had gone silent.

“Oh lord, I just don’t know what to do -” You'd said after you’d recounted, blushing, the majority of the details; you’d left out him licking you, or that you think that might have been the first true orgasm of your life. You leave out that you think the hour you spent with him might have made you fall in love, and other ridiculous notions. And, for some reason, you couldn’t bring yourself to give a detailed description of him, trying to simultaneously protect him and to keep something just for you; you wouldn’t let them speculate on his size, or his stamina. But you had mentioned that he had a thing for feet, something that had been met with raucous laughter and clapping from the girls when you’d prefaced that with the story of your pantyhose being torn. You were, despite your embarrassment, glad to have these girls around you - you’d grown up in a fairly conservative part of town, and you know any of your close childhood or home friends would have been disgusted with you. They might have let it go - since it was Elvis, or have loudly judged you while silently expressing a level of jealousy but under no circumstances would they have encouraged the behaviour, or been so happy for you. Nor would they have interjected your story with their own, somewhat similar, although far less famous, tales. By the time the conversation had gotten back around to your dilemma with how to deal with Elvis again you were all relaxing on the two beds, piled up and crossed legged like a slumber party. “So really - what should I do?”

“Just don’t change a thing,” Daisy recommends, “If he wants to make something of it let him, but you have to rise above it all. Seem like you don’t care. “ Maggie offers you differing advice;

“If you want it to happen again, just be all over him, it’s not like you have to worry that he doesn’t like you.” You consider these opposing suggestions, silent, sipping the terrible hotel coffee. Michelle speaks up, Darla nodding in agreement;

“In my experience… you’ve got to subtly let him know you’re there and available, but don’t fawn over him, just … just say hello in a friendly way and it’s all in his hands then. Remember, be casual about it.” You consider this for a moment before agreeing. It does seem to be the way of the least mortification. You try to put it out of your mind for the remainder of the break, taking the time to try and focus on resting and relaxing before you had to be back in the air.

This time, there’s far less pomp and circumstance around his arrival; and you’re not surprised to see that it’s solely the same group again. Only Darla greets them on the tarmac - the rest of you already onboard and preparing for a quicker departure than last time. This time, you’re all in your little bunny suits, collars and cuffs, cottontails perfectly fluffed - since he’d requested it you all assumed it would save being made to change. This airport was, despite being private, closer in airspace to the larger international airport and your takeoff time was therefore far stricter than any of you would have liked. All knowing that sometimes these celebrities were as difficult to wrangle as herding a particularly difficult group of cats.

So you don’t have a chance to really look at him, take him in, until he’s brushing past you, his thick hands on your hips and waist moving you from where you’re blocking a narrower part of hallway with your body. He doesn’t say excuse me, or ask you to move, just manhandles you across him. You feel then, before you see, the soft plush fabric of his outfit, and when you glance over your shoulder at him you’re a little surprised that rather than the expensive, perfectly fitted, suit he was wearing last time, this time he was wearing a, clearly expensive but nonetheless fairly ordinary, tracksuit - navy blue, low zipper exposing the wide collared shirt underneath - his chest hair peeking out. Your tummy flips seeing him, and you stay very still where he’s put you, struggling to remember what your plan had been. He pats your ass, casually, in the blatantly chauvinistic way that should make you squirm, that implies he could and would do it to any girl at any time - although you hadn’t actually witnessed that yourself, and you’re mortified that at even that brief touch, without any words exchanged your breath hitches and your mind goes slightly blank. He’s gone by the time you try to open your mouth to say something and you try to clear your head by distracting yourself with the take-off preparations.

Michelle is eyeing you up when you’re finishing checking the door, and she opens her mouth but you’re frantically shaking your head before she can say anything, gesturing to not say a word. She frowns, but complies - a moment later only asking you to help her sort the food out. You do so, happy to disappear for a little while and let the others deal with them for a bit. It’s not long after that the pilots signal for take-off and you sit down briefly as the plane taxies down the runway. You’re distracted enough by the situation you find yourself in; are you making it more awkward not talking to him? That for once the take-off doesn’t bother you at all and soon the plane is balanced in the air, allowing you and Michelle to finish your preparations. Daisy pops her head around the corner a few minutes later saying you’d been requested.

You breathe in, deeply, as much as you can as a little bunny, plastering a smile on your face and you head out to the forward compartment where the group is sat. You expect to walk straight over to Elvis, but you’re stopped by someone else whose name escaped you - barely greeting you;

“Look babydoll, last night, you made me the best Mai Tai of my life, and I’m sure you’re all…” he looks sideways, “as well trained as each other, but honey, I’d really like it if you could do me another one?” You somehow manage to keep your face in check even though you want to scream at his barely concealed innuendo. Instead, you agree, customer service smile on your face, and turn to the rest of the compartment asking if they were all ready for drinks. There’s a resulting chorus of orders and so you head over to the bar to get started. Elvis hadn’t responded, walking out when you’d walked in - he’d gone right into the conference space and one of the boys had mimed a phone to his ear at another's questioning face. You were a little hurt to not be acknowledged but also, truthfully, a little relieved to not have to deal with him for the second. But it wasn’t to last long, upon delivering the other drinks with the other girls to many a relieved sigh, a different man had pointed through to the conference area, gesturing to the bar,

“Think you should take the boss a little pick me up too.” You nod in agreement but he hadn’t drank last time and you have no idea what that would mean making so instead you pour a short glass of cola, hoping that’ll do at least, and balancing the glass on the tray, head through the little curtained archway. You try not to show any emotion when you walk through, keeping your face neutral and concentrating on holding the drinks tray, the slight tip of the plane was liable to send a single glass sliding if you didn’t balance it perfectly. You hear him before you see him, curled against the wall with the phone pressed to his ear. His fingers twirling the cord as he looked out of the window, but with how dark it was outside he could only be looking at his reflection. You’d intended your poker face to display that you weren’t going to be the first to crack, to acknowledge anything but now you’re having to maintain it to retain dignity once you hear what he’s saying. He’s sweet-talking a girl, uttering promises and reassurances;

“No, honey, darling, no - would I be ringing you now? You don’t need to nag me baby, that’s right you’re my baby aren’t ya, ye-ah, put it on your card honey, on my card, yeah that’s no problem… you know I like you in blue…”

You know you have no claim on him; despite your activities together you’ve barely spoken to him, and you’ve only known the man 24 hours and yet a weird surge of possessiveness fills you. Or is it even possessiveness? Or just plain jealousy? Half the trouble was that you’ve never wanted someone like this — you’d never understood why the girls at school would fawn over a specific boy, it had never interested you. You’d never lain awake wondering what you should wear or how you should style your hair to best catch their attention. But today, just this morning, you’d nipped out to the nearest drugstore to the hotel and frivolously bought a new lipstick; you had no need for a new one, and certainly not in the colour you’d chosen - far flashier than you would usually wear, for some reason certain it would catch his eye, but you’d been unable to resist the temptation of putting on a bit of a show for him. To have that gone to waste, for him to ignore you, preoccupied with worrying about appeasing some other girl? Who wasn’t even there? You were annoyed at yourself, for being hurt by his actions and for doing it in the first place.

