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urtheoneiwant · 2 years

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Buckle Bunny of Sorts │ Rhett Abbott

Genre: SMUT with some fluff

Summary: From the insistence of a friend, you spend a night out on the town. But you run into your long time crush, Rhett Abbott, and he has something to tell you.

Warnings: SMUT! 18+ ONLY! P in v, oral sex (female receiving), small spit kink, dirty talk, degradation, praise, kinda dom!Rhett and sub!reader, use of term 'buckle bunny', pining, revealing feelings, unprotected sex, pull-out method (be smart! don't use pull-out method as a form of birth control irl), messy sex, pet names (bunny, baby), a smidge of sexism from the towns people? Written as a fem!reader. Just nasty, nasty filth.

Word Count: 5.6k

A/N: My first smut! Please be kind, I'm still very new to writing and especially smut. But I loved Outer Range and I saw someone post about wanting to be Rhett's buckle bunny and couldn't get this out of my head. I didn't want country girl (as I call her) to be an actually buckle bunny since they are sort of frowned upon (but I say you do you). So this is the idea I came up with instead. It took me forever to write this, but I'm pretty proud of it. In conclusion, I love Lewis Pullman and the characters he plays. Go watch Outer Range if you like Lewis, he's amazing in it and it is such a great show! Now I have to go bathe in holy water :) Oh and feel free to send in any request or thoughts you have about Top Gun or other characters. There is a list on my page of the main fandoms I'm into, but you can send whatever you want it and I've might have seen/read it. And you can always reach out to me for whatever (rants, ideas, links to articles about be we're obsessed with) Thanks for the support!

SMUT BELOW CUT. 18+ ONLY. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT.

(GIF is not mine)

Admittedly, you felt a bit stupid. In your head, this seemed like a good idea, but as the idea becomes a reality you mentally kick yourself for it.

You’ve grown up in Amelia county your entire life. And in a place like this, people tend to stick to their roots, inner circle, and cliques. That being said, you knew just about everyone in your town, and definitely knew every boy your age. The problem was that they knew you too. Growing up you were definitely an outcast. Spending all your free time working to help pay the bills didn’t give you many chances to make friends. You were boring, safe. You knew it. You weren’t anything to write home about. At least that’s what you told yourself.

Last week you sat with the one friend you managed to make throughout your time in school, Sadie, and spilled these thoughts to her.

“That’s bullshit honey, and you know it.” Leave it to Sadie to soften the blow. “I’m sorry, but you are beautiful, any guy would be lucky to have you. But you spend all your time holed up at work or with me. These guys haven’t got a proper look at you since you hit puberty, no wonder they don’t seem interested.” She lectured.

“Well, what am I supposed to do about that? Get all dolled up for a night on the town? Look around, it’d be ridiculous” You replied.

“Come on, let me take you out. Just throw on some daisy dukes, a risky top, and some nice boots. It’ll be fun. And I’ll personally beat the shit out of anyone who has anything bad to say. Please, please, please…” And you knew that when Sadie was like this, you had no choice but to give in. So you agreed, one night out.

And that’s how you found yourself in your apartment letting Sadie pick out your outfit. She refused to tell you where you both were going, claiming that she didn’t want you to “get scared off.” And after opening the door wearing a pair of worn-out jeans and mud-covered boots, Sadie pushed her way inside to make you change.

She rifled through your dresser before holding up the tiniest pair of shorts you own. “No way, those are from high school. I don't even think they’ll fit. Plus it’s late out, why would I want to wear shorts?” You tried to reason with her, you really did.

“They may not fit you like they did in high school, but that’s the point, honey. Just trust me this once. Everyone is going to be all over you.” She replied, and handed you the shorts. As you began to wiggle them up she quietly added “Oh, and Rhett’s going to be there.”

You froze in place, glaring at your friend. “WHAT? Oh my god. Oh my god. I can’t believe you.” Rhett fucking Abbott. The cowboy that you had been crushing on since middle school. Ever since the day he saw you walking home late after babysitting for a little cash and offered, no insisted, on walking you home. He was a few years ahead of you and happened to be friends with your older brother. Anytime he would come round your house to see your brother you would find yourself with your ear pressed to your door, trying to catch any of the words he was saying. Your eyes always seemed to wander outside your window to see if he was out back throwing a ball around with your brother. Once you even caught a glimpse of him shirtless after coming over to help your mom with some yard work.

Needless to say, your crush on Rhett didn’t get any better. In high school, you went out of your way to see him in the halls, or to accidentally run into him on your way home from work. You even went as far as to offer to tutor him in algebra, a class you yourself were failing. He wasn’t too keen on getting your help once your brother told him about that.

Now, Rhett had grown up and you had too. You would see him from time to time at the bar you worked at, always polite and asking about your family. And even now, you couldn’t help the butterflies that erupted whenever he was around. Some crushes just don’t go away.

“You’ve been into him since 8th grade! I can’t believe you haven’t made a move yet. It’s time to put your big girl panties on and do something. Hell, screw someone else for all I care. All I know is that if I have to watch you make puppy dog eyes at Rhett from across a room one more time, I’m going to lose my mind.” Sadie said. But that was the problem. No matter how many guys you went out with, or screwed, you always came back to Rhett. Honestly, you could see why it was so exhausting for your friend to watch all the time, it was a bit pathetic being a grown woman with a crush from middle school.

Deciding to listen to your friend and do something about your pining over him, you buttoned up your shorts and turned to look in the mirror. Sadie was right, they don’t fit as they did in high school. Where they used to be a bit loose on you, they now held on to every curve you had. Damn, when did you get an ass? Swallowing your nerves, you shoved your feet into your white boots that only appeared on special occasions. To top it off, you threw on an old flannel opting to tie it up and undo the top couple of buttons to let a bit of your cleavage spill out.

“Now, that is hot. He’s going to be drooling over you, just wait” Sadie hyped you up. She reached up and messed your hair up just a bit, giving it a wind-swept look before ushering you out to her truck.

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After driving for a half hour, Sadie pulled into a dirt parking lot. You saw lights flashing, and heard cheering coming from the stadium seats. She took you to a fucking rodeo. Dressed in booty shorts.

“This is a joke. I look like a goddamn buckle bunny for christ's sake.” You curse out to her. She has the audacity to simply smirk back and says,

“Bout time you start acting like one.” And with that, she was out of the car and walking towards the show. With no other option but to sit and stew in the truck all night, you reluctantly hop out too. You curse under your breath and begin to tell Sadie that this is the last time you go anywhere with her without knowing before what she had planned.

Walking into the crowd, you felt your throat dry. You could feel people staring and you swore you heard a whisper that said “Is that Bruce’s daughter, Y/N?”. Suddenly, you became very interested in kicking the gravel under your boots.

Sadie did her best to reassure you, grabbing your hand and weaving you to a back lot. The crowd was sparse back here, and it looked like most of the guys hanging around were bull riders getting ready. “I don’t think we should be back here,” you said into Sadie’s ear and moved to pull your hand out of her grasp. But before you could she whipped you back around.

“This is it Y/N. Scout out which one of these boys you’re going to be riding tonight” She said with a wink. You let your eyes briefly scan the group. None of them noticed you two seeing as you were tucked a ways away. You made out a few familiar faces but you had no desire to talk to, let alone seduce, any of these guys. As you opened your mouth to inform your friend of this, your eyes caught something. Not something, but someone.

Standing slightly turned away from you and chatting with some other rider, you saw Rhett. Maybe it was because you only got to see him in dim-lit bars nowadays, but you swore he somehow was more attractive than you remembered.

He wore a blue flannel with the sleeves rolled up, allowing you to see the veins run down his arms. You got a flash of the tattoo on his forearm, the one you imagined so often at night when thinking of him. He had his chaps on, the fringe down the sides fluttering ever so slightly in the wind. His signature black hat was perched on his head. At that moment, you swear you could’ve died.

You didn’t realize how long you had been staring until Sadie gave you a nudge. “Close your mouth or you’ll attract flies,” she said. It was then you noticed that you in fact had been standing there with your jaw on the floor admiring this man. Your eyes stayed locked on his figure as you gave him a once-over. God, he was gorgeous. Even with the layers of clothes he had on you could tell how lean and strong he was.

As your gaze made your way back up to his face, you were now looking right into his bright blue eyes. Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. He caught you. He fully caught you drooling over him. And just when it couldn’t get any worse, the fucker had a smirk plastered on his face and sent a wink your way. You averted your eyes and pretended you weren’t there, feeling a hot blush creep up your neck. But just when things couldn’t get any worse, you heard Sadie yell out, “Hey there Rhett”.

You silently prayed to the gods above that he wouldn’t walk over to you two, but it fell on deaf ears as you heard the crunch of gravel grow louder. Next thing you know he’s standing right smack in front of you. “Hi there Sadie, how’s your ma?” he asked, his southern drawl heavy.

“She’s well, thanks for asking. You know Y/N right? You were friends with her brother growing up” Sadie tried to segue. You forced yourself to bring your eyes up to meet his.

“Well of course I do, how could I forget a face as pretty as that?” Your eyes snapped to meet his. No way, there was no way Rhett Abbott was flirting with you. He was just being nice, that’s all.

“Oh um, hi. Good to see you.” You muttered out, full of nerves. Sadie cleared her throat and you thought back to her earlier lecture. Maybe it was finally time for you to get out there. Stop playing it so safe all the time. Stop feeling so sorry for yourself. So with some more confidence mustered you blurted out “I hope you do good tonight. I’m sure you will.”

Without missing a beat he responded, “Oh now that I know you’re here I definitely will. Always ride better when I know a gorgeous girl like you is watching.” His words sent heat blooming between your thighs. Fully committing to the act you took a step toward him and leaned up onto your toes to whisper in his ear.

“Well if you win, we’ll have to celebrate. Why don’t you come to find me after you finish up? Let me give you a victory prize.” You did your best to put on the most sultry voice you had. And despite the confidence you were exuding, you were scared shitless deep down. As soon as the words left your mouth, you were off. You swayed your hips a bit as you went to find a seat, knowing that he would be looking.

You didn’t dare look back until you reached the arena seats. Sadie guided you to sit down amongst the crowd, all waiting for the show to begin. And just as she opened her mouth to ask you what happened you whisper out “I think I’m going to be sick.”

“Oh come on, I’m sure it wasn’t that bad at all.” She whispered trying to not draw any attention.

“Oh no. It was bad. Very very very bad. Can’t show my face around here again bad. Have to leave the country bad.” You felt bile rise up in your throat. You turn to your friend and recount to her what you had just told the man of your dreams. It was like word vomit, you couldn’t stop freaking out and rambling.

“Y/N. STOP. Take a breath. The worst case he says no, he leaves once he’s done tonight. At least you know you tried. But you’re forgetting that he could be just as into you. And from the way he was talking it sounds like he is. So it’s going to be fine. He’s fine, you’re fine. All we can do is sit and try to enjoy the show.” Sadie reasoned with you. And you knew she was right. So you sat there, ass freezing from the cool metal bleachers. The more you thought about her words, the more you were able to calm yourself down. What’s done is done, and you rather be rejected than never know.

The soothing mindset you were in came crashing down the second Rhett’s name rang out. He was heading out for his final ride of the night. You felt your mind go blank and body numb as you focused on the arena in front of you. Honestly, you knew very little about bull riding but the way his muscles strained and body twisted was enough to keep you interested. Timed seemed to slow as you stared at him squeezing his hips to stay on the bucking bull.

After what felt like minutes of him being tossed around, you gasped as he was uprooted from his saddle. You knew that was bound to happen with any bull riding venture, but it still startled you to see him thrown about like that. He was yanked up and led out of the arena until the bull was wrangled. When he walked back out, your tension eased seeing he was unharmed.

