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#typo left in intentionally as always
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Something about the way Roxane with the cadets lifting their mood parallels Cyrano with the nuns lifting their mood
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zentraex · 23 hours
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Summary: You made a lot mistakes in your new job, but do you regret them? Nope, not a bit. But who can blame you for it? If you wouldn't have done them, you never would have met this pretty boy.
Remember: German Grammar is a lot different then English grammar. I apologize for any mistakes.
Pairing: Francis Mosses (doppelganger) x gn! Reader
(A/N): I usually write for mha, but this men dominates my fyp on TikTok and I can't stop grinning like an idiot about all this fanarts. My men is just too attractive for his own good. Nevertheless, Tumblr has too few fanfictions for him, so I had to do it myself. Still, I am not that proud about how it turned out. It certainly sounded better in my head, but I don't care. One shitty fanficion is better than none.
Art by @asteriscks on TikTok
This game is not mine, but Ignacio Alvarado. I also used phrases from the game.
Mistakes? Yes, but no regrets.
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It's been a week since you started working for D.D.D as a doorman. 
You can remember your first day so well, it could have been yesterday. 
Well... probably because your life is constantly at stake. 
_
It started with a mistake that you ended up here. It was completely unexpected since you always made sure, that you sent your rent to the right account. 
Surely no one can blame you for a small typo, right?
Well, your landlord, who kept pounding on your door until you woke up, surely did.
"What?" you asked, annoyed, as you opened the door.
"When do you plan to finally pay your bill? The date has already been overdue for two weeks!" he complains. 
What?
"Sorry, but I've already transferred my money to you."
"Well, I didn't get anything. Do you still have the receipt for the transfer?"
"No..."
You already knew what that meant: double payment.
"Look, today, I'll transfer it to your account again, okay? If it doesn't work this time, it's not my fault."
You were about to close the door, but your landlord had other plans when he held the door open with his foot.
 "No no no. You will give me the money now. I don’t trust you. Why would you transfer it to me today, when it should have happened two weeks ago. You will give it to me now."
Your eyes widened. 
Now?
"But I don't have that much money in my hand? Who's got that?"
"Then I'll have to kick you out for now. But don't worry, no one is going to buy an apartment here anytime soon, so you can move right back in as soon as you give me the money."
Staring stunned at his smiling face you could have sworn you were about to hit him. 
"The keys?" 
With watery eyes, you grabbed your keys, placed them in his outstretched hand, and frowned.
What kind of person had such sharp fingernails as he does?  
You were sure that he could definitely have stabbed someone with them.
Thank God, I didn't hit him. 
"When do you plan to give me the money? I've heard that all banks closed today. Some kind of holiday among them, I've heard."
What!?
How were you going to get through the day today? You intentionally left everything in your apartment since you were so sure that you could have given the money to your landlord in a matter of minutes. 
"You’re telling me this now!?"
"If you had paid, you wouldn’t need to know." 
That filthy bastard.
No matter how angry you were at that moment, your panic was overweighting.  
What were you going to do now? 
Shit.
"Man, I really wouldn't want to be in your situation...", the landlord murmured.
Fuck the nails- This guy deserves a punch.
Just as you raised your fist, he speaks again.
"But maybe we can agree on something.
Then you stopped. 
"The D.D.D., which is responsible for the safety of all residents in this area, is looking for doormans. Ours has recently...quitted, which is why we are urgently looking for one. They pay three times the amount of your rent in a week. If you take the job, I can overlook your sloppiness this time."
Three times your rent? In a week? And for what? To sit there and check a few documents. You'd be crazy not to take the offer! 
"Okay. I'll do it. Where can I apply?"
"Don't worry, I'll sort it out for you. Tomorrow, you can start”
_
Looking back, it should have been clear to you that something was wrong. Starting with the sudden his sudden threat, the fingernails and this stupid story about the holiday of the banks. 
Maybe it was just because you were too panicked at that moment to think rationally.
But let’s be true here: when are you thinking rationally? If you did, you would certainly have quitted after your first day.
_
"Welcome and congratulations on your new job."
After watching the short video, a man in the yellow suit came to your window. You are so shocked that you can’t even answer.
I'm going to die today!
After all, you know it yourself: you're too gullible for the job. There's no chance you'll unmask a doppelganger who copies someone well.
“As you could see on the introductory film, your job is to verify the entry of the neighbors of your building. Each day there will be a list of individuals who will request entry to the building. It is possible that there are individuals who request entry and aren’t on the list. In which case you will mark on the checklist that they are not on the list and proceed to question the individual. Also, you must verify that the ID and the entry reqest are correct and have the respective D.D.D. logo. Don’t forget to also check the expiration on the IDs. Remember it’s Febuary 1955."
Your gaze wanders to the note that was stuck to the wall. 
Arnold Schmicht F02 – 01
Anastacha Mikaelys F02 – 04
Robertsky Peachman F01 – 02
Steven Rudboys F03 – 03 
Mia Stone F03 – 01
Rafttellyn Cappuccin F03 – 04
Admittedly, you don't know any of your neighbors, neither by character nor really by sight. You were never the type to care about your neighbors. 
"I wish you good luck."
C’mon Reader, be like Henry…
But better.
The first inhabitant was Mia Stone and you already started to sweat.
"Good evening."
Was she real? Was she a doppelganger? 
With shaky hands, you reached for her ID and entry pass, only to find that everything was fine. She was also on today's list and her appearance doesn't show any deviations either, right?
Just to be sure, you looked into the folder that described her appearance: 
Long hair
Small round nose
She has freckles
...
...
...
Freckles?
Your eyes wandered again to the woman in front of you, who was waiting patiently behind the window. 
You narrowed your eyes a little and leaned forward to get a better view of her.
No matter how long you stared at her, you didn't see them, her freckles. 
"You look different...", you murmur after a while.
"What's wrong with my appearance? I think everything is fine with my appearance."
Her photo on her ID and Entry Pass both have no freckles. 
Perhaps a mistake on the part of the D.D.D.? 
You're about to press the green button, but then you see her grinning slightly out of the corner of your eye. 
Shit. 
She almost had you. You're really not made for this job.
Your hand slammed hard against the red button, causing the siren to blare and the metal window to crash down. 
"3312," you murmur to yourself.
"You have contacted the D.D.D.. A group of agents has been sent to your building. Please wait for the cleaning protocol to run."
Cleaning protocol? 
What happens to those who were cleaned? They certainly won't be killed, will they? 
What if they will?
What if your judgment was wrong?
What if...
Your thoughts were interrupted as the siren fell silent and the metal window went up, only to reveal the yellow man.
"Cleaning protocol completed. You can continue your job."
It took a while until someone finally came again. 
This time, your heart was pounding faster. Significantly faster. And this time, you can't even say for sure that it's all out of fear. 
Milkman...
You definitely can't deny it: he's probably one of the most attractive men you've ever seen. 
You don't even have to look at today's checklist to tell he's not on it – a face like his would have caught your eye right away. 
"Francis Mosses, huh?" you murmured to yourself as you looked at his ID. "You're not on today's list."
"I’m not on today’s list because I had to leave due to an emergency."
Long nose
Thin chin
Tired eyes
Short hair
Wears a hat
It all fit. The only thing left now was a call. 
Just as you began to spin the wheel of the phone, he said, "You're new here, aren't you? I've never seen you here before."
"Yes, today is my first day."
"Must be hard, huh? I've heard that more and more doppelgangers are appearing and they are becoming more and more error-free. It would be a shame if such a pretty face as yours were to disappear forever."
Your cheeks turn red and suddenly you feel shyer than you actually are.
"B-But your job has to be hard as well. I didn't think that being a milkman would rob you so much sleep."
Francis smiles a little. So little that you almost didn't see it at all.
"It's not. I just stay up for a very long time. If you like, I can bring you some milk sometime. It's refreshing, calms the nerves."
You bite your lip slightly when you have to refrain from a question.
What milk do you mean exactly?
My God, why were you just such a sucker for handsome men?
"I'd be delighted, Francis."
You talked to him for a while and you quickly forgot that you were actually going to call someone. 
"I'd like to talk to you more, but I don't want to stop you from your work. I'll see you tomorrow, right, Reader?"
And you quickly forgot that you never told him your name. 
You pressed the green button.
_
"Shh," whispered the voice of Francis next to your ear. 
It was your third day, your third time to change shift.
Well, it usually would have been.
Your vision and mouth were blocked by the bloody hands of the doppelganger who claimed to be Francis.
He had killed the doorman, that should have taken over your shift.
You had to admit, that you were more than inconsiderate. After all, you didn't ask for his entry pass, nor the reason why he wasn't on today's list.  
"I'll let you go now, yeah? No wrong move, okay?"
He laughed softly as he released his hands from you and turned your chair, so you were facing him. 
"We don't want to hurt you, do we, Reader?"
The sentence shouldn't have given you hope, because after all, you were more than sure that you were going to die one way or another.
Maybe you should have shown a little resistance. For your honor, but....
Oh?
He is so close to you that you can practically feel his body heat. Or was it your own? Your face, despite your situation, was burning. 
Even though he said he was letting you go, his hands ran over your body and you couldn't deny that it did something to you. 
Were you so shameful?
"Actually, I wanted to wait, but I couldn't take it anymore.  I've been patient long enough, haven't I? It was so much work for me, to let you get this job."
You didn't know what to say. Honestly, you didn't know if you would even be able to answer him. 
His breath touched your throat as he spoke, "I think I deserve this, don't I? What do you say, Reader? Do I deserve my reward?”
If you were going to die anyway, why not enjoy the last few minutes?
Regardless of whether he was a doppelganger, he had lived up to his title as "Mlikman" that night.
_
"You killed the real Francis Mosses?" you asked the next day. 
Francis grins, almost so much so that his real form was threatening to show itself.
"Yes, of course. What would have happened if he had come before me? You would have sent the D.D.D. after me."
Well, he had a point, huh?
No matter how wrong it was, you were glad it didn't come to that. 
You didn't know the real Francis Mosses. That's probably why his death was so insignificant to you.
"Have you killed more people?"
"Just more doppelgangers you let through."
Your eyes widened. 
You were so sure you caught them all. The false success was the reason why you didn't quit…well, it was one of the reasons.
"How many have I let through?"
Francis just continues to wear his smirk as he gives you a kiss on the forehead.
"Don't rack your pretty head over it, okay?"
You just nod, smiling.
"Are you going to kill others...?
You don't know why you added your next question. Probably because you wanted to feel special. 
"Would you kill for me?"
"Hooooonn"
When you turn your gaze to his face, two white pupils stared at you and his grin is inhumanly wide and black. 
You don't know if it's joyful or sadistic, but it definitely made you feel special.
_
Looking back, you made more than a few mistakes. 
But honestly? 
You don't regret a single one of them. After all, all of them have led to an all-too-familiar knock on your window.
When you look up, he waves, the milkman. 
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slow motion love potion | n. romanoff
about me | series masterlist | natasha romanoff masterlist
pairing: professor!natasha romanoff x collegestudent!reader
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chapter six | chapter seven: full of cages
chapter summary: had she been intentionally haunting you, you wouldn't know. but for someone who doesn't think of you, she's been showing up more and more in your life. she's not just your professor who has it out for you, or the woman who's been haunting your dreams every night, she also live under the same roof as you now.
warnings: slight smut; masturbation, unedited; lots of typos, long.
a/n: oh my god, the last chapter was chaotic T T. i received so many feedbacks (which super super appreciated, thank you) BUT HAD NO ONE REALLY READ THE SERIES SUMMARY? the "plot twist" has been there forever! i've been trying to foreshadow it even though i explicitly wrote the whole gist of it on the summary, but i really thought it was obvious.
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"you have to come back."
there were only ever two people who ever dared barge into natasha's office to demand her of something. she'll be damned if her students, knew that they were two freshmen who are barely five months into college. "mr. maximoff, you have to go," she says. removing her hands from the desk, and instead re-aligning the stack of papers she had on top of it as a subtle mark to end the conversation.
"mrs. romanoff," billy sighs.
"it's a little too early for this and you have class. so if you would just—"
billy's shoulders drop. "natasha...,"
"i'm quite busy, mr. maximoff," she insists.
but so did he. "mom..."
she was grabbing everything she could find on her desk, tucking them away, moving them across the table, fixing what hadn't needed fixing; from rearranging her stack of papers by putting a page from the back to the middle, or repetitively opening and closing her drawers for everytime she finds absolutely anything she can stash away.
billy only watched her. when natasha's desk had way more than enough space for her to rest her elbows on, and clasp her hands together against, she sighed almost defeated when she looked at billy.
billy had brown eyes; nothing like the ocean greens of her mother's. he'd gotten that from his father. in fact, billy looked so much like his father. he resembled vision so much that he became her constant reminder that while all of them favored scarlet over maroons, she had green eyes and they didn't. while they always win the argument over what to have for dinner, she was allergic to the tuna wanda puts in her famous maximoff casserole. while they made a hobby of providing food for the homeless, or volunteering in community outreach programs, she used to be a criminal.
while she'd always wanted a family, she also became the permanent line that would forever seperate one in half.
"billy," she says. she didn't know what she was going to say, but billy did.
"you need to come home."
what could she possibly tell a boy who's asking her to come home?
"my mom's crying," he said. "when i come home to pick something up for lunch, or when i'd acidentally left something at home, and i walk through the door, and i hear her, and i see her...," he paused. he swallowed on what almost made him choke. "and she's on her side of the bed, crying over you."
in people's minds, she was mean. sometimes, it amuses her knowing that when she walks inside a classroom, her students would each have a different version of what monster she'd look like if she took off her "disguise". and more times than not, she loves it. she loves that she's feared. she loves that they're so afraid of her, so much that they'd drawn such vivid images of what kind of horns she'd have in their minds.
she should be offended. disheartened. but knowing that she was nothing like the monster people think of her to be, knowing that once, she used to come home to her family; dance, and kiss, and spin, and dip her wife in the entryway; laugh and throw food around during movie nights with the two people who meant the absolute world to her; make sandwiches and play videogames or go to the gym with her son. knowing that she was a lot kinder; that she looks after her best friend's family because he continues to be in a dangerous line of work, that she still helps out her scientist friend with his experiment because only she can bring him out of a jam. it made it all the more special; knowing that she remained unseen. knowing that she was something she had complete control of giving to the very few people she trusted. it made it more intimate.
but in those rare moments when being depicted as such a terrible person didn't come so much with pleasure, she wondered if maybe it's because people misunderstood her. maybe if she smiled more? maybe if she talked slower. maybe if she was softer. maybe if she was gentler. maybe she wouldn't seem so bad.
"billy, this does not concern you," she said, regret immediately dawning on her the moment she saw billy's face contort in disbelief. she cleared her throat. for what has felt to be such a long time, she finally dropped her shoulders. she let herself slouch against the desk, she let her brows raise in comfort, she let a lump pass onto her throat for the sheer hospitality of the terrible feeling it came with. a feeling that she finally welcomed. she let her stoicsm break, and her pride falter. "billy, sweetheart," she says, almost in a pleading whisper. she reached out to him, inviting him to come closer which he did so by disallowing any space to be between him and her desk. then she holds his hands inside hers as he slowly sat down. "whatever happened between me and your mother, whatever will happen to us, you need to know that we love you very much, and that will never change," she says.
he shakes his head. "i'm not twelve anymore, natasha," he says, withrawing his hands from her hold almost abruptly. "i just need to know that my mother will be okay."
she didn't say anything though they both knew she should've. though they were both waiting for her to say something, she didn't.
"you promised me. you promised me that you'd be there. when you married her, you promised me you'd never hurt my mother the way that my father did. you promised you'd never be like him. you promised you were different...," he choked on the lump in his throat. he was spiralling. his sentences slur into a string of words that come out like a gush of waterfall. he was shaking his head, "you promised you'd love me...," he looks at her.
"and i do."
billy was nothing like his mother. maybe that's why they got along so well. the got along the same way natasha did with her; being complete opposites.
billy got most of his father's genes. not just his mannerisms, or his looks. billy was his exact replica. from the way he acts, to the way he brushes his fingers through his hair. billy is calm. he's collected.
billy spiraled the way he did. his anxiety works the same way his father did. how he acted through it, how he choked on his words, how he panics through his sentences,
"no, you don't understand. i need you to come home."
something in her cracked. and she was unaware of everything he said next, though she were sure it was something about his mother, about how she yearned for her. about how he wanted his family back. and the next thing she knew, she was writing a letter to her next door neighbor to look after the place she'd made for herself as she won't be coming back anytime soon. and then someone else was in the room.
she went home that night. because after a long day of answering students who deem it comfortable to barge in on her; billy's friend right after he left, grading papers, teaching, and erasing the life she'd created for herself so she can try to disregard the past few months to sit in their driveway, her new car behind her wife's, unable to fathom her return.
should she come in? if she did, it would be wanda, billy, and her again. it would be the maximoff's and a romanoff. it would be reminders of the family she felt like she broke and stole half of for herself, it would be their memories in what once was the home of vision, and tommy maximoff.
in the house with too many windows and green pannels; a brick porch and a gray roof, was the very home she used to stare at wanda a little too long in; it was the very house wanda would sneak longing touches in, disguised as accidents during friendly game nights.
it was the house she watched billy grow from a tween whose voice was much too high for his age, into a man who knows what he wants, and demands for it.
she spent a lot of her nights, sleeplessly caring for billy when he was sick. she already spent too much time on his projects, she already took him on too many motorcycle rides, she already suffered through too much of him complaining about you. she already spent so much of her time falling in love with billy. he's her son. what kind of mother would abandon her son?
"i missed you so much, mama," he tells her, his face nuzzled in her neck and his arms wrapped tightly around her arms.
her heart melted; its love and warmth swimming through her every vein. she hugged him back. it was like when he used to run out of the school bus to hug her, or when he'd kiss her cheek after she'd come home from work.
she felt at home.
that was until her eyes met with yours—a girl standing just right by the arch into the dining room. and suddenly, she felt like she was back in school.
she sighed, subtly. she can't seem to catch a break from you. and it doesn't do her any good. but she ignored you, still. she passed by you as if you weren't there at all. and the way she so closely ignored your very presence—not in class, not in a lecture hall full of people, but in the walls of her very home, the way her eyes passed through you as if you were some ghost, you shrunk. and you froze. if it weren't for billy who naturally put a hand on your waist to lead you inside following his mother, you would've stayed frozen.
you grabbed billy's arm the moment you snapped out, "billy!" you pulled him into the hallway. "god, oh lord, please explain this to me!"
he was a little agitated, too eager to enter the dining room to speak to the mother he never told you about. nonetheless, after stirring his head back and forth, for a bit, he stood straight and gave you his undivided attention. "what is it, dear?" something in your skin crawled.
"you never told me mrs. romanoff was your mother?!" you exclaimed, your whisper getting louder. "since when was this?!"
"a few years ago?" he said, his palm brushing against the back of his neck.
"a few years ago?!" you repeated, your voice now above a whisper. "how can you not tell me!"
"it never came up!" he returns your energy.
"for god's sake billy, she's the very professor i spend my every day complaining to you about!"
"and i tried telling you she was my mother but you never listened!" he exclaims. neither of you were whispering now. your voices were nothing but a little less than how you'd normally talk. "i thought you knew, it was pretty obvious!"
"boys, what's--" you hear wanda's voice from the dining room. "billy, y/n, what's the noise all about?"
neither of you answered. you were not but a wall apart, yet the silence from the other room made you think they can not hear you too.
"when?!"
"well, just last week you asked where my mother was, and when i asked which one you said, 'mrs. maximoff' so i just thought you knew...," it was the day after you got drunk. you remembered. never had you wanted to scream at yourself for not noticing, for not hearing it. maybe because you were too focused on yourself again to notice anything billy says.
god, if you'd only listened.
if you'd only put anyone above yourself.
"well, i was stressed. i didn't notice...," you defended, a little calmer now in slight defeat.