He finally spots you in the window and he turns, waving you over, reaching out a hand for his drink off of your tray. He doesn’t verbally acknowledge you, or pause in his conversation, simply demanding you come closer with an impatient hand raised. You come towards him, dipping to allow him to easily take the glass, and you watch as he immediately tips it back for a gulp and places the half-full glass back onto the tray. He makes a little mmhmm noise down the phone as he turns his attention back to the call, and the girl on the other end. You turn to leave, not willing to simply stand there and wait for him to want the glass again, jumping when you feel him swat at your exposed thigh. You whirl back around, ready to either playfully (or truthfully, actually) confront him - once was fine but twice? But, before you can he’s back giving his attention to the phone again, looking out of the window. You take it as the dismissal he meant it, and you hate that as you walk away you add an extra sway to your walk - bunny tail bobbing with the motion - just in case he’s looking, and that you can feel your slightly smug smile from even that touch.

It feels like hours, but it was probably only twenty or so minutes later when he returns to the forward compartment, settling down into the large sofa-seat in the middle of the cabin. You’re forced to walk past a moment later and he grabs your arm on the way;

“You look real good today Bunny - very cute.” You wiggle your tail at him and he chuckles; that deep laugh that starts in his chest but ends in his belly. His head rocks and it causes his loose hair to flop about, so different from it’s stiff look from the years prior. You beam at him, pleased to have been so entertaining. He looks you up and down again, still holding onto you,

“Like the lips darlin’. You wear that just for me?” You shake your head no, but he just laughs at you, “Ohhhh, you did it for ol’ Joe over there then did ya?” Feeling the catch-22 you’ve put yourself into you frown, you don’t want to admit that you did do it for him, but god do you not want him to even jokingly suggest you were trying to attract one of the other guys. So you do the next best thing, shaking your head and teasing him back.

“Nu-uh it was for me.” He laughs back at you, his eyes crinkling. When he calms back down he shakes his head in disbelief.

“ O’course it was honey,” You protest his condescending tone,

“It was!” You gesture down at yourself, “I don’t put all this on just for you,” He laughs again, eyes crinkling as he crows at you; shouting to the rest of the boys.

“Ooh-hoo we got ourselves a real-life feminist bunny over here!” He says it mockingly, adding a sneer; “Watch out Ms. Steinem!” He scoffs, “Now hon-ney, we both know it ain’t true… so why don’t you stop playing hard to get, admit you made yourself all pretty for me and come and sit over here. Right on daddy’s knee.” He pats his lap. You frown, you were a feminist, but his lap did look pretty inviting, and your heels were already hurting and you had wanted his attention. So, you do.

“I’m only doing this because you’re paying me.” He chuckles again, one hand coming around you to hold your waist, the other coming to hike your legs further up and across him, his broad hand rubbing your thigh as he does so;

“Sure thing honey - you want me to tip you a little extra for whatever we’re about to do in there?” He nods his head towards the back of the plane. You frown a little, you know he’s joking but you’re suddenly a little worried he does think you’re paid to provide him with extra services. ‘We naturally do not tolerate any merchandising of the bunnies.’ That’s what the bunny bible says. Its word is law, so it’s not true that any extra services are expected. But then, when you think about it, you were told to be…nice to him. The annoying thought then registers, less concern about whether what you’re doing is against the rules, that you hope he realises that you’re doing this because you want to and not just because you’ve been told to. You try to shake this thought off, be casual - c’mon be casual, the mantra running through your head as you attempt to push all other thoughts and feelings out. After all, you don’t want him to think you’re not fun, or reading too much in to anything.

“No-o, that’s, that’s, that’s just an added bonus.” You stroke down the zipper of his jacket, and he laughs again, grabbing your hand and kissing the knuckles. He spreads your hands in his, assessing them.

“God, you got such pretty little fingers baby, look at them lil’ nails - what’s that colour called? Call-Girl Red? Scarlet Tart?” You blush, but you’re able to laugh, recognising that he would only continue to suggest increasingly ridiculous names until you did. He holds you there while he finishes his conversation with the boys, fingers brushing over your skin, until finally, he pats your thigh phrasing an order as a question - “Come through to the bedroom, doll?” You stand up, waiting for him to lead the way to the bedroom at the back of the plane; instead he stands and gestures ahead of him.

“C’mon bunny, hop to it,” He pauses, grinning after his borderline tragic bunny pun as if waiting for a laugh; you comply with a polite giggle even though it’s really not that funny, and take his hand when he holds it out, “let’s go.” When you cross into the bedroom he lets go, leaving you to sit down on the huge elliptical bed while he disappears into the bathroom for a moment. You try to breathe, wondering what he has planned when he returns.

You have no idea why you’re suddenly so nervous. There’s a rising sensation of breathlessness travelling up your chest, your stomach churning a little. You feel inexplicably sick, and for a moment you worry, as the plane bobs the tiniest bit - the motion normally soothing, that you might actually puke. He’s still in the bathroom, and you’re trying to calm yourself down - what will you say to him when he comes out? He’s expecting something now. You don’t want to miss out on anything, it had been so good last time; you didn’t want this to be the new lasting memory of your, however brief, time together. You try to tell yourself you’re being ridiculous - c’mon now, calm down, you’re fine - it’s not like he hasn’t seen you before - not like you haven’t done this before, why are you doing this - don’t ruin it for yourself - oh my god why are you such a little baby get a grip. But that clawing feeling is climbing your chest and you’re struggling to swallow - to breathe. You’re ripping off your little bow and collar as hurriedly as you can but it doesn’t make a difference. You sink down lower, practically lying down now, attempting to practice deep breathing. In through your nose, out through your mouth. It’s in that moment he comes bounding out of the bathroom - looking you over, as if he’d expected to be ready to pounce; not deal with you still fully dressed (as much as you could be in the bunny corset) and close to tears.

