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kentopedia · 8 months

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˚☽˚｡⋆ shining like gunmetal

dazai x f!reader, 3.0k words

summary — dazai comes home late, covered in someone's blood

contents — pm reader & pm boss dazai, references to violence / torture lol, sfw !!, the plot is basically cleaning blood off dazai

notes — i thought this would help me get pm dazai out of my system, but i fear i may have to write another nsfw piece for that

Each turn of the clock became longer and longer as you watched the seconds tick down, signaling that another minute had passed. The sun had long since set; your dining room was illuminated only by candles, creating a romantic ambiance throughout the penthouse.

Across from you, an empty seat sat, its usual inhabitant absent. An array of food scattered across the table, far too much for just one person to eat. Perhaps, even, there would be leftovers for days after.

Your housekeeper, Izumi, set the last plate of hot food on the table, her eyes nervous as she flitted back to you, then to the spot where Dazai usually sat. While her usual duties did not include cooking, you’d recruited her that evening, hopeful that she could help you prepare all of Dazai’s favorite dishes.

You'd just wanted to do something special for your beloved, and he wasn’t even there to enjoy it.

Steam lingered on each of the platters, but it was quickly wafting away, evaporating into the cool air of the Yokohama evening. All of your hard work over the past few hours would seem insignificant if the Port Mafia's boss didn’t return before the meal cooled completely.

You drummed your fingers against the table, trying hard not to give in to your annoyance.

“He’s late.” You spoke the words to no one in particular, an observation that anyone could discern with their own two eyes.

Still, you kept your gaze harsh on the empty seat, as if willing Dazai to materialize from thin air.

The comment still seemed to shake Izumi from a trance, even if it had been nothing more than the obvious. She twisted her fingers together, flattening her top farther over her waist band. Although she was one of the only people in the mafia that saw the softer side of Dazai, the one he reserved just for you, she was still overwhelmingly intimidated by him.

“I’m sorry, miss,” she said, even though you always reminded her that it was fine to address you by your name. “I can take it back into the kitchen and—”

You stopped her with a sigh, shaking your head before letting it drop into your hands. “No need. I’m sure he’ll be here soon,” you assured her, but it was already ten minutes past seven—the hour that Dazai had said he’d be back for dinner.

Usually, you wouldn’t have minded. You knew that Dazai was busy, that the tasks piled onto him were unending and overwhelming. Even though you hated seeing him overwork himself, it was always alright. He never took his stress out on you and always showered you with affection upon his return from a long day.

Tonight, though, he’d promised that he’d be there, right on time, for dinner. You agreed upon that hour beforehand, and he still hadn’t showed.

Izumi looked at your disappointed expression, knowing how much the small moments with Dazai meant to you. You never doubted that you were the most important person in his life, and you never would.

Despite that steadfast belief, you still ached when his work began to cut in on his time with you.

“Give him a couple more minutes,” Izumi said, smiling as she squeezed your arm gently. She was just a few years older than you, but there was a motherly glint to her eyes when she regarded you, her affection just barely veiled.

Over the past few years, you’d persuaded her to see you as more than just her employer, at the very least. There would always been a thin shield of professionalism between you, but now, you considered her something of a friend.

You dispelled all your irritation on a steady exhale and did as she suggested, waiting five more minutes. The heat began to dissipate from the cooling food, the plates and bowls no longer hot to the touch.

The time reached 7:15. Izumi returned from the kitchen again with a frown, wiping her hands on a cloth. “Is there anything you’d like me to do?” She asked, sympathetic to your spoiled night, her usually bright eyes dimming.

You stood, the chair screeching as you pushed it away. Though it seemed like such a small issue compared to all the other dilemmas you’d faced with Dazai, the burning desire of tears began to make its way up your throat.

You shook your head, standing taller, trying to remind yourself that someone proud enough to stand next to Dazai wouldn’t cry about something so inconsequential.

“I’ll take it to my room, if you don’t mind,” you said, and Izumi nodded, smiling at you, softly, but without the pity that she knew you hated.

She made her way to your seat, to gather up a plate to bring to you in a moment. Though, she didn’t get far in her task, and you didn’t make it out of the room. Seconds later, Dazai was pushing open the door, his footsteps sharp in the otherwise quiet hall.

You looked up at him, frowning, a complaint already parting your lips as you assessed his appearance.

Dazai’s shirt was undone, his hair a mess, stands stuck to his forehead, creasing at unusual ends. He was covered in blood from head to toe, the deep color staining his crisp white top. It had splattered against his cheek, his suit, even on his shoes, creating an intimidating vision of gore. The bandages around his wrists had loosened, soaked a muddy brown from the oxidation. Dazai’s tie had also been discarded, the dark silk peeking out of his pocket.

Despite the violence of his appearance, his eyes were soft as he headed to you, unbothered by anything else in the room. “I’m so sorry I’m late, my love,” he apologized profusely, his voice low and gentle, eyes crestfallen in a way that had you forgiving him on the spot.

Still, you pinned him with your gaze, letting him feel every second of those fifteen minutes you'd believed that he’d forgotten his promise. The distance between you felt cold, even when there was hardly any of it between you.

“You told me you’d be here,” you said with a frown. The food had continued to cool. All you’d wanted was to give him an ounce of kindness in his world of endless hurt.

“I know.” Bloodied, delicate fingers were on your elbow, barely grazing your skin as he attempted to ease you into him. “I really am sorry. I got caught up with something.”

You were no stranger to his definition of something.

Dazai began to lean in, hopeful that he could erase your worries with a kiss, but you held an arm out, keeping him away.

“Don’t kiss me with blood on your face,” you said, the bite only reaching the end of your sentence, even if it didn’t fully reflect your emotions. A desperate desire to be near him battled every move you made.

“It was an apology kiss.” Dazai's bottom lip curled into a pout.

You refused to be swayed by the vulnerability in his wide brown eyes. “I don’t want it.”

He glowered for a moment longer, trying to topple your pride. When he got nowhere, he gestured towards your seat, hoping you'd take your place once more.

“Fine,” he said dramatically. "I’ll pretend that didn’t hurt my feelings.”

You wrinkled your brow, displeased by the insinuation that you would carry on as normal.

Wearily, Dazai leaned against the chair, and waited. When you did nothing, he pushed it back in, eyeing you skeptically. “Do you not want to eat anymore?” He asked, frowning. It seemed he was not upset, but unsure of where you stood on the matter.

You made a face. “I can’t sit across the table from you and have a cheerful dinner conversation while you’ve got someone else’s blood coating your entire body.”

Dazai looked down, as if only realizing for the first time that he was stained ruby red. “The food will get cold, darling.”

“You should’ve been on time, then.” It came out more clipped than you meant it to, and Dazai just stared back, his expression terse as you communicated silently.

Izumi, finally, made her presence known as she cleared her throat, directing both of your attentions back to her. “I can warm it,” she said, darting her eyes away when Dazai’s piercing gaze reached her. “If you’d like.”

Dazai began to object, but you spoke over him, knowing his abrasive words would only upset her. Instead, you laced your fingers with his to drag him out of the dining room. “Thank you, Izumi. We’ll only be a minute.”

You shuttled him into the bathroom, and Dazai remained uncharacteristically quiet, gauging your mood as you shut the door behind the two of you.

“Sit,” you said, perching him at the edge of the sink. Dazai blinked, but said nothing. His long legs stretched against the cabinets, feet reaching the floor, even as he rested his weight on the countertop.

You maneuvered around the bathroom, opening cabinets and shutting drawers, feeling Dazai's watchful eyes on you.

“You look beautiful,” he said, smiling, allowing his infatuation to consume him completely, now that you were alone. “As always. That dress looks particularly stunning on you, though. You should wear it more often.” He tried to lure you in by the waist, but you dodged him once more, letting him huff in annoyance.

"Thank you," you said, barely above a whisper, and left him sitting in the bathroom alone.

Hastily, you returned to your bedroom, rummaging through his closet for a clean top. Though he had so many of the same styles, you settled on a silk, black button-up, one that would pair nicely with your own evening gown.

When you returned, Dazai was leaning against the mirror, eyes closed, the dirtied and discarded bandages ripped from his face.

Over the past few weeks, his hair had grown longer, curling around his jaw and over his eyebrows, thick and tangled from whatever damage he’d inflicted before coming home to you.

Yet, you softened at the sight of him so open, wishing you could take even an ounce of that stress off his shoulders.

As he breathed, evenly and slowly, you ran a washcloth under the water, warming it. You could feel Dazai’s eyes on you as you hummed, busying yourself with the task at hand.

“I can’t tell if you’re actually mad at me or not,” he said, and though he forced out a laugh, the concern in his eyes was more real than he wanted you to believe. “I really am sorry.”

It was almost amusing that this was the man everyone in the city feared. When people looked at Dazai, it was never with affection, never with the deepest humanity within your own heart. Even when he’d always had so much love to give, just nowhere to put it until he'd met you.

Perhaps, in another universe, life had been kinder to him.

You exhaled and relaxed, offering him the smallest of smiles. The wash cloth foamed with soap as you poured it, a fresh aroma of honey and vanilla fusing into the space between you.

“I’m not mad, Osamu,” you said, and he visibly relaxed, hooking his ankles around yours while you stood between his thighs. “I was more disappointed than anything. I hate missing out on time with you.” You frowned and brushed the hair off his forehead, tucking longer strands behind his ears. “Will you take a break every once in a while?”

Dazai melted under your soft touch, preening with a cheeky grin. “Of course I will.” He brushed his thumb over your cheeks, dark eyelashes fanning the sharp bones of his face as he stared, astonished by your care. “I’ve been busy this week, and I apologize. Just say the word, and I’m yours for a day, a week, a month.” He exhaled, unsteadily. “All you have to do is ask.”

You smiled, and though you wouldn't ask for so much time with him, not when things were so hectic with the mafia, it was nice to know that you could.

Slowly, you ran the cloth over the splattered blood, wiping it off inch by inch. His skin tone returned to normal, the deep red stain erasing.

“What happened this time?”

Dazai sighed, dropping his chin to his chest, releasing every ounce of cruelty from his being. It was so hard to reconcile the two sides of him. He was sweet to you, caring and gentle. But you’d seen him when he was out of your embrace, faced with an enemy, a subordinate that hadn’t followed rules. He so swiftly morphed into someone that was cruel, merciless, offering them a smile only in mockery.

“Some idiot was leaking information to another group,” Dazai said, tracing patterns on your hips. “If he would’ve been smart, he would’ve realized he never had access to anything of substance. I don’t know why risking his position with us was worth some extra pocket money.”

You frowned. “It took you this long to figure out his plans?” It seemed impossible that anyone could have something to hold over Dazai.

He laughed darkly, no humor within in. “I had a few eyes on him, but I was waiting for some definitive proof. He’s been here for quite a while, and he questioned why he never promoted.”

Dazai rolled his eyes, never understanding how people could be so foolish, could let emotions rule their decisions over logic.