"any other time, you'd interrupt me."
"what?"
that was actually a slap on the face. a slap that left a, "if you would just take one second to look at anybody else other than yourself, maybe you'd realize" mark on your cheek.
you were certain that he might have told you, tried to at least, and every time you did interrupt him.
"i thought he was just your auntie nat...," you say quietly now, calmly, almost apologetically.
"yes," he says in a mere breath of air. "but i tried telling you she did become my mother after that."
"had you..."
yes. he did. you remembered because you assumed he'll only say that they'd gotten even closer eventually so you interrupted him. you remembered because for a moment you hoped you'd be as close to her as he was, and then you went on theorizing what made her so bad.
he was defending her so often, and you'd assumed it was because mrs. romanoff was wanda's friend. but who would scream like that to his mother's friend? what kind of child would barge into his mother's friend's office. how could you not have noticed?
"where did you two meet?" you ask.
you were looking at neither of them as your eyes were trained to the knife you were cutting through the steak. you didn't really want to look up. you didn't want to see mrs. romanoff and the way she couldn't see you; she didn't want to see you. but you'd grown tired of hearing billy's never-ending stories to catch his mother up. you didn't care how they met. you just couldn't stand the stolen glances, and the silent chewing between mrs. romanoff, and mrs. maximoff. the tension, you could cut through with a knife but billy couldn't tell. her never could.
"through a friend..." they say in synch, pausing upon the realization to look at each other for a little before looking back down.
you caught a glimpse of that simple interaction and thought it be best if you just let billy speak. you couldn't see something like that again. that simple strained interaction was enough to make your teeth hurt.
you made sure to keep your eyes on your plate too. the shrinking feeling of being unseen by mrs. romanoff when you're right in front of her, not because she chooses not to but because you hold zero value to her life that she can't actually see you, to see that is unheartly. she wasn't just your professor anymore, she's your boyfriend's mother who you're beginning to assume is moving back into the home you just moved into. even in her home, she couldn't look at you as if your of no worth.
you can't forget now, she's your professor, and your boyfriend's mother.
even when your skin burns from the imagery of her hands on you in your dreams, she's still your professor.
even when you pulse, and ache, in want and need at night, resist, she's your boyfriend's mother.
even when your hand travels down to your very core, and you vibrate in the irresistable desire the darkness of your room allows you. with every bit of her hands on your neck, and her body on you, engraved in your memory. forget about the dreams, she's mrs. maximoff's wife.
don't let her distract you, don't let your dreams decieve you, your body's just changing, your aching not for her but for the imminent desire to be touched, to be loved, to be wanted.
don't think about her. you don't want her.
don't think about her.
don't think about her.
but how can you not when she so gracefully writhes on top of you? how can you not when she's holding a handful of your hair and pushing her front against your back?
it's an illusion from your brain, a signal from your body of your sexual deprivation. but the way she kisses you, the way her fingers play with you very being, she's wanda's wife. she's mrs. romanoff.
"oh, god, yes! please mrs. romanoff...," you covered your mouth the moment you heard your voice be slightly louder than it is safe to be. but the fear someone might have heard you did not make you fingers falter. "please, god, i'm cumming, i'm cumming, i'm cumming..." you were chanting mrs. romanoff's name a few more seconds before you'd made yourself see stars, and your body errupted in pure euphoria.
it took a while before the stars faded into your ceiling, and you were panting. your chest was heaving, and when you brought your fingers from the gap between your legs, it's almost like you coudn't believe what you'd done.
"i did it...," you smile, seeing your fingers dripping in juices.
it was the first time you had done this. and somehow, all the tension, and the bottled sexual frustration all ceased upon your release. and a part of you hated that you hadn't done it sooner.
and then a creak snaps you out. and there it was, shame. the reminder that you did not only dream about your professor and bestfriend's--boyfriend's mother, but you got off on the thought of her. you weren't new to the feeling, it welcomes you every morning when you wake up realizing you had been haunted by her again.
"i need water...," you sigh to yourself as you got up.
you didn't realize your door was slightly open, but you didn't really care. the entire house was asleep, so much so that you can even hear your own breaths.
you looked at the hallway where the rooms are. it was dark but you still saw the bathroom door open at the end of the hall. your room was right by the stairs. it was originally a guest room until you stayed here as a kid. you still have a very vivid memory of vision painting your walls pink, and wanda painting flowers on a part of the wall. the room hadn't changed one bit.
billy's door was right in front of yours, and wanda's near the end of the hall. you wonder if natasha and wanda are sleeping on the same bed now.
something inside you stirs.
"you're still awake," you hear a familiar voice say and something inside you shifts. wanda usually keeps the kitchen light on. you didn't see mrs. romanoff until you looked up almost in shock.
she just humiliated you in her office earlier. then she complete disregarded your presence in her home. and then you got off on her.
you could never look at her without all these feelings eating you up. she scares you, and infuriates you, but still you want her to look at you, you want her to be nice, you want her validation.
"so, you're billy's mom," you say casually, walking up to the fridge.
she hummed. she opened her bottle of beer before tilting her head up to take a brief glance at you. "hadn't you known?"
it wasn't as much of a question as it is a tonal accusation that you had known, you're just pretending not to.
but you didn't.
"no. actually, i didn't," you say, finally opening the fridge which handle of you've been holding the entire time.
"hadn't you," she chuckled, then she took a sip of her drink while leaning against the counter.
this was the most you'd seen of her. outside of school, outside her profession. she wasn't mrs. romanoff. she was a normal woman who drinks beer at 1 am in the morning with wet hair and a gray shirt.
"i always thought you had all that courage with me because billy was your friend," she says.
this was the longest she looked at you. the only time when you felt like she can see you other than when she's trying to humiliate you, or you're asking for her attention.
"i...," you were at lost for words. not because you didn't know what to say. but because she distracts you. because she's distracting you again.
she wasn't looking at you, she'd only take glances, or brief looks. she seems comfortable enough looking at the kitchen island rather than you. and her lips, they twitch. the end of her lips twitch and stretches out into a small smile, especially when she chuckles. or when she quips your responses.
you're down here, staring at her as if you hadn't just moaned her name while fucking yourself.
but she... she was unlike the mrs. romanoff who would stare at your very soul, unmoving, unbothered, uninterested.
maybe, billy was right. she was nicer at home. but who would've thought you'd see her stoicsm break inside her home, at 1 am, while getting water in your pajamas.
you break out of your thoughts when she looks at you, waiting for you to speak, "i don't...," you speak aimlessly, unaware of what you're trying to get across. but then you look away. you open the fridge, sticking your face in so the door covers her. and you could speak. "what courage?" you say dryly.
"well, i'd told you already," she straightened her back, going around the island where she'd sat on one of the stools. "you have the courage to demand i be nicer to you, or that i let you go from my class. if you'd taken the time to ask me the right questions, maybe you could've done better."
"let's not talk school," you groan. "you're at home. i'd like to have a break from professor you."
"well," she grins to herself. "i think you won't be getting that much break from me."
she was gentler; kinder. you wanted this at school.
you finally bring out a bottle of water from the fridge, meeting her by the island where you stand across from her, opening your drink.
"it wasn't courage," you say. "i was asking you all that because i was afraid of you."
"isn't it courage to stand in front of something you're afraid of?"
you didn't say anything for a while. the both of you were on pause, not even moving.
"why are you being nice?" you say abruptly. "you weren't even acknowledging my existence until three minutes ago."
"didn't you ask me to be nicer to you?"
"when i got drunk, yes," and you asked her to fuck you. "i still mean it. but still. why?"
you see her lips twitch into what you noticed was a manneristic grin. and then you hear a small chuckle. "i think, y/n, that you blur out the lines between being professional, and being personal. i am a college professor, and i am not expected to be nice to my student, and neither am i required to," she slipped into being mrs. romanoff so effortlessly, professional after being personal in a snap. you'd think, she was the one who had her professional personality far too intertwined that she's starting to confuse the two. "just because i'm strict and a disciplinarian at work, doesn't make me a bad person in real life."
she was right. when was she not?
and had always been easier to blame her being mean when really... really, she was just so distracting.
her lips are moving, and you could feel something inside of you from the way her tongue rolls off the roof of her mouth. and her eyes... they flutter, and they close, and they stare at you, and you're so instantly drawn, you could feel yourself actively trying to pin your entire body down from being sucked into whatever gravity pulling you into her that science could never explain.
she's distracting you. everything she is, her very being distracts you.
"try harder, miss y/l/n," she says, again, breaking you out of your thoughts.
"what?"
"i think you're really smart. so try harder," she says. "and stop being so distracted,"
you feel it again. aching.
you could never try harder, because everything she does, everything she does to you, and says to you, it pulls you further away from what you should be focused on.
"are you distracted again, miss y/l/n," she said your name differently this time. it wasn't sharp, or harsh. you couldn't point it out, all know was how it sent chills down your lower back.
you're going to lose this tomorrow. the moment when she finally sees you would dissipate into tomorrow when she'd humiliate you again, call you out, or worse, ignore you. you couldn't.
"teach me," you say, slapping your hands against the surface of the counter.
"what?"
"you told me if i just asked you. so i'm asking you," you stared at her, looking directly into her eyes. "teach me where i got it wrong. tell me what to do, help me. guide me."
"is that what you want?"
"i want to do better," for you. "you should be asking me if that's what i need, shouldn't you?"
"what do you need?"
"you," you whisper. "i need you to help me."
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applinsandoranges · 5 months
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Just some random background lore about the Sebastian, MC, and Oliver from my Lost Time fic (I have an embarrassing amount of backstory for all my fics). I do more daydreaming and useless world-building than actual writing. If anyone wants this rambling nonsense for any other fics, I have a truckload. Every MC and Seb are different in my weird little brain, and they all have a different history and quirks. I'm sure there's tons more than what I'm even remembering to vomit here, but here's some of the meaningless lore about this family that resides permanently in my brain.
NOT edited for typos or coherence.
Lost Time Lore?
- Sebastian has an apartment in London. He and Leander were roommates while they were both trainee Aurors, but when Leander got married and moved out, Sebastian remained behind and never looked for another roommate, preferring to stay there alone. He enjoys the quiet reflection, and turned the spare room into and abyss for all his shit.
- MC underwent apothecary training while she was pregnant. To avoid any chance of a run-in with Sebastian, or news reaching his ears about her condition, she went to the far, far countryside and studied under a teacher there, eventually purchasing the cottage where she raised Oliver.
- Sebastian has actually been to her shop before, while she was in the back sorting through inventory. Her employee sold him a potion, and he left just as she exited the back room. He'd been on a mission and was passing through the town on his way and needed to replenish his supplies.
- MC wrote dozens of letters for Sebastian telling him about the pregnancy and Oliver himself. She never sent them, but they're in a box at the bottom of her wardrobe. He finds them one day while moving a few of his belongings into their home, and subsequently spends the entire day reading them and crying. MC comes home and it's quite an emotional night for the little family. They still have some healing to do, but they cry their eyes our together while Oliver watches them like they're batshit insane.
- Oliver is most certainly not a crier. The Healers who delivered him and took care of his pediatric health are always amused because no matter what, Oliver is so easy-going. He has a temper, but tears are rare - it's how his parents know when something is really wrong.
- Oliver absolutely hates mashed turnips, and he will attempt to feed them to Finch every time. That aside, he eats just about anything else. This kid is a star member of the Clean Plate Club, and MC was amused at first by how ravenous he always was, but has become increasingly certain that he may just have an extension charm cast on his stomach because the boy will not stop eating.
- Because she runs her own shop and she's a busy little bee, MC needed to hire a nanny for Oliver during her working hours. Mrs. Baker is an older squib who lives in the hamlet, and Oliver adores her. MC, on the other hand, wants to pull her hair out most days because the woman never stops chatting. She'll be trying to rush into town and Baker will prattle on for an eternity about the most mundane subjects - she once held her back for nearly a half hour because she wouldn't stop talking about how the well-water tastes different in winter. When Sebastian moves in, he will intentionally goad Mrs. Baker into talking more to MC, just to see her squirm.
- MC, while capable of cooking well enough, cannot bake to save her life. Try as she might, it comes out burnt or flat or undercooked each and every time. This issue became evident to the neighbors when she first moved into the cottage and black smoke would always puff out of the windows, MC cursing and screaming like a banshee as she frantically used a towel to wave the stench outside. Taking pity on the single mother and her newborn, the neighbors take turns bringing fresh loaves of bread and little baskets of pastries to leave on her doorstep each Sunday. It's an unspoken arrangement, but MC takes notice and returns the favor by delivering bundles of fresh lavender and dittany and other useful herbs and ingredients to her benefactors.
- Sebastian moves in immediately after he finds MC and Oliver. And I mean immediately. The day after they reconcile, he heads to the Auror Office and puts in for leave, then spends the next day or so hauling his shit into the cottage while MC tends her shop. They realize quite quickly they'll need to move to a bigger home, if only to house his books.
- Finch pisses in Sebastian's shoes regularly. They have a tenuous relationship at best, until Sebastian resorts to stuffing catnip in his pockets at Oliver's suggestion. At first he laughs it off, but humors his son. When Finch purrs and loves on him, Sebastian has MC infuse soaps and laundry detergent with the herb. He's not above tricking the cat into affection.
- Sebastian spends the first few months absolutely terrified that Oliver will hate him for the most minor infraction. He spoils the boy rotten in a bid to curry favor. Oliver already loves him, and MC tries to assure him of this all the time, but Sebastian is more insecure about his son's opinion of him than anything else. I'm talking daily gifts, teddy bear pancakes, disregarding mommy's rules as soon as Ollie gives those puppy dog eyes. The boy has his dad wrapped around his little finger.
- The first time Oliver calls Sebastian dad is the greatest day of the man's life, and it comes way sooner than he was ever prepared for. Literally the morning after Sebastian reunites with MC and meets Oliver, after the kid wakes up and has his breakfast and perks up a bit. Sebastian tries to leave for work and Oliver hugs his leg and says, "Bye, dad." - and Sebastian just MELTS INTO AN IRREPARABLE PUDDLE OF GOO ON THE FLOOR. He's many hours late to work because how the hell can he just leave after that? He will initiate conversation with Oliver ceaselessly to try and pull another "Dad" from the boy.
- MC was not kidding when she told Sebastian that Oliver knew all about who his father was before he even met him. Despite their differences when they separated, she would tell Oliver all about Sebastian every single day. "Your dad is an Auror, love. You know, a hero. He's a great man.", and all her stories have turned Sebastian into Oliver's idol since a long time ago. He has a fixation on Aurors because of the glowing things MC says about Sebastian being one, and Oliver will one day also become an Auror.
- When Oliver starts Hogwarts, he's in Slytherin, like his dad. MC, a proud Gryffindor, finds this to be a sore spot because Sebastian gloats and he and Oliver decorate the boy's room in his House colors when he comes home for Christmas that first year. It's all playful banter, and MC gets her Gryffindor with their second child, a girl named Eleanor. When Eleanor starts school, Oliver becomes fiercely protective of her, and at one point even trues to coax the Headmaster into letting him be re-Housed in Gryffindor so he can keep a closer eye on her.
- The Sallows have quite a handful of children. A new baby arrives less than a year after he moves in, and they scramble to tie the knot before MC starts showing again - the damn townsfolk talk too much and they're not dealing with the drama. A wedding was long overdue, anyway. After that, they simply do not stop. Oliver, Eleanor, then twins, then another girl. It's only when MC has a difficult pregnancy and birth with their youngest, a baby boy, that they finally decide that enough is enough, although Sebastian will occasionally still joke that the Weasleys would soon take the lead for most Hogwarts alumni from their year if they gave up now.
- The Sallow children are each and every one a good student - to an extent. They're avid readers, hungry for knowledge, and have an innate talent for magic. Unfortunately, with two troublemakers for parents, the Sallow household is consistently receiving detention notices from the school. MC saves them until summer, and the child with the most has the distinct pleasure of teatime with Mrs. Baker, who has nannied each of the children.
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midnight-moth · 8 days
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Nivis
I was just watching the snow and then it happened. 1331 words of Quintessence ghoul sweetness & weirdness. (Bell/Phantom) (I’m obsessed with them)
If you haven't read any of my Phantom stuff, he is blind in the conventional way. But he can see some things, energy things, magic things. No CWs, just two idiots being idiots but also making each other's lives magical.
I did not proof read this, I'm sorry for typos, I will fix them when I'm not so tired.
They’ve spent weeks like this, soon it will be months. In proximity, never speaking, never approaching. Content to simply experience the presence of one another. Always in the library. Darkened corners and hushed voices, considered hallowed ground in the Ministry, it’s a place where someone would have to consider committing the worst kind of disrespect if they felt like harassing the pair.
Not that the others hadn’t noticed. Of course, Zephyr during his bi-weekly archiving, Aether, seeing one or the other slink through a crack in the doorway that they reasonably shouldn’t be able to pass through. Dew, when he decides to go hunting for something that Rain hasn’t read before, which is a task. It was for his sake that they had to initiate an interlibrary borrowing program, and increase the yearly budget for new acquisitions.
Tonight is such a night, that Phantom half sits, half lays across one of the generously stuffed chairs, passing fingers over little bumps that make words. Something new for him on the surface, being able to read without the aid of another, projecting the words into his head or reading aloud. 
He understands there’s a storm coming. “Snow up to your eyeballs!” Dew tells him. Phantom jokes, “Who’s eyes, yours or Mountain’s?” He’s good at hiding behind jokes and self depreciating comments. 
He’s heard a lot about snow, it’s cold, wet, fluffy, sparkly, pretty. And when they’re lit up on a cloudless night in shades of chartreuse and lilac, breathtaking. The way the night sky seems to penetrate every single flake, that they appear lit from within. 
Ghouls are familiar with magic, but sometimes what they can do seems crude compared to that. 
And Phantom’s heard them talking about it, he tries to hide the cracks and fissures that form in his heart in those moments. He can see a lot, but he can’t see that. Somehow what falls from the sky is so wondrously pure that he simply cannot get a read on it. Rain, sleet, hail, it’s all blank. 
Sure, he’s held his hand out the window to feel it, stood in it until he was soaked to the bone. Because it feels like being washed clean. So rarely is he so fully immersed in absolute nothingness as he is when it’s absolutely pouring down buckets from the sky. From this he finds kinship with Rain, Mist, Delta, River, and Dew. 
The snow feels different from the rain though. Sure it gets stuck in his hair, collects on his shoulders, makes his feet damp and cold. But it’s too light, ineffectual.
He’s left searching for an appreciation for what everyone seems to love so much. And tonight, he is searching. With one hand pressed to the icy glass, the other stuffed in his pocket, he concentrates, tries to feel something, anything at all.
Bell has been watching him, from his perch above the theology section. Feeling him, aching and longing for something. What, he’s not sure, he doesn’t intentionally pry. But he can’t always shield himself from what radiates from Phantom in thick, viscous waves at times. It collects and forms a pit in his stomach. 
Suddenly he feels a refreshing albeit absolutely freezing blast of air. Phantom has pried one of the windows open. Windows that have not been opened in a very long time. As he pulls it further, layers of paint crackle and flake from the hinges. 
Bell watches as he collects a handful. It doesn’t take long, with the way it’s coming down, for a little mountain of big, fluffy flakes to form in his cupped hands. His thoughts become louder, like shouting, loud enough to give Bell a headache. And now it’s clear.
“Why can’t I see it? Just once.” 
Elemental energy is strange. No one knows why through various cycles of nature it is cleansed away. Through the clouds, from the mouth of a volcano, deep in the ground beneath layers of soil and clay. Maybe because everything deserves a chance to start again, no longer burdened by the past. Ghouls are not so lucky. Phantom is not so lucky.
For once though, Bell has an idea. Something that might help. He isn’t sure if it’s okay, to acknowledge the scene playing out across the room. Then again, Phantom surely knows that Cowbell can feel it. Because Phantom has the same empathetic qualities. Isn’t that why they perform this strange dance, meters apart?