You locked eyes on the scoreboard and nearly fell out of your chair when you saw his score. He won, holy shit he won. You were on your feet in an instant, screaming your head off. You felt a rush of pride for him, knowing how much his bull riding meant to him. Sadie jumped with you, and you were sure you were the loudest there.

After yelling for much too long to be appropriate, Sadie gave your arm a tug. “Come on” and you, still being in a blissed-out state, let her take you back to where you first ran into Rhett that night. You looked around in the dark, eyes wide anticipating what would happen next. A chill ran up your spine as you thought about your earlier promise to Rhett if he won. Startled out of your thoughts, you heard the sound of whooping and cheers from some men around you. Cranking your neck around you spotted him.

He was caked in dirt and his sleeves were hastily pushed up, hat askew on his head that was tilted back with a wide grin. Your mouth ran dry as butterflies erupted inside you. His eyes began to scan the small crowd of people before landing on you. Burning with embarrassment and admittedly desire, you shifted your eyes elsewhere. But soon enough, you heard that all too familiar voice. “Hey there ladies.”

“Hey Rhett, congrats on the big win. Y/N and I were cheering you on” Sadie said.

“Oh, I bet y’all were. Hey Y/N, can I talk to you real quick?” Rhett turned and asked you.

With a nod of your head, he gently took your hand and pulled you under a nearby tree. Still too shy to make eye contact, he brushed his hand under your jaw and turned you to look into his blue eyes. “You know I don’t expect anything. If you want to act like nothing happened earl-”

“No” you rush out. “No, I mean I want to. If you do.” Talking to just him and him alone felt so much easier. You felt your confidence grow back and expectantly looked at him.

“Well darlin’ I would want nothing more. You want to go back to your place for a bit?” He questioned, still being gentle with you as to give you an out if you changed your mind.

“Yes please,” you murmur. You felt as though you were floating when he wrapped a strong arm around your waist and led you back over to Sadie.

“Hey Sadie, you alright if I take Y/N home? Just figure it would be nice for us to catch up.”

“Oh, sure! By all means, go ‘catch up’” Sadie had the cockiest smirk plastered on her face, and while you wanted to be mad at her for it you also know she was the whole reason you were going home with Rhett Abbott tonight.

Walking out to the parking lot, Rhett keeps his arm firmly around your midsection till you arrive at his truck. He opens the passenger door for you before walking around and getting in himself. The roar of the engine coming to life jolts you forward a bit, remembering that you were in fact about to go home and get railed by the hottest cowboy you’ve ever seen.

“What are you thinking about Bunny?” Rhett can tell you were getting lost in thought.

“What did you call me?” Surprised by the nickname and the way it made you clench your thighs even tighter.

“Bunny. You look like a buckle bunny in that getup. But it’s cute, I like it on you.” He answered honestly. On any other occasion, you would’ve been pissed that someone thought of you as a buckle bunny. You grew up on a ranch in rural Wyoming, you were the farthest thing from a buckle bunny possible. But the way Rhett talked about you made you melt.

“Oh yeah. Blame Sadie. Wanted me to get myself out there more I guess.” You replied chewing on your bottom lip.

“Well, it was definitely nice to see you outside of the bar you work at. I’ve been wanting to talk to you for the longest time but I felt weird bothering you at work.” You whipped your head around at the confession.

Staring at his side profile as he continued to drive, “That’s nice of you to say, but it’s okay you don’t have to lie.” You didn’t believe it. That a man like Rhett would be interested in talking to someone like you.

“I’m not lying. I’ve always kinda liked you. But I guess I just never acted on them. And I know we’re on our way to your place so I can rail the shit outta ya, but I’m not just interested in sex from you. Let me take you out one night? It took me long enough to make a move on you, don’t make me wait any longer.” He said with the utmost sincerity. You were stunned. Shocked. All this time you two idiots both liked each other, and it was a rodeo and a plotting friend to finally make you realize it.

“I would like that. A lot.” You smile up at him as you pull into the parking lot of your apartment complex.

Cutting off the engine, Rhett runs around to open your car door. Always a gentleman. You laced your fingers with his as you tug him upstairs to your place. You feel him placing teasing kisses on your neck and jaw when he can reach you. You giggle, moving even faster to get up the 3 flights of stairs.

When you reach the door of your apartment, you fumble around looking for your keys in your purse. When you manage to grab them, you pull them out with shaking hands cursing as they fall to the ground. Before you could bend down to retrieve them, Rhett already has them scooped up. He chuckles softly before resting his hand on your shoulder and rubbing your arm soothingly.

“You don’t need to be nervous Bunny. But I want to ask you again, are you okay with this?” He asks kindly, eyes soft and hands warm.

“More than okay.” And you pull him down by his shirt to crash your lips onto his. It was messy and desperate. Teeth clashed and tongues battled for dominance. You slid your hands up Rhett’s neck and into the curls at the back of his head tugging softly. His one arm wrapped around you and pulled you impossibly closer to his body. You recognize the faint jingle of keys through your fuzzy headspace and realize he was unlocking your front door with his tongue down your throat.

The door soon swung open and Rhett began to push your intertwined bodies inside. Stumbling in, you hear a door slam behind you before he has you pushed against a wall. His leg came in between yours, knee and thigh pressing up into your core. You let out a whine into the kiss, the feeling of him making you even wetter. In fact, you were sure you were absolutely drenched.

Seemingly reading your mind, Rhett broke the kiss to ask, “How wet are you Bunny? How wet does the idea of my cock have you? Bet you were sitting in those stands all night just soaking wet.” You merely moan in response, your brain not working fast enough to form actual words. Rhett brings his lips to your neck biting and sucking hickies into your smooth skin. You run your hands down his back to the hem of his shirt. Too impatient to unbutton his top, he leans back and pulls it over his head.

You knew Rhett was strong. After years of working at the ranch and bull riding, you expected him to be pretty muscular. But the actual sight of his abs, sharp and all edges, makes your mouth water. You tentatively place a hand on his toned chest. God, it looked like his body was made of chiseled marble. Under your hand, you feel his warmth radiating and the steady beat of his heart. When you force yourself to pull your eyes up to his, he says “Your turn.”

He places his hands on the bottom of your shirt, eyes silently asking if he could take it off. Your hands reach down and cover his, urging him to swiftly remove your top. His eyes immediately move to your breast, covered in the white lace of your bra (if you could even call the small scrap of fabric that). You hear a faint groan come from him before he ducks his head down. Placing open mouth kisses along the top of your tits, he brings his right hand up to palm your breast and roll your nipple. His mouth goes lower and latches onto the other nipple through the lace of your bra.

Your fingers tangle into his hair, pulling him closer to you. It’s not enough. You’ll never have enough of him. Soft moans tumble past your lips and Rhett takes this a cue to keep going. Eventually he pulls off and uses a hand to unclasp your bra as it falls to the ground. Getting a full view of your tits, Rhett brings both his hands to them and gives them one last squeeze before kissing your lips once again. Getting frustrated and wanting, no needing, more you drag your hand to his ripped figure. Your fingers trailed down the wide expanse of his chest and trace down his happy trail until you reach the waistband of his jeans. Popping the button and pulling down the zipper, Rhett helps you by tugging his jeans down as fast as he can. He kicks them off, leaving him in his tight boxer briefs. A tent is growing in them and you let out a gulp at the size of him.

“Don't be scared honey, I’ll stretch you real good before I fill you up” his voice fills the air. Excited at the idea, you grab his arm and drag him farther into your apartment and to your bedroom. You pull him in front of you and push him down on the bed causing him to look up at you. Reaching to your shorts, you nearly rip down your legs ready for him to touch you. Before you can pull your panties down, Rhett reaches out to them. He rubs his calloused hands over your hips and yanks you so you have no option but to straddle his figure. “Bunny, with panties like that I don’t think I could stand you not wearing them as I fuck you.”

You whimper at his words alone and he lets out a chuckle. He runs hands up your back and suddenly you are flipped over onto your back, Rhett now looming over you. Scooting down the bed, Rhett's face lands between your legs throwing them over his shoulders. He moans when he sees the wet spot that seems to be growing on your panties, landing wet kisses on your inner thighs. You think how could someone make a sound so beautiful. But you are quickly pulled from this as he tugs your pink panties to the side and takes in the full view of you. His eyes darken and he rasps out “Holy shit baby, you are so goddamn hot. I might come in my fucking boxers,” and he subtly grinds his hips into the mattress in attempt to get some much needed friction. Opening your mouth to make some teasing comment, you instead let out a cry as Rhett licks a bold stripe up your pussy. He lands on your clit, tongue moving in figure eights over top. For the second time that night, you find yourself pulling Rhett by his hair closer to you. He then alternates between lightly fucking his tongue into your dripping hole and brutally attacking your clit. The duality of pleasure causes your eyes to roll to the back of your head.

Rhett places the tip of his finger at your entrance, sliding it up and down through your folds first to get it slicked up. He breaches your entrance and your toes curl as he slides knuckle deep. “Fuck, oh my god Rhett please please, keep going,” pathetic pleas fall from you. You feel him adjust his thick digit in you until he finds that spongy spot that has your back arching. “Right there- right fucking there.” Any other night you would be embarrassed that someone has you so close to coming with one finger, but right now you could care less, only able to focus on the increasing burn in your stomach.

You can practically feel Rhett smirk against you as he eases a second finger into you, again going directly to that sweet spot inside you. He begins to thrust his fingers in and out of you, still using his mouth to suckle your clit. You are screaming in pleasure, babbles of “please” and “don’t stop” leaving your mouth. The coil inside of you is close to snapping. You are so close, so unbelievably blissed out. “I’m gonna cum Rhett. I’m so close” you speak out in warning.

But just as close to the edge as you were, all the pleasure you felt was quickly ripped from you as Rhett removed himself from you. You glare down, sweat dripping down your forehead. “What? Why did you stop?” you croak out, voice already strained from your screaming.

“Oh Bunny. I want the first time you cum to be on my cock.” Rhett responds and leans up to place a hot kiss on your mouth. You deepen the kiss, wanting more of him. You can taste yourself on his mouth and soon he pulls back to say “You like that dirty girl? Like the taste of your sweet pussy? You should, it’s the best pussy I’ve ever got my mouth on.” You feel yourself clench at his dirty talk, managing to turn you on even more. You whimper and try to buck your hips up to encourage him to do something, do anything. Instead he just laughs, “Oh you are so desperate Bunny. Need me to fuck your tight pussy, make you cum so hard you can only yell out my name. Don’t worry Bunny, I’ve got you.” As he speaks he wiggles himself out of his boxers, hard cock slapping his tanned abs.

He props himself onto his forearms and brings a hand to his mouth. Your eyes widen as he spits into his hand and reaches down to pump himself a few times. Noticing your reaction he looks at you. “Open your mouth” and you obey, sticking your tongue out for good measure. You feel something wet hit your mouth before you process that he just spit into it. Rhett Abbott just spit in your mouth. And you swallowed, savoring the taste of him. “Good Bunny” he says into your ear.

“Rhett. Fuck me.” You whine out. Now it’s his turn to moan, finally sheathing his cock into your cunt. You gasp at the stretch and he waits a few moments for you to adjust. After a second you whimper out “Move please.” And Rhett doesn’t need to be asked twice, pulling nearly all the way out before slamming back inside you. The force of his thrusts push you up the bed despite Rhett’s bruising grip on your hips.

“You feel so good baby. Squeezing me so tight. Best fucking pussy.” he praises and you clench around him. “Oh baby, you love when I talk dirty. When I tell you how amazing this cunt is. Going to make it mine, never letting anyone else near my pussy again.” You are pathetically whining and thrashing. Your nails are raking down his back, surely leaving welts in their wake. He clashes his lips onto yours and picks up his pace. The brutal fucking makes you feel like you’re floating. He licks into your mouth as you let out a steady set of moans and cries.