You nodded, understanding as you wiped his lips clean, erasing all traces of blood from his pores. Once his skin was fresh, he leaned forward, capturing you in a kiss that nearly had you dropping the cloth back into the sink.

Dazai pulled away, smoothly, even when you had been left breathless. “Don’t worry about it, my love.”

“The mafia is important to me too." You scrunched your features. “If something’s going on, I want to know.”

Dazai smiled lazily, leaning back onto the counter, the picture of nonchalance. “If I really thought it was worth getting worked up about, I’d tell you.” He curled a piece of your hair around his finger, playing with it idly. “Why? You think I don’t trust my favorite girl?”

You stiffened, defensive, before releasing your shoulders once more, dropping your gaze to his chest. Slowly, you began to undo the buttons of his top, the threads so stained that it was beyond repair. “I don’t know, Osamu. You keep so many secrets. Sometimes I’m not sure.”

Dazai was quiet, eyebrows raised as he assessed you. When you reached the fourth button of his top, he grabbed your wrist, forcing your attention back to him.

“I don’t keep secrets from you, sweetheart.” He tugged you closer, curling the other arm around your back, skirting between your shoulder blades. Dazai dipped his head, tenderly kissing your fragile collarbone, the touch so airy that it sent your heart racing. “You’re the only person I really trust. If I thought you actually wanted to know every gory detail about the torment I inflicted, then I’d tell you.”

You breathed in, closing your eyes to steady yourself. It didn’t take much for Dazai to remind you of every reason you’d ever loved him.

“I don’t care about that,” you said as Dazai rested his forehead against your own, keeping his eyes on yours’ even when your gaze was pinned to his chest. He released his soft grip to let you continue your task, and you were swallowing, onto the fifth button. “It was just a passing comment.”

“Maybe so, but I don’t ever want you to think that I’m hiding things from you,” he said, fiercely.

You shrugged. “I would understand if there were things you couldn’t tell me. It doesn’t upset me.” When the shirt finally became undone completely, you slid it off Dazai’s shoulders, wadding it up into a ball to discard.

He straightened, replacing the dirtied white top with the darker, softer one. “I can tell you whatever I want.” He scoffed, sliding the black buttons through the holes. “I’m the boss.”

“I just assumed the boss would have highly classified information that had to be contained to a select group of individuals.”

Dazai made a face at you, like your statement was completely ridiculous. He stood to his full height, tilting your chin up towards him with one long, slender finger.

“Well then, someone should’ve told you that the boss’s wife is never excluded from that group." Dazai smiled at the flush on your cheeks when you allowed yourself to indulge in his touch. “You are my equal. There is nothing in this world that’s more important to me than you. Nothing of mine that doesn’t belong to you as well.”

Sometimes, you felt undeserving of his affection. It was hard to believe that the man who owned half the city would hand that power over to you willingly, if only you asked.

Though, that grain of doubt lingered in your mind was poison, and you would fight it for as long as Dazai loved you truly. Instead, you smiled, cupping his cheek before standing on your tiptoes to kiss his forehead. “Forgive me if I forget from time to time.”

Dazai laughed and shook off your grip so he could sling an arm around your shoulder. He was still wearing the dirtied pants, but the blood had dried, and your stomach longed for the meal that you knew was waiting for you. You could let it slide, if only this one time.

“I’ll try to remind you more often,” he said, lips grazing your temple. “I really am sorry I was late for dinner, angel. It won't happen again.”

You laced your hand with his own free one. The touch was backwards and awkward, your palm cupping the back of his knuckles. You just needed to be closer to him, to feel the touch of his warm skin and know that, for now, his time was only your own.

With a honeyed look, you whispered the words close to his ear, slow and seductive. “I’m sure you can find a way to make it up to me.”

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callsign-rogueone · 2 months

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a brief history of Navarre - x.r.

Xaden Riorson x marked!partner!reader (gn) Midterm week at Basgiath has you wanting to pull an all-nighter to study, but Xaden won’t let you. requested as part of my Valentine’s day celly 💕 (gonna be posting these well into March, oops) words: 745 🏷: no book spoilers and no triggers, just X taking care of his partner. established relationship between reader and Xaden. the reader wears one of Xaden’s shirts, but there is no description of how it fits on them (we bigger / taller girls are tired of reading that [character]’s clothes are soo oversized and long on us!) shoutout to the people who put a full timeline of the continent’s history online bc I was too lazy to find it all in my copy lol

“I’m calling it a night,” Xaden announces, closing his textbook. “Gonna go shower.”

You hum in acknowledgement, pen between your teeth as you read the same page for the fifth time tonight, still trying to cram six hundred years of history into your brain. You’ve been sitting on his floor for hours, and the lines of text are starting to blur together, words starting to look misspelled and foreign, losing their meaning with repetition.

You spent too much time reviewing the first fifty decades. You still have nearly another hundred years to cover, from 530 to present.

It has not escaped your notice that the book reduces the Tyrrish revolution to an afterthought, at the end of the text. The belittling words they’d chosen to describe your parents’ valiant effort had nearly been enough for Xaden to light the entire volume on fire, but he’d settled for ripping that page out of his copy and letting Sgaeyl torch it.

You’d left it in yours as a reminder that these people are not on your side, nor will they ever be.

The running water stops, Xaden stepping back into the room a moment later. “You’re still studying?” He asks, rubbing at his hair with a towel. “You must be really into that book if you aren’t checking me out right now. I’m literally dripping.”

He’s a little offended that you don’t even look up as you answer.

“This is important, Xay. It’s a third of our final grade.”

He dries his hands on his pants, taking the book from your hands easily -- your grip on it has loosened with your exhaustion.

You protest, but he shushes you. “Why did Poromiel not unite with Navarre after the great war?”

It takes you a moment to respond, pushing through the sleepy fog to find the answer. “Religious differences”, you reply tiredly. “And their king did not want to share his throne with Navarre’s.”

“Good. When was the second Cygni Incursion?”

“328.”

“And the second Krovlan uprising?”

“434.”

He shuts the book, gathering your notes into a neat stack. “You know this stuff, darling. You’re going to pass this exam with flying colors and set the curve for the whole class, but only if you get some sleep.”

Materials now confiscated, you have nowhere to look except up at him, and your resolve immediately starts to crumble.

He’s ready for bed, dressed only in a pair of black sweatpants that drape across his hips and cover the muscle of his legs, but every other inch of skin is exposed; the relic swirling up his muscled arm, the definition of his chest and stomach, the broad expanse of his shoulders…

You’re too tired to jump his bones right now, but it would be nice to stop, to cuddle up with him, to fall asleep in his arms. Your schedules are packed with classes, studying, training, his wingleader duties, and your responsibility for the younger marked ones. It’s been nearly a week since you’ve been able to hold him for more than five minutes. His skin is always so warm against yours, and his mattress is certainly more comfortable than the hardwood floor…

You hesitate, still eyeing the book in his hands. “I don’t know…”

“Yes, you do. C’mere.”

You sigh, letting him pull you up from the floor. Your muscles sing in relief as you stand, your back aching from being hunched over for hours. You relax into him, resting your eyes for a minute.

“Go brush your teeth,” he encourages.

You don’t want to move from his arms, but three years of dating the boy has taught you that he won’t yield on matters of your health. You sigh, heading to the bathroom.

When you get back, he’s packing everything into your bag for tomorrow — or today, rather. You’d started studying after dinner, and now it’s well after midnight.

He helps you out of the day-old clothes and into one of his shirts and a clean pair of underwear -- you keep a few days of necessities here for moments like these.

You curl into his side, pulling the blankets overtop of you, and the swirling thoughts are replaced with the easy contentment that comes with being held by your partner.

“You’re going to do great,” he whispers, smoothing a hand over your back. “Just get some rest, okay?”

You don’t respond, already lulled to sleep by the steadiness of his heartbeat and the warmth of his arms around you.

#xaden riorson #xaden riorson x reader #fourth wing #fourth wing fanfic #reader insert #fourth wing x reader #mine

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k4marina · 9 days

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— ii. Dragon Rider || Heart of the Dragon

synopsis: a new routine in a new world

warnings: idek lol. unedited and not properly read (i kept falling asleep lmao)

series masterlist

~ 2.5k word count.

game of thrones x modern!fem!reader

[gif found on pinterest]

Never in my life have I regretted anything more than I did now.

“Me and my big fucking mouth,” I grunted, getting up from the ground and dusting my leather pants. Gray Worm looks at me with a slightly amused expression. Of course he would, he just dropped me onto my ass for the fifth time today.

It had been almost two weeks after the Small Council meeting. There had been a few more since then, but no major topics were discussed, other than Varys begrudgingly backing what I had said about Cersie having scorpions when asked if his little birds had any news. The new armor and weapons for the Unsullied are also being made. After a few talks with Daenerys, Gray Worm, a few Unsullied commanders, and I, the new armor design was decided on. Surprisingly the Unsullied were very artistic people and had great ideas.

And, within the past two weeks, I’ve been tortured everyday, my limbs aching all the time, threatening to fall off. Everyday, I’ve been woken up at four in the morning for my sword lessons with Gray Worm for five hours a day. When I said I wanted to learn, I didn’t mean I wanted to train to be the world's best swordsman of all time.

“You’re enjoying this way too much,” I say towards him, wiping away the sweat on my face.

“I have no idea to what you are referring to, My Lady.” Gray Worm says, feigning innocence.

“You can’t call me ‘My Lady’ and then drop me on my ass for the fifth time.” I pointed out.

Gray Worm smiled and got into a fighting stance and I mirrored. “Your defense has gotten better; however, your strength and stamina is lacking.”

He gave the signal and charged towards me, going to swing towards my left. I sidestepped and blocked the hit with my sword before knocking it back. This time, I went for the attack, but Gray Worm expertly blocked me and knocked the sword out of my hand. The sword clattered against the stone ground, landing a few feet away from me.

“Maybe it’s best we stop for today.” He says, picking up the sword and placing it back onto the rack. I let out a sigh of relief and walked over to the inches, grabbing a towel and wiping the sweat away from my face and neck.

“Be honest,” I said, turning towards him. “Am I a lost cause?”

He snorts out a laugh and shakes his head. “Apologies, My Lady.” Once he’d composed himself he answered, “No, I do not believe you are a ‘lost cause’. It may seem difficult now, but it will get easier later on.”

“Wow, wise words,” I said sarcastically, taking a swig of water from the canteen. “They should call you ‘Gray Worm the Wise’.”

“I’m pleased that you think I am someone with wisdom.” He says, giving a small bow, making me chuckle.

After the lessons, I took a bath in my room, this time with the help of the servants. The first few days I would have them leave so I could bathe myself, but I guess over the days it just naturally happened. Once bathed and dressed in a white dress with gold embroidery and pearl beads before I made my way to the hall to have breakfast with Daenerys.

Not only was it a good way for us to get to know one another (mainly her learning about me) as well as discussing future events and how we would maneuver through it. However, not all of it. I had made the decision to not tell her about Jon Snow or the White Walkers, I think that’s something she should organically go through. All she knows about Jon is that he’s the King in the North is Jon Snow, Ned Stark's “bastard” and the former Nights Watch Lord Commander who came back from the dead.