His feet land silently despite the floorboard’s penchant for creaking. As though he steps on slippers made of clouds, he seems to float rather than walk. He’s one of the few who has learned to harness some of what he’s collected over the years. He might as well use it if it insists on being sucked into his being by a vortex he can’t control.
He considers speaking, but it already feels like there’s a spell cast across the grounds of the Ministry. The snow has already piled on the lawns and the roof, the maze in the garden, the window sill. It’s heavy and oh so quiet. Insulated by a thick quilt made from the downy white flakes
Phantom sucks in a breath that stings his front teeth, the air is bitter cold, and he should probably close the window. But a strange voice tells him otherwise. Tells him to open the other, wide as they’ll go.
Bell could simply show him what he sees, but he knows that’s not the same. Like looking at a rainbow through a television. 
The air feels the way it does before it rains, full of static and with a strange metallic smell. The hairs on the back of Phantom’s neck stand on end, and it isn’t from the frigid air permeating the entire library.
Suddenly, from his vantage point, the sky is lit up in technicolor. Bright blues, greens, violet, magenta. So is the ground. So are the flakes melting in his hands, despite how frozen they are. He could see the trees in the distance, now he sees what makes the branches droop. 
What he feels - is - elation, unadulterated excitement. What everyone must feel when they see snow for the first time. Only it isn’t the same, most people haven’t experienced a lifetime of longing to see things like other people do. 
What Phantom feels, it chokes Bell. Closes off his airways. Makes him stumble back into the shadows far less elegantly than he arrived. Of course he can’t stop what comes in when he is focusing on putting something out. 
Thankfully he hasn’t cast some temporary incantation or cheap magic that will disappear as soon as he leaves, so he does. Phantom doesn’t notice, fully engrossed in the prismatic light and shimmering colour.
The way each flake moves of its own volition, in a different direction than its neighbor. He tries to track a singular flake on its descent to the ground, but despite the way it’s accumulating, it’s like none of them ever seem to land.
He isn’t sure how long he stands there with those windows that reach the ceiling pulled wide open. Long enough that there’s a light dusting of snow on the chair he was sitting on, on the floor, on some of the nearby bookshelves.
Long enough for his face to burn furiously, long enough for the tears clinging to his lashes to turn to frost and ice. Long enough that he didn’t realize he was alone now. That he turned, mouth hanging open while he searched for the right words to come out of it. 
But he is alone now, what he feels, that feels like Cowbell, is falling from the sky and clinging to the front of his shirt. What has become droplets of water running between his fingers. It’s almost a relief; that Bell is gone. Because Phantom isn’t sure he could find the right words for this, the right way to say thank you.
But then he remembers, he doesn’t have to. Cowbell knows, he can feel it too.
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thatbanditqueen · 1 year
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No One Walks Out Ch 4
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No One Walks Out On Big Daddy
Chapter 4: Kaleidoscope
Summary: Elvis convinces Becky that this is actually a romantic gesture, and he brings her to Graceland to meet his family and spend some time together as he prepares to have his daughter come to Memphis. A fluffy, smutty nuzzlefest with some foreboding and Jerry shenanigans.
Warnings: NSFW, Minors DNI, cunnilingus, vaginal sexual penetrative intercourse, cursing, drug use and alcohol, and, because it's Elvis, weird mind games and jealousy. Some historical inaccuracies.
Words: 18.6K EVERYTIME. Every. Goddamn. Time. With every fic. I tell myself, this time, 10 K is enough. And then I write more than i did last time. I think I loose readers every time it gets longer... but .. fuck.. I don't know. It's hard to kill your darlings.
I made a playlist just for this chapter in order of the songs that get sung or played.
I'm so bad at attention to detail, sorry for the typos.
This chapter is part of my on going fic about 1975-era Elvis and a single mom he meets after a concert in Jackson, MS. If you haven’t read it, you can here:
Catch up on Chapter One here
Catch up on Chapter Two here
Catch up on Chapter Three here
Thanks to everyone who has commented, sent asks, and supported this story. If you enjoy it, please, for the love of big daddy, reblog, comment, share. I always like hearing what works and what doesn't, because it gets into my fingers and shapes the way they write. Pretty sure the smut is ridiculous here....
Sunday, June 14th
1 PM, Pop’s Gas Station
Somewhere in Mississippi 
The coffee was hot as it rolled down Jerry’s throat, and he shifted against the raw wooden grain of the bench outside Pop’s Gas Station, somewhere off Highway 61. It was bright in the muggy, midday heat of Mississippi, and Jerry adjusted his sunglasses, intentionally turning his head away from the yellow Cadillac parked askew twenty or so feet to his right. Lush green trees lined the two-lane highway, and Jerry stared at the overgrowth, trying not to focus on Elvis’ laugh bubbling up as it was interrupted by yelps as Becky hit him again and again on his upper arm. Jerry made no visible acknowledgement that he could hear or see everything being said in the car twenty feet away.
"Elvis THIS IS NOT FUNNY! Turn around and take me home… I don’t appreciate being taken against my will…”
“Thought you liked being taken by me, ouch…. last night you said you wished you could co—”
“No, I never said—”
“Yes ya did, ya said,” Elvis’ eyes laughed and his lips pouted while he spoke in a high falsetto, “Oh Elvis you big strong manly stud, I wish I could stay like this forever, naked in your arms…c—”
“No, no, no, now.” Becky flipped her long, dark auburn curls over her shoulder and looked out the window at Jerry, still aloof, disinterested, his eyes focused on an indeterminate point in the distance. “I didn’t say it like that, I was caught up in the moment and I said ‘this is nice, just being here like this, together.. wish it could last forever,’ the kind of stupid thing weak-willed women like me say after making love….I never said I wanted you to go——”
“Well, I saw it in your eyes… and again this morning, when you were trying to play it cool while ya wa warshin’ my clothes for me, ironing ma pants…” His fingers rubbed the side of her arm, stroking up to the top of her shoulder then back down to her elbow, trailing lightly along her thigh. Becky settled a little as Elvis’ voice rumbled into her ears. She stopped punching him and crossed her arms with an exasperated sigh.  Elvis leaned in closer, still a few inches from her ear, murmuring while his hand circled the top of her left knee. “C’mon woman, ya really don’t wanna spend a few more days with me?”
Becky crossing her arms even tighter, and a guttural growl emerged from her throat with a “Humpf… Elvis…. I can't disappear on a whim just to be your fuck buddy for a week…”
“Whoa now, first a all, this ain’t just about screwing around-”
Becky arched an eye brow.
“Maybe for you, ya wanton woman…”
“Ha!”
“No, now a man can only do so much a that… now just come here a second….”
Elvis's hands pulled Becky across the front seat of the car and into his arms.
“Now honey, I like you, we have fun in each other’s company, hmmm?” He kissed the top of her dark curlscand her skin smoldered under the heat of his large hand massaging her shoulder. The bottom of his glasses bumped along the top of her head and she took another deep, protracted breath, uncrossing her arms.
“Mhmmmm… I… it’s not ok to go behind my back just because you want something to happen a certain way…it doesn’t feel good to be tricked into something…”
“Ok, ok… ya right…. See, I … I knew you was too shy to ask your folks… ” Becky jabbed him softly, playfully, moving her elbow up and down along the soft cushion of Elvis’ belly. “Ok, ok, simmer down, I’m sayin’ you are right, honey, I'll never trick you again or do something without asking….promise…I’ll never not consult you again when I’m planning a grand romantic gesture that sweeps you off ya feet…” 
“HA … that what this is? Awfully optimistic of you, thinking anything like this will ever happen again .. I have a mind to make you drive me back to Jackson on principle…”
“OK, well, now, look, we’re only ‘bout on hour from Graceland,  let's head in and if ya still set on leavin’ in the morning,” Elvis winked as he said this.  “I’ll have Jerry drive you back…”
Becky softened and leaned into him, her hand worked its way around Elvis’ waist. “Oh no, no Jerry, no Joe, you’re not gettin’ your friends to do your dirty work for you - you did this to your self, and you need to be the one sufferin’ the six hours driving me to Jackson and back…”
“So what I’m hearing is that you want the maximum time ta cuddle with me … I gotcha, I gotcha… so come an’ get it now, silly woman!”
Elvis’ right hand tightened around the edge of Becky’s shoulder, his thumb gently swiping up her shoulder blade as she scooted into him, releasing all of her resentment about this surprise trip to Memphis. Becky made a mental note to save any indignation that remained for Ida as she snuggled into Elvis chest, giving into it’s warm comfort and burrowing her nose into his breast. Becky smiled as Elvis let out a deep hiss as the tip of her nose traced over his nipple. Her hand moved down to tease him along the crease of his pants where his belly met his thigh. Slowly, her fingers crept further along the ridge of his tummy and onto the top of his legs, just to the point above his crotch, then giggling softly as Elvis gasped and exhaled with a low exclamation.
 “Gawdddddammit… lil gal… gonna loose my foot tryin’ to get us back to Graceland…show you that sound proof….roommmmmm,” his voice purred as Becky’s fingers needled the round flesh at the top of Elvis inner thigh. 
The friction created a heat between them, and Elvis fingers started to rub Becky’s shoulder with a blistering need. He kissed the top of her head, and Becky watched him push against her in the rearview mirror. Her chest filled with warm exhilaration at the sight of Elvis’ lower lip hanging down, his eyes blown wide with earnest, needy lust. She watched his lips smoosh sideways as he kissed her forehead, maintaining a charged eye contact with her through his glasses. The intensity of his stare was overwhelming, it made her heart beat so quick that she heard it in her ears, almost drowning out the sound of Elvis’ left hand rolling down the window to yell out for Jerry to get back in the car, never breaking the bond between his chin and her forehead. 
Elvis blue eyes simmered as they stared her down through the mirror, and Becky couldn’t stop herself from biting her lip. His fierce stare was juxtaposed by the softness of his voice as he whispered into her hair while they drove along the highway.
“He’s sawry if he upset ya baby …” Elvis voice went into a low, intimate babyish tenor, the movements of his thumb became more protracted, and Becky shushed him through his shirt. “Such a sweet baby ta me… baby baaaaby ba da di dooo, ohh… yeuahhhhh…..” His voice lulled into a gospel tune momentarily. “I cain’t wait ta show ya all ‘round ma house… all ‘round ma property… fourteen acres… ever stayed somewhere so big? Think ya… can handle that size?”
Becky chuckled, and Elvis’ face beamed at the soft rose color of her blushing cheeks. 
“Mhmmm… well, I’m not sure… guess I’ll just have ta see what happens….” Becky kissed Elvis chest, softly, murmuring into it. Her right hand snaked around his back, her left feathering over the round swell of his belly. “You know, I was just starting to like you this morning before you played this dirty trick on me …  you’re so funny and sweet …. But I just need to say… one last time, then we’ll put it behind us… I… don’t like plans being made for me…” Becky looked up at Elvis face from where she leaned on his chest. The side of his face loomed large above her, his lips pursed in thought above the bulge of his chin. “I can see how you meant this as a romantic gesture… but I … I don’t like being tricked…”
Elvis’ chin rippled above Becky as he nodded, and he drew her in closer. “Awright honey… from now, s’all ‘bove board… no more tricks… no more surprises, kay? I promise. Won’t ever lie or mislead you or keep something from you.” The softness of his chin pressed into Becky’s forehead as Elvis’ kissed the top of her head and squeezed her shoulder.
Calmed into a tender embrace, Becky and Elvis retreated into their own little enclave in the front seat, where Jerry’s presence was ignored and almost forgotten about amid the sweet nothings Elvis and Becky exchanged along the highway up to Tennessee. 
“Ya know you got the cutest yittle eye lashes I ever seen,” Elvis whispered, and he kissed her forehead again, catching her mouth as Becky tilted up to him to kiss his cheek.
She murmured over his nipple. “You have the kind of chest a girl could get used to leaning on…” she rubbed her hand under the plush groove of his belly.
It was only when they got to the state line that Becky began to feel a slight unease creep up from the bottom of her tummy and take residence at the top of her bosom. An icy chill followed up her spine, she felt anxious as she realized they were entering Tennessee. She was about to experience another layer of Elvis’ home life that she hadn’t had any time to prepare for or even think about. She squirmed out of his tight embrace and sat up straight, looking out the window at the big sign announcing they had entered Tennessee.
Elvis’ left hand remained straight, steady at the wheel while his right palm chased after Becky’s, grasping at her fingers and intertwining his between them at the top of her knee. He turned his head from the road, momentarily, looking at the back of her head as it stared out the window. Elvis’ hand engulfed her’s, squeezing it tight, lifting her palm to his mouth and kissing the top of her hand.
“Hey - ya nervous?” 
Becky’s big brown eyes met his tentatively. Her lips pursed together, then wiggled back and forth as she shrugged her shoulders.
“Mhmm… what is your family gonna think of me… this random girl… coming back to your house with you? What if they… don’t like me…. What about these six girlfriends you told me ‘bout? I…. Anyone gonna be chasing me out the house with a rolling pin?” Becky’s voice stopped abruptly, and her words hung in the air. 
Elvis released Becky’s hand and looked over at her, then turned to look at Jerry briefly for the first time since they had left the gas station. “You watch too many soap opera… Graceland ain’t The Guiding Light… I lay down the law, and there ain’t no drama… no other chicks living there right now, and everyone’s gonna be just as crazy about you as I am, lil girl… but I’ll tell ya right now, my opinion’s the only one that matter’s at Graceland… so’s you jus’ let me know if anyone… anyone… disrespects ya, hmmm? Trust daddy, now, everything is gonna be fine….”
Elvis turned up the radio and rubbed Becky’s knee, and the sound of The Allman Brothers’ “Ramblin Man” filled the car.
**********************************************************
The white mesh gates opened back and Elvis flicked his cigarillo out of the car window and steered the yellow Cadillac up the curved driveway. A wistful smile spreading over his face. Exhaling, he seemed to relax as he paused the car at the little brick guard house behind the gate. Elvis motioned at Becky to roll down the window and yelled at the older man standing watch.
“Why hellloooo der Vestor, stayin’ awake I see?”
The guard nodded, and Elvis chuckled, ignoring Becky’s questioning eyes as he drove the car around to the front of the house. Jerry was out of the car first, waiting as Elvis popped the trunk and squeezed Becky’s knee, turning to give her a soft kiss followed by a second, more vigorous smack. His fingers tousled her curly locks as he comforted her.
“S’gonna be great…” his voice lilted up into a refrain. “Welcome ta my world… Becky Butt” he grinned, giving her a wink as he slapped her thigh and opened his door.
Elvis pulled himself out of the car and strode around to grab Becky’s door just as she was about to pop it open. Taking her hand, he adjusted his sunglasses and smiled wide, tugging her up the portico behind Jerry. Opening the front door, Jerry glanced briefly at Becky, then told Elvis’ he’d run the bag Ida packed upstairs. Elvis stopped them in the front foyer, his arms hugging Becky from behind as he clasped his large hands around her waist and notched his chin into her neck. He nuzzled into her right ear as Becky looked from one side of the entry way to the other. Her eyes took in the scarlet red carpeting that trailed down the grand staircase in front of her and lined all the floors that she could see, punctuated by the occasional white fur rug.
“Welcome to Graceland….” Elvis whispered. Becky’s cheeks began to match the carpet as Elvis hummed “Amazing Grace,” into her neck with a mischievous grin that told Becky he was also thinking about the same intimate moment they had shared two nights ago. The image of Elvis mouth singing this song as he licked her pussy was now indelibly linked to in her mind. 
“So… whatcha think?” Those same lips asked.
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Red. That was Becky’s first impression of Graceland’s interior. The color was so overwhelming, it was the only thing she could think of as she looked around. Deep, scarlet velvet drapes lined with golden fringe hung down to meet the carpet at the entrance to every room. The dining room table on her left was enclosed by high-backed candy apple colored chairs covered with rhinestones. To the right was a parlor with a long Victorian settee that was, you guessed it, a deep Burgundy color held up by a white wooden trim. Becky momentarily mused that this might be what Belle Watlings' vagina looked like: an ornate opening lined by red velvet drapery welcoming customers into its cavernous warmth. It was the sort of place a girl would feel comfortable getting an unexpected visit from Aunt Flo. Or the perfect setting for a villain to hold a clandestine meeting with James Bond. Becky kept all of these thoughts to herself, inhaling deeply as she took it all in.
“Wow… it's … so… fancy… like no where I’ve ever been, that’s fa sure…”
Elvis seemed pleased by this response, and kissed Becky’s neck. She murmured at the warmth of his breath on her skin as she continued.
“Gosh… s’not what I expected… S’much bigger than I thought driving up…”
“Mhmmm…. That’s what all the girls say— ouch!”
Becky reached her hand above her to playfully slap Elvis’ face, and he bite his lip and waggled his eyebrows down at her. Elvis’ thumb nestled inside inside Becky’s palm, swiping up and down slowly over her soft skin as he led her excitedly around through the dining room and into the kitchen where they came upon a short, stout Black woman filling the refrigerator with Pepsi bottles.
 Elvis dropped Becky’s hand to make a loud “CLAP,” chuckling as the woman jumped back and shrieked. 
“Oh lawd, Elvis, ya scared me outta of my skin!”
Elvis hugged the woman, speaking through his chuckles. “Jus keepin’ ya on yo toes Miss Mary, I reckon it’s been too quiet round here since I been gone…”
“Hmmm, well your daddy been callin’ over to ask if you back yet, want me to —”
“Nah, let the old bugger stew… he’s pestering me ‘bout that plane, an I don’t care ta hear it.” Elvis rubbed Mary’s shoulder, then turned to look back at Becky. “Mary, I got a lil girl I’m awfully fond of that I want ya ta meet, this here’s — ”
“Why it’s Becky!” 
There was Charlie, a big beaming smile radiating happiness through the kitchen as he walked in from the other side.
“Hmmpf… if it ain’t ol Waterhead ‘im self….” Elvis walked back over to Becky and drew her into him tight, kissing her forehead as his eyes narrowed and Elvis’ left hand grazed the top of his belt. 
Charlie’s expression toward Becky shifted immediately from joyful greeting to a more solemn “Glad to see ya ma’am.”
Mary asked Elvis what time he wanted dinner, exclaiming, “Well, an early dinner, huh,” in response to his 8 pm request.
“Woke up early ta day, Miss Mary… Becky Butt here’s harsh mistress, had me up all hours a the night,” he winked and then smiled deeper as Becky’s face grew red. “Then she had us up at 8 ta drive her baby to summer camp… who knows when her demands will end?”
“Ha, you have some nerve, Elvis Presley…” Becky whispered into Elvis armpit, pinching him under his jacket and causing him to chuckle and kiss her forehead again.
Elvis twirled her out from his side, looking at her as he swung her around. “Ain’t she just got the perfect hourglass figure Mary? Just need to get her some nice clothes, add a lil’ make up, and she shines like the Hope diamond...” 
Becky swung herself back into his armpit with another pinch and reddening cheeks, whispering “Considering everything you put me though today, I look like a movie star…”
“Yeah…ya sure do look like a movie star, honey…like Bette Davis in Baby Jane….” Then Becky’s face fell and Elvis stopped snickering and rubbed her back, his lips on her head. “Oh sweetheart, I didn’t mean it now…” he laughed as she hit him and burrowed into his armpit further.
Jerry’s footsteps announced his entrance into the kitchen behind them and Becky turned to see him nod at Charlie before briefing Elvis on some scheduling and business matters. Becky stole a glance at Charlie and smiled at his shrug and eye roll, half of which Elvis caught and responded to with a sharp look in Charlie’s direction, tightening his grip on Becky’s waist. 
“Huh, well, keep me posted when Dave lands at the airport tomarra with Lisa… alright, enough pleasantries, c’mon lil’ gal, Imma give ya the VIP tour….”  