Just when you think things can’t get any better, Rhett snakes his hand down to rub tight circles into your clit. Paired with his cock repeatedly hitting the sweet spot inside you, you know the knot in your tummy is starting to unravel.

“Rhett” you whine, “Rhett, I’m so close.”

“Come on baby, make a mess on my dick. Wanna feel you cum” He responds.

Clamping down on him, you are brought even closer to the edge. Eyes tightly shut, you turn your head to the side and let out a moan louder than you thought was possible. No one had ever made you feel this good before. You couldn’t even believe that it was the man you had been crushing on for years that was in your bed, in your pussy. And with that reminder of who it was that was fucking you better than you’ve been fucked before, you saw white behind your eyelids. As you reached your peak, heat spreading all the way through you, you couldn’t help but yell out, “Cum Rhett, let me make you feel good. Wanna be good for you, only for you.”

Unable to resist your fucked out babbles, Rhett ruts into you. Once he knows you’ve finished riding out your orgasm he pulls out from you. Furiously fisitng his cock, he groans out reaching his own release. White ropes of his seed spurt out and land across your tits and you mewl out at the warm, sticky substance coating you. Teasingly, to bring two fingers down to swipe through his release and bring them up to your mouth. You suck on the cum from your fingers, loudly moaning at the salty taste. Both panting hard, Rhett adjusts your panties back, flops over and lays next to you. “Shit y/n. That was amazing. Was it good for you?” And you blink hard through your fuzzy mind searching for a response.

“So good. The best, I think you succeed. Definitely ruined anyone else for me.” Rhett laughs at that. Abruptly, you are filled with a new feeling. It’s warm, cozy. You blush and you realize just how much you have fallen for this cowboy next to you.

You get lost in the idea that this is the start of something real between you two. No longer will you have to pine for him from afar. He likes you, he wants to be with you. You are consumed by him, forever connected you think. No matter what, he’ll always be there. He’s not leaving. And it’s that thought that brings you so much happiness and lets your body relax completely.

A wet towel between the valley of your breasts pulls you from the daydream. Rhett has at some point gotten up and found something to clean you two with. You melt, heart softening at how kind and caring he was being. God, you were so lucky.

The two of you cuddle up and spend the next hour talking about random things. Your favorite movies, what your go to karaoke song is, what you plan to do in the future. And it is easy, it’s the easiest thing you’ve ever done. And when your eyelids become heavy, you find yourself slipping into a peaceful sleep listening to the beat of Rhett’s heart.

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be-my-ally · 1 year

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The Return Flight

Big Bunny #2

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

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

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

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

wc: 11.4k

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No, sorry, I don’t.” You whine,

“Ugh - would you, with your tongue?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

#be my ally #be-my-ally #elvis x reader #elvis x you #elvis smut #elvis fanfic #70s elvis fanfic #big bunny #big daddy elvis #elvis presley smut #elvis presley x reader #elvis presley x you

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evita-shelby · 1 month

Text

They didn't know we were seeds

Chapter 12

Cw: breastfeeding mention, inappropriate use of breastmilk, day drinking, trauma bonding, doom

Aveline, Rose and Lawerence Evert belong to @justrainandcoffee

Taglist: @thegreatdragonfruta @justrainandcoffee @emotionalcadaver @call-sign-shark @peakyswritings

If she thought the end to the horrors would come the moment she had a baby, she was half wrong.

She could’ve stayed at home with her baby boy and avoided all of this, but she didn’t want to miss a chance to see Jack openly and couldn’t vouch for him from home. It was also Matty’s first year as mentor and she’d be stupid to throw him to the wolves like that.

Times like this she misses Luca. He would’ve never let this happen, in fact Evert would’ve been pushing daisies already. Shelby should really get to that already.

“Some of them, like Lawerence Evert, think we are gods and goddesses and they privileged enough to be nourished from our breast.” Cecelia makes a face as an avox helps her into the ultramodern breast pump.

Eva wonders if dairy cows feel as used as her as she sees her own milk be put in rather fancy jars instead of the usual baby bottles a company gave her to promote them.

She’d been treated like a queen by the Capitol’s companies, showered with everything a baby and new mother could ever want or need because nothing provides better advertising than a Victor doing it.

Laurie’s name had caused controversy, but babies were being named Lauren or Laurentius by the dozen now. Cecelia’s pregnancy had led to a rise in births and now hers would continue until it went out of fashion. The speculation of Laurie’s paternity was not dying down, however.

Any blue-eyed man she’s been in contact with has been mentioned in gossip columns and shows. Jack had laughed at how the last man she was sold to had to come out on television and deny they ever had sex. Only a few had come close to guessing it was Jack, but they were talked out of it because even for the peacocks of the Capitol fucking your brother’s murderer was too fucked up.

“So, you and Jack, huh.” Cecelia had immediately put two and two together much like every mentor here. They were not as discreet as they should, but unlike Rose Evert and Alfie Solomons, they wouldn’t get into trouble over it.

“Yeah. Kinda just happened.” She lies with a sheepish look; better people think it was unplanned and not that they had tried for two years because a post-partum body isn’t sexy to the capitol. If only they couldn’t speak honestly here.

“At least he’s one of us, the moment Alfie fucks up like this he’s done for.”

It is an open secret that Alfie Solomons, mentor for 9, is fucking his stylist. Not just fucking, but in love too given by what Aveline told her in her tirade against it.

“Yeah, I guess.” Pretty ballsy, or pretty stupid, but Rose had enough money to put Alfie out of the market so maybe they’d get away with it. Luca got away with killing any man who breathed near her and with keeping her in the Capitol a while longer for a holiday to an arena that had a beach.

Maybe Rose and Alfie could get away with things she and Jack can’t.

For now, Eva tries to remember the names of the herbs that lower your milk supply.

Jack is having a few beers waiting for whoever’s gonna tell Shelby’s he’s in when a somewhat sober Haymitch tosses him a large pack of condoms wrapped in a bow.

“Did you and your girl think what’s gonna happen when you train the baby’s killer?” the surly man helps himself to the beer Jack had been drinking on his lonesome and plops himself down on a bench.

“I only thought of how she’d be off the market if lost her figure for nine months.” Can’t say that’s not going to happen because they don’t even know if it will work. “Who knows maybe in twelve years the games won’t exist.”

“Well, you know what they say, the road to hell is paved with good intentions.” The mentor for 12 comments and accepts Jack’s answer with little suspicion. “Who knows maybe Lauren will take after Evie and survive her games.”

“Laurie, after the dead brother, and they’ve got twelve years to figure that out no use in bringing it up now.” Solomons, the only mentor in an even worse situation than him, comes up as if he were invited.

“Here, got some for you too.” Haymitch tosses a condom at the Victor of 9 from his pant pocket. “Nelson, give him half your box, none of us want to find out what happens when district scum knocks up a Capitol broad.”

“Why is he here, Solomons?” Jack doesn’t hate either guy; they just aren’t friends.

Eva’s the one everyone likes because she’s a great gal and charming and hot, Jack’s the guy they tolerate because of her. He’s been called an asshole by most mentors here because he won’t change his blunt ways. Haymitch is fun sometimes mostly when he’s not being a pessimistic asshat, Alfie’s too busy with his stylist anyways.

Come to think of it, they’ve never talked much. The whole career vs normal district didn’t help either.

“Cause we’re your new friends, fuck face.” The blond drunk smiles at the words.

If it wasn’t for his family’s lives being on the line, he would’ve tossed the fucker off the roof and see how hard that force field tosses him back.

“Welcome to the club, Nelson. With any luck your niece and your son won’t have to survive an arena like we did.” He extends his hand and Jack shakes it.

Jack Nelson has officially become a rebel.

The children this year show promise, Eva has long since known that promise doesn’t mean much in the arena.

“How do manage this every year?” Matty asks after they send the children to sleep. He is barely twenty this year, been told the hell that awaits him here and is troubled by his own ghosts to accept the task.

“A support system, we mentors have to watch out for each other.” She says drinking the herbal tea guaranteed to temporarily dry up her milk supply. She hasn’t told him about her relationship with Jack, but Mathew is a smart guy and probably figured it out now. “Abilene, bless her heart, was too far gone to be of any help, but Clemens knows more than he lets on.”

“2 is the dad isn’t he?” There it was. The resentment at 2 and 1 for believing they are better, the fear that what they are doing is wrong and the whole she killed Jack’s brother thing.

“It’s not illegal to fraternize with fellow mentors, Laurie is my son with Jack and named after the brother I killed.” Eva finds relief in publicly saying that to people she trusts. Mat won’t tell knows better than to do that. “Before you ask, yes he knows, we both picked out the name together.”

“Volcano girl said 9 is screwing his stylist, is that permitted too?” the young man asked, and Eva shrugged.

“Rose Evert can afford to fuck Alfie, as long as she has money Snow doesn’t give a shit. You’ll find everyone here does what they can to cope with this hell, so don’t be too quick to judge.”

A pool had been added to the training center, swimming lessons were optional and to Eva’s dismay her tributes had not chosen to take up the offer.

Sulema because she already knew how to swim, Fabian had a phobia of water because when he was little, he almost drowned in a river. They hailed from the southern villages, their darker complexion and shorter stature setting them apart from the lighter skinned and taller folks up north.

10 covered the span of two countries, the United States and Mexico, well what was left of Mexico. It had been a country known for its beauty and diverse lands. It had a desert, beaches much more beautiful than the ones in 4 and fertile plains where livestock can thrive.

10 had plenty of rivers and lakes, some had dried up during the Dark Days and others made toxic, but they had an advantage over some districts in that. They were not as great at it as 4 where everyone knew how to swim, but they might have a chance to survive a body of water.

“We should do something nice for the kids.” Aveline says resting under the umbrella of the tribute center’s outdoor pool. Contrary to popular belief, they aren’t cooped up in here for the entire time. Most have some degree of freedom, and it provides the Capitol a chance to see more of them.

“Do you think they’ll let us?” the young mother asks knowing its probably a no unless the right people say it. Cashmere might have some sway, Lyme too. Finnick would agree immediately if it meant he could spend more time with his female tribute who was his schoolmate and whom he obviously really liked.

A doomed romance that can only end with Annie Cresta dying horribly in the games. Snow knew what he was doing when he had her reaped after Finnick tried to speak out over the abuse they suffer.

“Likely not, but most of us here do what we want when we can.” Linnie shrugs and gives a disarming smile to the paparazzi taking seemingly candid photographs of them. Wiress and Beette had outdone themselves with the earrings, they were never caught off guard now.

The afternoon before the interviews is spent with 24 children and their minders having a pool party and forgetting they’d all be killing each other the next day. A good memory before they all die, even the one that survives the games.

“Do you think people look at us the same way we look at them?” Jack rests his chin on her head as they watch Finnick and Annie enjoying their last moments together in the water.

“I suppose so, but who here isn’t as doomed as us, my love.” The only difference was that they couldn’t be killed in an arena.

#evacore #jack nelson x oc #eva x jack #eva smith #hunger games au #peaky blinders fanfiction #they didn't know we were seeds

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vexic929 · 4 months

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So y'know how I was telling you about Abner and Nik's story and how they have that Pushing Daisies-style kiss in the bar?

I haven't actually seen Pushing Daisies (though I very much want to), I just know about it and I think the plastic wrap kiss is adorable. So I didn't realize that like... Lee Pace in that actually does look a little like David Dastmalchian, especially in that role. They're not doppelgangers by any means, but... there's some similarities

So now I'm just imagining Abner watching the show with his family and internally kind of seeing himself in the character (especially with the whole "I'm not normal but I really want someone to love me anyway" side of things), and holding that plastic wrap scene in his head as this romantic "someday" goal the same way people envision like... the upside-down Spider-Man kiss or the Notebook reunion in the rain or other things like that.