The doors to the hall were swung open for me and I walked in, spotting Daenerys at the head of the table, looking through some documents. The sound of the doors closing, snapped her out of her thoughts. When she saw me she smiled, which I returned.

“What did I say about bringing work to the dining table,” I lightly scolded. She gave me a sheepish look and protested, “it can’t be helped, it's important work. As Queen I’m expected to do this and more.”

I walked over to her, carefully taking the documents and setting them off to the side. “Dany, you’ve been a Queen since you married Khal Drogo. You need to step back and take some time to just be Daenerys. Otherwise you’ll grow overworked.”

“Alright, alright. If you’re so sure.” She nodded towards the servants to begin serving the food. Like always, an array of food was laid out for us to eat. We both began to eat, making small talk and updating each other with any new updates.

“Gray Worm has been telling me that you’re quite exceptional with a sword,” She teased.

I playfully rolled my eyes, groaning, “not you too.” She let out a laugh, teasing me some more. “What? He says you’re a fast learner. He says he’s never seen someone land on their arse five times in a row.”

“Right, that’s it.” I huffed. “I’m running away.”

Daenerys laughed some more and I tried to hide my smile. Truthfully, she reminded me of my younger cousin in Volantis, Mera. Both of them had a heart of gold and an innocent child-like soul deep down.

“The servants told me that you refused to have your hair braided.” Daenerys points out. She’s not wrong. Instead of braiding my hair I opted to leave it in a ponytail or let it down.

“Well, I haven’t won any battles.” I said. “Each one of your braids represents a battle won, I haven’t won anything.”

“So if you win you’ll braid your hair?”

“Sure, why not. Why? Do you not want me to?”

“No, no. Actually, I would quite like that.” She smiled.

I eyed her suspiciously, “don’t tell me you’re planning on putting me in the frontlines.”

She shrugged. “Maybe. Your lessons with Gray Worm are going well. Who knows, by the time we’re ready for war you’ll be a master swordsman –or rather swordswoman.”

The rest of the breakfast went fine. Daenerys and I decided to take a stroll around the castle ground claiming she has something to show me. She dropped off the papers in her office before taking me through the back of the castle to the open fields in the back. The wind swept by us, carrying the saltiness of the ocean and the fresh scent of grass.

“Where are we going?” I asked as she led me deeper into the field.

“I just wanted to show you something. They’re right over there.”

We stood atop a hill and at the foot of the hill on the other side resting were Daenerys’ dragons. I felt my heart stop. No way. What the actual fuck. My mouth ran dry as I looked over the three dragons. Drogon, Rhaegal, and Viserion, all in their full glory. I looked over to Daenerys who was already looking towards me.

“You’re serious?” I ask. She smiles and nods. “What if they don’t like me and decide to eat me?”

Daenerys laughed, her cheeks turning pink. “They will do none of that sort, I swear. I have a strong feeling that they will like you.”

Carefully she led me closer to the three dragons. With every step they just grew more and more. They towered over the two of us and stood with immense power. And to think that these three are just a small fraction of the size of Balerion and the rest of the Targaryen fleet.

We stood a few feet away but I could still feel the heat that they emitted from their bodies. Their majestic eyes that were probably the size of my head watched me carefully. Shiny scales adorned their bodies that looked to be about the size of my hand or bigger. Their one claw nail was the same size as my limbs.

Holy fuck was this crazy. I’d read about these dragons and even saw a few drawings made by people who’d seen them in textbooks, but being this up close and personal with them was a whole other experience.

Oddly enough, for such dangerous creatures, they seemed to emit a sense of calm.

“You feel it too?” Daenerys eyes my reactions to the dragons. “Their calm.”

I nodded. “I thought my heart would be doing somersaults in my chest, but it’s not.” After the initial shock, I felt my body relax.

“They’re so beautiful.” I said to no one in particular.

We hung around them for some time, allowing me to get used to their presence while Daenerys told me stories about her and her dragons.

I looked over the dragons. Drogon, named after Daenerys’ husband Khal Drogo. Rhaegal, named after Rhaegar the Dragon Prince. Viserion, named after Viserys the Beggar King.

Daenerys followed my gaze to the cream and gold scales dragon that laid on the grass alongside his brothers. Viserion and Rhaegal seemed to play fight while Drogon watched.

“Despite their playful nature, those two are the oldest.”

“What?

The dragons carefully made their way over to where we stood. Drogon moved towards Daenerys, moving his tail around her as if giving her a hug. Rhaegal moved around behind us, opting to lounge. Viserion, however, moved closer to me. His green eyes bore into mine, as if it was trying to communicate with me.

He brought his face closer to me, like a dog wanting to be pet. I glanced back at Daenerys who nodded.

Viserion tilts his head when I carefully bring my hand up to stroke his gold and cream scales. A deep purr comes from him, nearly startling me. He nuzzles his head into my palm and purrs some more. It wasn’t like a cat's purr, more like a deep bass.

“Would you like to fly him?” Daenerys asks.

“Yes,” I replied without a thought, too entranced at the dragon in front of me.

She moves around Drogo, standing to the side of him.

“Stand like this,” she says. “This is what I find the easiest.”

I mimic her stance, standing besides Viserion. Drogon crouched down and Daenerys carefully stepped up, using his scales and spikes to seat herself atop the dragon.

I copied her, being careful to not hurt Viserion (not that I’d be able to) and sat myself on top of the gold dragon. It was uncomfortable, almost like riding a really large horse with spikes and scales. How Daenerys was able to ride her dragons without a saddle or harness was beyond me.

My hands gripped onto the spikes on Viserions back, holding on tightly as the gold dragon began to shift around from a crouched position to fully stand. My hands gripped onto him tighter as I tried not to fall off. I peaked over its massive body to see that Viserion was getting ready to take off.

“W-wait!” I looked towards Daenerys who was watching from atop Drogon. “Why is it taking off? What do I do?” Panic filled my voice.

There was no way in seven hells that she thinks that I can fly, right?

“Hold on!” She grins just as Drogon takes off into the sky. VIserion gets ready and I can already feel myself slipping off. He takes off just as I adjust my position, hunching down and tightening my grip onto his spikes.

Wind rushes past my ears and my hair flows all over the place. Instinctively, I closed my eyes while Viserion flew in the air. I could hear Daenerys call for me from across the sky.

“Open your eyes!” She says. “You’ll be safe, I promise.”

Carefully, I opened them. It was brighter up in the sky than on the ground and had a lot less clouds. I could hear the, surprisingly, gentle flaps of Viserions wings. I cautiously looked down, seeing that we were miles off the ground, so far up that we could see Dragonstone Island and I could feel my stomach start to buzz.

“Don’t look down,” I look up to see Daenerys. “When it was my first time I was terrified, as well, but you cannot let your fear control you or else it will transfer to your dragon.”

I nodded, taking in her words and sitting up straight with confidence. Despite still feeling uneasy I managed to get my grip on things (literally). Daenerys’ words rung in my ears.

“Your dragon,”

I’d read of Dragons bonding with non-Targaryens or non-Valyrians, case and point being Hugh Hammer riding Vermithor during the Dance of Dragons. But it would make sense if I could bond with Viserion in light of recent findings.

“Alright, let’s see what we can do.” I said to Viserion and I.

—

Daenerys and I spent the rest of the day riding our dragons. It was challenging, especially the part where you literally have to hold onto for dear life, but rewarding in the end.

In the end Viserion and I had truly bonded. He would know what I was thinking or how I was feeling without even saying a word to him. At first I thought it was just the two of us getting the hang of each other, but Daenerys explained that this was what she and Drogon felt. It was hard to believe that I was a Dragon Rider. But then again, this past week has shown that anything could be possible.

Getting off the Dragons was harder than getting on, my dress snagging on its scales, but not ripping entirely.

“I can help you with your riding,” Daenerys says as we walk back into the castle.

“I’d like that.” I replied. “I’m sure we can find books in the libraries that can help us too.”

“Have you uncovered anything else?” She asks, expectantly.

I shook my head. “Nothing of significance. I’ll keep reading and let you in on my findings.”

We split off so we could clean ourselves up and get ready for dinner. The bathtub was already ready for me when I entered the room. I pulled off my dress and sunk into the steaming hot water. The tension in my shoulders loosened and I dipped my head back to rest on the edge of the bathtub.

The weight of my necklace lay heavy on my chest, a firm reminder of my… predicament. I tried not to think about it all, otherwise I’d just spiral into some rabbit hole. Some days I wonder if it’s all some sort of dream. A long, vivid dream that I can't wake up from. A knot pulls at my chest, and my throat closes. My eyes flicker up to the ceiling, tears threatening to fall. I took a deep breath, the only thing I can do is take everything in day by day.

And then I fully submerged myself into the water.

a/n: finally, it’s here :) mb if there’s any spelling mistakes, i tried to proofread it but i kept falling asleep and couldn’t be asked anymore 😭 i’ll fix it later, trust 🙏.

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aconflagrationofmyown · 8 months

Text

Even Goldish in the Privacy of Bowls do it

A Sarge & lil Mama episode

circa 1966 (yes this got moved a little from original shooting time of the movie hinted at here-in, shh)

Elvis Presley x original character -chart refresher for kid’s ages HERE

Warnings: 18+ -y’all, this is perhaps my most unhinged attempt at chaos yet. Finally we’re getting to see more of the kids, maybe more than wanted when a man’s just trying to grab a quickie in the shower with his wife. Warnings include unhinged family chaos, filthy smut, Elaine using firearms, brief mention of animal death by gunshot, brief mention of implied young children sleeping in their parents bed/bedroom while past sexual activities may have taken place, and -PLEASE NOTE- multiple references to an eating disorder on Elvis’ part. Troubling issues like this are integral to him and his mindset at the time so I include them, but please be aware there’s language in here that’s dismissive and condoning at times by certain individuals, just as it’s pleaded against by others. Along with brief body issues and shaming. Just a caution.

Word count: 12k -hope ya missed my tomes lol

Thanks: ever so much thanks is owed to many for their help and support but particularly to the dolls who made this so much better worse with their suggestions. Calling out @missmaywemeetagain @elvisabutler @eliseinmemphis @ab4eva @stylespresleyhearted

Summary: when Elaine visits the Colonel’s bungalow early on a Hawaiian dawn to defend her man and his appetite for her fried chicken -bringing along a loaded firearm for emphasis- the pelicans aren’t the only things startled.

Seven o’clock in the balmy hours of a Hawaiian morning, a solitary gunshot broke the peaceful silence and sent the beach birds squawking into the jungle’s dense foliage.

As seven AM was an ungodly hour of the day to expect anything from a human being, Elvis Presley was still in bed, asleep, and finally settled into that sorta circadian rhythm that helped him sleep through nightmares, alarm clocks, voracious wives and the pokes and prods of three to five children in his bed.