Becky smiled and called out behind her, “Nice to meet you Mary, good to see you Charlie!” before she felt the clack of the swinging door her backside.
Elvis lugged her into the back hallway to a room with bright green carpeting and wood panelling. The coffee table looked as through it had been sliced out of a tree, and the soft trickle of falling water drew Becky’s attention to the north wall as Elvis sank into a brown fur-lined couch. He pulled her onto his lap, twin sea serpents roaring out of the carved wooden armrests to meet Becky’s hand as she steadied herself to keep from falling off Elvis. To balance, Becky settling her bottom into Elvis’ groin, and he pulled Becky closer, leaning back as his fingers worked their way under Becky’s tee-shirt to caress the softness of her belly, his voice rumbling into her neck.
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“This is the den…whaddya think?” 
Becky turned to look at him, his hands shifted her around so she was now straddling him where he sat at the sofa’s edge.
“It’s magical… this is my favorite room so far… right here…” 
Elvis lit up behind his lavender glasses at the wonder in Becky’s upturned eyes; he relished her gasp at the green carpet covering the ceiling above. His right hand massaged the tender hip flesh spilling out of her jeans, while his left hand moved under her shirt to where her shapely bosom jiggled ever so slightly with the delicate thrusts Elvis’  begin to send upward into her, and he leaned in to kiss her clavicle.
“Elvis… you.. havta… I wanna… you’re in the middle of giving me a tour…” Becky whispered, the burn of desire beginning to brush at her base. She grasped his left wrist to stop the jaunty beat his index finger was flicking into her nipple. 
He ignored her, his eyes singularly focused on her bust. “Honey, I don’t know if you are aware of this, but you are not wearing a brassiere….” 
“Mhmm yeah, that was a clothing choice made in a hurry this morning, out of comfort and necessity… it is NOT an invitation…”
Elvis smirked to himself as his fingers relented, only to be replaced by his warm mouth pressing into Becky’s pebbled nip through her tee shirt, mumbling into her breast.
“Well sho seems like an invitation …*suckle* …to this humble wanderer …*suckle* …feel like I been stuck in the desert …*suckle* …seeking sustenance…*suckle*… an now ya’d deny me…” his mouth pressed his teeth through the now damp fabric onto her nipple, “this ripe fruit I’ve found…that I so desperately need ta nourish …*suckle* …ma soul…” 
Becky couldn’t stop the moan escaping from her chest despite her exasperated fatigue and self-conscious awareness. Elvis’ hands moved to fondle her bottom and pull her further onto him, and he squeezed her cheeks as she giggled. Suddenly she wasn't that tired and instinctively surged into Elvis’ lap, before pushing off of his chest and wriggled backwards. She felt his growing erection as she stumbled off him and balanced her self on the ground. Shakng her head, Becky smoothed down her tee shirt and tried to keep a straight face striding backwards along the couch, stopping at the dual staircases at the back of the room.
“Hey now… mister… there are people in the next room over… why don’t we continue the tour …”
Elvis stood, lips parted below a predatory look as if he might leap over the sofa and devour her right there and then. Becky shrieked as he stalked toward her.
“Hmmmm… s’my house honey, and I do what I want.. where I want… so no reason to be worried… this is all part of my hands-on, personal tour…” He caught up with her and pulled her into him.
“Well…” Becky leaned up, her lips faintly hovered below his. “Those hands are… gonna havta catch me… don’t know what kind of girl you think I am but I don’t go ‘round making love in public places… or before this tour is finished!”
She giggled again as she rushed down the staircase to the basement, Elvis' loud belly laugh followed her as the sound of his heavy foot steps filled the passage way. Turning back briefly, Becky saw that Elvis’ body  blocked out all the sunshine from the corridor. His ravenous expression sent a thrill up her spine as she tripped down into the darkness of the basement and ran smack! into a doorframe. Elvis caught up to her as she massaged her fingers into the side of her forehead, that's probably gonna cause bump... how sexy.
“Mmhmmmm … look what I caught … think this tour is over… for now…” Elvis kissed her shoulder from behind, his breath trembling out a chuckle between his words. “Oh no, ya not hurt?”
She smiled. “No, I’m fine… just stupid.. runnin’ round a basement in the dark…”
Elvis pulled her in, replacing her fingers with his lips. “Aww, baby, let him kiss it and make it better…” He peppered soft, sweet kisses on her temple and Becky felt the cool sheen of perspiration on his chin from the jaunt down the stairs. The soft, damp sensation of his skin against her was electrifying, and she absorbed him eagerly, her hands went under his jacket till he shouldered it off,  his hands trailing down to her waist. She groaned out as the heft of his body insistently impelled her into the doorframe. 
Becky bit her lip as her hands meandered over Elvis’ back, cherishing the soft, pliable ridges and rolls, then daintily moving up to clasp his neck. He muttered out an “OH baaaaby…” and she responded with a whimper. Elvis grinned wide, stroking Becky’s cheek with his knuckles, down to her mouth, his kisses moving lower along her neck, more  passionate and insistent with each smoosh. 
Elvis grunted and heaved as hee lifted Becky up, carrying her moaning body through the doorframe an onto a dark, velvet, sectional, her head bump all but forgotten. Her eyes sort of noticed her surroundings, yellow and black walls lit by a dim solitary table lamp at a bar. Becky’s eyes adjusted to the darkness and watched Elvis kneel down in front of her and place his glasses back on the coffee table behind him. Looking up, she realized the ceiling in here was made entirely of mirrors.
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“So… is this another den?”
“Mhmmmm ….  tvs, movie screen, record player, bar…” He leaned into her, hands on Becky’s thighs. “Got all the entertainment i need right here though...jus wanna look atcha ....  still a second… no moar running …” 
Becky exhaled and sat up, stroking the hair off Elvis’s face as he caught his breath, captivated by the pull of his deep, blue eyes. They were like the middle of the ocean and called her to jump off her life raft and dive right in.
“You are… you are …” she mumbled, running her left fingers through his sideburns, trying to think of the right words to tell him how attractive she found him, how his smile and that impish way his mouth quirked and his eyes danced with desire commanded her to body forward toward him. But all the phrases that came to Becky’s mind seemed inadequate and cliche. Also, she was reluctant to let him know how she felt, insecure and afraid it made her boring, easy, a push over. She had the impression Elvis needed validation, but also enjoyed the pursuit. 
Becky looked down at his thumbs trailing over the ridge of her jeans, his eyes intent on her.
“Hmmm… yeah baby, whatcha trying ta say?”
“You are… not so bad… for an… Elvis Presley…” Becky closed her eyes and held him to her cheek, as he chuckled softly, and started unbuttoning her pants.
“Well I like you too, darlin’… mmhmm…” His eyes were earnest and she inhaled as they narrowed, his hands were needy as her pulled off her jeans and threw them behind him. Becky guffawed watching them fall over a white, porcelain monkey that gleamed in the dark. 
Then he suckled at her nape, and Elvis’ cheeks scrunched up in a smile at Becky’s moans, inhaling as he moved to draw off her panties. She could feel the excitement scorching up her center as he looked into her eyes, tugging her panties off. Becky sucked in her tummy, maybe he won't notice the soft stretch marks at her hips. Stretch marks were the last thing on his mind, and her full, round hips beckoned him to grab on and smother himself within her. Elvis’ eyes looked into Becky's with a fiendish gleam, and he arched his left eyebrow as his hands continued to pull at her underwear without looking down. Becky giggled while he pursed his lips, removing her pink cotton skivvies one leg at a time. Elvis’ baritone voice dipped low as he lifted her legs over his shoulders, his thumbs teasing over her soft, curly fur, then slowly parting her lower lips.
“Hello darlin’ nice ta see ya….….It’s been a long time…” he sang, kissing the hair at the top of her entrance,  once, twice, three times. “…Ya just as lovely as you used to be…”
Becky started chuckling, “I think Conrad Twitty would be horrifi——” her commentary on Elvis’ serenade to her pussy was interrupted by the flick of his tongue on her clit.  She arched her head involuntarily as his chuckles hummed in to her. Opening her eyes, Becky saw Elvis’ body in-between her legs above her in the mirrors. His head bobbed forward and back as his fingers sought out the silkiness within her, prodding her pleasure point. Elvis tongue seared a path along her center, and a warm throbbing began to ache causing Becky to shift her hips forward to meet his mouth, twitching in sync with the glide of his fingers. Moving his index and forefinger up and down into her, Elvis let up from his efforts momentarily to look at her face, beaming at the way her lip hung down and her face convulsed in time with his fingers' movements. His head turned up into the mirrors reveling at the view of himself pleasuring Becky, widening her legs a bit so he could get a better view of his hand inside her. Becky cried out as his index finger made contact with that special spot once more, and he looked her dead in the eyes.
“Enjoy watching you squirm, darlin….”
Becky had trouble forming a sentence, stuttering out “Uhh.. well.. that… you know…” 
Elvis laughed and returned to her cunt like a man who'd been fasting a month, consuming her with firm, generous strokes. Becky felt the tension build, and her eyes went back up at the mirrors when she arched herself into him, watching as Elvis’ devoured her and his strangled breath filled the room. He was knuckles deep inside her, flexing back and forth in tandem as his tongue cleaned her, each round bringing her a step closer to absolution. Her fingers threaded through  Elvis’ dark hair, and in the dim light of the mirrors, Becky would swear she had a wild boar between her legs. A grunting,  dark, wild beast snorting and rooting for treasure in her depths. Her hips thrust up into Elvis’ face with a powerful whack and he grabbed her buttocks, his lips sucking her nub through the waves of heat that broadcast out through her entire body. Thrashing, twitching and cursing like a sailor, she tried to free herself from the overstimulation of Elvis’ soft mouth and hard tongue.
“Fuck fffffff fucking FUCKKKKK ing FFucccKKKKKK cocksucking motherfucking FUCK I can’t believe that……”
She panted hard, shaking her head at the smug, devilish look on Elvis face as he lowered her feet in front of her and wiped himself on her thigh. His fingers did a squeeze inside and a chuckle came out watching Becky twitch and jerk on his hand. She grabbed his shoulder, tightly, a sign to stop. “S’too much … to intense.” He did it one last time chuckling, then relented and glided his fingers out from her, licking them with filthy glee.
“Ha! I've never met anyone… who did that… who cared.. or liked the way women taste … like you do….” Becky exhaled, catching her breath.
“Mhmmm… not all women… but you … you taste amazing… I could eat this for breakfast, lunch and dinner…. And still be hongry fa moar…..” 
Becky laughed, sliding forward on the sofa and pulling his head to hers to crush their mouths together. It was like being inside herself. The hands cupping her cheeks, his entire face, it all smelled like her. And him. Sweat and spit and cologne and lavender oil and dirty hair. All melded together. It was intoxicating, and they stayed like this for several minutes, locked in a lover’s embrace, the smacks of their sloppy kisses replacing the sound of  Elvis face slapping against Becky’s thighs. Becky wound her legs around his bottom, and he grabbed her, lifting her up off the couch then thumping her back down as he ambled  over to the bar.
“Pffft… need.. some…water…”
She followed, and Elvis grinned at the sound of Becky’s wet nakedness squelching over the yellow bar stool.
“Thanks for polishin’ the furniture, baby…..” Elvis winked, as she inadvertently squeaked again against the leather.
Becky blushed, and Elvis’ jaw widened with a deep breath. 
“Damn, honey, I’ll never get sick a watchin’ that blush creep up ya widdle cheeks…” He leaned over the bar and squished her cheeks with his right hand, kissing her forehead.  
She stood and backed away as he came around the bar.
“S’not nice to tease a girl… first you offer to give me tour, but then corner me in this here tv room, and now ya making fun of the way all your cavorting makes me squeak and blush——”
He grabbed her to him, pulling her lips back onto his. She giggled and squirmed away.
“Oh no you don’t—”
Elvis stepped toward her again, but Becky squealed and turned, running back into the basement corridor. She didn’t have a plan, and when she remembered she wasn't wearing pants she scurried into the dark room across. Elvis’ body clambered loudly behind her as he growled. “Though we agreed no more runnin.’” 
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She stumbled back onto a large table as Elvis caught up and lifted her onto the thick barrier of a pool table. Becky’s hands half-heartedly pushed back against his chest as she whined.
“Now Elvis… pretty sure I was promised sound proof walls ….”
Elvis mumbled into her ear, “Hmmm.. that why you got me chasin’ you round, tryin not to excite me???? I’d rather be in the comfort an privacy of that a room too ...  but it is much too far away… two floors too far ta be exact… don't worry, though, this basement is sound proof too … I've tested it ma self…" He winked. "Ain’t no one gonna know …” 
Becky stopped nuzzling back into him, her tone became earnest. “Have you done it lot… down here…? Made love, I mean?” 
Elvis stood up straight and grunted, his hands steadying her precarious position on the edge of the pool table.
“That was probably the wrong thing ta say, hmmmm?”
Becky’s eyes trailed to the dark hall way she had just run through, and told her self to be cool… you knew he has more experience than you… a lot more… what did you expect? Would it matter if you were in his bed? Probably fucked even more women there….
“Nooooooo…I guess I’m a idiot for asking…” she shifted up to look into his dark eyes. 
Elvis wiped his forehead while he pushed himself between Becky’s legs. His hands were rubbing her thighs softly up and down, and he glanced down at her chest before returning his gaze to those big brown eyes. The look there made him regret even conjuring up past sexual escapades. The wholly unfiltered, self-conscious insecurity in her eyes made her all the more alluring. Becky was unvarnished, unaffected, and the way she didn't try to cover up her nervousness in order to impress made him throb with yearning. Acting like a damn teenager, running after women in hallways or corridors, he thought, your gonna feel this in the morning. Who are you kidding. In an hour. Elvis really would have preferred to take Becky the comfort of his bed, but at this precise moment comfort was from from a priority, all he knew was that needed to feel Becky’s skin against his, feel himself inside her, possessing her completely and defusing all her misgivings about him with the warm deluge of his adoration. 
“Nah, not an idiot at all… look, we’re both grown ups… we have histories…” he kissed her neck slowly, tenderly. Her eyes closed with a quiver as his voice dissolved in her inhibitions. “Make you feel better if I tell ya it’s been years since I fooled round down here? Aw honey…. I can't even remember their faces ... don’t want anyone else but you…” 
Will you remember mine in a year? She wondered, but her body didn't care, and it's instincts propelled her back into him. She pulled his neck to her and his lips hit her forehead. He felt his manhood stiffen even more and it made his fingers needier as they trailed up her sides. Elvis’ lower lip hung down with longing and his eye lids drooped with lust. Becky hastily began to unbutton his white dress shirt.
“Ahh, sweet baby, you’re so goddamn beautiful….” Elvis voice made Becky stop mid-button  and she looked up at him, her hands moving up to his cheeks.
“Please don’t lay that charm on too thick… I’m already here… I’m naked…an… I know you like me an…  I can feel you’re attracted—” 
Elvis pulled her hand down to feel the pulsating steel rod bursting along his slacks “ — Ya can, huh? Feel my attraction?” Then he saw the hesitancy in her eyes. “Wuss tha matter sweetheart?”
Becky sighed. “I just….I know I’m not beautiful, not like the super models I’ve seen you with in newspapers and magazines…. I just… if you exaggerate, go too over-the-top… well,  it ruins it for me… I hate false compliments…”
Elvis’ eyes narrowed. “Honey, over-the-top is my middle name… ”
Becky let out an involuntary guffaw. “Say that again… I mean, this whole house... But what I mean is, I wish you would stop givin’ me your pretty movie star lines —”
Elvis shook his head and grabbed Becky by the chin, the look in his eyes an intense warning. “Sometimes you make me think no one has ever told ya you were beautiful…” The way she pushed his hand aside and looked down, uncomfortably told Elvis he had accidentally stumbled on the truth. “Nooo….. never? I don believe it….. no, cuz ya really are… here, I gotta turn the light on jus so’s I can see ya better….” 
He flipped a switch on the wall, and suddenly the pool room was bathed in a warm glow. Becky gasped as the light revealed a cacophony of textured colors along cloth-covered walls. Her eyes followed the fabric up to the ceiling, feeling as though she had slipped under the skirt of a Victorian lady. Colorful pleats lined the walls and gathered into the middle of the room above two hanging Tiffany lamps. Elvis lips on her shoulder as his hands took off her shirt brought Becky back into her body. A breathy giggle worked it’s way out when Elvis’ knuckles stroked Becky’s face. She quit resisting and just held up her hands, watching as he lifted her shirt over her head and gulped, his eyes languidly roving up and down her body. 
“Mhmmm… yessiree… fit right in here with all the other beautiful things I fill this ole house with…ya know… I have an eye for beautiful things —”
“Elvis, please… quit teasin,’”  Becky wiped a lone tear drop from the side of her right eye.
Elvis brought her hands up to his lips, kissing each top as he held her gaze. “Woman, you better stop that… might think you’re questioning my aes -thee- ET-ic taste.” He drawled, clearly amusing himself with his pronunciation of aesthetic. 
Inhaling, Elvis pulled Becky’s face back towards his with a kiss that lingered on her soft lips. Elvis coughed as Becky pulled off his shirt and his tummy jiggled with a wave of laughter. Looking down, she saw him flinch at his own belly and Becky dragged the back of her hand across it slowly, sensuously.
“You are… the most handsome man…” Then she blushed and hid her face in his chest hair, her hands curving up around his neck as she tried to crush herself into him, kissing his sternum and muttering how she was glad she’d met him.
“Why honey… there she is… there’s that sweet girl I like, been hidin’ underneath all that sass…”  Elvis breathed into her ear, his hands moving over her head, tousling her hair, then using his right hand to bring her chin up to his. “Becky, ya like a goddamn Greek goddess … if I say your beaut - TEE - full, then ya are, end of story …. Don’t ever wanna hear you tellin’ me what I can or can na say… ’specially when I’m in the throes of love making,” he chuckled. “Derails my manEUvers …”
Elvis hot breath clucked into Becky’s ear, he kissed her cheek and waggled his eyes. Becky pulled herself to him, and began unlatching his pants. Elvis stopped her, drawing out his pistol and pushing it across the pool table. Becky watched the metal of the gun glisten, the carved handle was elaborately engraved and she caught his grin watching her eyes follow it.
“That thing s’not loaded, is it?”
Elvis laughed. “Course it is, baby, how else arm I s’posed to use it? I’m always ready for action…”
“Hmmm. Speaking of which….” Becky’s hand returned to Elvis’ pants. “Are you aware, Mr. Presley… that you are not wearing any underwear?” She asked, in a high, breathy refrain pulling down his pants and and gripping his cock gently. “Someone might say s’its … almost an invitation…?” Elvis bent his head back as a loud belly laugh escaped his throat. 
“There ya go, using ma own words against——uhhh fuck, baby girl!” Elvis looked down to watch as Becky lowered herself in front of him and kissed the tip of his cock, her eyes all innocence.
“What? Just bein’ friendly… responding to that open invitatioOOM…..” She grinned as she plunged her mouth around him half way through the last word, humming the syllable onto him while her eyes widened and she grasped the rolling handles at his side to hand on to.
Elvis tried to pull her arm back up. “Honey, I don’t wantcha to do that… s’not something I like from women I respect…”
Becky pulled his hand off, her puzzling eyes searching his face. “I did this the first night we met…”
“Well… didn’t think I was ever gonna see ya again… didn’t realize how much I liked ya til I woke up and you were gone…”
“Well, s’too late… I got a taste for this lil fella, and it’s hardly hospitable —” Becky kissed his tip and Elvis shuddered. “To invite me to dinner then not feed me…” she grinned, as he shook his head and put his hands up in defeat, giving in to the irresistible movements of her mouth over, under and on his johnson.