“Hey - hey honey what’s this?” He sounds panicked, and his pitch only increases at the tear falling down your cheek. You try to speak but can’t; “Just - Just talk to me bunny, what, what’s wrong?” You whine at him, trying to sit up and look at him rather than peep from your horizontal angle. He makes it easier by sitting by you on the bed and peering down at your face.

“Nuh-uh-thing,” You finally gasp out, “Nothing’s wrong. I’ve just - just got myself all twisted.” A tear slips out, and you angrily brush it away trying to stem the flow. He looks concerned for a second, patting your arm.

“I won’t - we haven’t - we don’t gotta do anything baby, you know that? Not gotta do a thing you don’t wanna do.” He sounds unsure, like he’s not had to deal with this before, or like he’s nervous he’s upset you. It only makes the tears fall a little faster - at how nice he’s being to you when you don’t feel as though you deserve it.

“No-o no I know, I want to, I just can’t seem to stop,” You talk through your hitched breaths, trying to explain. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I can’t breathe.” He hums, looking over at the little table that ran the length of the wall, at the little black bag settled there before patting his thighs and sighing.

“Right. ‘nough messing about - lemme just get one of the boys to call Dr. -”

“No! No! No - I want you! I wanna do this!” You roll onto your side, scrambling upright and turning to grip his jacket, twisting it in your fist. “I wanna - Elvis I promise I’ll be fine in a second just need to calm down. Catch my breath.”

“Well, if its just you’re breathing all funny let me just give you a puff of an inhaler; they’ve barely got anything in them, just wet your throat really but- but they do help,” You shake your head and he sighs again, as if unhappy you’d refuse the offer. But then he nods, almost to himself, and taking matters into his own hands - hauls you up to be leaning against this thick, sturdy, chest. The zipper was a little lower than before and another button of his shirt has popped open allowing you to pillow your head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat as you feel yourself come down. Shame creeping up as you become fully lucid at how irrational you’d behaved. You sit there for a little while - maybe as long as twenty minutes, but could be as short as ten. Elvis hums song after song at you, occasionally breaking into a little quiet verse, chest hairs tickling you as he moved. Finally you feel sane enough to push up a little, pulling away.

“Sorry - Sorry don’t know what came over me.” You stare at his chest, avoiding making eye contact. He brushes his hand over your chin, pulling it up to force you to look at him. He’s looking at you with an expression of tenderness that’s almost too much to bear.

“S’all right doll, told you - it’s all fine.” You give him a tentative smile.

“I’m sure that wasn’t very …sexy of me, but I do wanna give it another go, please Elvis?” He looks at you hard for a moment, directly in your eyes, as if attempting to judge you were being serious. He clearly decides you were because a moment later he’s leaning over you and moving his hand up your leg.

But when his hand grazes your upper thigh, travelling upwards you feel yourself tense, suddenly stiff as a board. He kisses your neck, and his hand retreats. He spends a long couple of minutes stroking your arm, kissing your neck - your ears. Before attempting it for a second time. Again he gets most of the way there before you go stiff and tense. He moves his hand back to your arm, talking lowly and slowly, practically whispering.

“Now, darlin’ s’ok - we’ve done it before baby.” He’s soothing you like you’re a skittish horse, crooning into your ear, “If you wanna do this I need you to relax for me darling. Can’t do anything otherwise.” You nod, agitated at the accusation that you’re not already attempting to relax.

“I’m trying Elvis - I want to too! I just, it’s involuntary!” He hums - looking over at the bag again -

“Look, honey, I’ve got some, some ‘ludes you can take,” You frown, you didn’t think Elvis was known for doing disco drugs. “I take ‘em to uh help me settle down baby.” You start to speak, perhaps to question the veracity of this claim or where he gets these from - considering his position on recreational drugs. But before you can he’s talking again; “Don’t get me wrong doll, I’m not - don’t get it twisted - they’re prescribed.” He pauses again - “But they’ll sort you right out, real leg spreaders. Won’t change your mind, if you say you want it you still will but, trust me, they’ll relax your body enough.” You shake your head at him, not admitting that while you would love to breathe the concept of not being in complete control of your body was terrifying, instead taking deep breaths to try and force yourself to relax a little more.

“No-no, no need for that, ‘m sorry, I don’t know what’s come over me - I’m so nervous today - I just, sorry - just need another minute.” He sighs again, and although the irrational part of your brain worries it’s in annoyance you can tell he’s more annoyed about you consistently declining his offers of help. He’s still doing his best to soothe you, delicate fingers firmly rubbing your arms and sides, a constant motion. “I just - I know it’s ridiculous, but I still feel like I can’t breathe properly.” His fingers stop on the boning of the corset, and he taps it - as if he’s discovered an answer.

“Awh no this is silly now doll, who could all squished in there like that.” He gestures down to where your chest is threatening to spill out of the tightly laced and zipped bodice. You frown, you’re pretty sure it’s mental and not physical but now he’s drawn attention to it you feel like it’s tightening around your middle. You twist to attempt to unhook it yourself - moving forward to bend out of his lap; “No, no darling, let me - I’ll get this thing offa you.” He pushes you further forward a little way, and then with surprising skill deftly undoes the bunny corset. You don’t want to admit it but the moment the hooks fall away you do feel as if some of the air has returned to your lungs. He’s gently and firmly peeling it away from your body, pulling it down and off of your legs - tutting and stroking the little red marks where the seams and boning have dug into you a little - whether because it was just generally too tight or because you’d been contorted into a slightly awkward position.

“Lord almighty - they doin’ that to you every day?” You shrug, about to say that it wasn’t that much worse than some of your tighter dresses or your panty girdle. He holds it up though, looking at it with distaste, rather than the humour he had the first time he’d seen it off of you - as if seeing it for the first time. “They should make ‘em stretchier! Or - or - a better lining!” He frowns again, “I’m gonna ring Hef and tell him - it’s not right!” You shake your head, the conversation at least distracting you from your lungs.