But a gunshot was jarring enough he swam to the surface of consciousness long enough to fling an arm out and pat Laney’s sweet ass and mumble an inquiry as to wether she had any clue why someone was shooting a gun in fuckin’ Hawaii. Especially as he, the only one likely to do so, was, quite obviously, in bed with her.

Except Laney’s sweet flesh wasn’t anywhere to be grabbed the more he flailed his arm in the cold sheets and, with a sudden bolt of terror, Elvis sat up and searched about the room only to find her gone. Jack was, predictably, still clinging to the same pillow Elvis had mistaken as her. He felt a little validated by that.

Two more gunshots punctuated his growing alarm and before two seconds had passed he was flying out of bed despite the way Jack’s legs clung to him and he exited the bungalow door with nothing but his silk night shorts on and espadrilles.

“Laney? The hell are you, woman?” he bellowed out the veranda with caring bravado.

No answer. Which didn’t mean much but it was harder to shake shit like this since the recent uptick in hate crimes and the way those girls had jumped her at their own gate last summer. His knuckles ached at the mere memory of the pummeling he’d given those tarts’ car hood. Nothing funny or harmless about it.

“Laney!”

Jesse barreled out shortly after and stood beside Elvis with a mimicking pose of concern, staring out at the beach with his hands on his hips, surveying the glittering water in the fresh sun’s rays and the undisturbed sand for miles. She wasn’t anywhere to be seen for that long stretch of golden beach.

“You seen your mother?” he asked Jesse sternly.

“No sir, didn’t hear her go out either. She not in bed?”

“No, and I didn’t hear her either. Neither did Jack and he’s always wound round her like a sloth to a branch.”

“Maybe she’s the one doin’ the shootin.” Jesse ventured with a mild expression of hope.

Father and son were both recalling when Elaine had given Elvis ample complaint and ample warning to do something about his reprobate pet chimp and when nothing was done and a child was harmed, Laney stalked into the den where Elvis and the boys were going over rehearsals and asked if he’d like to do the honors of shooting the damn monkey. When he laughed her off she trumped upstairs and the next thing Elvis knew was Tink clipping past the den and out the front door in her heels with his shotgun in her hand, while poor, unfortunate Scatter was being carried by the scruff of his sailor costume.

By the time Elvis caught up with her she’d put five holes in the hairy little pervert. To be perfectly honest he was aghast at such overriding of his jurisdiction but it didn’t prevent him from appreciating that when she meant business, she meant it.

So, it was plausible Laney was shooting something at seven am, and that was one of the reasons Elvis loved her. The only trick was, there was no Scatter here, no enemies in the general vicinity for her to be shooting at.

Elvis commented as much to his young son in grave deliberation.

“ ‘Cept for the colonel.” Jesse pointed out blithely and at that excellent observation all of Elvis’ blood felt like it rushed to his brain and pounded within like a tribal drum.

“Oh sweet merciful Jesus-“ Elvis wheezed and took off from his porch in a sprint along the beach hedges, towards the colonel’s adjacent bungalow, the roof of which -now that he was looking- appeared to have smoke coming out of its abnormally saggy thatch.

“She didn’t like it when he called ya fat yesterday!” Jesse was still hell bent on a little redeeming PR and Elvis waved at him with the back of his hand in acknowledgment that, if Laney was murdering, it would be for him.

And his fat self.

And for the reputation of her fried chicken that Elvis had been laying off of ever since he got so damn pudgy no director would hire him without contractually asking for a little casual bulimia on the side.

It was all part of the business, the snow job of an available and attractive man made harder by the real life presence of a wife and brood of children. The addition of a decidedly fatherly gut wasn’t gonna make them money.

He got it. Laney didn’t.

He tried to jog faster through the sand before she put her fingerprints all over the scene.

Inside the bungalow Elaine fanned the smoke out of her face with red tipped fingers and kept her diction very clipped as was most effective with this self consumed weasel.

“Am I understood? No more sedation and no more starvation and stop recommending those damn uppers that keep him buzzing while his body goes undernourished.”

Elaine still gripped the shotgun barrel, right there by the racker thingy but Parker had watched this woman long enough to know that if he agreed, then she would be pacified enough, he’d live to see another day.

“I get you, Mrs. Presley,” he assured in a pleasing tone, one that always suggested she started this long war between them, “no more. It was the business I was thinking of, it is my role. And yours is to nurture. You cannot expect me to have the same leniency as a wife, but I bow to your superior discretion.”

“You’ve kept him from home, colonel, robbed him and my children of valuable time together just because he knows he’ll be tempted to eat when he’s home. You’re a cruel, heartless Scrooge, that’s what you are. And this ain’t over.”

“It was merely business, Elaine.” he looks close to crying and she feels tempted to blast another shell into his roof.

“It's not your fault Colonel,” she steadied herself and he always liked how she was not so emotional like some women, even if she was icier than Elvis would ever admit, “I wouldn’t expect you to know what appeals to women, you never had the chance to appeal to them yourself. But I’ll tell you now, just for your excelsior betterment, some women like a sturdier man, some women like more cheeks on their husband, and your gravest omission when thinking of his appeal -a slight ponch rubs ever so delightfully on a woman’s clitoris when making love. You have heard of those, haven’t you? Maybe not, I’ll leave you to peruse the encyclopedia. It’s under C.”

Elvis got smacked in the face by the opening door as she stepped out right as he barreled in.

“Good morning honey, why on earth are you awake?” she greeted blithely as the door swung behind her and she raked his bed head back into place with her hands.

“Because you were shootin’ up the damn island.” he cried, “The hell’s goin’ on, Tink? You kill the colonel?”

“No. Of course not.” she rolled her eyes, “I’m just on a roll, keeping varmints in their places. It was his turn.”

“What’s he done wrong?” Elvis was aghast.

“Oh honey we haven’t got the time for all that on such a perfect morning.” she laughed instead, “C'mon back to bed, when you wake up again I’ll make you your favorite.”

“I can’t have flap jacks right now, Laney, you know that.” he mumbled sullenly as they turned back to the path leading to their own bungalow.

“Yes you can.”

“Says who?”

“Says the woman who owns ya before God, that’s who.” Elaine retorted sharply and he sucked in a breath in appreciation of the vindictive mood still clinging to her. He should chastise her for her language but right now he didn’t wanna shift the mood. The racked gun at her side may have added to the thrill a little.

“You’re real pretty totin’ that thing around in just your kaftan.” he complimented

“Oh Naughty.” she breathed, a little blush flaring on her face. His simple little sweetnesses still getting to her far more than any of his wiles or spice.

“Really, just so pretty, sun’s gettin’ in your hair like it’s what it got up to do this mornin’. S’all gold.”

“Oh naughty, hush.” Elaine felt a fit of compliments coming on and was a little rusty at receiving them, truth be told.

“Why can’t I tell ya you’re pretty?” he laughed.

“You can.” she shook her head in amusement and tried to keep walking but his narration stalled her a few steps down the path.

“Your legs are gold too.” he was saying “Is this like your witchin’ hour or somethin? Do I gotta get up at ass crack a’dawn to catch ya like this?”

“I am in a kaftan, Elvis. And this is hawaii, hardly a new sight.” Elaine laughed herself.

“Yeah, and the sun sure goes right through it.” he was admiring the way her legs were shapely shadows under the cream linen, the illuminating ball of fire in the sky giving him a little show. “Is this how early I gotta get up to see this?”

“You’re sleep deprived, that’s why you’re so astounded by a woman in a kaftan, c’mon and I’ll help ya get back to sleep.”

“No, no I don’t wanna go inside yet.” he objected like a child in the middle of his construction when the dinner bell goes off, “There’s kids inside.”

“Yeah there are.” Elaine’s lip curled in wry amusement.

“Colonel gets ya alone but I don’t.” he wasn’t saying it accusingly, just a contemplative pout and Elaine shaded her eyes to watch his face as he stood in front of the glittering ocean, so bright its reflective rays were almost painful this early in the day. “Why’ve we got so many damn kids.” he joked, “Hardly see ya.”

“Aww well I’m here now.” she was touched and a little confused by this mood but she sauntered up to him, leaning the shotgun against a dune marker, and put her arms around him.

That seemed to be the right course of action as he gave her one of those soft little expressions that weren’t smiles so much as they were bashful little cheek scrunches of recognition. The extra cheeks on him made the expression almost intolerably cherubic. “You got up to blow his roof off but..” he can’t accuse her of not getting up to be with him, that was a damn lie, Elaine somehow managed a schedule that fit both the normal world’s waking hours and incorporated in his bizarre nocturnal clock, he very rarely was awake while she was asleep although the same couldn’t be said for him and this morning it nagged him, what little pleasant nothings he might be missing at seven in the morning.

“It don’t make a habit of it,” she reminded softly, “he just needed a talking to. It’s like spanking or putting a child to bed, never meant to disturb you and was gonna slip right back in next to you.”

“Yeah well, three gunshots kinda have the opposite effect, woman.” he shook her shoulders playfully.

“Well I think I got the message across.”

“What was the message?”

“I-“ Elaine paused to restructure her complaint into the mildest terms possible to preserve his sleepy temper and the peaceful scenery around them. “It’s kinda like you were saying with me! I miss you, the children miss you and it’s got nothing to do with movies and making money. You’re tired from the pills and from the starving and -lord, if I see you excuse yourself after one of my meals one more time just to hear you gaggin’ it right up, I’ll-“ she couldn’t quite finish that, wasn’t sure what she’d do but the most constructive thing she could think of after hearing it last night before bed was to visit the colonel and put some fear of God in him.

“How’d you-“ he scratched the back of his neck, sheepish.

“Oh heavens Elvis!” she pinched his cheek, “It’s the oldest one in the book for us women, when I didn’t shift the weight in two months after having a second set of twins it was recommended to me by all the other wives. Just because it’s old or common doesn't make it healthy and I’m just saying that if you’re unhappy and wanna fit in your old slacks then so be it, I’ll feed ya salads and cut down on the butter but there ain’t a single movie producer I’m gonna let stipulate or pay you to starve yourself. Sweet Jesus I- I know you like looking pretty but for god’s sake! You are! You are pretty, you’re Elvis Pretty Presley for the love of God and what are your children gonna think growin’ up watchin’ you treat yourself this way? It isn’t business, no! No! It isn’t! Hush up! It’s not! Business can be constructive or destructive and Christian business only builds up. Actin’ like a pagan by starvin’ your bodily temple that the Lord gave ya isn’t gonna sell us more movies.”

“You done?” he asked her after letting out a long whistle.

“No not quite,” she cooled her tone a little but stopped her hug to cross her arms and hug herself defensively, “Marlon told me they’ve been asking the same from him and he told them to go- well, you know. And they did. They’re still casting him in serious roles even if he’s not a breathing Adonis. They should be castin’ you in movies about human life not posin’ you like some cut out in a storyline.”

“Brando told ya this?”

“Yeah.” she said, “Because Brando’s manager does what he’s supposed to. I was just reminding the colonel that he is *your* manager which means he’s supposed to be your advocate not your damn jailor!”