And it's just kinda simmering in the back of his mind in that escapist fantasy way, though he doesn't think he'll ever get the chance to act on it since it's kind of odd and specific and even if he had a romantic partner he'd be too awkward to ask. At least... not without reason to.

But if he's placed in the same position? If he has the opportunity, and the barrier isn't a romantic fantasy but a need, if he's not allowed to touch his partner directly?

Well, I've told you the story.

(and also I like to think that even after Nikoletta gets rid of the excess shadows and can touch him freely, she still will grab the plastic wrap sometimes, like when they're in the kitchen cooking dinner and it's close by, since she knows it's a bit of a fantasy for him)

awwwwww omg yessssssss I could absolutely see that being his cute little romantic dream and I love Nikoletta still kissing him with plastic wrap sometimes, I could see her doing that when he's having a bad day and needs some cheering up, she'll make an excuse for them to be in the kitchen and then do the plastic wrap kiss <3333

#practically-an-x-man #practically an x man #vexic answers #vexic lives #pax ocs

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lo-fi-charming · 4 months

Note

Happy valentine's day! Do you have any valentine's day thoughts about JonDaisy or JonMartinDaisy?

aw happy valentines!

hmmm valentimes day thoughts huh... i imagine jon is a guy who forgets about the date, but if he's reminded, he'd certainly like to do a little something for his partner(s), even if he might be kinda bad at knowing what that should be. i imagine he'd at least try to make a nice dinner for them

daisy is also a guy who forgets the holiday exists but would secretly be very flattered if given a nice treat

martin's the guy who is aware and only cares a little if he's single for the day (he might indulge in his loneliness, or make a point NOT to, depending on how he's been up until then), but he cares A LOT if he's dating someone. but he's also the guy who secretly wants to be surprised with something or experience a nice romantic gesture, while never wanting to bring it up or point it out like he's expecting anything or trying to be passive-aggressive about it. but then he'd be bitterly disappointed when nothing happens, even though he never said anything... like i imagine he'd get a gift or something, but wait until the last minute to acknowledge the holiday just to see if his partner would first. and be a bit sad if they didn't, but anyway, im rambling-

all that said, with all three, there'd probably be the general assumption that everyone forgot about it (daisy definitely did, jon 50/50 chance), and it wouldn't get brought up until later in the evening, when jon and/or martin make a move to present their gift(s)

daisy would definitely tease jon for making a fuss if he makes dinner, but also maybe be a bit more free with her compliments while eating, maybe offer him a non-back-breaking massage afterwards as a subtle thank you. and she'd DEFINITELY tease martin over whatever gifts he got them

#echoecho #feels good to think about these three again... ive been distracted by other things lately!#i do love them still tho~ thanks for giving me a reason to thinksy about them uvu

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pleasurebuttonwrites · 1 year

Text

Hung the Moon (Chapter 8)

Chapter 7 | Masterlist | Chapter 9

Summary: Time to be a superhero.

Rating: Explicit 18+

Content: Language (cursing, misogyny). Violence. Not too gory, but mentions of blood.

Word count: 2.8K

A/N: It's been so long and I got so antsy about posting this I didn't proofread and revise quite as much as I usually do. If there are typos and such - I'm sorry!

Tags: @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @ajeff855 @bnamta @unspokenmoon @milkymoon2483 @valkyrieace @theimpalasdoctorin221b @hopefulfangirl24 @bucksgoat @rmoonstoner @foreverinwanderlust @am-3-thyst @bullet-prooflove @trashboat-the-raccoon @daisies-yellow

~~~

The last remnants of dusk fade from the sky when you and Marc pull up to the fifth and final warehouse belonging to your boss that you know about. You and Marc had been running all over New York City since the moment you landed checking the other four. Each time you had shown up to one, finding no sign of your sister — no sign of anyone, half of them completely empty — your stomach had sunk just a little lower. As Marc puts the car in park outside the last one, with it’s windows pitch dark, the stillness tangible, your stomach falls through the ground.

You can’t look at Marc. If you do you’ll say something you’ll regret. He says something to you that you barely hear. Something about how he’ll find her. That he’s not giving up.

As you did for the others, you get out of the car and check it out. The feeling of dread rises in you, that you’re wasting time you don’t have. But you have to be sure she’s not here. That there’s nothing that might lead you to her.

The gravel crunches beneath your feet as you walk the perimeter. The warehouse is small in comparison to the ones you searched earlier. The few windows that are at ground level are blacked out. You can’t tell if anyone is in there or if it’s empty.

A gust of wind bites at your cheek, but it’s damn near warm compared to the ice in your veins.

Just as you turn the corner at the back of the warehouse, a door — not ten feet from you — bursts open. You pull yourself back and crash into Marc who was following behind you. He grips your hip to steady the both of you.

Before you have the chance to say anything to Marc, a man starts talking.

“Man, I need a drink,” he says. You peek around the corner and see two men walking away toward a truck parked on the opposite end of the parking lot. “You coming to the bar? Rusty says they’re all down there.”

“I can’t,” the other man says. “I have watch duty for that little bitch tonight.”

“I dunno what you’re complaining about. She’s fucking hot. Especially with that gag in her mouth.”

“'Cept we’re not allowed to touch her. At least for another 24 hours. Kinda hoping that cunt of a sister doesn’t come through so the boss’ll let us do what we want with her.”

Marc lunges forward and you have to restrain him with two hands on his chest. You shake your head at him and motion toward the way you came. You both quietly retreat and then run back to the car.

—

Marc follows expertly behind them. But even so, each time they make a turn and you lose sight of the truck for those few seconds, the panic rises in your throat.

By the time the truck pulls up to its destination: another warehouse farther outside of the city, the moon has made its ascent into the sky. Clouds partially obscure the glow, and the street lamp that surreptitiously flickers on and off lends hardly enough light to see by. The man in the passenger seat climbs down from the truck and is illuminated as he crosses the headlights. He has an ugly sneer to his mouth and you want to rip him apart with your bare hands.

The truck drives on and the man trots up a set of concrete steps up to a door near the loading dock. He raps his fist against the metal, and a minute later another man opens the door for him.

In perfect synchronization, you and Marc get out of the car at the same time.

“You’re staying here.” He says it casually, but it sounds like an order.

“The hell I am.” And you mean it, too. Nothing could stop you from going in there. Not even Marc Spector.

He fixes you with a stare. In it is his own special blend of exasperation and stubbornness.

You try to reason with him anyway. “I can get her out while you deal with the guards.”

He shoots a quick glance at the side mirror — you’d have missed it had you not been watching him so closely. He rolls his eyes at whatever he’s seen.

“Who was that?” you ask. “What did he say?”

He sighs. “He says to let you.”

You consider which “he” that could have been. “Was that Jake?” You cringe at the hopefulness in your voice.

Instead of answering, Marc says, “If something happens to you-”

“My sister’s in there, terrified. She needs to see a familiar face. And I can handle myself.”

“You’re going in there no matter what, aren’t you?”

“Yup.”

He rolls his eyes heavenward, but relents. In a stern voice he says, “Alright, but you need to follow my lead, got that? Let’s find a way in.”

—

On the opposite side of the building from the loading dock, you and Marc sneak along the shadows. So far you’ve not encountered anyone guarding the outside, but you have no way of knowing what’s inside. There’s no guarantee that your sister is inside either. You don’t even want to think about what you’d do if she’s not. But neither do you want to think about what it’s going to be like to see her tied up and hurting.

You’re busy torturing yourself with these thoughts when Marc stops short. You realize why when you see the door, partially covered by overgrown weeds, next to you. Marc tries the handle. It’s locked but it’s nearly rusted through. He applies some force and it breaks off. The door swings inward with a soft squeak.

Inside is pitch dark. It takes a moment for your eyes to adjust. You can sort of make out a stairwell to your left, and another door to your right.

With light footsteps, Marc approaches the interior door and slowly pulls on it. It’s nearly off its hinges and it scrapes against the floor. He lifts it from the floor and sets it open enough for you both to slip through it.

The warehouse isn’t huge — it’s one large main room — but only half of it is being used. The overhead lights are off on your end, giving you a convenient cover of darkness. There are rows and rows of metal standalone shelves next to you, long left unused, gathering dust and trash. At the far end, four men sit around a folding game table playing a loud, drunken game of cards. But the center of the room is what captures your attention.

Two men — their backs to you — flank someone seated in a chair. You can’t see her face, but you know it’s her. You found her. You actually found her. Your whole body buzzes, and you almost feel relief if it weren’t for the six heavily armed men in your way. Distantly, you notice she’s dyed her hair since you’d last seen her.

“You stay here,” Marc whispers to you as he scans the room. His eyes flick to the offices on the second level that overlook the warehouse floor.

You almost argue with him when he amends, “Just wait here until I give the signal. Then you can go free her.”

��What’s the signal?”

“You’ll know it. Here.” He pulls out a hefty folding knife from his pocket and hands it over to you. “You’ll need this.”

“Where are you going to go?”

“I can’t attack from this side. It’ll draw fire toward your sister. I have to find another angle.” Then he slips back through the door.

You duck down behind a shelf to wait. The men at the table are animated and loud, though you can’t make out what they’re saying with their voices echoing off the high ceilings. The men guarding your sister look bored, constantly shifting their feet and turning their heads to glance around the room. The man on her right finds something to do, however, when he turns toward your sister and leans against her shoulder, crotch first. You recognize him as the man that you followed here. It takes all of your willpower to stay put as Marc instructed and not run at him and sink the knife you’re holding into his neck.

You grit your teeth and wonder what’s taking Marc so long. Every second that ticks by makes you more nervous about Marc’s plan. A feeling that you shouldn’t have trusted him creeps over you. But that could be just your nerves talking.

One moment the card table is bursting with laughter, the next all is chaos as the glass windows from the offices nearly just above shatter and a man — dressed head to toe in a white costume, his cape flared into a crescent — soars down among the shards of glass. During his descent, he uses both hands to fling two blades towards your sister’s guards. They find their marks in the men’s faces just as they were raising their guns. Their bodies teeter for a moment and then fall to the floor.

You watch as Marc lands, one hand on the ground to steady him. When he rises, you get a better look at his costume, the criss-crossing wraps that resemble a mummy, the crescent in the center of his chest and the glowing eyes underneath his hood. It surprises you since you had expected a different costume - the one you’d seen Jake wear. Apparently there was more than one.

The men at the table seem to get over their shock at his arrival. They stand and open fire on Marc who doesn’t even seem to notice the bullets striking his suit as he stalks toward them.

You have to assume that this was the signal. In any case, there’s no one to stop you from approaching your sister. You run to her. She’s thrashing in the chair, her arms and legs tugging on the ropes binding her. As you get closer you faintly hear screams trying to break free from her throat in between blasts of gunfire.

You step around the body of the guard who just moments before you’d wanted to kill. The blade is still lodged into his face and you notice it’s in the shape of a crescent. It’s kind of disturbing - you hadn’t pegged Marc for the type to have coordinating accessories.

Your sister is thrashing so violently that she doesn’t even register when you step in front of her. When you reach out to steady her, she flinches under your touch and then she sees you. She narrows her eyes and as soon as you pull the gag free of her mouth she yells with a hoarse, raspy voice, “YOU BITCH!”

You nearly put the gag back in her mouth. Your hands even lift it about an inch before you discard it to the floor. When you consider what you might have expected her to say, you realize that each time you pictured rescuing her, she was unconscious during it. But you can’t say you’re surprised with her reaction.

You ignore her, since you don’t want to get into it with her. Not here, not now. You kneel and get started cutting the ropes around her ankles. But she’s not done.

“What the hell did you get me into?” Her voice is raw and you can barely hear her over the cacophony happening behind you. She continues ranting but you tune her out and focus on getting her free. Despite the sharpness of the knife, you still really have to saw to clear all the rope.

By the time you get to her wrists, she seems to have mostly tired herself out. She seems to finally become aware of her surroundings because she asks, “Who the fuck is that guy?”

You turn to follow her gaze. Moon Knight, now in the black and white costume you’d first seen, is fighting the one remaining thug — the other three lay lifeless on the ground. Just as Jake is about to strike him down, the costume changes again. It’s all white, except unlike before, this is an actual suit. Like a three piece suit.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” you hear him yell. “You can’t just kill everyone!”

It sounds like Steven to you.

The costume morphs into the mummy-looking one. “He’s right. We need to keep someone alive to give Foswell a message.”

The black and white costume resurfaces. “Shit. You’re right,” Jake says.

The costume switches briefly back to the three piece suit as Steven says, “That’s not what I meant.” And then it’s back to Jake.

You turn back to your sister and resume working on the rope. “He’s helping me rescue you,” you tell her. That doesn’t feel like it totally covers it, but it’s the best explanation you can give in the moment.

“God, Greg’s probably freaking. Worried sick about me.”

Your temper flares at the mention of her husband. In a distinctly unkind voice you say, “I love you, but you are the stupidest person I know.”

You cut the last of the rope free and reach to help her stand but she recoils from you. Her mouth is hanging open in indignation. “Excuse me?” she demands.

“Greg isn’t worried sick. He knows exactly where you are. He doesn’t give a fuck.”

“You’ve always been so jealous of me, you can’t stand it, can you? Why do you always say these bad things about Greg?”

“I’m not doing this with you right now. Do you want to get out of here, or should I leave you here?”

You’d never really leave her, but you need to get her moving. She scoffs and tries to stand up on her own, but her legs are weak and she grasps at your arms as she sinks back into the chair. You help her up and she leans heavily on you.

You check in with the boys to see Jake holding a knife to the neck of the lone survivor. In a chilling tone you’d never heard him use before he’s speaking to him. You catch the last part. “-never see you again. She’s done. You got that?”

Jake flings him to the floor and bends down to slash at one of his ankles, slicing through his Achilles tendon. The man screams, and Jake turns and sees you and your sister watching him. The mask over his face disappears and he looks as though he’s about to say something. But the man on the ground, holding his ankle as blood pours out of the gash, shouts at your sister. “It’s no great loss, you know. You were getting a little old for your husband anyway.”

Jake balls his hand into a fist. He’s mid-swing when you stop him. “Jake!” He freezes. “Let’s just go.”

He lingers for a moment, and then relents. He comes to you as you struggle to walk with your sister. He offers to carry her, but she responds with, “Who the fuck are you?”

You head to the door by the loading docks as it’s closer to where you parked. It’s slow going, and you curse her stubbornness, but you allow her this autonomy of body. You’ll help her with every step.

You emerge out into the cool night air. You struggle getting your sister down the steps but somehow you manage without accepting Jake’s offers of help.

As you’re walking to the car, Marc suddenly fronts and the costume changes to his. “Does this mean…?” He gestures at his outfit.

You’re confused until you realize he’s not talking to you.

Jake fronts again. “No, it’s just a temporary loan. I’m still the only one on the hook with Khonshu.”

Steven fronts. “We’re going to fix that though, right? Although,” he tugs on the sleeves of his jacket with gloved hands, “I still look fit, don’t I?” You run an appreciative eye up and down his form.

It’s as your eyes are coming back up that Jake fronts again and you get a good look at just how tight his costume is. You bump your shoulder against him. “I didn’t know you all came with outfits.”

“Don’t get any ideas,” he tells you, but he’s smiling.

“Too late.”

It’s a nice moment. You’ve really missed Jake, and you want nothing more than to talk with him about everything that’s happened. You want to believe that there’s still a chance for you two.

Then your sister opens her big mouth, cranes her neck to look at Jake, and says, “Are you fucking my sister?”