“Elvis - it’s not like I’m meant to be naked right now. How would you supposedly know.” You gesture down at yourself, a little flushed at the realisation that you were, in fact topless and therefore nude from the waist up. He laughs at you, a little condescendingly.

“You ‘spect me to believe he doesn’t know what you’re up to?” He pauses, “Or that…, bunny, you know, I was, uh, warned that you girls would be… available.” You grimace, it makes you feel like a whore when it’s put like that and you try to return you mind to the point you were trying to make.

“Well, still, if it’s because of me that the boat gets rocked - I like my job, and it was at your request we’re proper bunnies today and not in our flight uniforms!” He rolls his eyes at you, huffing at the accusation.

“Ok, ok. Fine. But I’m not happy about it.” You laugh a little, and you notice your chest bobbing with the motion - it makes you suddenly very aware of your nudity, probably a sign that you’re starting to return to normal, and you wrap an arm around your middle while scrambling to sit properly upright instead of in a semi recline. He looks at you sideways, starting to lean down,

“Well - now we got that sorted - “ You cut him off,

“It wasn’t about that - it was just, I just got all caught in my head, I think I’m a little messed up; it happens every now and again. It just - anyway, it doesn’t matter now. Could you, sorry, would you pass me my bag from over there?” You nod towards the bag just inside the door, it had been a little presumptuous perhaps but you’d left it close enough that if you had missed the mark it wouldn’t have been tricky to move or hide it. “I’ll get changed now.” He frowns, he’s sat upright again himself, but doesn’t move for the bag, instead pulling your arm around and dragging you to sit over his legs again - he leans back, pulling your head to lie on his chest.

“Babe - there’s nothing wrong with you… you just gotta, gotta put a little of it into the air, believe it’s happening for a reason.” He pauses, one arm moving up to wrap around your waist, the other stroking your arm, catching on the little cuff that was still there. “You gotta promise you won’t - it’s no secret, not anymore, but I don’t share this with everyone - so you promise you won’t laugh?” You nod, as best you can - he sounds nervous. “My mama, she er, she always used to say I was real special, that I had a gift.” You nod again, assuming this is about to lead into him singing something to you which, while you didn’t think it was going to be key to ending these nerve attacks you keep having, is certainly not something you would discourage. “But, she uh used to say I had the power to heal things, and, and I think its true baby, so will you - maybe if we can; if I can give you some of my ‘nergy and we think about it - real hard - together, we might get somewhere? Just gotta, gotta connect - spiritually. Maybe if I, If I push on you, and we meditate together we might, it might help?” He looks so hopeful and sounds so earnest that, despite your misgivings about the veracity of these claims, you agree.

“Ok, ok - if you think, if it might help. I just, I do wanna do things with you, I don’t want to disappoint you.”

“You won’t baby, you won’t.” He sits down, cross legged at the top of the bed, pulling you around to sit in front of him. He makes no mention of your nakedness, and you’re doing your best not to notice it yourself. “Ok, honey, so just, I’m gonna put my hands here, and you’re just going to breathe with me ok?” His eyes are bright, and his face open, like he’s simply excited to be able to share this with someone. You nod, placing your hands on top of where his are resting on his thighs. “Hold on baby, let’s get these offa ya too.” And he unbuttons your little cuffs, rubbing your wrists where they’d sat, “You don’t hafta, don’t need to think about anything ok darling? You just sit there, and focus on my hands and match my breathing ok? I’ll do all the hard work.” You nod again, and he shuffles himself a little, as if getting himself ready to settle in. “Oh - and I want you to close your eyes.” You look at him for a second, attempting to gauge that he’s being serious and this isn’t some kind of elaborate set-up. He gazes back at you, blue eyes completely calm, and you let your eyes slip closed. He hums a moment later, and then you feel him clasping your hands.

You can tell he’s focussing his breathing, slowing it down and drawing it out, and you match him as best you can, feeling him spread your fingers and press his palms into yours. It takes all of your attention and sufficiently distracts you from your panic and worry that quickly you don’t realise you’re no longer thinking about anything but the light pressure of his hand on yours and the air filling your lungs.

You’re entirely focussed on his slow, measured breaths, and your mind is blank - it’s almost a surprise when an immeasurable time later he flexes his hands, whispering at you to open your eyes. You come back up slowly, blinking in the artificial light of the plane, despite Elvis having used the dimmer.

Although you do, admittedly, feel better you’re still not wholly convinced by his healing properties. What you are grateful for however, is how happy he looks when you open your eyes, as if pleased to have been given the opportunity. And regardless of the ability to heal you, you also feel like something has changed. A shift in the energy between you.

His hand grasps yours, his fingers releasing you to trail up your wrist, up your forearm, and stroke back down to your palms again, brushing his fingers all the way down to your very fingertips and starting all over again. The motion of it, after the intimacy of the last half hour sends your nerve-endings alight, goosebumps forming over your flesh. You feel completely calm, completely ready for him again, your posture straight but relaxed. He moves his hands further up, brushing against your armpits and you gasp as he tickles you the tiniest amount. Suddenly, you find yourself up on your knees - leaning into him, falling into him. Your hands cupping his face, fingers tangling in his sideburns. He catches you in his relaxed arms, the soft fabric of his jacket rubbing against your nipples. He’s still breathing quite deeply, mouth parted - and it allows you to press your lips against his, tongue rapidly falling into his mouth. His hands spread across your torso, curving around your chest as you lean into him - trying to get as physically close to him as you emotionally feel.

His thumbs twirl in circles and your back arches as your nipples pebble against his soft touch - your pussy suddenly starting to feel unbearably hot in its three layers of tights and panties. You huff against his lips, pulling back to grasp the waistband of them all - determined to simply roll them all down together, saving them from him, and you do so in one motion almost immediately regretting that it left you completely bare while he was still fully clothed. He doesn’t give you a chance for it to be more than a fleeting thought though, lying you back, still focussed on making you breathless with his mouth. He kisses along your cheek to your neck and you gasp as he sucks on the sensitive patch just above where your collar bone joins your shoulder. You try to reciprocate, pushing the jacket off of him and struggling to unbutton the last of his shirt - exposing his chest and stomach. He bats your hand away when you go for the top of his pants, pulling away from you and he stands up - surveying you.