Becky tried to exude a sexy playful confidence, but then gasped and choked as she forced his girthy length to the back of her throat, giggling at Elvis’ bemused expression. His heart swelled with reverence as his cock thrust into the glorious traction of Becky’s mouth. His fingers gently dragged through her hair, and he sucked in his breath while expelling a succession of needy “fucks.” Elvis lifted his head to the heavens in prayer when his tip banged into the softness of her throat, moaning while Becky stubbornly sucked in further, her cheeks hallowed and her mouth coughing down the gag reflex as best she could. Making eye contact, Elvis couldn’t help the way his hips surged back and forth almost of their own volition at a increased pace, spurred on by the determined look in Becky’s watery eyes. 
“Fuck honey… whooo…hey…. ok…I am gonna compromise and say…ya can do this anytime ya want…” 
Becky giggled at that into his cock as she glided forward.
Elvis could feel his orgasm bubbling up, and seized the side of Becky’s head to stop her, “Darlin, I wanna be inside you…. Come up here…” Elvis held out his hand and gently turned her against the pool table with a questioning eyebrow. She nodded and leaned into the wooden ledge of the pool table, sighing out as she felt Elvis kiss her shoulder and tilt her hips to him. She watched his dazzled expression over her shoulder as he pushed in and out of her slowly. He looked into her eyes while lunging in farther and groaning out a “FUck honeeeyyy.” Becky gasped sharply, savoring the tight pinch this position created.
“Damn, baby… you wuddna hardly think I been breaking you in all week..”
Becky giggled, “Elvis, how can you talk about me like that? Ughhh …. I’m not a horse…. Ughhhh….”
“I know, honey, I know… and I wantcha ohhh god damn…. Unnnnhhhhh…. meant no disrespect… but ….I am just always surprised how I wished I had a damn shoe horn with me... every time.” He laughed at her pout, and then moaned. “Now Becky Butt" he hit her bottom as he pulled out with a slight pat, "Don't look at me that -a way, s'its a compliment… should thank me… god DAMN woman….”
Elvis shifted positions to steady himself and smiled when he noticed that Becky sighed out with a crescendoing “oohHHHHhhhhhhhahh” every time he speared her at this new angle. Elvis let out a low chuckle, muttering, “Can ya hear ya self Becks? Like a goddamn accordion, suga… think... I found… ma new favorite instrument… Becky’s squeezebox…”
Becky shook her head, giggling and then moaning out again as she leaned into the hard surface of the pool table. Elvis’ heaved and breathed a little harder as he moved his right hand around Becky’s waist and began to rub her clit, grunting into the pale alabaster skin of her shoulder. 
“Oh my fucking Gawd Elvis… what are you doing to me? I don’t know if I can take any more” She moaned out, looking back at him through messy hair.
He kissed her neck. “Shhhhh…. now... let daddy take… care…UNGHHH… a ya…” then grunted again, burrowing back into her.
Eyes squeezed shut, Becky shuddered with each thrust backwards, her body clapping onto his in a rhythmic tug-a-war chasing the heat churning in her core. It broke loose, galloping over her like a runaway horse, and Becky screamed a long, loud guttural cry that echoed through the basement, up the stairway and through the entire north wing of Graceland. Mary sat at the kitchen counter drinking her coffee and smiling into her newspaper, shaking her head. It had been a long while since the sounds of lovemaking had ricocheted through the halls of Graceland like that.
“Uhhhh, there she goes… good girl…. ” Elvis slowed down, his lips planting a succession of soft pecks along the back of Becky’s shoulder, pushing her hair gently aside, and then moving his hands to tap out a pitter patter along the top ridge of her bottom where he continued to dip in and out of her.
“Oh goodness… ughhh… do you t think they heard me up stairs?”
“Nah, honey…don’t trouble ya self… I promise you, no one knows what we’re up to down here… could be playing billiards... mmHHMMm…unghhhhh… or watchin’ TV… or making a porno for all they know..”
“HA! Unghhhhh” Becky bite her lip, forgetting to be affronted enveloped by the comfort of Elvis' sweaty, warm body.
He leaned further and further into her, the thunder of each thrust reverberate up through Elvis’ tummy onto her, his hips crushing her even harder onto the pool table. Becky rocked back and forth with Elvis’ body in a post-orgasmic high, looking up at the colorful walls through blurry vision. She was inside a kaleidoscope, and she smiled watching the technicolor spectacle dance in front of her eyes. Elvis increased the tempo of his efforts. 
“Honey, I’m bout ta explode…”
His fingernails dug into her sides as he moaned out deeper, his head throttled backwards, hips prodding into her slowly and deliberately, evincing a moan with each thrust until he came with a loud grunt, singing breathlessly as he sputtered into her.
“Aaaaamen….. aaaaamen…. AAAAMEN… amen … ammmmmennnnnn.” 
Then Elvis collapsed head forward into the space between her shoulder blades, wiping sweat and hair onto her back as he whispered, “Thank ya Gawwwd… for bringing this lil gal ta me …. Lord… I feel your spirit.” 
Becky shook her head with a breathy chuckle. “Well, now I feel your spirit all over me…”
Elvis kissed her with a laugh, fondling her hips and pressing back into her deeper as he softened.
“Hmmmm… good… s’holy sacrement…” Elvis said, eyes closed, as he kissed her cheek, rubbing her sides slowly up and down as lil Elvis savored the warm, wet cloister of her cunt.
He almost collapsed over her, muttering goddamns until their breath synchronized. Elvis’ hands stilled on Becky’s hips and he coughed out, grunting, then laughing. She rolled over, gazing at him with amusement as he staggered back for effect and pulled up his pants. Her eyes danced over his wide, glistening body, the chest hair matted down, the belly that heaved forward and distended over his waist, his goofy boyish smile beaming from ear to ear. It was almost regal how he held his hands pushed into his hips, below a belly that jutted out. He took his shirt and bent to gently wipe between, gathered the cloth into his face with a loud, effected sniff before putting it back on. Their eyes met, giddy laughter echoed through the room.
Elvis  zipped up his pants and retrieved his gun, giving Becky a naughty wink as he pushed it back into his waist. His shirt hung open as he turned to move across the passage way walked back to the TV room and collapsed on the sectional. His chest heaved and his breath was ragged.
“Goddammit woman… tha most exercise since ma last concert.” Elvis combed his hand through his damp sweaty locks, looking over as Becky followed him, barefoot in just her her shirt and bending to finding her panties near the couch. Elvis pulled her on to him at the couch, kissing her belly.
“Got me runnin’ round like a 20 year old horn dawg…." Then he slapped her bottom. Again. "Well, don’t just sit here women, do something… help me...go get me a Pepsi, huh baby?”
Glancing into the mirrors above her, Becky’s eyes met Elvis’ smirking reflection.
“Nex time we’ll have ta try it in here… ”
Becky guffawed loudly, and pushed his shoulder with her head, then getting up to grab some drinks from the bar.
“You truly are a lecherous old goat…”
“Aww Becky, love it when ya talk dirty ta me… you have no idea what a dirty old goat I can be…. Jus you wait…” Elvis chortled.
She dropped next to him with the sodas, and watched as he drained half of his in one fell swoop. She leaned her head into the curve of his arm, bouyed up by his chest, she listened to the sound of his heavy exhales as he fiddled with a strange contraption pointed at the TV.
“What’s that?” Becky asked, soothing her hands over his belly.
“This… this is really high tech stuff… s’ a remote control…welcome to the future, Twitch…got all the latest gear ….let me show you how it works.” Elvis sipped his drink and excitedly explained the science behind his gadget , showing Becky how it turned the TVs on and off using blah blah blah radar gizmo whatevers. She vaguely ohed and ahed, happily trying it out as his hand guided over her over the switches and buttons on the device. Just enjoying the feeling of his chest under her head. Becky scootched closer as Elvis’ left hand trailed down her side. She let her head sank down more and more into the top of his tummy, rubbing his belly hair as she watched the three TVs in the wall flicker on. Before she passed out, she wondered how anyone could possibly follow three different news programs at once.
*************************************************************
Becky awoke to the sound of voices behind her, alone on the sofa and uncertain where she was for a moment. She closed her eyes again instinctively. Someone else, an older man perhaps, was speaking in a whispered hush with Elvis in the hallway.
“—— well I wish you had made your damn mind up ‘bout which airplane ya wanted before I gave the other one a down payment. Now I have this new contract with Delta … just don’t know what was wrong with chartering —”
“Aw hell, daddy, s’just money… you think I’m gonna stand by while Killer gets his own plane, an I’m still waitin’ on the runway with my dick in my hand for a charter? No sireee… ya got another thing comin’” 
There was a long silent pause.
“Well… ya tied my hands now anyway… and I’m left cleaning up the mess… Speaking of people who clean up ya mess, where’s Linda?”
“How should I know? In the condo I bought her in LA, or the house I got her round the corner… actin’ like a hurt puppy dog sulking back and forth and hardly sayin a word to me in the last few weeks… refused to come on tour…”
“Well, she isn’t refusing that credit card you gave her, just got the latest American Express bill and let me tell ya, it’s a doozy…”
“Now, I promised that girl I’d take care a her, long as she wants, so don’t bring all that up again… don’t care if she charges $30 or $30,000… still my gal….”
“IS she? Maybe she’d be ‘round more if you didn’t bring floozies like that un home —”
“Now daddy, that lil gal right there is a good, sweet kid, won’t have you disrespectin’ Becky—”
“Uh huh, and what pills is Becky on, hmmm?”
“Nothing… she’s just tired.” Becky could almost hear the smirk in Elvis’s voice as it went lower. “Poor thing ain’t had a lick a sleep in the last three days… but she’s a good girl. Comes from a good family back in Jackson.”
“Mhmmm… well, I never know who I’m gonna find here, some stranger you picked up at the gate? A baseball announcer? The local PE teacher? Or a random super model you’ve decided to buy an apartment for and put on the payroll without telling me… probably just be cheaper to give the local brothel a full retainer…”
“Ok, now, daddy… that’s enough… I don’t wanna think bout all this right now…”
“Son, all I’m saying is, I don’t blame Linda for being sore atcha…”
Elvis voice raised by several decibels. “Well, you get your woman under control and then you can come lecture me… last I heard you’d been kicked out of yourn. And got a new house. Let’s not forget who’s payin’ for it all….”
About thirty seconds of silence passed.
“Well, I ——“
“I’m ‘bout to wake that lil gal up, so we can go dress for supper - SO leave it. Nuff. I don’t wanna squabble no more….you should join us to eat, I know’d the gals be happy to see ya…”
“Hmmmm… any other mouths knockin’ ‘bout?”
“Hardly no one tonight… Jus Charlie, Jerry, Billy and his family… ”
“Yeah. No one, just ten people he says… that’s no one… hmmm….I’ll think about it…” 
Becky waited until she heard the footsteps go up the stairs before opening her eyes to see Elvis hovering over her, his shirt was still unbuttoned and he held her jeans over his left arm.
“You’re a bad faker, Becky….”
“Hmmmm?” Becky said, unable to stop the blush returning to her cheeks. “How’d… how’d ya know I was awake?”
Elvis grinned. “Ya snore… s’cutest itty bitty breathy heavin’…. But I noticed a few minutes ago that ya’d stopped, when daddy quit yapping.” He handed her jeans to her. “Here, don’t want no one seein’ ya half naked… Let’s get you covered up….”
Becky flashed a feeble smile as she pulled her pants on, and crooked into Elvis arm, he kissed the top of her head and slapped her bottom to signal she was to trudge up the stairs in front of him.
*************************************************************
Going through her bag, Becky held up another pink halter top and sighed. Before her shower, she had chewed Ida out on the phone for aiding and abetting Elvis with her the surprise trip to Memphis. And for packing an assort of really tight halter tops, mini skirts and a few dresses, all of which she suspected came from her 22 year-old cousin Harriet’s wardrobe. 
“Ida, these clothes barely cover me….” 
“Oy vey, Rebecca, that’s the point….. Ruth’s at camp, I put Saul back at the store, everything is fine, you go have fun… with Elvis Presley….” she screeched his name.
“Ida, don’t get your hopes up…. this is just a short term affair… I don’t want you to be disappointed when this plays itself out…”
“Becky,” Ida’s voice grew stern. “That is exactly the point, my meshugganah kindela… of all the people who get to have an affair with a rock star, why not you? What I would have given for one night with Rudy Vallee….”
Becky sighed. “Ok, ok…. maybe I’ll thank you one day…. give Saul a kiss for me.”
Now she stood in the master bathroom, hair up in a towel, Becky looked back in her traveling bag. No bras, five pairs of underwear, sandals and a pair of nice pumps. Other than this, she had the jeans, tee and converse sneakers she's worn to drive Ruth to camp. There was also little case with her toothbrush, and a bag with some of Ida’s Avon make up, perfume and matching talcum powder in Avon’s original Sweet Honesty scent. Becky grimaced at the sickly intense floral smell, but did a half spray on her wrist anyway. She coughed as the talc powder wafted into her nose when she spread it under her arms and between her thighs to dry and smooth her skin. She straightened the towel wrapped around her wet hair and looked at her face in Elvis’ bathroom. A line of small red bumps had started to form around her chin. Ughhh, this always happens when you start having sex again… you break out. She inspected them closely to make sure they weren’t white heads, and then rummaged through the Avon bag for foundation and concealer. Keeping her make up simple, Becky applied a light layer of mauve eye shadow to match the flowers on the white floral dress she had picked out, and the pair of light mauve shoes Ida had packed. She shimmied into the dress, smoothing it down, looking at the way the thin white floral pattern stretched over her breasts and then clung to her body's ample curves. The top only had one tied, petal sleeve, her other shoulder was bare and she sighed. This had been the most modest clothing nice option for dinner she had found in the bag.
When she finally emerged into the bedroom, glanced over Elvis’ large, black bed frame and the dark Burgundy bedspread covering it. Shivering in the cool air, she walked over and checked out the assortment of pistols, rifles and hand guns on top of his big dresser.  Elvis footsteps brought her eyes up from the arsenal, and she smiled at the white tailored suit and blue silk shirt ruffled he wore. Her breath hitched in her throat as he straightened his sunglasses, and ran his hand through his long shag hairdo. Then he moved closer and Becky felt the elastic give of her dress ripple when Elvis' fingers snapped the tie holding her lone sleeve up.
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(Just imagine this dress but one asymmetical sleeve ^)
“Hmmm, couldn’t you find anything revealing to show off how pretty ya are for my folks, hmmm?” 
Becky’s bottom lip dropped down with her eyes, and she lifted her hands to nervously fix some of the hair pinned on top of her hair in a messy bun, a worried expression on her face. “I thought this was too revealing—”
Elvis smirked, chuckling, “No, I know honey ...  seems like they forget a whole sleeve… not that this sleeve has much to it neither… that little knot is holding on for dear life…” His hand moved under her breasts to jostle them up with a soft swat and eyes watched with delight as her bosom bounced up and down. “Hope you didn’t pay full price for this half a dress…” his eyes lit up when Becky elbowed him. “… Aw, no, I like it…  sexy as hell…”  He whispered in her ear and the warmth of his breath sent a tingle up her spin and through her core. 
Becky’s nether regions shivered, still sensitive from earlier activities, moreso as the soreness settled in from the vigorous pounding Elvis had given her. She had felt a slight burn when she peed, and she made a mental note to drink a lot of water. You don’t want to get a UTI on the first fucking day here. Maybe do some kegels during dinner too.
Elvis’ kissed Becky’s cheek, breaking her train of thought as he led her downstairs. Feeling her shiver, he covered as much of her bare skin as he could by hugging her into his jacket. “Maybe wouldn’t be so cold if ya invested in some long underwear…”
Becky nuzzled into his armpit. “Maybe if you didn’t live in a meat locker people could dress comfortably…” 
The sound of Elvis’ hand walloping Becky’s bottom (AGAIN) rang through the stairway with the rumble of his “Quit ya fussin’, woman, ain’t gonna change the temperature a this house jus' cuz you can’t be bothered to own a bra.”
Dinner was laid out in the kitchen, and Becky retreated further into Elvis’ embrace as he introduced her properly to his younger cousin Billy, who she’d seen from afar at the Jackson concerts, Billy’s wife Jo, their sons Danny and Joey, his father, grandmother Minnie Mae, and Aunt Delta, who was curt, quiet and smelled of a heavy rose perfume with an undertone of vodka. She felt naked when Elvis parted from her to make up a plate of food, spooning out black eyed peas with bacon, meatloaf, mashed potatoes and more from the large serving dishes on the counter. She felt even more awkward as he followed Jerry into the dining room while she looked for options not smothered in some sort of pork, smiling nervously at Mary who filled up the pitcher of sweet tea and then stacked more bacon on top of the salad.
When she entered the dining room, Elvis clapped his hand on the red cushion next to him at the head of the table, then stopped mid-sentence in his conversation with Billy to do a double take at Becky’s plate.
“Just cornbread and potatoes?” he asked in an accusatory tone, looking from the plate to Becky’s eyes. The whole table went silent. “There’s salad in there.”
Becky straightened and looked at Elvis. “I’m good. There’s bacon all up in that salad-”
“Well, use ya head, now Becky Butt, you can jus pick it out  - there  I solved ya damn probl—”
“I like this fine,  Presley, mind ya own business.”
Jo gasped, and Billy put his hand over his wife’s under the table. Billy then coughed uncomfortably and tried to change he subject. “You don’t eat bacon? On account of being a Hebr—” 
Elvis put his hand up to stop Billy “On account of being a doggone vegetarian.” Then he looked Becky squarely in the eye, and spoke with a benevolent humor. “No reason to be a bitch ‘bout it.”
Aunt Delta whispered loudly to Jo, “What Billy say?”
“He asked Becky if she didn’t eat pork cuz she’s a Jew.”
Vernon called down to Becky. “That true?”
But Becky was staring back at Elvis. “Look, I was eating my dinner just fine, you’re the one trying to tell me what ta do… I like mashed potatoes an cornbread… mind ya own business…”
“Everythin’ that happens in this house is my business, oughta box ya jaw, talking’ to a man like that in his own damn house …”
“YOU the one that kidnapped me Presley on account of how fond ya are of me, why, I bet you’d sooner hit ya granny there ‘fore you’d hit me.” She arched her eyebrow with a smirk.
“Oh you better shut that big ole mouth, get ya into trouble.” Elvis pulled Becky on his lap, arms around her waist.
She made a tepid attempt to get out of them, squealing loudly. “I don’t havta, you ain’t my boss.”
Before Elvis could answer, Minnie Mae announced, loudly. “Hesh up, canna eat ma supper.” Becky was shocked to hear such a powerful timbre from the frail, thin woman. 
Elvis squeezed her sides, and kissed her neck, whispering. “You heard Dodger, hesh that big mouth up .”
“You better shut up, you love my big ole mouth….” Becky murmured back into his ears, arms around his neck. Elvis leaned his head back, laughing, and Dodger shot Becky a stern look, as if her grand son’s unseemly behavior was somehow her fault.
The others went back to eating and low polite conversation, but Becky finished her meal in another dimension on Elvis lap. She took a large forkful of mashed potatoes, enthusiastically humming “MMMMhmmm MM!” as she swallowed. Elvis shook his head and let out a belly laugh, chewing his meatloaf in her ear and then giving her a big kiss, during which she feigned disgust. 
“Get that meat off my lips, Presley,” she muttered. 
“Huh, ya love my meat, honey.” He growled under his breath, pushing another big bite in his mouth and pressing his mush against her ear. 
Becky writhed silently in her seat, wiping off the greasy ground beef granules sticking on her lobe. “Didn’t no one ever teach ya any manners?” she hissed back at him.
“Gonna teach you some manners…you and that big mouth…” Elvis grinned like a goofy clown, and Becky couldn’t stop his contagious smile and playful energy from taking over her body. 
She beamed back, still trying to seem irritated, murmuring into his fluffy shagged out hair, “Like to see you try…” 
The thin soft knit fabric of Becky’s dress grazed her skin as Elvis massaged the top of her thigh, his strong fingers pinched the side and rubbed the rolls of her hip together, whispering in her ear. “Jus you wait… …”
They spent the meal thusly, in their own dimension at the head of the table, flirting, whispering, pinching, rubbing and feeding each other food. 