~~~

Chapter 7 | Masterlist | Chapter 9

#moon knight #marc spector #steven grant #jake lockley #moon knight fic #moon knight fanfic #moon knight fanfiction #jake lockley x reader #jake lockley x fem!reader #jake lockley x female!reader #jake lockley x you #steven grant x fem!reader #steven grant x reader #steven grant x female!reader #steven grant x you #marc spector x reader #marc spector x female!reader #marc spector x fem!reader #marc spector x you

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sealrock · 4 months

Note

what do the emojis mean on your post?

hey anon, if you mean my blog in general I use emojis as a tagging system for my characters since it's easier to keep track of because I'm usually on the app

they're linked in my pinned post but here's a breakdown of who's who and the symbolism (or lack thereof) behind them. gonna put this under a read more since it's gonna be long:

roster emojis:

🍃 = paris. a lively leaf floating through the wind with no sense of direction. paris and hector share the same motifs as being leaves that fell off the tree and how far they've traveled

🍂 = hector. a dried up rotten leaf that stopped drifting in the wind, very fragile and brittle. it will crumble under the slightest pressure

🥀 = andromache. a wilting rose. the tatlongharis have a flower motif so I wanted to keep up that symbolism with andi being a dying rose with no water (aka emotional support)

�� = kirke. a skull. it's kinda funny because this emoji is used in comedic situations but it represents kirke's undead state and her not truly being alive as a cloud of nanomachines. decay is a common theme for her

⚰️ = yves. a coffin and a leftover from yves' earlier characterization as an undead, or half-dead, void knight. I may end up changing this once I finalize his new lore since it doesn't fit his aesthetic anymore (less immortal aether vampire being and more psycho mantis mgs mixed with alma wade f.e.a.r.)

🎐 = tauvane. a stationary wind chime. I actually couldn't find a nice emoji for her in the beginning since the newer ones don't display correctly on web browsers (at least for me since I'm still on win10). it doesn't really fit her current lore but her and achille share weather motifs

🌻 = evander. a bright sunflower that falls in line with the tatlongharis flower theme. it represents happiness and a good life, which is the total opposite of evander's backstory and personality

🌼 = patroclus. it's a white daisy (but it looks like a yellow flower on mobile) and connects him to the tatlongharis. daisies symbolize innocence and purity, just like him

🌪️ = achille. a tornado to symbolize his turbulent emotions and now retconned weather powers. back when I started developing achille he was supposed to have sea/water motifs because tauvane was originally a pirate

romantic emojis:

💐 = hector/andromache. a bouquet of flowers that's meant to symbolize their previous relationship when everything was good and quaint

🌤️ = achille/patroclus. a sun and a cloud. patroclus is the sun (bright and warm) and achille is the tiny cloud (meant to be his hidden desires slowly becoming seen)

⛓️ = yves/kirke. a link of chains. their relationship is more violent and toxic to contrast hector and andi. they're chained together because they're drawn to each other's dark desires and impulses

platonic emojis:

🌿 = hector & paris. it's technically an herb but I see it as a plant farther along in growth compared to paris and their mom. despite their own issues, paris and hector got along well until the end

🌱 = andromache & paris. a sprout or seedling that struggles to grow. keeping with the general plant/nature theme with the tatlonghari x wormwood families, the relationship between parent and child is slow going, but there's a chance for it to bloom

🌧️ = tauvane & achille. a sad rain cloud. this is also a leftover from their previous characterizations but it seems to fit their current stages of development since tragedy is a motif shared between mother and son

🏵️ = tatlonghari family. a golden rosette that I imagine as their family crest. this is a catchall emoji for the npcs and parts of my ocs that are affiliated with the family; familial trauma is a major theme here

#inbox #anonymous #hope this helps for anyone curious!

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kahlanmars · 6 months

Text

PAPER RINGS part. 11

Well, well, this is the last chapter before the finale!

MASTERLIST

11. Walk, walk, fashion baby

«I think you are crazy.» Perla watches you like you just told her to threaten a Capitol city girl to make her attend your fashion show.

Oh, wait.

You kinda did.

«We hate her. And she deserves it. Lora is in my bedroom, crying because of her.» And because of you, but at least you never kicked her out of your apartment.

«You know she is not crying only because of her.»

You scoff. Perla is not entirely wrong, but she is not fully right either. Lavinia used her from the start to connect herself with Thirteen people and old victors, to sell our life to paparazzi and cheap magazines. She made her believe she was her friend, she insinuated in her life with false promises and lies and then she tossed her away when she felt like she couldn't use her anymore. And Lora is barely an adult, she went through so much she really didn't need it.

«Look me in the eyes and tell me you don’t want to threaten Lavinia.»

Perla looks at you with her big blue eyes, and you can tell she is unsure of what she is supposed to do. Part of her begs to make her pay, because the Capitol girl hurt a friend of hers and she tends to be vindictive with the people who hurt her friends, but another part, the rational one, believes she can't be a part of a scandal anymore. And she is right, she works for the government now, she is the only one of us who is still in contact with the Thirteen government. She can't screw up everything she built for a revenge.

«I don’t want to get into troubles.»

«She is Capitol! Once in a lifetime we are the one with the power and she is the one who is being discriminated by the government.»

Your speech is wrong and you know it, but maybe, maybe, she could get something from it too. One of her scoops, she loves them so much.

«Nobody should be discriminated against something, Daisy.»

«But we have been for ages! We still are! Don’t you want a bit of revenge?»

«I want justice, not revenge.»

«Ok, but I want revenge.»

You feel the rage growing up in you. You were never that angry with Capitol city, not even before or during the Hunger Games. You envied them so much, you wanted their life, but you never thought it was their fault. They simply lived better than you, but they were ignorant, for most of their life no one told them they should have lived differently, and television filled them with fantasies and lies.

But now everything has changed. Now they know, and even if the truth is out there most of them choose to look at you and to the other districts like you were a lower form of life, and not the one who won the war.

It is unfair.

«Don’t complicate everything now that we have peace, Daisy.» She tries, but she is walking with you so she can’t oppose it too much.

«Oh come on, I’m not going to hurt her. This is advantageous for her too, she can come to a beautiful runway show and she can be part of history!»

Perla rolls her eyes, as she fights her smile. «You are so humble.»

«I was talking about Portia’s work, not mine.»

When you knock at the door and she opens it, Lavinia is in déshabillé, in a green dressing gown that you wish you had designed. It’s really beautiful. For a really awful person.

«Not you again.» The expression on her face is annoyed and irritated, and you suppose she is not entirely wrong, you are like a nervy mosquito.

«Yes, me again! Will you let us in, please, Lavinia? Please.» Your smile is saccharine, and there is no doubt you are faking it. She is matching yours. It’s funny, you are not used to something like this in the district. Twelve is poor and you suffer from hunger, but people are not fake. If they don’t like something about you, or even if they don’t like you at all, they tell you.

«Not a chance.» She tries to say, but you keep the door open with your feet and Perla goes in without any problem, and with that certain kind of class that always makes her such a badass.

«What about those pieces of art you have in your house, Lavinia? Does the government know about these?» Paylor doesn't, you are sure of it. After the war, Capitols had to give most of their art pieces to Panem, and Thirteen relocated them in museums and art galleries, free for everyone to see. They had the nerve to protest, saying those paintings and sculptures were the family heritage, and while you could understand the sentimental value, they risked having new Hunger Games in their house. This was definitely better as a punishment.

But they couldn’t understand.

Some of the families tried to hide the paintings, and Lavinia's was definitely one of them. Her house, from just what you saw, is full of stolen works of art and if you have to guess, she doesn’t want the Peacekeepers to know about it.