“Sheesh alright,-“

“Elvis! It’s serious! I mean if Marlon-“

“God!- stop all this talkin’ about Brando, dammit!” Elvis bellowed and Elaine flushed bright red for an instant and it made him do a double take, thinking he saw a flicker of something new there but in an instant it was gone and -this was Laney, it couldn’t have been there in the first place, “Lord ya need to cool off.” he muttered.

He saw Elaine heave in a deep breath and cup her hand over her nose in that tell-tale way she had when she was regaining her control, started with the nose then the hand would go to the lips and then drop as she shook it out like casting out the damn emotions it collected before it fell to her side, diamond ring glinting in the morning light.

He wanted to say he missed her again, but that felt redundant. Instead he busied himself with observing how pretty she was and before he could voice that again, her eyes cleared and she smirked at him.

“Last one in is chicken.” she dared him before taking off over the sand, headed for the decently violent surf.

That was an old trick of hers, when shit became too real she just- played, instead. He felt it was for his benefit but maybe not, maybe it kept them both sane. He was as fond of the old trick as he had been the first time she pulled it in the studio back in ‘56. Elvis caught up to her about three paces from the surf and managed to swing her up in his arms and crash into the water together. After that first gasp inducing plunge and the salty sting up the nose, the water became a sparkling friend to them, and holding onto each other they surfaced and bobbed for a brief time, enjoying the sounds of the island waking up.

“So I guess I gotta get up at the crack a’dawn to do this with ya.” he griped again and pouted into her neck.

Elaine laughed and stroked the curling hair at the base of his neck, “If you want to escape the heat of the day and catch this lighting, then yes, yes you do. Otherwise, I’m here anytime you want me.”

“Why’d we make so many people!” his face puckered playfully for a moment, “I miss you!”

“I dunno, just sorta happened.” she fibbed herself and after a moment of disbelief he caught the joke and laughed too.

“I-I mean I try to be a good father-“

“You’re an excellent father .” Elaine butted in sternly.

“a-and part of that is bein’ with ‘em and I do try,” he laid his head back partially and let the water buoy him, “whatever you may say, I do try, but when I try I-I well, I let Daisy give me a haircut because she had her heart set on it and then when I get to the film set I’m told that was a ‘dis-reee-spectful’ thing to have done. I just can’t figure out how to manage what everyone wants from me. Just can’t figure it out.”

“Elvis, I don’t know why you’re caring so much what a half a dozen crusty old men say.” Elaine murmured, “Especially not when your wife finds your haircut rather fetchin’ and thinks the meat on your bones feel real nice when you’re up against me.”

“Oh?” Elvis tipped his head back up and seemed to register their close proximity for the first time. As if a switch had been flipped it seemed to be all his eyes could process, the material of her transparent kaftan clinging to what parts of her torso he held out of the water by his hold on her thighs and- Elaine thought it sweet how sometimes her man had a singular track in his mind and that was for sex, but just as singular could be some other focus and a near naked woman wouldn’t strike his as suggestive at such a time until he was made to notice. “Oh, Laney!” his eyes lit up as he surveyed his wife and then the coastline behind her, “Hell, baby, we’re alone, we’re genuinely alone!”

“I know.” her voice couldn’t keep from pitching low as she tightened her legs around his padded hips and watched in awed appreciation for the way his face’s coloring looked like it belonged in the blush splashed sea. “Seven am, for the lighting and for -the solitude.”

“Oh I like the lighting.” he muttered as if to himself as he swayed closer, eyes glued to her wettend lips. “And I like not havin’ all those damn people around. You get it don’t you?”

“Yes I do.”

“You tired of our friends?” he asked.

That could be trick question so she carefully shrugged it off, “Not really, you?”

“Not really just-“ Elvis pondered for a bit, his full cheeks squishing his mouth up and he looked the closest to his babyish self when he had married her than he had in ten years. “It’s just always so crazy ‘round us and I -I want more of this. Just not at seven am. I’ve got a naked woman in the ocean and I’m so sleepy I can’t even stay on track to get in her!” and he laughed ruefully.

“You can just kiss me?” she begged, “Kiss me and we’ll get you back to sleep.”

As if he knew what kind of his kisses she’d been missing most in this fast paced life -for Elvis Presley had many different kinds of kisses for Mrs. Presley- Elvis brushed her hair off her face with gentle care before thumbing at her throat, making her pulse jump from the swipe of his thumb before he brought his lips nearer and nearer as her own trembled and puckered in anticipation until after painful restraint those two plush pillows caressed her own. And stayed. And stayed.

Stayed until the screech of a car peeling out on the path they'd just abandoned made Elaine look up and she saw the Colonel’s conveyance speeding inland after breaking to view their little rendezvous.

“I’m sure we cut a rather scandalous figure in here.” she realized.

“Where’s the scandal when you’re married?” Elvis scoffed. “Besides, not even the paps want a picture of me when I’m this fuckin pudgy-“

“-oh not this again!” Elaine growled, kneading said pudge with vigor as if it would get her point through him better.

“Laney, you're sick in the head, we’ve established this already.” he replied, teasing yet not entirely unserious, “What appeals to you ain’t a rule for the rest of the world.”

“Ha.” she tossed her head back, “Let’s talk about trends then. The trend is towards beefier, hairier men, less of this pristine crooner image, more of the beefcake -Redford, Bogart, that sorta thing.” Learning her lesson on the beach, she omitted Brando from the list.

“Neither of those men are fat.��

“And neither are you.”

“But I don’t look like a star no more-“

“-oh, oh trust me,” she crowed, “if you got yourself a role where you could play a man, a real , raw, gritty man, theaters would be forced to change their seat cushions.”

Elvis scoffed again but asked again with helpless curiosity, “W-what kinda man? I mean, I’m playing real men, honey. Whadda ya even mean, Tink?”

Elaine kneaded his shoulders and pondered the earthy, sultry lines of his face and the heft of his chest beneath her hands, “A working man.” she admitted. “Salt of the earth working man. A man they show working. That’s what I mean.”

“Want me to play a mailman or somethin?” he rolled his eyes. “Real innovative, honey. I’ve been a race car driver, a-a-a Cowboy, I-I’m playin’ a pilot now-”

“I mean a hefty, strong working man who crawls out from under a sink he just fixed and lays a lonely housewife on her husband’s table and gives her something to keep her company at night.” Elaine rasped in his ear.

She felt the gust of his shocked gasp against her wet ear. “Hell, Laney,” he choked, “this-this somethin’ you wanna play?” he sounded scandalized and eager all at once.

“Always, when you’re ‘in this state’, my dear.” she murmured, thumping at his back significantly.

“Hell mama, I could lay you out good.” he swore, going back in for another searing, messy kiss.

“Is everything alright boss?” a yell from the shore startled them both and Elvis fumbled with his grip on Laney’s ass to lower her further in the water for modesty’s sake.

“You’re a lil late, Jerrah.” he snarked back at his friend who was investigating gunshots from fifteen minutes ago. “But yeah, yeah all’s fine.”

“Yeah, yeah ok,” Jerry hollered back, slowly backing away from the beach and up to the hedges, “I can see that. That it’s alright, I mean, like, I can see y’all are very alright. I mean, yeah ok, I’ll go.”

“Why’s he actin’ so prissy.” Elvis grumped but began to ease them both out of the surf anyway.

“You know why it is.” Elaine’s color heightened and Elvis’ grin grew wildly proud. “We were mauling each other a bit.”

“Oh you’re thinkin’ of those early days, hmm? Fresh back from Europe and alllll the world clutchin’ their pearls over how much we loved each other. Fuck ‘em.”

“Elvis!” Elaine prostested, amused yet aghast, “We gave them some cause!”

“Yeah buddy we did.” his tone held masculine admiration for the memories of leading Tink away to a darkened alcove in her pretty jewels and silks and taking her up against one of the ‘Cabana’s marble pillars. He’d had to move so slowly not to attract notice that it was practically cockwarming with a little jive to it.

“Don’t forget the boat.” she pointed out as if she knew he was hung up on another memory.

“Ooh, oh the boat.” he clutched his chest as if she’d brought up the fondest of memories and he was an old man reviewing the best in the twilight of his life, “God you looked so damn good in those photographs, Laney.”

“Elvis! It’s not a proud thing to be the first “indecent” photograph on the cover of Life Magazine.”

“We were fully clothed! They’d no idea what-“

“Yeah, yeah just a man casually playing hoola hoop behind his wife, I’m sure. That stupid captain’s hat,” she pretended to bemoan, “if you wouldn't have been wearing that I coulda resisted and we wouldn’t be on Life.”

“Five years ago, ‘bout time to give ‘em a refresher on the faces you make when lil Elvis is hittin’ the spot.” he snickered at his own joke as she swatted him towards the stairs to their bungalow.

“Five years is not sufficient to dim for me the awful talking to the colonel gave us that night.” Elaine retorted wryly and watched Elvis’ broad back shiver at the recollection before he jiggled up the steps in just his soaked silk night shorts. She stayed below for a moment just to enjoy the dripping, meaty sight of him.

“Lord mama, what was all that for? Was that you?” a wall of young voices hit them as they stepped into their house, five children in various stages of undress and sleepwear scattered around the front kitchen area and worked up by excitement to an ungodly level of energy this early in the morning.

“Yes, that was me.” she admitted cheerily and Elvis loved her for it. “Oh heavens, we forgot the gun-“

“I’ll get it mama!” Jesse was up out of his seat in a flash. “What’d you shoot with it?”

She kissed his forehead in a good morning greeting and soothed, “There was a varmint out back, kept me awake all night so I took care of it.”

“Oh, that’s real cool, mama.” Jesse’s eyes filled with admiration before he backed outta the screen door and flew down the path to get the gun in a blur of blue swim drawers.

“Cool.” Elaine repeated and tested the compliment on her tongue as Elvis laughed in a tired rumble that reverberated against her back as he clung to her like a sleepy child, one hand around her waist, his chin on her shoulder and his other hand busy stroking a clinging Rosalee’s head.

“Yeah, you’re real cool.” he insisted, his voice warbling.

“Outta sight.” Daisy offered from her place on the floor amidst a pile of crayons.

“Mhmm!” Elvis grunted, all gritty and revved up in her ear and she shuddered from something besides her wet kaftan.

“Alright, alright thanks.“ she batted the air like she could knock the compliments down that way, while trying to spin in Elvis’ hold. “Your daddy needs his sleep. Woke him up with all that racket, y’all be good and I’ll be back to fix food. C’mon Mopey, let’s get ya tucked in.”

“But Jack’s in our damn bed!” Elvis bawled.

“Not for long! He’ll be up for breakfast, come on baby, let me tuck ya in.”

“Can’t tuck me in the way I need when he’s there.” Elvis grumped.

“Oooooooh.” Elaine drew it out in understanding before turning back round to address their sleepy little audience gathered round the kitchen table, “Y’all get the flour and maple syrup out for me, your silly daddy dunked us in the ocean so we’ve gotta shower off. I’ll be back.”