Elvis took some black eyed peas, biting the piece of ham hock off his fork, before feeding them into Becky’s open mouth with a “mhmmm... he thinks she needs some veGEeeables…”
Then Becky broke the edge of her corn bread off, “Better shut you up with something sweet in that mouth... know you like sugar on your tongue... Get any a this? Mhmmm… sweetest corn bread I ever ate…” 
He chuckled, talking with her fingers in his mouth. “Honey, I live on sweet stuff... like this cornbread... s'my house…. course it’s the best….”
They were only roused when Vernon stood to leave, followed by Aunt Delta’s movement helping Minnie Mae to her room. Becky started to help Mary clear the table, but Elvis grabbed her hand, telling her to let the woman do her job, and pulled her to follow the rest of the party into the den.  Mary caught Elvis in the back hall to pass him a note, and he motioned to Jerry after he read it, slapping Becky on her butt, which she realized was code for "hi," "get to it," "bye," "good idea," "uh nuh," and many other expressions as he begged off to make a business call in his office. Becky sat making small talk with Billy, Jo and Charlie for a time, then excused herself to fix her face upstairs, a happy excuse to go settle her nerves for a short spell alone and try to salve the self-conscious anxiety gnawing at her diaphragm. As she rounded the top of the stairs, she saw Jerry come out of the office, and he left paused to make sure he left the door ajar as he saw her.
“Everything ok?” Becky straightened her dress strap.
Jerry looked Becky up and down with an uncertain stare, then nodded. “Mhmmm…he’s just talking to his girlfriend in LA, Mindi.” 
Jerry’s heart dropped when he saw Becky’s ashen response, her lip trembled, just for a split second, before she forced a smile. “Oh, ha, well that’s good, was just about to call my sugar daddy in New York….” She changed the topic after shivering from the second floor’s cold air. “Cold, isn’t it… why is it so cold up here?”
Jerry frowned, and decided to go all in. “It’s the downers... the painkillers… makes you feel like you’re in a warm hug, like you are wrapped in a snug wool blanket… “
“How do you know that?”
“Cuz I’ve taken them, Becky… makes me drink gallons of lemonade, only wanna eat ice cream… never have enough of that cold sensation in your mouth, on your skin….”
“Oh.” Becky looked down. “Why does Elvis take them…” She shifted her feet.
“Back pain, insomnia, night terrors… at first… but it's easy to grow a tolerance and he needs more and more… can make him seem out of it.” Jerry stepped closer, and grabbed her arm. “If you are gonna be here, sleep with him, you need to watch him…if he goes to the bathroom , you go to the bathroom, if he passes out, make sure he is breathing… got it?”
The blood drained from Becky’s face, and she thought of the pills he took after the concerts in Jackson.
“Didn’t seem so bad when he was at my house.”
“Cuz he only had the random pills in his pocket… that was an impulsive trip, we didn’t even pack a tooth brush.”
“Oohhhh, haa…”
Her voice trailed off as Jerry patted her shoulder with a sympathetic wink, banking that she wouldn’t tell Elvis about their conversation. Jerry half regretted his bluntness, but her wounded look reaffirmed his commitment to show Becky as much of Elvis’ selfish nature as he could, as quickly as possible. With any luck, he’d have her hightailing it back to Jackson within the next 48 hours. Content with the work he had done, he excused him self for the night, while Becky stayed in the second floor landing, waiting for the sound of Jerry’s footsteps to end so she could creep closer to Elvis’ office and indulge her morbid curiosity.
“—no, no course, no, don’t even talk bout Rome… cuz I said I would… why honey, of course — why all ya gotta do is ask — no, now who’s name is on the marquee… that’s right darlin - my daddy works for me, not t’other way round…. Of course , s’no problem, how much ya need? Well …. Now, Joe’s out there himself, Jerry’s gonna square the wire first thing tomarra —— well, now, that’s more like it… I miss you too… whatcha you wearin’? Ohhhhhh you little minx, I oughta—” 
Becky felt sick to her stomach. It had only been a few minutes since that warm voice had been murmuring honeyed words into her neck. Her hand shook as she slunk over to the bedroom, and shed a few tears in the bathroom, then slapped herself in the face. 
“Shut up you big baby. You’ve been giddy as a school girl since you got here. You are just here to have fun. If you’re blue, well, that’s what you get for eavesdropping. People just having fun and enjoying free love don’t sneak around eavesdropping. It’s like Ida said, just enjoy the fucking experience… don’t get too deep, don’t take anything on...” She forced a smile. “Shepard’s pie. That’s what Charlie said. You’re comfort food... he doesn’t like one night stands, he likes to fool around for a set period of time. Maybe he’s your shepard’s pie too. Who are you kidding? You might be his comfort food, but Elvis fucking Presley is filet mignon to you, Rebecca Grace Hoffman. No one knows that name. Because you’re a nobody. Are you gonna ruin this trip by nagging him about other women? Or sleeping pills? No. Just. be. fun. Becky.”
The cold marble of the bathroom sink transferred from her hand to her cheek as she slapped her self again. “OK. Fun Becky.”  She nodded at herself and felt a little better after she washed her face and fixed her make-up. Taking a deep breathe, Becky shivered in the chill of Elvis’ bathroom. “Shake it off, baby…” she repeated to herself, rolling her shoulders and wiggling out her arms. As she walked downstairs, she told her self that if she felt uncomfortable, she could get a cab to the Greyhound station tomorrow,  or, worst case scenario, call her sister. This calmed her down, and Becky looked at her reflection one last time in the foyer mirror and smiled, happy with how she looked. Content with her decision to make no decisions and ready to enjoy the rest of the night if it killed her.
She instantly felt better when she peeked into the den and saw Charlie’s friendly face waving her in. The the woodsy decor, low lighting and water fall created a soothing atmosphere. Charlie was strumming a guitar while Billy got up to grab beer from the bar downstairs, an offer which Becky responded to almost too eagerly as she slide into the sofa next to Charlie. She nodded at Jo sitting on the floor against Billy’s chair. The women spoke for a little, Becky asked about the kids playing cards at the back of the room while Charlie played the melody for the Gordon Lightfoot hit “Sundown” on the guitar. Billy came back up with cold bottles for everyone, and the cool sour bubbles refreshed Becky while she struck up a conversation with Charlie. 
“Hey Decatur.” She said, smoothing her lap and crossing her legs. 
Charlie was now strumming chords aimlessly on his  guitar, a shy grin curled at the corner of his mouth. “Hey yerself, Birmingham.”
*************************************************************
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The chords from George Jones’ and Tammy Wynette’s hit duet “Something to Brag About” met Elvis’ ears as he thumped downstairs, and he stood at the entry of the den noting the five empty beers on the coffee table. He watched Becky take a sip from her beer bottle as Charlie played guitar and sang the duet’s male part.
But I've got something to brag about 
Something to brag about 
Something to brag about in you
Becky closed her eyes as she sang out Tammy’s verse vigorously to the green carpet above her head, the deep emotion in her voice warmed Elvis entire body and he watched her with the keen eye of a voyeur. He felt the prickle of desire buzz along the back of his neck as he gazed at her sing and bounce on the sofa. The curls on top of her head seemingly had a life of their own, animated by the intensity of her delivery.  He liked power he felt watching her from doorway, knowing she had no idea he was there, knowing she wasn’t responding or performing for him. Just existing in the world as the free spirit that she was.
When you're with the fellas, I know 
You start braggin' 'bout 
My hour glass figure and my big brown eyes
Becky giggled, moving her hands suggestively over her body as she sang.
Then a you tell your girlfriends 'bout my 
Sweet, sweet lov—‘
Just as Charlie started to sing the word lovin’ he looked at the door and gulped, his hands froze while the last chord still reverberated throughout the den’s acoustics. He knew the power of that stare all too well, and the horror on his face showed his recognition.
Becky turned her head upside down, leaning back over the wooden serpent armrest,  that second beer had made her back impervious to the wood carving’s hard ridges. A goofy smile spread across her upside down lips.
“Heyyyyy daddy!”
Elvis stepped forward, towering above her. The waddle under his chin hung down as he tousled Becky’s hair from above, then pulled her dress strap up from her shoulder where it threatened to slip off and release her heaving bust. 
“Mmhmmm … hey baby…don’t let me interrupt y’all…” The edge in his tenor went over Becky’s head as she giggled, a dreamy look on her face as she blew a kiss up at him.
Leaning back as she was, Becky missed Charlie’s nervous glance at Billy, and she pulled herself up, slapping Charlie’s knee. “C’mon Decatur, where were we.”
“Ummm, uh… I uh, forget how it goes on from here…” Charlie coughed out.
Elvis staggered around the sofa behind Charlie, leaning down on his hands at the back of the couch. “Hmmm….. maybe it’s time ta let a professional take over…?”
Becky guffawed, slamming down her beer on the coffee table and raised her hands out for the guitar. “Professional skunk, more like. Don’t let him bully ya that way, Charlie… I can play if you... if you forget how it goes from here….” Charlie shot Becky a weak grin, and leaned over to hand her the guitar as he shakily stood up.
“Thanks darlin, but uhhh, need to use the John anyhow… y’all go on with out me….” Charlie twisted to look over his shoulder as Elvis plopped down in one of the large arm chairs across from the sofa. 
Billy sat in the other large armchair, his face was blank and inscrutable to Becky as he nodded at his cousin, and squeezed Jo’s shoulder below him.
Becky looked down at her hands, finding the chords on the neck of the guitar, then smiling at the others as she strummed lightly. Her voice was solemn and sad as it lifted up into “The Night They Drove Old Dixie Old,” pausing at the chorus to yell out, “C’mon on y’all, sing it with me….” 
The night they drove old Dixie down 
And the bells were ringing 
The night they drove old Dixie down 
And the people were singing 
They went, "Na, na, la, na, na, la"
Jo joined in exuberantly, and elbowed Billy into singing. Elvis grinned, he did not sing during this song, but rather, leaned back and watched Becky intently. After a few minutes, he pulled out a cigarillo and looked expectantly at Billy, who paused his contribution to the next chorus’ “na na nas” in order to hastily jump up and light Elvis’ cigar.
Becky laid the guitar down on the couch next to her when she finished singing and stood slowly, throwing her hips back and forth as she paraded around the coffee table to sit on Elvis’ lap. He looked up at her, blowing his cigar smoke to the side.
“Dontcha know… that’s a man’s song?”
“Hmmm…” Becky purred as Elvis belly bounced into her and she leaned into his face, her fingers edging around Elvis’ cigar to pull it out of his grasp to her own lips. A sly smile emerged on her lips as spoke. “Oh ya know…. I like…” she sucked on the sweet, woodsy smoke from his cigar, exhaling as she finished her thought. “Men’s things….”
Elvis pulled his cigar back from her fingers, his lips hovered below her chin. “Already know that…” 
Becky leaned her forehead down against Elvis’, his left hand jiggled her closer and he chuckled up into her mouth, his eyes danced behind his sunglasses.
“You know, you have a sad melancholy in that voice a yourn….” He murmured just to her, pulling Becky in the warm enclosure of his arms, a world where only the two of them existed and they spoke to each other in hushed, intimate voices as if no one was around. Here there were no external problems, no girlfriends, no downers, no children, no 200 miles stretching out between their houses. The only barriers were the clothes they wore and the space between their bodies. Billy and Jo looked at each other and shrugged awkwardly.  
Becky didn’t notice. 
“You don’t like my voice?” she stammered, her lower lip trembling.
Elvis brushed his lips over her chin, closing his eyes as he tilted his forehead into her nose and growled into her breasts below. “Honey… I don’t like your voice……” he paused for effect, his left hand grabbing the back of her hair, loosening the bobby pins that held it up with the force of his fingers. His jowls vibrated as he intoned, deeply. “I loooove your voice…..”
Charlie coughed as he walked back in, and picked up the guitar to put it back with its stand against the wall. Elvis’ eyes shifted, momentarily brought out of his trance, but he left his head resting against Becky’s chin.
“Hand that over here, son…. nah, give it to Becky … yoar a better gee tar player than I am any how…”
“Liar…you just lazy and wanna smoke that cigar...”
“Shut your mouth and get to playin’,” he blew his cigar smoke in her face.
“You still ain’t the boss a me… ”
His left hand lowered down to slap her side. “Hesh woman… c’mon, what are we singing…”
Becky grinned, and played the opening bars twice as she asked, “You know this one?”
“Ohhhh baby, I had that stuck in my head since the first night I met ya….” Elvis confessed, stubbing out his cigar in the green glass ashtray stand next to his chair.
“Alright, I’ll count us off.. one, two three…”
Their voices roared together in unison as they sang the opening stanza of June and Johnny’s “Jackson…” Elvis’ face lifted up to Becky’s, her breasts bounced as she strummed and his left hand drummed out a fast rhythm on the bottom of the guitar from where it squeezed her waist. Her body rocked back and forth into his belly, relishing the way his low voice took the melody somewhere new for her, and she belted out a “HA!” as he sang this verse.
When I breeze into that city 
People gonna stoop and bow (hah) 
All them women gonna make me 
Teach 'em what they don't know how
Charlie looked at the others, his brows raised, and Billy shrugged again, his eyes conveyed a knowing weariness. Neither Becky nor Elvis noticed this exchange, their eyes were otherwise occupied, and Becky leaned her nose down to nuzzle Elvis’s as she breathed out the next verse into his face through simpering amusement. Her warm breath sent a lightening bolt across Elvis’ body, and the thump of her bottom against his tummy and worked to increase the humming of his skin, amplified further when he sang and his lungs expanded swelling up his belly into derriere even more.  Elvis kissed the top of Becky’s shoulder softly as she leaned into him, finishing her stanza.
Yeah, go to Jackson 
You big-talkin' man 
And I'll be waitin' in Jackson 
Behind my Jaypan Fan
Becky purred along as Elvis sang the last chorus, swaying back and forth over his lap, and his arms closed tight around her as they hummed the last few notes together. They stayed in the den for hours singing, long after Billy and Jo found their children and said goodnight, Charlie tottered after them with a farewell. Their voices joined in happy harmony, mingling in the air was they started, stopped, paused, laughed and crooned together the melodies for “I Saw The Light,” “Don’t Think Twice,” “The City of New Orleans,” “Louisiana Women, Mississippi Man,”  Elvis changed the words to Alabama woman in this last one, to which Becky responded with a chuckle, which made him laugh and they giggled into each other’s cuddles on the furry arm chair.
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Becky lay back in Elvis’ bed, sniffing under the silk navy pajama top she had borrowed from him to sleep in. His monogrammed initials met her eyeline as she checked how her armpits smelled. After brushing her teeth, she had dusted herself with talc powder again, she was now covered in that old familiar Sweet Honesty scent by Avon. It was starting to grow on her.  The beside clock told her it was 3 a.m. Elvis had been in the bathroom for twenty minutes, what is taking him so long? She thought of what Jerry had told her, what’s so wrong with taking downers to sleep? If he has night terrors and insomnia? Yeah, so far she had watched them knock him out, but he had been fine otherwise. These thoughts were interrupted by the sound of something sliding across the tile in the bathroom, and Becky jumped up to check on it, only to be met by a swinging door and revelation of Elvis’ broad, dark silhouette. He swaggered towards her, taking her hands and waltzing her around, then dipping her back into the exposed silk sheets of her side of the bed.
“You ok? Thought maybe you stubbed your toe…” she mumbled up to him, his piercing dark blue stare made her chest ache. Lost in the deference Becky’s brown eyes offered up to him, Elvis hummed, savoring the way she turned her cheek into his knuckles as they roved up her face.
“Mmmm… what Twitchy?” His eyes narrowed, processing her question. “Oh, nah, just me stumblin’ ‘round tryin ta give myself a shot of B 12 … s’apart of my vitamin regimen, ya not the only one tryin’ to be healthy round here, miss veg a ma tarnation ..” Becky’s questioning face followed him as he rolled over on the bed and she cuddled into his chest once he joined her under the covers, half-sitting up pushed into the pillows. He took a ring off his pinky, the design was a wide platinum metal band that tapered off as it bent towards the back, in the center was a flower made of six large, glittering diamonds. Picking up Becky’s right hand from atop his chest, Elvis pushed the ring onto her finger, bending her hand up to watch the jewels catch the light. A gleeful grin bobbed his round, full chin and his eyes gleamed.
“Wannn ya ta have this….” Elvis dropped Becky’s hand, and began rubbing her belly, pushing up the silk button down top warming her skin.  
“Elvis…” Becky shook her head, and started to pull the ring off, readying her diatribe on how she didn’t want gifts.
“Honey don’t… “ Elvis palm glided over her soft, bare belly, pressing into its plush expanse as he trailed from side to side, smiling when he noticed these movements made her bust jiggle. “Now…. Can’t believe ya aint evvvva had sum un tell YOU that ya beautiful….” His speech started to slow as he spoke, each syllable seemed to get caught on the roof of his mouth. “Cuz you arrrre… so beautiful…. And beautiful people deserve beautiful things…. Help ya sparkle…. Help others seeee how beautiful you are…”
Becky could feel tears pooling behind her eyes at this declaration, unsure if she should protest. As if he read her thoughts, Elvis began to preemptively console her.
“Shhhhh…now shhhhh…. Let me do this…. I wanna give you deems … uh..” His eyelids fluttered closed, and a growl worked up his throat as waves of demerol warmed his chest and slowed his heart. “…. uh…” he jerked open his eyes, fighting to stay awake, his lips open and pouting like a baby. “Huh, what was I sayin, now…. oh yeah… it means somethin’ for me to give you deese things on account that you never had ‘em before… means more ta me…. knowing…. that I found you … gonna show the world how beautiful you are…” 
Becky shoved her face into his, and pelting a series of soft kisses across his cheeks as his eye lids began to droop down again, his hand still slowly tracing over her tummy,
“Gaawd, your skin is sooooo soffftt, like a baby’s….. wantcha ta be my baaBY…. I can be your daddy, ….an you can be my mommIEEE ….. and we can beeee each udder’s babies…..” His voice lilted in a higher tone, like a little boy musing about what he wanted to be when he grew up. His eyes completely closed, then struggled open, looking into her face.
“You’re sayin’ you want this to last more than a few days...” Becky thought of the other girlfriends in his life. It was one thing to spend the last week screwing around with a rockstar whose girlfriends, plural, knew or even condoned his polyamorous proclivities. It was another thing to join their sorority. “I’ don’t know if that——”
His jowls rippled as he shushed her, index finger softly held to her lips. “Jus thin ‘bouuutt it…. I know you a stubborn independent woman…. like ta make up your own daaaMN mind…. ya don havta decide now…. In fact, I don want ya ta, mean more if I earrrrn sit…. Stay here for a month, see how much you like me…. I know ya will… be my baaby, my little baby…..”
“Elvis,” Becky whispered. “I cannot stay here for a month…” She looked up from her position snuggling into the silk shirt over his hairy chest, and realized his eyelids had completely dropped down. A low, staggered breath forced out of his mouth. Becky hoped maybe he was so out of it on his sleeping pills that he would forget everything he just proposed. But as she noticed his breath decrease, she pushed in closer to him, her fingers softly skimming the hair across his forehead and rolling down his nose, just as did to put Ruth to bed. 
“Oy gavolt, daddy… what’s in those vitamins, hmm?” she yawned, then frowned, leaned her head on his chest to make sure it was lifting up and down with life, her own fatigue put off by the cold air and lifelessness of Elvis' body. Nuzzling further on to his chest, she thought of what Jerry had told her, and tried to stay awake, monitoring his breathing. Eventually she dozed off listening to the hum of the air conditioner.