«This painting is really beautiful.» Your friend adds, looking at a picture frame hanging on the wall. It is stunning, a garden with a lot of colourful flowers, and you can tell it’s pretty expensive.

«You assaulted me a few days ago and I didn’t tell anyone. And you have to come back? And for what, finish your work?»

«Lavinia, please! You didn’t report us because the government is not in your favour right now. You are Capitol, and you are the old kind, one the wealthy families who lost their fortune… Meanwhile, we are the winners. The districts won.» You wanted to talk, but Perla is handling herself so well you don’t dare to stop her. «And I’m working with Paylor. So, don’t you think it’s better for you if you listen to us?»

Lavinia, in her gown and her makeup and blonde hair done, looks at her perfect nails and she snorts. Effie would say it’s not very ladylike for a Capitol lady. «And what do you want to tell me?»

«Well, I would like some tea.» The Four girl begins, but you want to make it quick, before anyone realises how crazy your idea is.

«You will come to Portia’s fashion show.» You declare.

She just laughs like I made a really good joke. «You can forget about it, I’m not going to that District rubbish.»

You try not to be affected by her disgust. You know how she feels about you, and you are raving enough.

«Oh you will! It’s going to be the next big thing.» You state, but Perla is more effective and practical than you are.

«You will come and you will bring your friends, and you will cheer for Portia and, let me tell you, for the Mockingjay too if she wants to appear. Or I might tell someone about this little fortune of yours. Maybe even Paylor.»

She is really scary when she wants to, and now she wants to. You made the right choice asking her to come with you. You see Lavinia’s face go blank and she is a little paler than before.

«I suppose it’s a good agreement.»

It’s a good agreement indeed.

The next few days are a real nightmare. You have never been more nervous in your life - and you almost died twice - and you feel like you have to run back and forth in every part of the city. Nothing is ready in time, the flowers are not perfect, the dresses are not the way you want, Cinna is never ready, and Portia is a nervous wreck. You stopped giving her coffee because you are scared she will have a heart attack.

It’s the last few days, you keep saying to yourself to prevent madness. Haymitch is a real saint, he takes care of Lora like he was her father and he comforts you at night, when you are too exhausted to go on with the modifications of the dresses but they need it. You lost count of how many cups of tea he made you.

And then, like magic, the day arrives. And you are shaking in your boots.

When you open the locker room and you start to put makeup on you, you are shivering. This is your real chance, the last day you can use to start a name for yourself. You decided you don’t want anything to do with Capitol City, but you still want to be a stylist and this is your first, and maybe only, opportunity. And what if nobody will be there? What about Lavinia changing her mind?

They say you should wear casual clothing when you are presenting a runway show, but you chose to wear one of your creations instead, a light pink long dress with white flower embroideries, a low cut on your cleavage but it doesn’t show your legs, so your mother can be happy. You start to apply your makeup, you want to keep it light but shimmer, because people didn’t forget Princess Daisy and you want to revive that part of your life, but this time you are in control. This time you choose what to wear, what to say and this is not all for nothing, you are not going to die, you are going to live.

«Can I come in?»

You are very surprised when you hear Haymitch’s voice over the door, and you are so happy when he opens it and he kisses you.

«Oh dear heavens, you are here!» You run to him and you sit on his lap, peppering his face with kisses. You agreed not to meet, because he is not a people person and a fashion show is not his cup of tea, but of course you weren’t that happy. And now he is there and everything is better, you don’t even feel that nervous anymore. And he is wearing the grey vest you made for him too! He looks very handsome.

«Of course I’m here, who do you think I am?» He scoffs and he takes you in his arms. Home, like always. The scent of wood and leather is familiar and it already calms you a little. He is your medicine.

«A hermit.» You deadpan, but you are willing to accept his kisses.

«This hermit loves you.» He rolls his eyes.

«I didn’t want to force you…» You explain. Since he forced himself to make that speech about his spaces, you try to understand him more. And a place with a lot of Capitol people who talk about fashion is not his favourite room in the world, you can sense it. Not to mention there will be drinks and you are not sure he is past that time of the rehabilitation where you can’t even see other people drinking. It’s better to be safe than sorry, he has been through so much you don’t want to repeat the process.

But he is here. For you.

«You didn’t force me and I can handle it. Can you?» He gets it, that you are not relaxed. You manage to be relatively calm with Portia because she is worse than you are - it’s her relaunch, her chance to be what she was before she sided with the rebels - but when you are alone with him there is no point in lying. Sometimes you feel like he always gets the worst part of you.

«Yes! Yes, I can. I can handle it.» You try to smile. And definitely fail, if his face is any indicator.

«Sweetheart…» He slides his hands on your arms in a relaxing way. His way to make you confess the truth.

«I’m terrified.» You blurt out.

He wraps his arms around your hips and you sigh against his chest. What if you trip and fall down the stage, what if the people start to boo you, what if Portia can’t go out because she is terrified…

«You are good.» He assures you. And, just because he knows you so much and he knows how much you want to be distracted right now, he starts kissing your neck. You give him major access, humming in pleasure. He is a very talented man in many things, he is smart, intelligent, cunning and calculating, but oh boy, how he kisses you. Nothing can compare. You can’t quite understand if it’s natural talent or he made some Capitol women very happy in his rebel years.

«If something goes wrong…» You try to add, slightly closing your eyes at his delicate touch. He sits down and you climb on his lap.

«Nothing can go wrong.» He murmurs against your skin. He doesn’t undress you just because he knows there is no time for that, but you get he is turned on.

«I threaten Lavinia to make her and her Capitol friends come.» You protest, and he stops his act of seduction to chuckle. When he meets your eyes, they are so filled with pride you could think you began the revolution yourself.

«That’s my girl.»

«Haymitch…» You suppress a laugh, he is so cute. He doesn’t want to hear it, but he is.

«What? I’m proud of you.»

You watch him, adoration in your eyes. «I love you.»

«I have a present for you.» He states out of nowhere. And you are a kindergarten baby sometimes, especially when it comes to presents, so you are immediately curious.

«For me?»

«No, for Portia. Of course, for you.»

«If you think a gift can make the situation better and lower my anxiety… you are absolutely right, thank you!»

He looks at you and he shakes his head, well knowing how your reaction would have been. And then he tosses you a little red box.

Ok, it can’t be a ring, because you have it on your finger, and it can’t be a bracelet because he already gifted you with one. A very handy one.

You open it and you gasp. It’s a little golden pin with a little pinecone.

«Oh Haymitch, it’s really beautiful.» You whisper, very touched. It’s a pin, like the mockingjay pin, and he is always very careful with meanings.

«It’s golden.» He points out, «You know, Effie has her hair, I have the bracelet and I gave it to Finnick, Katniss has her pin and Peeta has the medallion. It’s our team, but it’s my family too. And you are very much part of my family. You are my family, Sweetheart.»

You rush back into his arms and you kiss the hell out of him. «We are a family.»

He nods. «It’s time. Remember I’m with you.»

The fashion show is about to start and the backstage is pure madness. You, Portia and Cinna are running back and forth to make sure everything is okay, and the models are just stunning in the new dresses.

You have to thank your friends so much for the favour.

Lora is the model for District Eleven. She is not completely okay yet, but she rested a lot and she made an appointment with Doctor Payne, Haymitch’s therapist. It’s not okay for her to have the same psychologist as him, especially if she is going to live with us, but it’s either him or Doctor Aurelius, and the poor woman is overworked.

Lora is very beautiful. She wears a black mini skirt and an orange top, her hair is tied back and she has a strong golden makeup that takes up the top colour.

Perla and Finnick, bless them, run for District Four. Both stunning as always, Perla is rocking her siren blue dress with embroideries that recall a fishnet, and Finnick is so elegant in his white suit.

You tried for a moment to convince Haymitch to walk for Twelve because you had some men’s clothes, but you know better, and it turns out Delly, Peeta’s friend, was up to it, and you used the dresses you designed. She is going to walk in your piece. A cobalt blue long dress with a corset filled with little diamonds, from the district’s mines. She looks like a queen from a fairy tale, exactly like you wanted her to be, a character from the district tales.

Effie, the model from the Capitol, is the last one in the program, and rightfully so because she has been a model before, and she knows how to close a runway. Her outfit is toned down compared to the Hunger Games’s ones, but she is very classy in a tight red sparkly gown with a low cleavage. Her natural beauty is celebrated.

You hear the music going up and you watch the fashion show begin. At first you feel so nauseous you want to puke, but after a while you understand everything is going well. There are a lot of seats taken, and the people are clapping, they enjoy themselves. You watch Portia, but she still seems nervous, maybe because she has to make a speech to close the thing.

And so, soon she takes a microphone and begins to talk.

«Thank you! Thank you so much for this warming welcome. It’s been almost a year since we didn't do a runway or a fashion show, and coming back has been the greatest gift. I want to thank you all, but especially my friends who collaborated with me for today. We all know and adore Cinna, the Mockingjay’s stylist!» The camera stops on Cinna, who waves and greets the audience.

«And Daisy Pinecone, everyone! The last tribute!» This is not exactly true, because Lora and Perla are the last tributes too, but you know what she meant and you hope they won’t get angry about it. You follow Cinna's example, and you feel a little like the Princess Daisy you used to be in the games.

«And now, if you want to excuse me, I have to do something for myself. I want to thank a very special someone on this very special day.» The camera moves on Effie, who is sitting on the first row, and a model helps her get on the stage. «My beautiful woman, you have been the light of my life for so long. You are the person I go to when I feel down or I’m scared. I know I neglected you but I was so focused on this, and… let me make it up to you for the rest of my life.»

Portia goes down on one knee and you gasp. She is proposing. She is proposing to your best friend! And without telling you first, you could have helped her. «Euphemia Trinket, will you marry me?»

Effie, bless her, probably knew everything from the start but she is happily crying. «Yes! Yes I will!»

Everyone is happy. This is it, this is how you want to picture this memory.

You close the locker room behind you and you find Haymitch smirking on the sofa. He saw the show, you know it, but he disappeared before the paps could start asking him questions. That he doesn’t do anymore. He decided he is not a public figure anymore, and you respect his privacy. After all, the fashion show is a big thing for you, not for everybody. Holly for example didn’t come, saying she is too old to be in the Capitol and she demanded a lot of pictures from the night.

«It went well! It went well, don’t you think?» You are exhausted and ecstatic and you wrap your legs around his hips with a jump in a well practised move. He stands up and puts his hands under your butt, maybe to carry you better, maybe because you know your boyfriend and he loves to put his hands on you.

«You were perfect.» He reassures you, and he kisses you with a burning passion on your lips. His callous hands go south, and south… he is going to be the death of you sooner or later.

«And the other things?» You ask again. The press wanted to talk to you, and to Cinna and Portia, and it seems like your plan succeeded, because a lot of Capitol people saw young and famous socialites at the show and that was good publicity.

«I don’t know, I noticed you. You were ravishing, baby.»

You laugh, your oblivious almost husband. How could you be so ravishing in comparison with models dressed in beautiful outfits, you have no idea. «Did you get bored?»

«Nah, I was focused on you. Now, as much as I like you being on top of me… and I like it very much, we have to sit because you decided you wanted an old man.»

«I still want an old man.» You bite his neck, and you feel your desire growing. His vest is so hot because you designed it exactly with this thought in mind: stripping him. «You were the hottest man in the room.»

«The years pass, but you remain delusional. That’s a relief.» He winks at you and starts peppering kisses on your neck. «Is the door locked?»

«I don’t know, but I don’t care.» You unbutton his shirt and he reaches for your hands, laughing.

«I’m the responsible one and I should…»

«You have never been the responsible one, don’t lie to me! I’m high on success and that is the last night we get to act like Capitols so please… be a little crazy. For me.» You feel so young tonight, so young and in love.