“I know how to make pancakes mama!” Ella piped up, suddenly very awake.

“Alrighty then, pancakes it is.” Elaine smirked and saluted her before leading Elvis into the adjacent master bedroom.

“You’re showering with daddy?” Jack grumped from their bed, his stuffed whale toy clutched and his blonde hair scattered across the pillow, “I need a drink, mommy.”

“There’s this great thing called a water faucet in the kitchen, son.” Elvis snarked, now he was the one tugging Elaine.

“Well I can-“ Elaine began before finishing with a little scream as Elvis hauled her bodily into the bathroom with him.

“S’real bad to let the salt stay in your hair for long, Laney, you know this.” he tsked before addressing Jack as he slid the door closed, “Mornin’ Trouble, hope that pilla kept ya good company.”

“You’re awful.” Elaine snickered behind him as she adjusted the faucets. “Having a rivalry with your own son!”

“You like gettin’ fought over, don’t you even try to deny it.” he murmured, coming up behind her to kiss her neck -and help her remove her kaftan. “And I can dance better than him. So it’s a clear choice, lil mama.”

“Yeah, but he doesn’t give me half the trouble you do.” she grinned, making fun of his nickname for the poor kid.

“You’d be bored to death without it.” he growled and it sent sparks down her spine as his damp and slippery silk shorts rubbed against her butt.

There was a knock at the door. Elvis quickly left off his romancing and bodily picked up Elaine and set her behind the shower curtain in the steaming bath.

“What?” he asked of Jack, because of course it was Jack.

“You’re not in yet.”

“Thanks t’you,” Elvis laughed, “now what?”

“My whale wants to go swimming with you.” he held up his fuzzy sea creature.

Elvis took a very nasally breath and held it, “Jack, there’s a whole goddamn ocea-“

“Elvis!” came a rebuke from behind the curtain and only the thought of Elaine naked and slippery back there gave him fortitude to begin again, although in a mockingly patient voice:

“Jack, there’s an entire ocean out there for you and your whale to swim in. He swam yesterday and I’m sure mama’s gonna take ya this afternoon. Now go eat Ella’s pancakes. Good mornin’.” and he shut the door.

He tore into the shower so fast he didn’t even shuck his swim trunks, spurred by the image of Elaine lazily wetting her hair under the spray. She looked at him and at his dripping silk shorts and the outline of little Elvis poking needily out the waistband and bit her lip to suppress a grin. It was pretty gratifying to be so wanted.

“Did you lock the door?” she asked breezily and saw the exhaustion cloud his face once more.

“No.” he admitted and stared at the shower curtain while contemplating the door beyond it, “Nope, and if he comes in, it’s on him what he sees.”

“The kid has seen a lot and it hasn’t deterred him yet.” she laughed.

Elvis still stared at the curtain, “Yeah, maybe we should take him to see someone ‘bout that.”

“Oh hush,” Elaine smacked his belly, “couldn’t be hereditary or anything, could it?” she joked.

“I did not cockblock my father at every goddman opportunity!” he railed, playfully backing her into the tiled wall.

“Oh?” Elaine grinned, “That’s not how Vernon recalls it.”

“Vernon’s a bastard!” Six years after Jack’s birth and Elvis was still aggrieved by the suggestion that his doppleganger was anything like him. “Just makes that shit up to justify remarryin’ so fast, actin’ like mama weren’t the best thing that ever happened to his sorry a-“

“I know, I know.” Elaine soothed, regretting this line of conflict. “Just teasing.”

“Don’t tease.” he begged, kissing her under the spray, “I’m tired and I don’t want it.”

“Ok.” she assured, returning his smooches, “No teasing it is then. C’mon now, help me, step outta of them.” she kneeled under the fall of water and peeled away his shorts.

It was a gift every time, pulling the fabric away to see her man and that alluring place that all his costumes and paraphernalia teased but only she got to see at the end of it all. Those deep and skimpy tan lines that marked her territory versus the rest of him that the world saw, like a sovereign country’s borders. Thighs thicker than usual and soft brown skin stretching over his fuller belly, that dark thatch of hair so fastidiously trimmed and leaky lil Elvis collecting shower droplets on his bubblegum pink head. She shifted on her knees and licked her lips, so impatient to taste him she had to force herself to finish the task of untangling his shorts from his feet.

“Think he’s gone?” she asked Elvis as he stroked back her hair in anticipation, spreading his feet to get a stance that didn’t make him knock his knees and crumple at the first throat tickle she gave him.

“Awful quiet.” he shrugged, a whimper caught in his throat as Elaine shifted closer on the hard tile and peppered his stomach with kisses, kneading those handles of his on his fleshy hips and nuzzling the little crease he’d begun to show where he’d once been cut and firm. Her tongue darted out and traced those lines lovingly and the way she held him so firmly to her attentions and the sweet arch of her back beneath the spray convinced him to view such things a little gentler, a little less obnoxious while his Tink’s mouth was worshiping them so gently.

Down she went, lovingly nuzzling and licking a path across his creases and up his thighs, nosing as his balls and rubbing her cheek against him before opening her mouth and letting Elvis guide his throbbing length onto her tongue. He clasped her head and started a rhythm, a gentle and steady pump to the back of her throat which she knew by heart, and when the cadence had been perfected he let her be and grabbed the shampoo and lathered his own hair before tipping his head back in the water and washing the suds out. Then he poured out a dollop again and, rubbing it between his hands, began to massage it through her locks, lovingly swiping any run-off away from her eyes and swirling hypnotizing little circles into her scalp.

That made her moan. It sent the damndest spark to his very toes and he thrust in harder, hissing and smiling down at her. She was smiling back -around a mouthful of cock. And she looked so pretty doing it, there wasn’t a sweeter or lovelier face to be found when she was hollowing her cheeks and stretching her lips and batting her sparkly eyes. Savoring the feel of a man’s meaty weight in her mouth, letting him gag her with aplomb. The suds squished under his grasp as lewdly as the slurping sounds Elaine made when her gasps grew short and she tried to sneak in a breath or two between his thrusts.

“Hell laney, you’re prettier than you ever been.” he realized with his chest fit to burst from love for her, her and the way she massaged his thick sides and the way she always smiled when sucking cock. The way she blew the Colonel's roof off over a point of honor, “How’d I ever get so lucky.” he muttered, realizing suddenly that she reminded him of those early days, before the babies -any of the babies- back when she was toned and lanky and bare faced. She had the prettiest smattering of freckles when her makeup was gone, he swiped the shower spray from off them.

She looked a girl again, the girl who gave herself to him for safe keeping.

She was trailing one hand down her stomach, flat and firm again, and down and down till she was playing with herself, he could tell by the way her arm moved in time with her head. He rubbed at her scalp again.

Another moan. His toes curl. His spine ran like hot lava.

It had been three years since…a baby. That would account for the toned and lean look, he had a sudden epiphany. Felt a fool for it immediately after.

It maybe wasn’t what they wanted but something a little feral and fond flooded his chest at this old Tink. Something told him to marvel at her, marvel at her like he had in her soaked kaftan at the beach. He had a beautiful wife. Damn stunning and he just -he didn’t see her enough, he felt. Odd, that.

“Laney, laney, hold up.” Elvis tapped her jaw and pulled her off him, chuckling as she wheezed in a breath, spit and precum sputtering thick and shiny off her lips and caught herself against the slick tile wall as if she had sparks in her eyes.

“What baby?” she gasped with eagerness, playing with the suds on her breasts and looking up at him coyley, knowing that tone meant her man had a notion up his sleeve. Probably a dirty one.

“I-I-I w-wanna, I-I wanna see you.” he begged and when she still looked lost he clarified, “I w-w-wanna w-watch ya p-play wi’yeself.”

Elaine’s face flushed crimson in pleased gratification at his adoring tone and with one last look of skepticism at his bobbing and visibly pulsing cock, asked with soft eagerness, “How’d’ya want me, daddy?”

Oh lord, it had been awhile since they played this game and his heart skipped a beat in anticipation. “Want ya to lay down on the tile, baby,” he instructed and watched as she sank back on her haunches without argument, slowly spreading her legs and scooting down until she was laying amongst the swirling suds, “Now, I-I-I w-want ya to spread your legs, baby, nice and wide f’me.”

Elaine did as asked, her hair swirling out in the eddy of water, her belly a canvass of sprinkles, letting her right foot push into the encroaching shower curtain a little, feeling a draft of the cold outside air rush in. “Like this?” she asked, her mouth dry from the sight of his bulk standing in a straddle above her.

“Jus’ like that.” he nodded down at her, his eyes darting all across her beautiful shiny self as the spray pelted down on her after breaking across his body, “Now this next part’s important to get right, Tink. Ya gonna be a good widdle bitty f’me, ain’t ya?”

“Yes daddy, I’d do anything for you, anything at all!” her voice rose.

“Then you spread those pretty pussy lips for me,” Elvis directed, “wanna see your itty bitty rosebud, gonna let the water do the teasin’ for us. Wanna see ya cum from the drip.”

Elaine did as she was told and stretched her labia, sucking in a breath as a small jet of water landed on her teased vagina. “Ooh, l-like this?” she hoped, sucking at her lip, trying to get on top of the teasing sensation.

“Fuuuck yeah, oh fuck, ‘xactly like that.” Elvis’ eyes were glued to her wobbling little petals, battered beneath the shower stream as he began to strip his cock with cruel, tight jerks of his wrist. Elaine nuzzled his ankle and glued her own eyes to his heavy sack, swinging above her in perfect view as it tightened up, guarded by those delicious, meaty thighs and her mouth hung open in craving. A drop of water ran off his heavy balls and landed on her forehead. “Oh Laney, you’re just perfect honey, jus’ perfect.” he praised. “It feel good?”

She was pretty sure if they kept this up he’d be spouting down on her face in a matter of seconds. “Yeah, it really does.” She craned her head back and stuck her tongue out in optimism.

—————-

Back in the kitchen a disgruntled Jack wandered into the little gathering of his siblings who were eagerly dishing out advice and praise to Ella as she capably flipped decently fluffy pancakes and stacked them onto a steaming plate.

“There, that should do for a start.” she declared and even Jesse and his ever growing appetite assented as he set the kitchen table with forks.

“Rosalee.” Jack sidled up to the auburn haired little girl trying to make a swan out of the paper towel Jesse had laid down as her napkin.

“Yeah, Jack?”

“Daddy said he’s gonna take us swimmin’.” he lied with the most guileless tone, “You wanna come?”

It was a calculated move, and a stunt Jack had pulled often to back up his own devices regarding monopolizing Elaine.

Rosalee went nowhere without her father and everywhere that her father did go, she went. And Jack knew this. She had meltdowns when she was escorted off sets and had meltdowns when she arrived at sets to find him holding his young co-stars instead of her. Jealous and sensitive, there was nothing more precious to her than time with daddy and at this news of an impromptu frolic, Rosalee clambered off her barstool so quickly she nearly split her head open.