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Monday, June 15th
12 p.m. Graceland Master Bedroom
The creak of the door woke Becky up, and she lay on the mattress trying to remember where she was and what she was doing. It must have been five am when she finally fell asleep, but she couldn’t tell what tie it was now because the room was still so dark and cold. The large padded black leather door was ajar, but Becky didn’t see anyone, and as her eyes adjusted to being open, she realized Elvis’ head was on her breasts, and his right hand was cupped over her pubic hair, settled at the apex of her legs between her thighs. I guess he still has some life in there somewhere while he sleeps. She smiled, only to jump up at the sound of a little voice from the side of the bed.
“Who the hell care you?”
Becky shrieked “Fucking cock—mucker...” She threw Elvis’ hand off her and pulled the red, satin bedspread over her legs and panties. Elvis barely stirred, his snores only increasiing as Becky rolled him off her. 
She took in the patch of dirty blonde hair propped up at the edge of the bed, and then sat up further, pushing back against the headboard and smiling at the little girl who stood before her with hands on her hips and a look of disgust on her face.
“Why… hello there. Sorry for yelling… you uh… ya startled me… I’m Becky, who are you?”
The girl looked her up and down with those the same blue eyes and sneered curling her lip as the man sleeping next to hear. She ignored Becky’s question, emphasizing the edge in her voice.
“Where’s Linda? Does she know you’re here…?”
Becky sucked in her breath as she tried to think how she was going to navigate this scenario. This was not what she had in mind when Elvis had invited her to come to Graceland and meet his daughter. She had pictured a sweet, coordinated meeting in a living room or foyer. After having been briefed on Lisa’s likes and dislikes, Elvis would fondly introduce them to each other and handle any of the hard questions about his choice of companionship. As she sat there flummoxed, loud footsteps stopped at the entrance to Elvis’ room and Lisa scurried to hide behind the door just before Aunt Delta’s grimace poked around it. She squinted at Becky, and somehow her frown seemed to deepen into the wrinkles at the side of her mouth.
“You seen that little she-devil?” Delta huffed.
Becky looked over at Lisa Marie behind the door, who was vigorously shaking her head.
“Nope! Why?”
“Ughhh, that little gal needs to come unpack her suitcases… if we don’t do it now, I’s reckon she won’t do it all. That boy just let’s her run wild.”
Becky nodded, although Delta seemed to be talking more to herself, muttering as she turned and pulled the door closed behind her. Becky rolled off the other side of the bed, pulled her jeans off the chair they hung over and stepped into them as she made her way around the bed to Lisa Marie.
“C’mon, she-devil, I’ll help you unpack…”
Lisa Marie crossed her arms. “Chores’ for suckers… Nancy’ll just do it for me when she gets here… you can’t tell me what to do… you’re not my mom… you’re not even Linda…”
Becky chuckled and shook her head, then looked back at Lisa Marie as she opened the famous sound proof double doors that didn’t seem to do anything to keep the rest of Graceland out.
“Thank god I ain’t yer mama…already got one daughter who doesn’t listen to me. Though I find in general I can’t make anyone ‘round here do anything they don’t have a mind to do themselves…” Becky looked over at Elvis’ body on the bed as she said this, then lowered herself on her legs so that she was eye-level with the little toe-haired firecracker. “But I am your guest here at Graceland… so if I like unpacking clothes, you have to let me do it…wouldn’t want to wake up your papa and tell him you aren’t being a good hostess?” She watched Lisa Marie hesitate. “Well, are you the lady of the house or not?”
Lisa Marie uncrossed her arms and sighed up into her bangs. “Sho nuff I am...daddy told me this is my house...an.. I'm... I’m gonna inherit it, have my babies here… s’the Presley legacy… so.. um yeah, I am THE lady of the house…. Ok, well if you wanna be a sucker and unpack my clothes, it's your funeral…”
The slight girl led Becky down the hall towards her bedroom, stopping in front of a glass showcase filled with award trophies below a banner reading “Miss Tennessee 1972.” Lisa Marie paused in front of the shelving and looked at Becky, her eyes rolling up and down Becky’s body in judgement as she announced: 
“These are Linda’s awards, she’s my daddy’s girlfriend… they’re gonna get married one day… she’s a real beauty queen. She’s teaching me ‘bout fashion, how to get into a sorority, which ones are the best ones….”
Becky swallowed, groaning internally. This kid knows exactly what she is doing, she took one look at you and already twigged that you don’t belong here with her daddy. She’s just trying to get a rise out of you, it’s almost sweet. Can’t be easy to be Elvis’ daughter. Breathing deeply, Becky pushed any idea of competition with Linda aside.
“Mhmmm, Linda certainly deserves these doesn’t she, I mean, she’s gorgeous.” She walked beside Lisa. “People always told me I had a nice sense of humor in high school…. You know what means, don’t ya?”
Lisa Marie shook her head. 
“S’nice way of telling me I wasn’t beauty queen material….”
Lisa Marie let out a loud laugh, the tried to hastily suppress her smile as she continued to lead Becky to her bedroom. Becky tried distracted Lisa, asking her what the best sorority was, how to join one, what college she wanted to go, what music she liked. As they talked, Becky soaked in the sheer excess of Lisa Marie’s bed room. There was a round faux fur canopy bed larger than Becky’s bed at home, and it had a stereo and mirrors in the top. There was also a big television, a jewelry case filled “with real diamonds,” Lisa Marie explained, and several large sets of drawers and a big armoire Becky opened the suitcases and started unpacking, pausing to ask for help with every piece of clothing she took out, while asking Lisa Marie about herself. 
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“Hey where does this dress go?” Becky asked casually.
Lisa Marie took it with a huff, walking it to the closet, “In here, obviously,” the little girl said as she hung it, and Becky nodded, muttering how silly of her, then folded some tee shirts and skirts into piles.
“So Lisa Marie, what are you into?” Becky asked, handing the little blonde a bunch of rolled socks.
“Lisa… you can just call me Lisa.” Becky nodded at this. “Fast cars, karate, guns and hawwwt music.” Lisa said with a deep affect and an impish smirk
Becky laughed. “Really? Hmmmmmm sounds like someone else in this house… you forgot beauty queens…”
“True… I’m fixing to be a beauty queen ma’self… gonna do karate as my talent at pageants…that or target practice…”
Becky grinned and shook her head, fingers locking the clasps and holding up the empty suitcases with an eye brow arch. “You know, I’ve never even held a gun - you good at shooting?”
 A devilish expression energized Lisa’s face as she turned. “Wanna learn?”
Becky stood, wondering if she should shower and get Charlie or Mary or Jo to take her out to buy a bra and some more modest blouses as she looked at the pajama top over her jeans, mumbling in response. “Learn what, sweet girl?”
“How to shoot a gun a course…” Lisa began walked through a swinging door outside her bedroom, next to a second narrow staircase.
Becky glanced down its dark depths as she ambled behind Lisa, realizing she was being led into Elvis’ dressing room on their way back to the master suite. Becky followed slowly, frowned at the bags under her eyes as they walked through the master bedroom. Dressed, get dressed. Becky struggled, and she took a purple halter top out of her travel bag and slinked it on as Lisa Marie gasped from her position tip toeing over the dresser showcasing Elvis’ arsenal.
“Did you just flash me?” Lisa made a disgusted sound.
“We’re all girls here... sorry, didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable honey… I guess maybe I feel a little too comfortable….”
Lisa looked Becky up and down again. “You really are different from his other girlfriends…. Here, any preference ta which one do you like… oh wait, never mind, you already said you don’t know nothing bout guns, better let me do it ... I’m an expert.”
Becky walked over, clipping her dark brown curls in up, her lips pursed and her eyebrows knitted in concern. “What does your daddy say about you using his guns?”
“Ta never ever touch ‘em.” Lisa said as she gatheredd two pistols in her hands, the same way that Ruth would glance over and select Barbie dolls to play with. Lisaa tilted her head to the door, and Becky followed with a disturbed expression as Lisa led them out of the room, downstairs and out back to the smokehouse. She wondered if she should be doing this, but then again, several kids in Ruth’s class already had marksmanship awards. What did she know, did she want her first interaction with Elvis's daughter to be a power struggle?
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Becky’s barefoot feet wriggled further into the sawdust, and she inhaled deeply shutting her eyes. The pressure of the exploding bullet from the shaft of the colt 45 revolver caused Becky to jump back with a little scream. She looked up, there were no holes on the target sheet hanging at the end of the room. 
Lisa laughed, and came over. “You havta keep your eyes OPEN for starters.” She took aim with her gun, as Becky stepped back and watched her squint and stay perfectly still shooting a perfect bullseye. Lisa then turned with an elated gleeful smile, blowing over the top of the gun as her eyes met Becky’s.
Becky chuckled. “Wow… impressive… do you have a favorite gunslinger?”
Lisa turned and shot two more rounds, each one hitting the red center of the bullseye. “Dirty Harry.” She answered without skipping a beat, then flipping her hair back over her shoulder.
“Wow…. Have you seen that movie?”
“Only about a thousand times…. it’s one of my favorite movies….”
“Wow, well, what about a girl shooter? Have you seen Annie Get Your Gun?”
“Of course.” Lisa huffed, refilling the cartridge of her gun. “I even used to have a pink cowgirl vest just like Annie Oakley, ‘cept it’s too small for me now.”
“Well, if we had a sewing machine I could make a new one for you.”
Lisa looked up at Becky with an excited expression, and took her hand, dragging her out of the smokehouse. “Dodger has ‘un…. Let’s go find Charlie, we’ll get him to take us shopping…”
Becky’s bare feet stumbled over the grass and pebbles as Lisa’s hand took them towards the long white building at the back of the mansion. “Um, let’s not bother Charlie… he might have other things to do.”
Lisa’s face turned back to Becky as she rapped on the door, announcing with all earnestness. “Are you kidding? Charlie always does everything I say….”
Three hours later, Becky was sitting at a very large, heavy cumbersome metal Singer sewing machine that Charlie had lugged out from Minnie Mae’s room into the adjourning living room. Becky had given him an apologetic grin as he stumbled and told her that it “Really weren’t no trouble.” Her fingers pushed pink suede through the stitcher and she bit her lip in concentration as she controlled the lever with her foot. Lisa hovered over Becky, perched on the sofa attaching rhinestone beads to the fringe on the smaller vest Becky had already cut and sewn together with Lisa’s proportions. 
“You think this is really gonna fit him?” She said with excitement and Becky nodded, grinning at the thought of Elvis wearing a matching pink suede vest. Not as gaudy as those jumpsuits but in the same family, she thought. Lisa turned to grab another bead from the bowl of glimmering silver rhinestone beads.
Lisa jumped up and down, clapping her hands. “It’s SO perfect! They match…”
Jerry walked by and stuck his head in, a middle aged white lady behind him. “Hey honey - I set up the film reels of The Pink Panther for you down in the TV room like ya asked this mornin…”
Lisa’s eyes stayed fixed where she tied another silver bead on her vest fringe, then waving Jerry off. “Thanks Jerry, maybe later…. We’re busy… oh hi Tish…”  Lisa added, seeing the older woman. Jerry looked at Becky, bewildered, but didn’t inquire what they were doing, turning to escort Tish upstairs.
“Whose that?”
“Oh that’s jus daddy’s nurse… he has some back pain and digestible issues… she’ll start coming by to give him his medicine every day now that he’s home… she takes real good —— ok, is it done ?” Her voice trailed off as she watched Becky pull the large pink vest out of the machine.
"Not yet, I gotta slice the fringe and get some of this shiny beads on here…” Becky smacked her lips and squinted at the stitching. 
Lisa nodded, nothing another bead, heat feet dangling over the edge of the couch. “Say, where did you learn to do all this? Ya mama?”
Becky turned to Lisa, grabbing a bead as she worked on Elvis’ vest. A “Ha!” escaped her mouth at Lisa’s question.
“No, my mama  was busy being a lawyer…. Our nanny, Helga, taught me everything I know… and I try to teach it to my little girl, Ruthie…”
“You’re mama was a lawyer?” Lisa’s eyes were wide, and she paused her work.
“Yeah, everyone in my family is a lawyer… ‘cept my sister, she’s actually a judge up here in Memphis… I think she was the third lady judge in this town.. Maybe I'll see her while I’m here…” Not if I can help it, Becky thought.
“And you? You didn’t wanna be a lawyer?
Becky chortled. “No…. Not alll…. “
“Are you a working mom?”
“Oh honey, all moms are working moms…. We’re like CEOs of small businesses. And those businesses are you,” she said, poking her finger into Lisa’s belly and conjuring a playful squeal.
“OK, but do you work work?”
“Sorta … still trying to figure out what I wanna do when I grow up…. When I was in high school, I wanted to be a park ranger in the Great Smokies…. Sounds silly, huh?”
“Noooo…. What happened? Couldn’t you still do that?”
“What happened…. Oh what happened…. Well, I got real lucky, and the universe put baby Ruth in my arms…. Hard to be a park ranger with a baby strapped to my back…”
 “What would you do now if you could do anything? As a working working mom, I mean.”
“Well, I’m already a working working mom, I’ve kinda always had to be... I help my folks with their hardware store…. If I could do anything…. I guess I’d like to own something, a little book store, maybe sell records too, have a juice bar and a kitchen serving up vegetarian food, maybe I run it with a husband, a nice divorced man I meet one day back in Jackson, living out a Brady Bunch fantasy….”
Lisa patted Becky’s shoulder. “You can do anything you put your mind to, Becky. S’what my daddy always says. If you want to find a divorced man to own a juice bar with, I believe in you…. What’s a vegetarian?”
Becky giggled, putting down the vest after tying the last bead on. “Someone who doesn’t eat any meat.”
“Wait, so you really don’t eat any meat?”
“Mhmmm….”
“That’s ridiculous… how can you even have a complete meal?”
“I have my ways…they involve tofu, peanut butter or beans….”
Becky and Lisa stayed in the living room talking, as Becky explained some of the reasons she didn’t eat meat, asking Lisa if she would eat a horse or pet dog, and then why a cow or chicken was different. She looked at the large, ornate golden clock over the fireplace and realized it was 3:30. 
“Speaking of food, I’m honnnngry, haven’t had anything to eat all day.. y’all have peanut butter and jelly?”
Lisa smiled and jumped off her perch on the sofa, laying her vest over the larger one and waving for Becky to follow her. “I’ll do you one better, I’ll make you one of my famous peanut butter banana sandwiches.”
Just as she jogged into the foyer, a pair of large hands reached out and grabbed Lisa and lifted her over the shoulder of an Elvis shaped frame, pinching her sides.
“Ya mean my famous peanut butter banana sandwiches….” Elvis voice tumbled out with a chuckle as his daughter squealed in delight. “See ya met my friend here…” he added as he put his daughter down, his face aglow as he looked at Becky. This shifted to a look of displeasure when his eyes saw the dirt on her feet. 
“Honey, what’s with ya feet?” He tisked.
Lisa bumped into Elvis waist, pushing his arm around her shoulder as she giggled. “She’s been running ‘round outside without any shoes on…. And she flashed her big boobies at me getting dressed this morning…. AND she’s teaching me how ta be a vegetarian…”
Elvis left eye brow arched up high, looking from Lisa to Becky. “Oh reeALLLY…. Hmmm…. Looks like y'all been getting to know each other good..." He stepped over to Becky, hand around her waist, and whispered in her ear. "Honey, why don’t ya go wash up and put something nice on, maybe a little make-up?”
Becky frowned. “Think you can snap your fingers and I’ll —” 
Elvis walked her to the staircase, his hand rubbed her bare shoulders, his eyes melting away all the retorts forming in her mind as she took in the track suit he was wearing. His voice was soft but firm, “C’mon, go get presentable... want my daughter to see how beautiful ya are when I introduce ya…. Go on now.” He slapped her butt playfully as Becky turned, unable to stop her body from complying with his directions as her mind spun in a tizzy from the feel of his hands and the way his big blue eyes looked into hers with a mix of lust, admiration and smug bravado. Introduce me to your daughter my ass, I’ve spent the last six hours unpacking clothes, shooting guns, shopping and sewing with her.
But she thrilled with elation as she bounced toward the kitchen twenty minutes later, proud of the way she had done her make up and fixed herself after taking a quick rinse in the shower. Sweet Honesty was now her favorite perfume and she smelled her wrists backing into the kitchen’s swinging door,  gasping with delight at the sight of Lisa and Elvis in matching pink fringed vests. Lisa sat on the counter next to the sink, eating a sandwich, and called out with a full mouth. Her white Mary Jane shoes hit the cabinets below. “Becky! Lewk ift figs!!!” She pointed to her dad, and Elvis turned from the stove, running his hands over his vest.
“Jus what I been needed… a pink shiny vest… ! Gonna hafta keep ya round, I have a list of mending been tryin to get Delta to do for the last year.”
Becky curled her lips. “I won’t be darnin’ your socks, Presley…”
Elvis grabbed her hand and kissed her cheek with “Hesh… now, let me look at ya.” He twirled her around in the middle of the kitchen. “There she is…. now that’s better honey…  look, Goobernickle, the most beautiful girl in the world jus wandered in ta our kitchen, ain’t we lucky.” Lisa kicked him. “Sorry, how silly a me, second most beautiful gal in the world after that lil gal right there.” 
Becky blushed and Elvis kissed her hand, taking her to sit on the orange kitchen stool near the TV. Back at the stove, he flipped what looked like a grilled cheese sandwich out of the pan and onto a plate, cutting it in half and blowing on it as he brought it over.
“Get ready to have the most delicious thing in that mouth of yours since you got to Graceland…. I mean second most delicious…” Elvis stood in front of Becky, taking up a sandwich to feed her, chuckling at her horrified expression. Good, she got my innuendo, he thought, then looked back at Lisa who was obliviously chewing on the second half of her sandwich. “I meant after the corn bread you ate last night, whatcha think I meant? Crazy woman.”
Becky sighed, closing her eyes, her exhale a mix of exasperation and excitement as she opened her mouth to taste the sandwich Elvis guided in as he held her chin. 
She couldn’t help the instinctive reaction her body had to his voice, touch, and the way his eyes danced with impish joy at her unease. But Becky also found herself sickened by how weak she was, how her pussy tingled when she swallowed the salty, sweet goodness of the sandwich. Elvis thumbed along her jawline, much the same way he had when she had sucked his cock the previous day, and her eyes widened as she felt the buzzing energy of his touch caressing her face. She swatted him away and stifled the deep sensuous moan threatening to increase. Lisa Marie seemed unperturbed, jumping off the counter to get some milk from the fridge. Elvis chortled loudly at Becky’s angry stare and pushed another bite in her mouth. She rolled her eyes, then whimpered involuntarily at how the fried, buttery carby goodness hit the back of her throat. Becky had never been with anyone who pushed and pulled and blurred the boundaries between all the different aspects of her personality together at once.
Elvis winked.
“Tastes good, don’t it?”
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Read Chapter 5 Here
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aibloomie · 1 year
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random yeon si-eun x gn!reader fluff headcanons
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→ yes I wrote these at an airport at 3 am I just have si-eun brainrot there isn't enough fanfiction about him NO anyway yeah I'll make high quality headcanons for him next time AWE YEAH ignore any typos my brain is dead rn
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— this man spoils you with a lot of random gifts, and it can happen at literally anytime. he's always listening to you so he knows about all your interests. so whenever you two meet up he'll have his backpack and he'll pull out a gift from it. they're not anything big, but something that shows he pays attention to you. you happened to mention a certain comic around him? well you now have merch for it because he found it for you <3
and then when you thank him repeatedly with some hugs/kisses, he'll just sit there looking down trying to hide a smile. he acts all nonchalant about it like, "it was nothing."
but deep down he is SO happy that you appreciate his effort. because he isn't talented at showing his emotions verbally, so he finds other ways to care for you
━  yeon si-eun is naturally very observant, especially when it comes to the few individual he cares about. so, he'll notice everything about you. having a bad day? he can immediately tell by your body language and the way your voice sounds deeper and heavier than usual. you changed your appearance? even if it's something as little as a new piece of jewelry or maybe styling your hair in a different way
━ he LOVES sitting in comfortable silence in his room. he'll be at his desk studying, meanwhile you're lying down on his bed scrolling through your phone. it makes him feel at ease to know someone is with him, given that he's usually left at home. he enjoys your company so much that he even gave you a copy of his apartment keys so you could come and go as you please
━ he secretly enjoys it when soo-ho and young-yi tease him about his relationship with you.