When you hear a knock on the door you try to shout to wait outside, but Effie opens it without any care.

«Effie! You are engaged!» You get up from Haymitch - who briefly complains but he knows you too much - and you run to Effie to hug her.

«I suppose I am!» She squeals and you can feel how happy she is, «Did you know about this?»

«No! No, Portia must have thought I couldn’t lie to my best friend.» And maybe, just maybe, she was right.

«If you two have finished talking like chipmunks, can I congratulate the Princess?» Haymitch interrupts you, to hug Effie. You always forget Effie is not your Effie and Haymitch has not always been your Haymitch, and the two of them have been friends for over a decade before knowing you.

«So, we will have two weddings this year!» Effie adds, pleased, and you realise now, after the fashion show, it’s time.

You are about to get married.

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echosprompts · 1 year

Text

daisy jones & the six : aurora, sentence starters.

please do not repost. feel free to change pronouns where you see fit ! enjoy !

aurora

“you’re my morning sun.”

“i kinda think i wanna make it last forever.”

“i won’t disappear again.”

“how soon can you come?”

“where did you turn when you needed tenderness?”

“i kinda thought that night was gonna last forever.”

let me down easy

“my eyes are open while my heart keeps sinking.”

“every lie is true at the time.”

“won’t you let me down easy if you’re going to let me down?”

“let me down easy.”

“that could be us trading secrets no one else could understand.”

“i got you under my skin now.”

kill you to try

“i’ve been an angel all summer long.”

“i swear i’ve done nothing wrong.”

“could the truth ever untell those lies?”

“would it kill you to try?”

“since i found you, i can’t stop laughing.”

“i need you.”

“you’re my better half.”

“call me back to bed with that old lullaby.”

“you’ve got no damn right to be so damn heartbroken.”

“what is it i must do?”

“let me come home to you.”

“i’d blind myself to see it.”

“promise me you’ll be there.”

two against three

“boys were invincible lovers, just begging to be destroyed.”

“this was never any cause for alarm.”

“it seems you have a choice to make.”

“all i need’s a promise i can keep to myself.”

“i know our mornings were as good it ever could be.”

“im nowhere near you.”

“im nowhere near you, nowhere near where i should be.”

look at us now (honeycomb)

“i don’t know who i am.”

“do you know who you are?”

“is it out of our hands?”

“tell me how we made it this far.”

“did we unravel a long time ago?”

“i wish it was easy.”

“i wish it was easy, but it isn’t.”

“we could make a good thing bad.”

“where do we stand?”

“if this was your plan, tell me why you’ve been crying in the dark.”

“we used to be something to see.”

“this thing we’ve been doing ain’t working out.”

bonus: “i know we could get it all back.”

regret me

“you regret me.”

“you regret me and i’ll regret you.”

“i don’t care what you feel.”

“go ahead and regret me, but i’m beating you to it.”

“you couldn’t handle your liquor.”

“you can’t seem to handle the truth.”

“i’m perfectly ready to strike.”

“meet me in the corner where you keep me.”

“i’ll do anything you please.”

“go ahead and regret me, but i always will too regret you.”

you were gone

“can’t you tell by my face, there are things i tried to erase?”

“can’t you tell by my face?”

“there are things i try to erase.”

“the future is over now.”

“nothing ever seems to stay that way.”

“where were you?”

“when i needed you, you were gone.”

“the hand that pulled me through the center of the night was you.”

“how about we turn it off?”

“every story has an ending.”

“every story has an ended, and it’s not our job to stay.”

“how about we turn it off?”

“we’ll forget it like it’s gone.”

“we’ll forget about the way you turn me on.”

“you were gone.”

more fun to miss

“i still need a drink.”

“for the record.”

“i’m fine with what’s left of mine.”

“almost took you by mistake for someone else.”

“it took guts to think i’d fall for that wink.”

“that little thing you do just ain’t right.”

“you’d be more fun to miss, than to be with.”

“you’d be more fun to kiss, than to be with.”

“that’s how my little mind gets fed.”

“do i shoot straight, or do i cheat fate?”

“i don’t pull tricks.”

“you’d be just as fun as a jammed up gun.”

“another shot at the wrong place and time.”

please

“please, im down on my knees.”

“i’m down on my knees.”

“i have a family.”

“merged with the terrible urge every night.”

“please, if it’s only a single bite.”

“i’m down on my knees like a jesuit.”

“i need what i can’t unsee to disappear.”

“i’m the worst at this.”

“i need you to say no.”

“at least meet me under the table for a kiss.”

“know i’m better than all of this.”

“never give me a second chance.”

“please.”

the river

“tell me again, why do we stay on such a lonely road?”

“we’re on the same side.”

“will you stay with me forever?”

“will you chase me in my dreams?”

“you had a choice i couldn’t make.”

“give me your hand, here is my heart.”

“give me your hand.”

“here is my heart.”

“where does it end?”

“where do we start?”

“i’m echo in your shadow.”

“i’m in too deep.”

“i lost you.”

“i know this isn’t fair.”

“i know i love you now.”

“i love you.”

no words

“i just don’t know the words.”

“babe.”

“everything i’ve tried so far just doesn’t feel right.”

“all i could do is hope you don’t take it the wrong way.”

“if all i can do is say, ‘don’t take it the wrong way’.”

“don’t take it the wrong way.”

“i'm at the end of my mind.”

“i’m trying to do the right thing.”

“i'm at the end of my mind trying to do the right thing.”

#daisy jones and the six rp meme #daisy jones and the six rp prompts #rp meme #rp memes #rp prompts #rp sentence starters #rp lyric sentence starters #roleplay meme #roleplay prompt #roleplay memes #roleplay prompts #roleplay sentence starters #roleplay lyric sentence starters #writing prompts #lyric prompts.#long post

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everybody-loves-purdy · 7 months

Note

My thoughts on Thunder / ASC so far!

- This is my favorite arc, hands down. TPB was great too, but I wasn’t ever a big fan of Tigerclaw/star as the main villain, as I found him rather generic. Splashtail, Curlfeather, and Berryheart, on the other hand… fantastic characters, I adore how they’re written.

- Frostpaw gets spayed? Hell yeah!! Interesting plot point, and at least we now know that the Erins can no longer pull a Violetshine with her and make her into another boring stereotypical background mother after her arc is over.

- I really like the writing of Sparkpelt, Finchlight, Bayshine, and Myrtlebloom here. I’m glad Sparkpelt and Finchlight aren’t getting demonized anymore

- I’m fine with EITHER Squirrelstar *or* Ivystar. I think it’s safe to say that Squilf didn’t get all nine of her lives - it’s quite likely that Bramblestar only has a few left, so maybe she only got one or two of them? Something is fishy abt that, so I wouldn’t be surprised if we get Ivystar by the end of the arc. If Squilf stays leader, though, I’m cool with that too!

- Finally some acknowledgement of Sparrowtail and Hollowspring! Hollowspring has been a fave background cat of mine for a while, so him getting more development is great

- The way Sunbeam handled Cherryfall’s disrespect was very mature. I really appreciate that, after how immaturely we saw Nightheart handling his own conflicts in ThunderClan back in Sky. Very stark contrast

- The park cats! I was kind of hoping to see WarriorClan initially, but I’m glad we got them instead. I really liked Rook and Bee, was kinda hoping that one of them would be coming back with them - Wasp is a bit of an odd choice, but I digress

- I loved the tasks that Ivypool gave Sunbeam. They make sense, and are completely reasonable - and I believe that it’s leading up to Sunbeam mentoring one of Spotfur’s kits, eventually! That would be sweet

- I kinda hope that Duskfur is morally ambiguous. Perhaps in on the murders of Mistystar and Reedwhisker, but not involved in the dogs attacking Curlfeather: I believe that she genuinely seems to care for her family, and for Frostpaw, and am hoping that she gets a chance to prove herself a better cat by the end of the arc

- SO GLAD the arc’s main villain wasn’t Mapleshade. Don’t get me wrong, I really like her, I just feel that she’s already had her time to shine and that she really shouldn’t become relevant again - it could ruin her character too

- The development for all three protags has been fantastic. Nightheart has matured a lot, and I’m very glad for that - I like him, but I’m not sure how much more Sky-esque angst and whining that I would’ve been able to take.

- VOTE TIGERHEART OUT. I assumed Berryheart was going to be exiled for something atrocious, but instead it was rather for questioning his leadership? What a terrible guy.

- Fingers crossed for Tawnystar. If Tigerheart gets voted out, I’m really hoping that she steps up to fill that role - she deserves it *far* more than he ever did to begin with

- I love Whistlepaw, Her interactions with Frostpaw are adorable, and I definitely ship them!

- Glad to see Smoky, Corriander, and Little Daisy again! Wasn’t expecting that, but hearing that they’re friends of Whitlepaw’s was nice

- I’m loving this arc too! It’s been so good so far and they don’t seem to be losing momentum!

- this whole Frostpaw situation is extremely interesting, I’m just hoping the Erins don’t botch the handling of it. But I am curious as to what role it will play and why.

- I just loved seeing Sunbeam make those friends. And how at the end Finchlight says she’s like kin? I love it.

- I personally think that worse case scenario she only got 8 lives. I just feel that such a deception would just be too big and risky to try and pull off if she didn’t get many or any lives.

- Yeah I’m interested to see where this is going to go with Hollowspring and Sparrowtail. I was starting to think they had forgotten about them like they have Pouncestep but I’m glad to see they’re including them!

- Sunbeam confronting Cherryfall is one of my favourite moments of the book!

- I’m still kind of sad we didn’t see WarriorClan, maybe in a few more years perhaps. I have a suspicion Bee could end up as RiverClan’s next true medicine cat that can have visions. I feel like his vision of seeing cats across and iced river is telling him to take the risk and go and join them.

- I really love how Ivypool’s tasks were all focused on teamwork and co operation, especially since that’s what mainly sets TC and ShC apart, a really interesting detail I love they included in this book actually.

- Yeah I do think Duskfur definitely has an idea about something even if she isn’t in on the full picture, I’ve still got my eye on her.

- Yeah I’m glad it isn’t Mapleshade too, I’m glad we’ve gotten at least one new female villain in her place. Mapleshade is great but given how last arc was all about using old villains, I do like how we’re getting some flesh blood here.

- The development of the protagonists has all been fantastic this book and I actually respect Nightheart a lot now? Wild times we live in

- Yeah I thought Berryheart was going to cause someone to die but instead she just gets told she has to leave because she disagrees with her leader. I can’t help but feel like ShadowClan May heading towards civil war now. Berryheart has allies with her and vocal allies in the clan, we have no idea how many more silent allies she may have.

- Given the end of Tawnypelt’s novella I doubt we’re ever going to see Tawnystar apparently, but it’s a nice dream to have. Hopefully her son is out of power by the end of the arc at least.

- Protip: everyone get yourself someone like Whistlepaw in your life: she’s just such an incredible friend

- yeah it was a nice surprise to see them again! Mainly the kits lol

#malachaiiii #asc spoilers #thunder spoilers #warrior cats spoilers

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coffeecat1983 · 7 days

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Wreck-It Ralph/Mario Bros 2: What I Would Do for You chap 2:

Mario rushed into his game just as Litwak clicked on the 'Open' sign. Everyone else was already gathered at the track and Luigi raised an eyebrow at his older brother.