“You ready for me, baby?” You squirm a little under his gaze, and you’re not sure where the boldness comes from to reach a hand down, dragging a finger over your wetness, and spreading the folds of your labia open for him to see the glistening stickiness within.

“I dunno, what do you think?” His mouth gapes at you, breathing heavily, the motion as unexpected to him as it was to you, and as you sink a finger into yourself, moaning while you do, he hurriedly removes his pants - throwing them somewhere, his eyes never straying from your core. He pushes your arm out of the way a moment later,

“Think you look like a goddamn fucking centrefold - Jesus Christ, bunny, Lord, all for me, Halle-fucking-lujah,” He lowers himself back down, pressing a kiss to your chest, pumping himself a few times before lining his cock up with your entrance.

He sinks into you, slowly, letting you feel every inch of him that he guides into you. The slight overhang of his belly pressing against your middle as he holds you close, pressing into you as deeply as he can get. You feel every inch of him, every fold in his skin as he pushes in - you know he’s not huge, but it’s been so long that to have something in you two nights in a row, you can feel your entrance ache a little, and inside a slight burn from the stretch. He groans, feeling your tight walls clench around him as you shift, wrapping your legs around him crossing your ankles behind his back. He pants against your ear, kissing the sensitive patch of skin right behind. He’s encasing you in him, smothering you, the smell of him - he’d clearly showered after his show, the faint hint of neutrogena still clinging to him but his own scent, the mixture of his own musk and woodsy cologne layering over it - surrounds you. It altogether feels as intimate as the meditation did - just his and your bodies entangled together. He rests there, barely rocking into you, slowly, almost tenderly - before dragging himself out, rolling off.

“Gotta let you breathe, mama - wanna get deeper.” The concept seems impossible, but he’s pushing one of you legs to the side, rolling you slightly and clambering on top, straddling your other leg and kneeling down before he’s sinking in again.

“Oh - shit, shit - how’re you, oh my god Elvis, that’s - I’ve never,” He knocks against your walls, blindly, until he hits the little bundle of nerves inside you causing all thoughts to leave your head, unable to form a sentence past whimpering. You prop yourself up with one hand, holding onto him with the other, it’s new for you - to be able to watch someone’s face as well as watch them push themselves into you. Being able to look at his face, his mouth open, little grunts and moans flowing as his eyes half-close in pleasure is mind-blowing; beyond your wildest imagination.

“Oh baby, mama, you’re so - oh god, how are you still so tight, you ain’t been properly broken in yet, have you, fuck,” His hips are thrusting into you now, little jolts of pleasure running down your spine and you whine as he hushes you, rubbing a hand across your tummy, moving it up to grasp at your breast. He squeezes, on the edge of too hard, swiping his thumb across your nipple as he pinches it - causing you to clench down on him again, prompting a low groan out of his own mouth. He strokes down your torso, before resting his hand on you, it feels huge across your stomach, heavy and hot almost feeling like it’s burning through you. He slips his thumb lower, coaxing your clitoris out from hiding.

“Want you to go with me, C’mon now baby - c’mon bun, I’m close,” He slams his hips into you, “Al-most there,” His fingers rub over you a little faster, and your nails of your supporting hand dig into your own hair, the other clutching his arm, as you tumble over the edge, shouting,

“Oh - oh - oh, god, Elvis - daddy, god, fuck that’s - oh god,” You hear him swear, pulling out just in time and spraying over your stomach, his fingers coming off of you, allowing you to come down, your body still trembling for a few moments.

When you feel like you’re properly back on earth, a few minutes later, you’re still lying back, panting, while you hear him stand and get himself wiped off. Coming over to you to gently wipe away the mess on your tummy. He looks over at you, eyes still half-lidded,

“C’mon ‘lil bunny, time to get back to work.” He pats your thighs and you shakily stand up. Despite his hurry he behaves almost unexpectedly gentlemanly and fetches your bag for you from beside the door. “Ain’t gonna make you put that torture device back on - you can do the leather if you want.” You frown, thinking for a moment - everyone will know what you’ve been up to then, but then you laugh to yourself a little - everyone already certainly knows. You pause before getting your underwear back on, slightly surprised at his speed, looking over at him;

“You sure you won’t…don’t wanna go again?” He looks a little bashful for a second,

“ ‘m not, I’m an ole man now baby.” Is all he says in reply, but it does the job in conveying what he meant. You look over at him - not sure that you’d describe him as old, he’s what… 38, 39? But you leave it be - dressing in the little leather coat/wrap dress. As you sit to roll your tights over your legs though he stops you, looking you over. “Bunny? Leave off the hose.”

“Sure daddy, sure.” You obey, stripping them off again and pulling your boots onto your bare legs - undoubtedly you’ll get a blister but it’s worth it for the pleased way he looks at you and the kiss on the top of your head in reward for your obedience. You nip into the bathroom, trying to sort your hair and touch up your make-up, and by the time you’re ready to come out he’s gone.

You walk out with your head up, and while you’re greeted with a series of smirks and some whispers you’re not as panicked about it as before, and you’re relieved he came out before you, positive that he took the brunt of any teasing. He winks at you when you pass him, dressed without his shirt now, but otherwise ignores you. This doesn’t upset you like before - you’re content that only you and him truly know what’s just gone on and that your new, intimate, connection is safe and tucked away just for the two of you. It feels like you’ve been wrapped up in him for days and yet when you look over at the clock ticking away you realise you’ve only been in the air for an hour and a half. You feel a little like you’ve left a tiny part of yourself in that room with him, and that you should feel more vulnerable - more exposed than you do. Instead, you feel calm - your tension almost completely gone and with that you start to feel the possibility that you might actually be able to enjoy the next few hours.

A couple of hours later, you’re dancing in the disco room - providing entertainment although you’re sure most of them, certainly Elvis, should be sleeping; unsure where the burst of energy from everyone has come from. But still, you’re dancing about with the other girls, playfully messing around, when he - from his sat position, lavender tinted glasses now on his nose, pulls you down to whisper in your ear,

“C’mon bunny, give me a little show - pick one of ‘em.” He gestures to the other girls bobbing around you. You look at him, mouth open, a little shocked at his bold request - so different from the sweet, slow, intimate behaviour from earlier. It’s not something you’re totally opposed to, but….in public? It’s as if he’s reading your mind; reassuring you -

“S’ok, baby, s’just us up here - just me and m’boys,” He pats you on the thigh, “Go on - there’s a good girl.” You stumble forward a little and make eye contact with Maggie - who was already looking over, clearly eager to share his attention. You look back over to Elvis, watching him grin at her, pleased that she seems so willing, “Just wanna watch you two kiss honey, nothing more - don’t gotta be that dirty but just… just a little. Just for me.” You nod, steeling yourself. But Maggie isn’t reluctant in any way, threading her fingers through yours to pull you closer. The tie of your leather dress brushes against her bare thigh, still in the bunny corset, and you feel her shudder against you as you step completely into her space.