“What are you up to, Jacky?” Nine years old with a head twice older, Jesse was onto him and stared his towheaded brother down with slanted gray eyes, “How is it daddy’s takin’ ya to the ocean when he’s washing the ocean off him as we speak? Don’t sound like somethin’ he’d do before going back. Waste a’time.”

“I’m just bearin’ the news.” Jack held up his hands, “It’s what he done told me.”

“But daddy’s gotta sleep, Jack!” Ella protested, always so keenly aware of her father’s irregularities and fiercely protective of his health.

“Ooooh leave off, he promised!” Rosalee whooped in joy and tore back towards the master bedroom with a maniacally gleeful Jack following on her heels.

Ella dropped the pancake plate onto the tabletop with a thump and Daisy immediately grabbed her fork and skewered four at once.

“Where y’all goin’?” Jesse cried out after trying to get a pancake of his own, abandoning it in favor of running down his two rogue little siblings who were about to start banging at the bathroom door like they had a death wish.

——————

Inside the shower Elvis felt his climax hit him like a freight train and bracing himself with one hand on the tiled wall, he watched with flitting eyes as his thick ropes of come joined the water shower to spatter across Laney’s chest and then down to the pattering of the stream against her pink house, then back up again. His thighs quaked and his belly shook and he kept stripping himself as wave after wave took over him from the sight of her down there, looking up at him with a pleasured grimace as the jetstream wiggled her nub. She had to be close, he could tell from the lines on her forehead and he managed to lift his foot and press it gently on her lower belly, jostling her womb like he did with his hand when he was inside. Her toes curled.

“Ya almost there, ain’t ya pretty girl?” he gasped, his own toes curling as lil Elvis didn’t seem content to flag after one shot alone, still standing stiff and interested in the proceedings below him. Elvis’ hand started to cramp.

“Elvis-“ her pretty pink tongue came out and touched her upper lip, her breasts jiggling with every big heave of breath.

Just then a round of knocks sounded on the door and if Elvis was any judge of distance -and he was a good one- he’d wager they were coming from someone about three feet off the ground and blonde as satan himself. “Not yet!” he barked, well past being patient.

“Elvis!” Elaine fretted below him, so close her eyes looked scared from desire. “I’m -“

“That’s it, that’s it you just take your time and feel it, sugar pie, that’s it.” he cooed to her and stepped over her, turning round in between her legs and running his foot further down, pressing on her little mound and after observing her hesitant moan, slipped his big toe along her soft seam.

The way her legs snapped closed like a trap spurred him on, as did her happy gasp as she thrashed and gripped at her chest like she was trying to hurt herself with the squeeze. He wiggled his toe in further, snagging her lil hole and plunging in, his leg shimmying in that controlled way he’d perfected on stage and she shrieked, happily, he was sure, except Jack didn’t know that-

“Mama I know you’re in there!” He demanded from behind the door, driven to outrage by neglect.

Laney was gorgeous when she was coming, and while often a moaner in the moments leading up to it -when propriety allowed- she was a silent screamer in the throes of it. Elvis kept up the merciless jimmying of his leg all the way through it and watched with distinct enjoyment a sight he rarely got to see from this removed vantage point. Caught in the vice grip of pleasure Elaine couldn’t humor her little brat any more than she could call on Jesus for help and Elvis just smirked down at her evilly as he kept the stimulation up. Kept it up until he was getting kicked in the gut by an overwhelmed wife.

The faucet stabbed his back as he stumbled backwards, laughing those hiccuping laughs of his and jostling his throbbing balls in one hand as Elaine cupped her mouth and tried to get her breath back. “You ok?” Elvis giggled as he knelt down and crawled over her to cup her wet cheek and bring her back down to earth. She was giggling herself, unable to voice anything but giving him a thumbs up to assure she was ok. He smooched her cheek vigorously.

“You’re still-“ she tried to form a full sentence but couldn’t.

“Those diet pills.” he whispered in explanation, gingerly still stroking his hard cock but over-sensitive cock. “It won’t go down, Laney.” he whined a little as he humped her slick belly, conscious that this was a lil pathetic to do on the shower floor but this is what he missed, moments like these where they could trust each other with all of it. He couldn’t stop himself now just to make it a little less animalistic, a little less needy. Truth was he needed her terribly and he didn’t mind her knowing.

Elaine’s hands came up and clung to the backs of his meaty thighs, as high as she could reach over his hips and she begged in a hoarse whisper that underscored the way her eyes were heavy and half mast “Sit, please, sit on my face, Daddy. Wanna taste you, I’ll get ya drained.”

She’d seen the chafed markings on her little friend from all the tucking and taping the wardrobe department had put him through, she’d tended to them with Vaseline and kissed the booboos goodnight. From the way she had her mouth open and her chin tipped back -Elvis knew what his wife wanted and with a weak moan he crawled over her again and at her insistent hands, turned back around till they faced the same way.

69ing he’d heard it called from a co-star. A filthy sorta indulgence that his ingenious wife had discovered on her own without the benefit of co-star gossip or ‘new wife’ magazines. “Gosh yes, yes that’s it, smother me baby, you're a hunk like this you know?” She gushed, gripping his hips firmly.

“Mama?” got yelled through the door along with another knock and a small racket as if there were reinforcements approaching -wether for Elvis’ cause or Jack’s, was yet to be seen.

“Go eat your pancakes!” Elvis hollered over the noise of shower spray.

“I need mama to cut them up!” Trouble hollered right back and Elvis looked down to see his fair temptress waiver at the sound of her son’s dire plight.

“Oh no, no you don’t, don’t even think it.” Elvis corrected her as he settled over her, a hefty thigh on each side of her face trapping her where he needed her, hard tile and grout lines digging at his knees. He patted at her belly and rubbed her hips as he stared ahead at the wall and slowly, almost apologetically, lowered his package over her sweet face. One ball slotted into her waiting mouth perfectly, aided by her eager little hands as she snuggled it onto her waiting tongue and with a contented grunt he muttered, “All you need to think about right now, my lil Tinkerbell, is how full and stuffed your lil mouth is with daddy’s sugar plums, how nice he is to give ya a treat n’how good you’re lil mouth is gonna make daddy feel, so good I just might kiss your lil kitty in thanks.”

Laney always got a little woozy when he didn’t give her a choice, told him it made her feel like goo inside and like she was a baby again -not in a bad way, mind. She loved it and he capitalized on it on occasions like this. After years together he’d come to understand she enjoyed a little sternness so long as he mixed it with affirmations and gentleness after. Something his younger and randy self may have been pitifully short on in his eagerness to sample her. So Elvis found himself able to squash the shame of teabagging his wife in the shower rather speedily, the obvious and untampered joy she took in the act helping him, as well as the feel of her rolling the damn things, one at a time due to size, in her mouth like his nuts were a Listerine swish.

How someone could enjoy gargling ballsack or having their noses smashed to an asshole was a little beyond Elvis, but when he said as much to her, Tink had told him she didn’t get how he could eat bloody pussy for hours.

After arguing this they had to call a truce. No accounting for taste. And since then, as a treat, Laney gets to suck his balls with the only addendum being she can’t lick his ass.

Never stops her from kneading it though, digging at the plain globes with her nails and pulling it apart -for his sanity’s sake he likes to assume she spreads it so she can get some air down there. He wishes he didn’t like that feeling as much as he does but hunched over her in the shower he has to admit the stretch of it feels rather good, combined with her suckling his sack. Little Elvis begins to pulse like he gets the memo. The better it gets, the greater the sensation becomes, the more he moans and shifts and bends double till he’s biting her thigh to keep quiet. In doing so he stops sheltering her little house from the spray with his shoulders, and with malevolent delight, he notices her jerk from the water jet.

It’s fun to watch from down here, her pretty pink petals getting battered and he adds his tongue into the mix on occasion and she thrashes and screams around his balls and he keeps his thighs locked against her cheeks, muffling it almost completely. He’s missed this, not just the filthy want for each other but -but the selfishness to do it. Sure he had been a cad in their earlier marriage, using her more like an animated glory hole than a cherished child of God, but they’d both trade the exhausted lassitude of the past year for that rigorous idiocy in a heartbeat. There’s gotta be some middle ground. He just can’t come up with the right balance with Tink mouthing at his balls like a feral harmonica player tearing up the riff to Orange Blossom Special.

“Daddy! Daddy when are you takin’ us swimmin?” That’s Rosalee’s voice, coming through the door and Elvis’ heart thuds to a stop for a moment in complete confusion as to why his lil pet expects that of him this morning, “I’ve been waitin’ patiently! Please daddy!”

She’s been waiting, by the door, this whole damn time while Jack’s been doing his regular, moronic behavior. She has been good. And somehow there’s been a mix up. He’s had little enough time to play with the kids on this set and Rosalee always takes that absence the hardest. The tile is unyielding beneath his knees and his resolve waivers.

“Oh sweetie I-I-“ he brings his fist up to his mouth to try to steady his wrecked voice, “sweetie I didn’t say nothin about that, did I?”

Elaine, callous succubus that she is, ignores his fatherly plight and begins to strip the base of little Elvis like it’s gonna spurt pixie dust for her. He falls down a little more in his kneeling posture from the intensity of it, forehead banging against her shin as he claws at the slippery grout lines.

“Jack said you promised to take us swimmin!” Rosalee sounds close to tears and it makes Elvis plan on wringing Jack’s little neck while the desperate need to cum rattles in Elvis' head until he’s humping Elaine’s mouth like a maniac. She digs in harder and he hides a sob as a cough.

Angrily he peels her pussy wider and let’s the jets sting her little nub, locking his legs resolutely against her cries until he sees a stream going in the opposite direction of the shower flow, a pretty little arc of fluid straight from her pussy and if it weren’t so diluted by the shower he’d know it tastes perfectly salty sweet. Satisfied with his revenge he covers her again with his back and lays his face on the tile between her legs, trusting her to either let him get up and console his poor daughter or else finish him fast.

Going with the first option becomes entirely necessary when he hears the door crack open and a cold gust of air rustles the shower curtain.

Panic gives Elvis’ voice a thunderous edge as he shouts:“The hell are you doin’? Don’t you dare open the curtain, don’t do it! Do not!”

“Oh daddy please don’t hit me!” Rosalee wails this idiotic plea like it’s a line from some dramatic afternoon Soap Opera, and Elvis is quite sure that’s where she learned it.

“Oh, s-s-stop the d-d-dramatics!” he begs, half to his children and half to Laney who seems convinced he can come from ball sucking alone, while he’s quite sure he can’t today.

“You promised!” Rosalee continues crying, very near the shower but not touching the curtain.

“Jack!” Elvis' voice thunders shakily.

“Yes Elvis?” the kid replies very calmly from the sink area.

“G-get out! Both of ya- get out.”

“I just wanted to take a bath with you!” Rosalee stays from sheer horror at having provoked such temper from her ever-loving father, “I’m sorry daddy! I-I-I didn’t mean to make you mad, honest I didn’t! Jack said-“

“Guys, what the- come on, get out!” That’s Jesse’s beautiful voice resounding in the bathroom, sounding like a general at nine years old and Elvis is gonna have to buy the kid another motorcycle for always being such a swell fella in times of need.