"Cutting it kinda close there, huh big bro?" He shrugged. "So I had to run the rest of the way, no problem!" "Pfft," Daisy draped an arm around Mario. "Felix isn't doing his job if you can walk, let alone run after a night with him." Luigi burst into laughter and Mario turned as red as his hat but quickly recovered with a glint in his eyes. "I could say that about you and Luigi. You need to step up your game, lil bro." Daisy nearly rolled with laughter as Luigi pulled his hat down, trying to hide. Peach giggled softly and nearby Bowser pretend gagged at their exchange. Her pink dress swishing, Peach joined Mario. "How is Felix?" she inquired. "He," Mario hesitated, recalling the other night, "He's been having some trouble with nightmares lately." Leaning against the front of his kart, he folded his arms. "And he won't talk about em. I just wish I could think of a way to help." She put a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "I'm sure you'll think of something." "Heads up!" came Wario's call, alerting them that gamers had come in and were heading their way.

"Aw c'mon, we gotta at least have one race!" A young man bounced excitedly as he approached the Mario Kart game. His dark brown hair was dyed with bright blue tips, the tight curls looking like ocean waves. His companion had bright red hair that flowed as she walked, looking like flames when the sun from the windows hit it. She couldn't help but roll her eyes as she took the other seat and accepted the quarter from him. "Fiiine, but then you gotta at least try Fix-It Felix Jr with me. Deal?" He shook her hand. "Deal. So, who you gonna pick? Princess Peach?" She snorted. "You know I don't go for that princess hype. Bowser's my dude!" she selected the Koopa King, grinning as he roared and shot off a few fireballs. "Lemme guess, Mario for you?" "Ehh I think Luigi this time, gotta give him a fair chance." "Wade, you are an absolute softy." Wade smirked. "You know you love me, Emm." They bantered back and forth for the entire race, with Wade winning one out of three rounds. He pumped his fists in the air. "Score for the little guy giving it his all!" he cheered. Emm rolled her eyes again as she grabbed his shirt. "Hurry up! I'm gonna kick your butt again at a Felix challenge." Moving to the other game, Emma stood before the controls, but Wade stopped her before she put in the quarter. "Wait, how about a little wager?" he ventured. She turned, hand on her hip. "What do you have in mind?" "Best outta three, if you win, I go to that horror movie you were talking about." A raised eyebrow. "And if you win?" He grinned. "You know exactly what movie I'd want to see if I win." His reply made her groan and rub her head. "Wade, c'mon, you really wanna see the Mario Bros movie? With that voice cast? And Illumination of all companies..." Felix perked up. "Mario movie?" he whispered. "It'll be fun! Do we have a deal or not?" Thinking it over, she gave in. "Alright, deal." She reached up and putting a hand on his cheek, gave him a light kiss. "And even if I win, I'll watch the Mario movie with you once it's on the internet." Dancing a cheerful, giddy dance, Wade then stepped aside with a bow to allow her access to the game.

It wasn't much later that Wade stepped away from the game as Ralph was tossed off the roof. A smirk was wide on the young man's face as he folded his arms. "So, about that movie?" Emma sighed and shrugged. "All right, but if I end up with mental trauma from this, I'm blaming you." The two wandered off as a family group entered the Arcade and the day got into full swing. By the time closing time rolled around and the 'all clear' was sounded, everyone was more than ready to relax. Stretching, Felix popped his back with a yawn. "Hoo boy, what a day." "You did great today, buddy!" Ralph praised. "You wanna hit up BurgerTime?" "Thanks, but not tonight, Ralph. I gotta get to Mario and Luigi's for dinner." Waving to him as the tram left, Ralph was joined by Q*Bert and the two watched as the tram vanished from sight. "^%$@?" "Kinda, sounded like they wouldn't be alone though." "&%^$#! )+*^?" Ralph paused, then looked down at his little friend. "That's crazy," he replied, "Felix would obviously wear the wedding dress."

Making his way to the Mario Kart port, Felix rode the tram and exiting at the little station, took the path beyond the castle. Reaching the hidden Toad Town, he couldn't help but stop and admire the sight. The game developers had originally planned a full story mode for the game, so the entire town was programmed in along with the castle. The streetlights glowed as stars glittered overhead, only a few Toads out on the streets as the day drew to a close. Felix had to admit visiting the town was one of his favorite activities. The colorful houses and busy streets were a vast change from his own game even with the addition of Q*Bert and the others moving into newly built homes. Taking the path through town he tipped his hat and exchanged greetings with some of the Toads as he strolled to the house up on the hill that overlooked the town. Dusting himself off and standing straight, he knocked on the door. The red-painted wood swung wide, and the warm scent of cooking spices drifted out. Mario stepped aside, welcoming him in. "Come on in!" he said cheerfully. Entering, Felix felt himself relaxing in the cozy atmosphere. Music played softly from somewhere and he could hear Luigi whistling along to the tune. "Make yourself at home, dinner's not quiet done yet." Mario said as he shut the door. "Sorry if I'm a little early." Felix shyly apologized as he hung his hat up beside the other two. Mario held up his hand. "You're fine. Mr. Perfectionist in there kicked me out of the kitchen," Mario called this part around the corner, "and is taking his time." "You can't rush perfection!" Luigi called back. "Why do you think I was born second?" "Mamma Mia." Mario groaned as Felix laughed and followed him into the cozy little living room. Their guest waved to Luigi through the kitchen door and Luigi waved back. He was dressed in casual clothes and a bright green apron. Several pots simmered and bubbled on the stove in front of him. Mario shrugged. "Eh, at least he's good at it. Better than me, that's for sure." "Flatter me all you want; you're not getting a double dessert!" Luigi called out, hearing him. Their banter made Felix laugh. Joining Mario in the living room, the two kept the conversation light until Luigi announced dinner was ready.

Gathering at the small dining table, Felix was impressed at the feast Luigi had placed out. "Jeepers, Luigi, I might know how to fix a building, but you got me beat when it comes to fixin' food." Cutting into the lasagna and plating a slice, Luigi handed the plate to Felix. "Thanks! Gotta keep my bro fed somehow, he keeps so busy on and off the tracks he'd forget to eat if I let him." Mario scoffed. "So I get caught up in other things, can't blame a guy for keeping busy." Partway through the meal, Felix was curious. "Luigi, you mentioned being born second. Do you know more about that? About your family?" "Mmm, not really." came the reply. "Our," he motioned to Mario, "programming tells us we're from Brooklyn and twins with me being the lil bro. But family and stuff? Well..." "You're lookin' at it." Mario said. "It would be nice though, if we had a bigger backstory or more family. Even if we never got to actually meet them." Luigi reached for another slice of bread. "What about you? You got your magic hammer from your dad, right?" Felix's fingers lightly traced over the top of the magic tool. "Yeah, but I never actually 'knew' him. My programming only gave me the backstory of him giving me the hammer on my twenty-first birthday, then that's it. I don't even know what he looked like." A scoff as Mario took another bite. "Programmers, wish they'd think things out and give us really good stories instead of leaving us to guess." Instead of scolding him for talking around a mouthful, Luigi hummed in agreement. "Even a little more story would be nice, who our parents are, stuff like that." he added. "Something more than just our game's programming." The rest of dinner held a quiet, thoughtful tone that continued as Mario went with Felix to walk him home. Reaching the penthouse, they shared a tender kiss goodnight. Returning to the tram station, Mario ran into some of the Nicelanders as they returned from the main station. The group, led by Gene, mainly ignored him as they went past. All that is, except Mary. "Good evening, dear, you here to see Felix?" Mario tipped his hat to her. "Just saw him home from dinner at my place." He paused, recalling what Ralph had said. "Mary, do you mind if I ask you something?" She looked curious. "Go ahead." Mario took a deep breath. "Why don't the other Nicelanders like me?" Her face fell and she glanced back at the apartment building. "It's not their fault. They're just very protective of Felix. As for me, I'm just so thankful it worked out between you two." Mary confessed. "I don't think Felix could have taken the heartbreak again." "'Again'?" Mario questioned. Mary stared off towards the cabinet screen before gestering to the nearby station bench. Mario joined her as she sat down. "It was a one-sided romance, but oh," she sighed wistfully, "Felix had such a crush. Then everything fell apart." "Who was it?" Mario asked cautiously, a sinking feeling in his gut. "He was you, dear. At least in a way. The first and only other Mario ever in the Arcade. I'll never forget the day the game was plugged in."

A crowd gathered around the freshly plugged in game port, anxious to meet the newcomers. Felix stared in disbelief as he read the name over the port. "Super Mario Bros. Oh sweet mother of molassess." Felix nervously pulled his hat off in shy respect as four characters exited the port.

"We had all heard of the game, and the famous Super Mario," Mary explained. "But he wasn't quite what we expected..."

Stepping forward, Felix held out his hand. "M-Mario! It's so nice to finally meet you. I-I'm Fix-It Felix, Jr, from the game Fix-It Felix Jr." Mario shook the offered hand, his face set in an almost businesslike smile. "Good to meet you." he motioned to the others. "This is my little brother, Luigi, my friend, Toad, and this," he took the hand of the woman standing next to him, "is my girlfriend, Princess Toadstool." Wreck-It Ralph had been lurking in the shadows nearby, cautiously watching the gathering. He saw Mario shake Felix's hand and speak, then was alarmed to see something shift in Felix's expression, the joy replaced with an ache.

"Of course, back then her name wasn't Peach, not just yet anyway." Mary continued. "And believe me, those two were programmed for each other. Aside from openly talking about her, Mario was quiet, not like you at all." "What made him different, you think?" Mario was curious. Mary thought it over. "I think in his programming, he didn't have a story. A full soul like you do. Oh, he was nice enough," she added quickly, "but he was stiff, his main focus driven by the desire to win and save the princess. Eventually he got it in his head that his worries and emotions were getting in the way." Something Felix had once said came back to Mario. "I knew a fella who clipped his code. He was tryin' to focus only on his game, nothing else." "Mary, that Mario, he clipped his code, didn't he?" She gave a faint nod. "He didn't have the backstory you do. The day your game was plugged in, I knew you were different. You had this life in your eyes, an openness in your heart. You still do." She patted his hand. "That's why Felix held back for so long." she sighed. "The day that Mario clipped his code, oh that was a bad day. Everyone could feel it..."

"I don't like this," Gene muttered. "The whole Arcade feels off." He and a few other Nicelanders had gone with Felix out to Game Central Station after closing. Felix broke into a bright smile, taking off as he waved to someone. "Hi Mario!" Gene huffed. "He's never going to stop, is he?" "Give him a break, Gene, he's got a crush." Mary scolded. "Something's wrong." Don muttered. "Look." Felix had run up to Mario and skidded to a halt, taking a step back. "M-Mario?" The other glanced at him, blinked, then walked on. The look in his eyes sent a chill up Felix's spine. It was cold and empty. Other game characters stepped out of the way, muttering to each other as the figure passed by. Felix stared after him, stunned. The sound of sniffling made him turn and he saw Princess Toadstool leading Luigi out of the port, her arms around him as she spoke softly to try and calm him. "Luigi, what happened?" Felix asked. "Mario just went by and something's not right." A fresh wave of tears and Luigi sank to the floor. "H-He clipped his code!" he sobbed out.

"It was less than a week later; we woke to find the game had been unplugged with no warning. Everyone was wiped out." she finished sadly. "The news nearly broke Felix. It was no small mercy Litwak closed the next day and took time off because he caught a cold. It gave everyone at least a little time to recover." She paused, smoothing out her dress. "That's why Gene and a few of the other Nicelanders are a bit, well, rude. None of us want to see him hurt again." Mario's chest ached. "And here I almost did it all over again." he muttered. "No wonder he has nightmares." Mary lightly touched his arm. "Don't blame yourself for that, dear. Felix has had nightmares for a long time. Personally, I'm thankful he has you there for him now."

To be continued...

#fanfic #luigi #mario #super mario bros #lgbtq #wreck it ralph #fix it felix jr #nicelanders #Pixar reference #part 2 #long post #suggestive humor

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