It’s a little strange, kissing her, different but simultaneously essentially the same. The startling difference was the … niceness of it, it was sweet and slow and gentle. Different from the lip biting and teasing of the men you’d kissed. You forget, for a moment, all the other people in the room, it’s narrowed to just the three of you although really you’re putting on a show for everyone, and you open your eyes - watching Elvis watch you. Despite Maggie’s lips on yours - her soft body still pressed against you - your focus is solely on him. His eyes are burning into you, and his legs are spread, thighs thick and inviting. You put a little more effort in, grasping her hair, rubbing down her back, and you listen to him huff a little chuckle when you jokingly squeeze her tail, and slot your leg between hers. You keep eye contact behind her head, watching him swallow, shifting a little to rub a hand over himself - completely unabashed at doing so in front of everyone. The sight of him sat there, looking like a sultan surveying his harem, blue eyes serious and intense, makes your eyes slip closed, and you put all your focus into the feeling of being watched and being kissed. You pull away, laughing as you both sway a little from the force of coming apart - you look over at him;

“That alright Da-El?” He beams at you,

“Perfect girls - so goddamn perfect.” He pats his thigh, the outline of his hardening cock almost completely visible, “Why don’t you come over here bunnies, let me have a better look.” You both do as he asks, giggling, as you tumble together onto his lap. It’s messier now, more fun, her hands scrabbling down your sides, and yours cupping her cheeks. You feel so hyper from it all that you almost feel drunk. His hand moves to support your lower back as you lean across to kiss Maggie again, giggling a little against her lips as she almost tips backwards until his arm catches her.

“God, men fucking dream about this dolls - two little bunnies sat in their laps. But this is just for me ain’t it? Just for me?” His head is tipped back, but he swings it forward to look at you both - intensely, possessively. How a man could be possessive over two women he’d only known 48 hours, on a plane he didn’t even own, was mind-boggling - the sheer confidence required for that kind of thought overwhelming. Yet you can’t help but feel turned on by it, your own head nodding insistently to reassure him. Maggie looks askance at you, but still rapidly nods - the slight lie going unnoticed. His thigh flexes and where you’ve leant forward has hitched your tiny skirt up high enough that you’re now entirely sat feeling the soft fabric encasing his thigh underneath you rub against your bare legs. You can’t help but rock against it, just the tiniest amount. You can feel everyone’s eyes on you three, and instead of the shame you expected to feel, your stomach tightens in arousal at the sensation of being watched. He lets out a little moan, and it only makes you work harder, slipping your tongue into Maggie’s mouth as she pants against your lips. You feel Elvis’ hand slide up your body to the side of your ribcage, his thumb brushing your breast. You pull back, and he gasps as you stroke the outside of his soft trouser leg, gently rubbing the fabric over his cock. Elvis abruptly stands, pushing you both off.

“Think there might be some important business I need to do in Hef’s office. Why don’t you two run along ahead - gonna need,” he looks sideways, jokingly, playing it up for your forgotten audience, “gonna need a couple of helping hands.” You give what can only be described as a polite smile, wondering what on earth has gotten into you that you were willing to display yourself like that in public. But for whatever reason you’re walking back into the bedroom again - this time following behind Maggie. You’re watching her from behind, and though you’ve seen her in uniform countless times you’re suddenly left wondering if her shape has always looked that inviting to grab - or if the teddy had always revealed so much of her ass. She seems far more at home in Hugh’s private quarters than you ever did the first time, and you realise suddenly that it’s very probable this isn’t her first time back here with a guest. The realisation shoots a burst of anxiety through you again, that you try to immediately brush away, that this whole thing really was just expected of you.

Elvis shuts the door behind him when he comes in, immediately setting the mood lighting. Before resting his hand on your back and pulling you in for a quick kiss. It’s strange kissing him again now, you expect for some reason his lips to feel rough in comparison to Maggie’s, masculine instead of her soft femininity, but as always his lips are full and buttery soft a perfect representation of the juxtaposition of his personality. He pulls away too soon and you find yourself leaning into him, eyes still closed, chasing the sensation, pouting when he laughs at you.

“You good to go honey, or do you need a hand givin’ me a show?” You’re confused by what he’s offering, until you notice he’s holding out his hand two little pills sat in it. “Just vitamins baby,” You shake your head, you’re a little nervous but despite the environment you’re working in you’ve not taken anything yet, and the concept of it scares you more than your nerves. You’re surprised though when Maggie’s hand comes from nowhere, plucking one of them out of his palm and swallowing it dry. He beams at her, “Atta girl.” Maggie giggles at him,

“Thank you daddy,” and he glances over at you, sideways, again before swallowing the leftover pill.

He claps his hands, before suddenly, playfully, throwing you over his shoulder and onto the bed. You’re shocked at the display of physicality - not expecting it at all, and even more surprised when a moment later Maggie is thrown in much the same manner, bumping onto the bed and knocking into you. He settles himself up by the cushions, looking expectantly at the pair of you of you sprawled out and he gestures to the rest of the bed. He shifts, settling his hands on his open thighs, the hard outline of his cock almost completely visible through his pants. He clenches them into fists, like he’s trying not to touch. He looks, with his hair wild and his glasses on, so classically - typically Elvis that it makes your heart rate increase just watching him.

“Go on then, pretty little bunnies - wanna see you two - wanna see you havin’ fun. Give me a show.” It’s not a request but a command, and even if you’d wanted to (which you didn’t) you can’t do anything but obey.