"si-eun! you gave your jacket to them? aww look at you being all lovey dovey." soo-ho's tone of voice was playful, one that was intentionally trying to tick si-eun off.
young-yi wanted to join in on the fun, "bet you're never going to wash that jacket again when they return it to you."
si-eun deadpanned and gave an usual brushed off response. "they were cold, that's all."
━ you know how he usually has the same expression on his face right? well SOMETIMES at school he'll just be sitting down at his desk and suddenly think of you and a cherished memory the two of you hold, or maybe a compliment you had given him. OR maybe the way you once cupped his face and told him you loved him. and that's all it takes for him to crack a smile, literally out of nowhere in the middle of class. and yeah if soo-ho sees, he'll just nag si-eun about how much he must miss you
━ he's surprised by this himself, but one of si-eun's favorite things to do with you is eating together. he grew up eating basic microwaved meals alone, so he enjoys eating with you. he likes seeing what kinds of foods you like, and he especially loves when you talk about your day or literally just anything because it makes the experience better
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mammonsbby · 2 years
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R-Read (Hehe! Both indeed.)
After several weeks of maybe-flirting back and forth, Simeon started inviting you over under the guise of needing a proofreader. It’s sort of obvious he doesn’t need a proofreader, as he’s been writing since before you were born, but you’re always more than happy to hang out with him. 
So now, as has become normal on Friday evenings, you’re curled up on the couch in his room with a stack of papers. And Simeon is at his desk working on something, humming to himself and occasionally tapping his pen against the tabletop. You stifle a laugh when he accidentally flings his pen towards the wall. Then pretend not to notice the way the muscles in his back move when he bends to reach it. 
He’s abandoned his cape and without it, he’s practically shirtless from this angle. Your mouth goes dry. 
He’s an angel. He’s an angel. He’s an angel! 
You shake your head and bite your lip, then continue to skim the pages in front of you. You annotate here and there, leaving comments on parts that you like. But there’s not much to correct. There never is. 
It’s always almost perfect. And the few mistakes you find are always simple, and peppered into otherwise flawless writing. Almost like it’s on purpose. Huh…
You underline something. How could he possibly have misspelled such a common word? Must just be a typo. Wait a sec… Almost all his mistakes are small typos, aren’t they? And this time they’re all short words too. Weird.
You think about it for a moment. Is it possible that he’s doing it on purpose? That he invented a reason to invite you over? You stare at his back, trying incredibly hard to read his mind, but his shoulder blades offer no insight. 
You flip back through the pages and start again, scanning for the ‘mistakes’ you’ve already corrected. 
Page 1: ‘will’ instead of Will.  Page 2: ‘yo’ instead of you. Page 3: ‘goo’ instead of go. Page 4: ‘ouT’ instead of out. And now, page 5, ‘wth’ instead of with.
Your eyes widen at the circled and underline words. Then you frantically flip to the next page, skimming until you find what you’re looking for— ‘ne’ instead of me. 
Will you go out with me? 
This can’t be a mistake. There’s no way this is a mistake! 
Is there?
“Are you asleep, MC?” Simeon asks, turning in his chair. 
You jolt at his voice, “Huh? Oh. No. Why?”
“You’ve been pretty quiet. I was worried it was so boring it put you to sleep.” He says with a laugh.
“I…” You start awkwardly. Oh God, if this is a coincidence, you’ll eat his cape. But… still what if it is?
“Yes?” He raises a brow.
You chicken out. “I… have one page left.” 
He makes a face, then nods. “All right.”
Simeon turns back around, leaving you to your thoughts. And in less than three minutes, you’re up from your seat. You hand the angel the papers and say goodbye quickly, leaving him confused. 
Once you’ve left the room, he starts to flip through his work. Ah… So it turns out you did find everything he wanted you to. Did you not put it all together? He frowns. He was sure you would. But then again, this is the third Friday he’d tried something similar…
Simeon sighs and drops the papers face down on the desk. Maybe he should just ask you directly. It would be simpler, wouldn’t it? He taps his fingers on the desk. Then scrunches his brows when he notices some bright yellow highlighter showing through the back of the paper. 
I didn’t put any mistakes on the last page. Well, intentionally anyway. He snatches the page up and flips it over. And the word that you’ve highlighted, and drawn a tiny heart next to, is: 
Yes.
Simeon’s eyes widen and he grins. He stands and rushes towards the hallway. Maybe he can catch you!
700 follower prompt list!
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cantfightmoonlight · 4 months
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Slow Down You Crazy Child - Self Para
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@silaschamberlain (cause I wrote a self para between my own two charries - ignore the typos... there are probably a lot of them)
Fear was simply chemistry in the brain. It was the hypothalamus reacting by releasing a series of chemicals to the sympathetic nervous and the adrenal cortical systems. The 'stress hormones' were there to kick the body into high gear. Only it was working. With her body now completely stiff, Jas slowly reached down towards her boot where the blade she carried with her was safety tucked away, her eyes not stray from the front door of her apartment that had been left ajar.
It had been locked when she left and unless Efe had decided to use his body as ram to break the lock, the door could only mean one thing. He was here. She had hoped she might be able to leave town in time, but of course, he'd come sooner than anticipated, as if to intentionally thwart what he knew her next move would be. It wouldn't be particularly fun to torture someone's loved ones without them around, now would it?
"You got tired of your cell, did you?" Jasmine called into the living room as she moved to nudge the door open with the tip of her combat boot. She may have already packed her bag, planning on heading out of town first thing in the morning in the hopes that she may be able to lure him away from Lunar Cove. But, now, any attempt of leading him out of town had gone out the window. Silas Chamberlain had decided to tempt his own fate and, as long as he was in Lunar Cove, no one she cared about would be safe.
"And what if I did?" A deep and shiver-inducing rumble of a voice called back. "Is that anyway to greet your old man, hm? Little gem?"
Rather than humor him with some semblance of a rebuttal, Jas' eyes traced the dark muddy footprints across the hardwood floor of the living room over to where her room was tucked away. Splotches of red mixed in the dirt that had been tracked around the space as if her apartment was his to deface. Great. Just great.
"Leaving so soon?" Silas voice rang out once more as she heard the distinct sound of her duffle bag being shaken around before the bag with the few precious belongings she had hastily packed up was flung through the entrance of her room and across the floor. A few polaroid pictures of her and her mom and another of her and Nico went spilling out. One of them falling face down into the mud Silas had left from his boots. "It's a good thing I came when I did. I almost missed you."
"The horror," The sarcasm broke from Jas' lips as her gaze remained hyper focused on the photograph now laying in god knows what. "Did you track blood in here?"
"'Oh no, did I?'" He feigned a gasp. Finally emerging from the bedroom, the man raked his hands back through his hair, casually crossing one leg over the over as he leaned back against the door frame. "I redecorated your bedroom too while I was at. Thought it could use some sprucing up a bit. You don't mind, do you, little gem? I mean, after all, as far as I could tell, you were already on your way out."
"What do you want, dad?" Her voice sounded foreign and empty as she finally raised her head to meet her old man's gaze. The word dad being tact onto the end in an attempt to appease him.
"Always straight to the point with you, huh? But, fine, fine. I'll let you be a buzzkill just this once. Wouldn't want to dampen my good day and all. You see, I got an apartment here in town, can you believe it? You'd think they'd do a better background check, but I still need to get the wifi installed and-"
"Will you get to the point?" She mumbled out, watching his twisted grin only growing as she had the audacity to actually cut him off and mid-sentence at that.
"Well, if you'd let me finish, I would tell you about how I happened to make a friend. Loveliest gullible idiot you'll ever meet, let me tell you. We barely exchanged five words and he was already offering up his wifi password. What was his name exactly? Nick?"
No. Her gaze sharpened into slits as she shot daggers his way with her eyes.
"No. Was it Enzo? Eh, that can't be right."
"Fuck you."
"Oh, I remember now. Nico. That was it. You wouldn't happen to know him, would you, Gem? He wouldn't happen to be your little boyfriend now, would he? And yet, you never seemed to mention him once, now did you?"
"Fuck you," She gasped out, her hands shot forwards to release a blast of air in his direction, but he was already ready. The moment she unleashed her magic at him, she went flying backwards with his mind. Her head slammed back against the kitchen cabinets as she watched her father's eyes darken.
"You didn't even bother to call. Now, what the hell was that about, hm?" He asked, tilting his head ever so slightly to the side as he watched his own daughter squirm from where her body was being levitated up in the air. And as any 'good father' would, he was quick to give his daughter a reminder of what happens if she disobeyed him. Her body convulsed under the shock of being ever so 'slightly' electrocuted.
"Come on, Jas. I taught you better than that," He hummed out as he released the hold he had of her with his mind, watching in amusement as she collapsed onto her hands and knees. "If you're going to show off, you might as well show me something worth being impressed by, hm? Now, where is that dark magic I've heard so much about? Where's the little girl who brought her sister back from the dead and without me having to ask. For a moment there, I was almost proud. But, this?" He took a step back so that he could motion towards her sad hunched over state. "This is pathetic. Now, where were we? Oh yes!" With less than a moment's warning, Silas' dark gaze shifted into a gleeful grin. Bending down so that he was now eye level with his daughter, he reached forward. His fingers curled around her chin as he directed her sharp gaze back to his with one rough yank. "About that favor you owe me? It's time to collect, little one."
A shudder ran down Jas' spine as she thought back to when she was a sixteen year-old girl who stupidly picked up the phone to call her dad. Dad, help, please, please, she's not breathing. Dad, oh my god. Dad, what do I do? What do I do? Her mom had just died. Suffocated before her very own eyes from her magic no less and she was scared. Petrified. She just wanted to take it back. She would have given anything to take it back, but the Delaney-Yassin's were already on their way and what were her mom's friends going to think when they found her standing over her mother's body in some shady motel room? So, the naive teenager listened when her dad told it would be okay and how to take care of it. But, as with the magic they practiced, a favor from him didn't come without a cost.
"What do you want?" Jasmine's voice was no more than a hoarse whisper as she squeezed her eyes shut, waiting for him to get on with it.
"Well," He murmured out, taking his time to draw out each syllable. "I can't exactly get to know my kids with the Council on my back, now can I? Oh don't look at me like that. You should be thrilled, Jaz, it's a simple favor really. Nothing quite to the same scale of asking someone to help you hide a body. I just am asking you stick around with your boyfriend and your family. Be a good girl and keep your pretty little mouth shut. Now, you can do that, can't you? You used to be so good at keeping our secrets. As far as anyone's concerned, I'm not in town and, if your siblings come asking, you tell them about how much of a grade A father I was."
Yeah, if A stands for asshole, She thought, but didn't dare to utter it out loud. "And what if the Council starts to figure it out?"
"Well, then I may need you to distract them for me. But, think about this way, Jazzy, you do this favor for me and I'll let you out. You can do your whole little rebellious teenager thing without a watcher in sight. Play house to your heart's content with that pet of yours who hasn't even invited you into his house. I really can't understand the appeal of him unless it's to keep the Pack under your thumb. But, that's besides the point. You'll be free to travel around to your heart's content until you inevitably fuck up again and decide you need me and the Coven. What do you say, gem? You owe me one."
"I just have to keep quiet?"
"Mums the word. Either that or you and all of your friends end up like your mum. Dead in some ditch or should I say ditches. Where did you burry her exactly again?"
Jasmine had never wanted to kill someone more than she did her own father. But, that was the thing about family, wasn't it? As much as she despised the man standing before her and, oh did she despise him, it didn't matter how powerful of a witch she was. He was still family. He was still her blood and, now matter how many times she tried, she could never bring herself to fully go through with it.
"Deal," She mumbled out after a prolonged breath as she slowly pulled herself up to her feet.
"Good girl," Silas smiled as he gave her cheek a not so light pat. "And, with that, I'll let you get back to it. Your place is a mess by the way. Someone should really clean all of this up," He exclaimed as if he hadn't been the one to leave her apartment in such a state.
Jasmine stood there and watched him as he turned to leave. He was halfway across the room before she finally called out, "Whose blood is it anyway?" Her gaze tilted back down the the muddy and blood stained footprints he had tracked in before glancing back up at him in question.
"No one you need to worry about, hun. But, they did have quite the taste in clothes, now didn't they?" He mused, spinning around on the balls of his feet as if to show off the new outfit he had stolen from the recently deceased.
"You're sick you know that?"
"Love you too, kiddo. Love you too."
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samsketchbook · 3 years
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grifalinas · 7 years
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I’m so sick of terfs rubbing their grubby little fingers all over historical trans men and insisting that clearly they’re just LEBSIANS it’s SO obvious and if you say otherwise then YOU’RE the bad person here and WHY do you hate WOMEN so much
History is full of trans men but we’ve lost so many of them to GIRL POWER and the Sweet Polly Oliver narrative and terfs not being willing to admit that if he looks like a trans guy, acts like a trans guy, talks like a trans guy, and tells you to call him a man until the day he dies, then guess what honeybunches HE’S A TRANS GUY
And it’s funny how “well you can’t say for SURE what someone would have identified as before the words we use existed!!!!” suddenly goes out the window when they want to say a trans man is a lesbian
We’re not trying to take anyone’s history we’re just trying to find our own
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thesvnsins · 3 years
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Make you late |myg|
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▪Outline: 'It's Sunday and he is running late for an unscheduled meeting! You want to have him but you have to persuade him for the things you want'
©️ @lataes
▪Pairing: Yoongi × f!reader
▪Genre: Smut, fluff, domestic!AU, nonidol!AU, relationship!AU
▪Wordcount: 1.4k
▪Warnings: dom!yoongi, switch!reader, seducing, explicit sexual content - oral (m!receiving), unprotected penetrative sex, aftercare. They are having a quickie so...yeah.
▪A/n: Hello guys! I hope you like this fic. Please ignore any typos and/or mistakes. Recommendations and opinions are always welcome. Enjoy! 💜
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You are annoyed, very annoyed.
Today is a Sunday and it is supposed to be your day. It is supposed to be all relaxing and fun with soft kisses and light touches not running around the room trying to find your wallet, already late for your meeting which wasn't supposed to be on today's agenda.
Yoongi. He is running around the room at seven in the morning, grumbling about how this meeting is important for the company and how it got scheduled at the last moment. You are just sitting on the bed watching him fuss around.
"Yoongi..." you say softly but he doesn't listen to you, eyes already fixed on tying his tie around his neck.
"Yoongi" you try again but to no avail. He isn't even listening to you. He is just focused on how late he is and how he can't even tie a fucking knot.
"YOONGI!" you shout which finally catches his attention.
"What?" he says.
"Stop fussing"
"I am not fussing"
"You are and it's annoying me"
"Well I am sorry for the inconvenience, Ma'am" he replies and you know from his tone that he is also irritated and also from the emphasis on the word, Ma'am.
"And why can't I tie a single knot!" he shoves the tie around, frustrated. Finally giving up, he hangs his head low and releases a sigh.
You get up from the bed and go to him, gently hooking your hands against his neck and massaging your thumb below his earlobe, his sweet spot which helps him relax.
"Stop fussing" you whisper to him and this time he seems to get the message.
Your annoyance doesn't matter now. He is stressed and if you will start giving him an attitude, he will explode. You need to help him.
"It's just I-" he starts.
"I know" you mumble "I know you weren't ready for this. I know how important this is. I know you have to go. I know that you are already a little late. I know, but you have to relax."
He gives a low hum in his throat, his nerves are already calming. He loves it when your touch automatically makes him feels safe.
"When will the meeting start?" you ask him.
"8 o'clock" he replies.
You look at the time, 7:15 a.m. It's still a little while. It takes him half an hour to reach his office, so if your math is correct, there are still fifteen minutes left for him to relax. And you know just how to make him feel good.
But you can't instantly jump into it. You know he will push you away in a second when he will realize what you are trying to do. You have to slowly make his mind about it.
"How long will the meeting last?" you ask intentionally, your hand slipping from his neck to his shaggy tie.
"About an hour" he responds, shoulder already relaxing and you give a quiet hum. You start to undo his tangled tie and start from the beginning.
All this while Yoongi is looking at you intently, his eyes not leaving yours whereas you are focused on his tie.
"I am sorry" he says after you are done with your work.
"You don't have to"
"I know I wasn't supposed to go but-" his sentence cuts off as you join your lips to his in a tender kiss. You move your lips slowly, almost like dancing, his fitting yours perfectly.
You stop the kiss as you start adjusting his collar. Gently, taking him in and you realise that he hasn't put on his cologne. He likes the scent of it as do you. A faded husky smell. An idea pops into your mind. You open the shelf and take out the bottle.
Opening it, you put some of it on yourself. On your neck, on your wrist. Slowly massaging the liquid on yourself, you settle your wrists to his chest, rubbing it there.
He is wearing a simple white shirt and you can see the outline of his firm nipples. You know you can persuade him for a quickie. Your hands go around his shoulders and you caress your scented neck to his. Transfering the cologne to his body.
"I am getting late...." Yoongi says but doesn't do much to extract himself from you.
"I know" you say.
"Y/n" he moans your name as you palm his already hard cock. He knows what you are doing but it is feeling too good to resist.
"I can help you relax baby, only if you will let me" you say.
You can see that he is struggling to make a decision but one look at the clock makes him change his mind.
"Please" he says breathly. Your ministrations are still going and he is enjoying every bit, it clearly shows on his face.
"Please what?" you ask.
"Please help me" he mumbles and you kiss him again, this time more roughly.
You deliberately open his shirt and tug at his pink nipples, he tries to bite back a moan but a lick on the other one makes him groan.
You sink on your knees, his eyes already blown up and hooded. You can only imagine what you look like right now, just woke up from bed and horny.
You open up his belt and slide his pants and boxers down his knees, his grith popping out in an instant. His pre-cum is leaking making you lick your lips.
You stroke him a few times and then you take him in your mouth. You're velvety softness and warmth makes him buck his hips. You start to suck him off in earnest.
You drag your tongue over him once, making his breath hitch, and then taking his cock again. You start to bob your head and he holds onto the vanity for support.
You change your position and take his full length into your mouth and he jolts from pleasure above you.
"Good girl" he praises you and you speed your movements.
His worry about the meeting is long gone as the only thing he can concentrate on is you.
After a few more bobs, he takes hold of your shoulder blades and motions for you to get up.
"But you didn't-" you start but his lips slam into yours in a ragged kiss.
"I need to be inside you" he says and turns you around so now you are the one holding onto the vanity.
He takes his cock, strokes it a few times and then slams into you, making you both moan. You have already been wet for a while now so it is easy for him to slide himself inside of you. He grabs your hair and commands you to stay still and that is what you do.
He starts moving back and forth, thrusting into you and your knees buckle with every single push.
"Ngh, aah, Yoongi!" You moan as he takes hold of your clothed nipples and tugs at them just like you did to him.
His thrusts are more rough and harsh now and you know he is reaching his climax and so are you. A few more thrusts and he is falling off the edge.
You mewl as he spurts his cum into you and you reach your climax as well, coating his cock with your orgasm.
It takes a while for both of you to calm down. After a while, you take some napkins and clean him up helping him with his tie.
"I love you and I am sorry" Yoongi says.
"Hmm, I will accept your sorry only when you promise to take this up again when you return" you say, smirking and see a fond smile forming on his lips too.
"This is a promise I am willing to make. And I intend to keep my promises" he says and leaves the room.
You look back at the clock, 7:30 a.m. it shows.
You know you are in for a long day and you are definitely not complaining.
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