Maggie responds with a “Yes, sir,” as you move to situate yourself, kneeling at the bottom of the bed and she crawls over to meet you. This time she takes control, kissing you, her hands moving over the little leather coat-dress. It feels different having her lithe, nylon covered leg pushing in between yours instead of Elvis’ thick thigh. You wouldn’t go so far to say it’s better, but the friction against your thin panties and the way it allows your legs and thighs to stay fairly close, to clench and move is appealing. You can’t help but rock against her, clutching at her waist - she laughs into your mouth, pulling your hair a little as she presses gentle kisses down your neck. You gasp, head falling back, before you pull away to lean forward again, catching her face between your hands, you rub against her, drawing her front back towards you - you giggle, whispering,

“Mags’ I can’t - can’t believe we’re doing this...” Elvis chuckles behind you, clearly you weren’t as quiet as you thought, and that makes you laugh harder. It’s fun and flirty and you haven’t felt this chill about something in a while - the ability to just zone out and enjoy the sensations without having to worry about the future. You start to unbelt your dress, trying to move quickly - frantically, and as soon as you’ve got it unbuttoned Maggie is palming at you, pushing it down your shoulders. She moves forward a little more, and you lean back - letting Elvis get a better look at your newly uncovered skin. She moves her hand to brush against your panty-covered mound and you gasp. Your head falling forward onto her shoulder at the feel, so different from your own fingers or his thick digits, she moves her leg and you’re suddenly humping against nothing - you whine into the air, Elvis interrupting you as you try to pull her back.

“Sl-slow down girls, get tha’ dress off and go a lil’ slower - there’s no rush. No need to rush now - just slow - slow it down.” You nod trying to still your hips, gasping out,

“Ok, ok, daddy - well - we’ll slow -ah- down,” and Maggie pushes you, both of you tumbling backwards. You roll for a moment, the silk of Maggie’s costume rubbing against your skin, the coolness a welcome relief to your burning skin. You suddenly catch, out of the corner of your eye, Elvis shifting, his arm moving at a rapid pace and you don’t know why, considering what you’re currently doing, you’re shocked to realise he has his cock out, that he’s touching himself watching you. You accidentally make eye contact, and you’re taken aback by the look on his face, his lip curling in pleasure. To be watched with such burning desire is shocking, and would be enough to make you shy had you not had this overwhelming sexual confidence come over you from somewhere. You absently think that you should probably help Maggie out of her corset, the pufftail isn’t comfortable to lie in and she was probably wishing for more breathability right now, but before you can offer she’s stroking a finger down you and all thoughts fly out of your head. She looks up at Elvis, questioning something that you can’t hear through your single-minded tunnel vision and hearing, but you manage to catch his reply;

“No - no, just - just, just over top, honey, not - no, that’s just for me.” And she resumes to touching you over the top of the growing dampness of your panties, you groan at the sheer level of objectification; at being spoken about as if you were just there for his amusement, that you were his. Maggie renews her efforts though, and her fingers quickly, even over the soft cotton fabric of your underwear, find the spot to make you squirm, hips bucking into her. She soothes you, and you wonder if you should be reciprocating in some way but as her delicate fingers push the tiniest fold of fabric into you, you’re lost clutching at the fur throw, the slight friction easing as it gathers up your slick. She moves her finger to circle around your clit, bunching the fabric between her thumb and fingers and rubbing it against you. You somehow manage to blink open your eyes, leaning your head all the way back to look at Elvis; his entire focus is on what’s happening between your legs - it causes a shudder to run through you, and your stomach tightens as you feel your legs start to cramp;

“Go on baby, hold it for me, hold it - don’t - want you to keep her just there for me - that’s it. Stop stop, that’s just for me.” She pulls her hand away and your back arches as whine, so close to the edge.

He leans in gripping Maggie’s neck to kiss her and you can hear the wet smack of their lips together, he pulls back, briefly “Don’t worry, honey, don't wanna make you jealous…just wanna say thank you for such a lovely show - that’s alright isn’t it?” You can’t do anything but agree and he returns to her, hands on her neck and head to hold her in place. Watching it up close you can understand why he wanted to watch himself, you wonder if that’s what you look like with him too; all teeth and tongue and lips. You squirm, still feeling the possibility of your orgasm.

“Now go on, there’s a good girl, run along now, thank you darling - You gonna be alright? You want me to get one of the boys to uh, see to ya properly?” She shakes her head, almost fondly as if laughing that she might need his help to find a willing partner. “Well - You tell ‘em I said it’s ok.” He sends her on her way like he’s pimping her out for the night, you hate how it makes your core throb a little, and you can’t help but glow at being the very obviously chosen one; not just one night but two in a row. Maggie looks back at you, still lying on the fur throw, winks and leaves - sauntering through the door. When she’s gone Elvis turns back to you, rubbing sweeping circles on your stomach,

“Just wanna get you goin’ again for me,” His hand starts to trail down, and you don’t know what’s come over you but you put your own out - grasping his wrist to stop him wanting him to know;

“Daddy, I’ve never - that was my first time with,” He laughs,

“Oh, honey, I know, I know. Did you like it?” You nod, and he laughs again, “I’ll bring my camera next time baby, can’t believe Hef’s not got one installed in here somewhere. What a waste.” He tries to move but you hold his hand where it is, causing him to look calculatingly over you, one eyebrow slightly raised. “Was there something you wanted?”

“I…” You squirm under the pressure of his gaze and the tone of his voice.

“C’mon bunny, tell me what you want.” You nod, a bit nervous - but you had stopped his hand for a reason.

“Could you, would you… you know.” He’s got a shit-eating grin on his face when he responds,

“No, sorry, I don’t.” You whine,

“Ugh - would you, with your tongue?”

“Ohh - you want me to go back down on you? Have another taste of that sweet yittle bunny cunt?” You wriggle at his harsh wording mixed with his babying tone, but you frantically nod. He grins, taking his glasses off and throwing them somewhere on the bed.

“Well ain’t today just my lucky day.” He manhandles you into a better position, ripping your underwear off, pushing you against the cushions and shoving one underneath your hips - moving to situate himself between your thighs. He wiggles like a cartoon about to be served at a restaurant - almost certainly to make you laugh and you comply, nervously giggling, mind preoccupied with hoping that you taste alright now that you’ve asked for it. He spreads you open, kissing your inner thigh before moving closer to your core, and you can feel yourself pulse with anticipation.

He tentatively licks you, just a gentle, wet stripe and you immediately gasp - eyes flying wide open, startled at how sensitive you already felt. Although it shouldn’t come as any surprise, you’d been slick and swollen since you’d fucked earlier, and a bit sore since last night. He flattens his tongue, spreading your folds, and moves his fingers in to keep you spread open. Your hips buck of their own accord when he wets his lips and blows cold air onto you, watching you squirm and clench in response. You can feel his smile before he concentrates again his tongue lapping at your entrance. Your legs come up, needing more support to better grind onto him and your hands move down to grip his hair, thumbs digging into the side of his face, his sideburns, while your fingers find purchase in his long strands, gently holding him in place. He renews his efforts, flicking his tongue in your inner folds and he moves one of his hands to brace your stomach down as he moves to lick directly over your clit - your hips thrusting up enough in response for you to understand the necessity of his hand holding you down. You didn’t realise you could become addicted to the feel of something so quickly, but you’re not sure you’re going to be able to live without someone, preferably him, doing this to you regularly. The warm wet pressure builds, and on top of where you were already on the edge it’s quickly building to be almost too much. He pulls back just as you think you’re about to go over the edge and you groan, but he smiles at you, catching his breath, lips glistening with your slick.

“Oh god - is that, is that me on you?” He grins,

“Sure is baby, sweetest honey from my honey bun-bun.” He licks his lips, and you groan again, your tummy flipping from how close you still feel,

“Elvis - Daddy - need you, need more,” He leans back down, whispering, crooning in babytalk to your pussy;

“Oh baby, baby, poor little, yittle, baby bunny - daddy’s gonna take real good care of you now, no more games baby, no that’s right, gonna get you right there,” He presses his lips to your clit kissing it, nose buried in you. Your entire focus is on the sensations as he moves down to spear his tongue into you, so different from a finger or cock and you almost choke from the force of the puff of air you exhale, as he curls it just so; you didn’t even know it was possible to do that and you wonder how much practice at this he really has.

You can’t bear to look down at him anymore, the sight of his long lashes brushing against you, reminding you of who it was between your legs, watching you almost too much and you throw your head back, eyes closing as he thrusts his tongue in and out. He moves to add his thumb in, rubbing over your clit as his tongue continues to do its job, soothingly licking where you’re sore around the entrance to your hole. Your stomach tightens as he maintains a steady pace and you clench around him, thighs coming to rest on either side of his head, as you rock on his tongue and fingers. It’s not long, only moments when the pressure and movement get you there, body jumping as you crest over the wave of your orgasm. He licks you through it, and it means you just keep going. It’s overwhelming, and not something you’ve experienced before, the extended shaking and shuddering as you jolt around, jumping with every fizzle of pleasure. Finally, he pulls back, allowing you to breathe again, panting as you force your body to relax.

A minute or so later you’re able to sit up a little more, opening your eyes properly again. You look over at Elvis and he’s got his cock in his hand - you’re tired but you feel like you have to show him some kind of appreciation for the best orgasm of your life so you lean up on your elbows, reaching a hand down to join his, you pump it once or twice before whispering to him,

“Let me Daddy,” and you sink your mouth down onto him. He gasps in surprise swearing

“Lord hav- oh god baby, bunny, oh shit.” as you hum around him, swallowing. He was clearly already very close and it only takes a couple of moments in the hot, wet, pressure of your mouth and throat before he’s warning you,

“Gonna, it’s, I’m gonna go off baby, it’s - I’m close, real fu-cking close.” And with that he thrusts once, twice, while you hollow your cheeks - sucking down hard and that’s all it takes for him to be spurting into your mouth. You flinch, surprised, despite his warning, at the speed the taste unexpected, but still you swallow it down. “Fuck - fuck, thank you bunny, thank you.” He’s sweet, offering more gratitude than you’ve ever received from a man. You kiss his tip as you pull away and once again fall onto your back. You lie back, panting, and he joins you, curling around you - cuddling into you for the first time since you started this whole thing. You roll into him, enjoying being cradled in his thick arms, trying to comprehend the events of the past forty eight hours and how you’re going to be returning back to your normal life in only another few hours, wondering what Maggie chose to do, when he starts to talk, fingers tracing circles on your arms.

“You know - my daddy’s - I got ‘im buyin’ me my own jet.” Your brow furrows a little, unsure where he’s going with this - “I uh, I - you’ll still have a cute little outfit, I like - like to dress ma girls up but, but I promise it’ll be … stretchy and uh, I won’t - I won’t assume anything but - but I sure would like it if you, you would come on board with me?” He perhaps should have stopped there but he keeps talking, “It also - it would mean more time together, bunny, fewer girls around. Well…fewer in uniform anyway.” You grimace a little - so what is he suggesting; you be his on call plane whore? You hate that you want it, hate that you’re so desperate for him, in any way you can have him - to whatever capacity he’s available that you’re going to agree.

“Of course - that would, that would be a dream come true Elvis, I would love to,” You’re not entirely stupid though. You smile at him, agreeing but not believing - this happens all the time in the clubs too; men promising things that never materialise - the drunker they get the more outlandish the claims; cars, houses, vacations, jobs. You know of too many girls who quit because they were promised a job as someone’s secretary only for the role to never materialise to put too much stock into his question. Besides, you still have two more flights with Elvis already in Big Bunny’s calendar - you were sure there’s more than enough time for him to make the offer again if he was really serious.

“Wha-what’s your schedule like?… You got a boyfriend?” You pause, uncertain where this is going, surely these were questions that should have been asked yesterday? You suddenly realise that you know he’s seeing someone if only from the overheard phone-call but that you also had no idea if you were turning into the other woman or something. Or if you were just a girl to pass the time with.

“I - uh, no. No, no-one. I’m not, we’re kept quite busy…” He frowns, kissing the top of your shoulder,

“Would you, you could come watch a show if you, I’ll get tickets for you and the girls if you want?” You smile,

“That would be lovely, thank you -” He continues,

“You could come a little earlier if you wanted, I’m playing somewhere new tomorrow, well - uh,” he looks over at the clock, grimacing, “Today. So I gotta check the sound and things, you could come to the rehearsal? I want you there baby,” You register some shock at his last words but nod, agreeing, it sounds like the opportunity of a lifetime and you go to say it but you suddenly realise, from the little puffing breaths on your shoulder he’s fallen asleep practically mid-sentence. You look around for the clock, before you, with some wonder, discover there’s still ninety minutes left of the flight and close your own eyes too. The others can do the stewarding, you’re doing the main job - keeping Elvis happy.

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