“But Daddy promised to take us swimming-“

“Guys out!” Jesse grabs ahold of Jack’s tshirt and starts tugging.

“But swimming-“

“Only Mommy’s and Daddy’s swim in showers, sometimes-“ Jesse insists.

“I just came to tell mama that Ella has caught the stove on fire-“

“Jack, liars go to hell.” Jesse reminds.

Elvis realizes then that maybe his thighs are squishing all the sound from Laney’s hearing and that perhaps she’s just coasting while enjoying her favorite hobby, unaware of exactly how nuts it’s gotten in here. Nuts was a bad word for it but- he starts to pull himself off her only to feel her teeth snap in protest at the thin base of his scrotum.

He can’t help his yelped,

“Laney!” that in turn spurs Jesse onto a frantic beg,

“Kids come on! Really, we need to evacuate now!” The poor boy sounds frantic and Elvis wishes he had the moral fiber to get off his wife’s face this close to the finish line. But he doesn’t, not for Jack, not even for Rosalee and any other sweet idiot spawn who didn’t obey the closed door policy.

This isn’t the first time.

Hovering as he is, balls clamped in a toothy prison, it’s like Elaine finally hears it all, processes her children and their proximity, finally gets it without the soundproof padding of Elvis’ thighs. She responds accordingly. Instead of abandoning their tryst as he expected, like a ninja geisha, she simultaneously grabs his cock and bends him backwards between his cheeks into her mouth, while raising her foot for Elvis to muffle his impending scream around some perfectly manicured toes.

To a chorus of wailing youngsters and one very admanet eldest son who sounds like a shell-shocked veteran encouraging the green troops to pull back, Elvis feels the persuasive suction of Laney’s mouth around his throbbing head, a flick or five to his weeping slit and he’s giving into her efforts, biting her toe to keep silent and smacking at the shower curtain in an attempt to stifle the need to move with his release.

Elvis shakes to the floor with an exhausted splat as his orgasmic loss of reality gives him a blissful five seconds of escapism where he lays, cheek down in the swirling shower drain, thanking Jesus and God and the Holy Spirit for his wife.

Elaine surfaces from beneath him with the invigorated gusto of a woman satisfied with her work, pulling herself out from beneath her man’s inert form only to be hit by a toy whale that’s been hurled over the curtain and onto her wet head -a last little defiance by a growling Jack who is getting tugged out by Jesse. An impressive throw, one Elvis is responsible for helping Jack perfect with the football many a summer’s night on Graceland’s lawn.

“Oh you silly thing!” she shouts with a laugh, “If any of you sprites are still in here, make yourselves useful, hand me those towels on the countertop.” she adds as she leans over Elvis, straddling him to turn off the tap, sticking just her hand out the curtain and making grabby motions with her fingers till the feel of fuzzy cotton meets it. “Thanks, sweets.”

“Why’re you so short mama?” Rosalee’s voice asks and Elvis groans beneath her on the floor.

“Cause I’ve been playing with sea creatures.” she explains without missing a beat and Elvis’ slick back starts heaving beneath her from suppressing his laughter.

“Oh.” Rosalee accepts it with a sniffle, having spent many hours in the tub or hot tub on her knees, the better to help her toys swim around.

Elvis rolls over beneath Elaine’s straddle and smiles at her with eyes still crossed from going to the grown man’s neverland. “Alright Rosalee, you run on now we’ll be out in just a minute. Promise.” he speaks up.

“And swimming?” she begs as she retreats.

“Well, uh, we’ll talk about that over breakfast.”

Elaine makes a sad face at the realization he’s not going to let himself go back to bed after causing so much heartache in their little people. “S’ok.” he insists, reading her mind and patting her thighs.

Hearing the latch click and the silence of privacy restored, Elvis clasps her by her neck and brings her face down to his, kissing her passionately, licking at her tongue and the traces of his spend on it. “You sure know how to love a man, Tink.” he murmurs, clinging to her warm body as the shower tile turns cold.

“All I ever wanted was to learn to be the best for ya.” she whispers, sweet and gentle.

“Born the best.” he insists, “The rest was just…a bonus.”

She brings the towels she’s been balancing out of the wet, onto his chest, and sitting up they rub each other dry, soft smiles and drowsy affection making them clumsy and open.

They stagger upright together and Elvis throws his towel around her and she throws hers around him and they’re cocooned in terry cloth this way, standing in the dripping shower, snuggled together and nipping at each other’s lips.

“How’s my lil friend.” she asks, sneaking a hand between them in the damp warmth of their burrow and cupping his harmless, shrunk little appendage.

“He’s good, he’s real good.” Elvis giggles, his cheeks turning pink, “Gentle with him now, he got wrung out by a cruel, lecherous gal.”

“He sure did.” Elaine grunts satisfactorily and it’s the most masculine sorta sound Elvis has ever heard her make, full of smugness and a dirty, gritty edge he can’t quite believe came out of his woman, his woman who is so polished and elegant most times. As if to underscore this departure from demure normality and diminish it all at once, Elvis feels her hand move again beneath the towel before an electrifying sting slices up his spine and down his leg from his freshly smacked ass.

“Laney!” he cries again, utterly aghast and pink as a baby and she can’t stand it anymore, standing on tippy toes to neck him some more, vigeorusly smashing her lips to his as she yanks the shower curtain open with her free hand

She steps out while Elvis lingers and bends down to retrieve Jack’s sodden whale plushie. He may wring the poor creature out more violently than necessary but it makes his wife titter.

“God! - I love you.” she insists, surveying her man as he steps out, his wet hair dripping in a boyish mop down his forehead and his lips kissed and bitten puffy pink and his cheeks bunched in a grin despite their bashful blush and the soft accumulation of fluff and good living filling out his chest and swelling his belly just that little bit. “Sometimes I think it’s gonna kill me, gettin’ to enjoy you, getting to look at you so much. Feels indulgent somehow, like you oughta be rationed to a gal, the same way you’re dosed out to your fans in little bits, one movie a time.” she laughs at her own silliness and he shakes his head shyly as he tucks his towel into a covering around his waist. “One day they’ll find me keeled over from palpitations brought on by starin’ too long.”

“That’s what the obituary’ll say,” Elvis snarks, “but you and I’ll know the truth of the matter, that you’re a lil squirrel who likes her nuts so much she don’t take time to breathe. Mark my words, that’s how you’ll go if you keep this appetite up.”

“Then I hope they accuse ya of manslaughter, right after.” Laney grins and he stalls with his comb in hand, raised to coiff his hair back, waiting for the punchline, “Because I don’t wanna be up there without you for too long.”

“Laney!” he repeats for the upteenth time this morning, but this time it’s hushed and his lower lip wobbles with emotion and his eyes swim, touched by the sentiment. Clearing his throat he adds, “I still wanna uh, sometime -yeah, uh sometime do that thing you were t-t-talking about in the w-water.”

She makes a puzzled face as she wiggles into a tiny pair of shorts Elvis bought her last month. She’s fit as hell, and he’s envious of it, and has to admit Jack’s overdue weening did serve one purpose at least, it thinned her out like nothin’ else coulda.

“Play handyman or-or whatever.” he blushes and turns his face away as he hangs up his towel, aware that they haven’t the time to linger over this with the kitchen possibly on fire and his children eager for a swim. “Ya recall? -what you were sayin’? Me uh, playin’ a handyman or plumber or, uh, whatever. Come visit ya.”

“Oooh that,” she goads playfully wrapping her arms around his belly once more, chin in his shoulder blades, “you wanna swing by Graceland and fix a pipe or two, find the rich and spoiled Mrs. Presley wasting away in her gold cage, rich but wanting in the worst ways? Hmm?” she runs her finger down the shell of his ear and it’s flaming hot to her touch, he must be red as her nails in the face, “Wanna take her on the table and give her what her posh movie star husband can’t? Wanna do that, huh Naughty?”

“God y-yes.” he stutters, head thunking against the wall in desperation at the mere

concept.

“Wanna make a movie of it,” she whispers into his ear, “like those ones Thumper and I made? Wanna make a movie so Elvis Presley has to sit and watch it later, hmm? Watch his wife get taken by a workin’ man?”

“Nghhh…” he growls smacking the wall, overwhelmed by memories and prospects.

“I see, well, that’s settled then.” Elaine murmurs before stepping away from their embrace, flicking his bare butt one last time as she laughs, “Only you would get the hots for cuckolding yourself.”

“Anything involving rearrangin’ your guts on a table gets me hot.” he mumbles defensively and Elaine smirkes at him with a promise in her eyes as she makes her way past him. He snags her back to him briefly by a finger in her back pocket, “Hey you,” he says adently with his hand cupping her jaw, “I love you too. I love you somethin’ fierce.”

~~~~~

“Daisy!” Jack’s voice warbled with betrayal as he entered the kitchen, “You didn’t!”

“Daisy!” Ella chimed in, whirling around from the stove to survey the kitchen table and her demolished stack of pancakes, “There was enough there to feed uncle Jerry and us besides!” she cried out as her little sister swallowed down the last of her syrupy goodness with a shrug,

“Oh, oh Daisy, oh my, that’s gonna -that’s gonna bite ya later.” Jesse sighed as he pulled up a chair and pushed around his abandoned, now cold and half eaten single pancake on his plate. “Your stomach’s gonna kill ya, Mae Mae.” he explained to a remorseless Daisy Mae.

“I was hungry.” she defends as Rosalee sullenly takes a seat next to her twin, “Sorry Rosalee, I shoulda saved one for ya.” she conceded but Rosalee shook her head.

“I don’t feel like eatin’ anything.” Rosalee moped.

“Why not?” Ella turned again from the stove, affronted for the reputation of her irresistible pancakes. “I’ll put blueberries in them and everything for ya!”

“I’m not hungry!” Rosalee repeated close to tears and her little chestnut bob swayed with her head shake.

“What happened to you?” Daisy grunted.

“Daddy got mad at me.” she whimpered.

“No he didn’t.” Jesse sighs, settling Jack into a seat by the scruff of his t-shirt, “He’d just told y’all not to come in and you disobeyed. He ain’t mad. He’ll be right as rain in a minute, hold tight.”

“He sounded mad! He sounded sad!” Rosalee’s tone grew in emphasis.

Jesse pinched the bridge of his nose and stared at his empty plate as Rosalee’s whimpers grew from just that to outright crying. “No, no look it’s-“ he glanced over at the stove to his twin who was industriously cooking another batch but not fast enough to circumvent Rosalee’ meltdown, “it’s like, when we all used to sleep in the big bed,” he chose his words carefully for optimal grief assuagement, “you know how some mornings you thought daddy was cryin’?”

“Yeah.” her little voice was garbled by snot.

“Yeah but he wasn’t, was he?” Jesse pressed his point, “He was just tryin’ to hold in his laughs so he didn’t wake you, while mama or Ella was ticklin’ him.”

“Yeah.” Rosalee cracks a small smile.

“S’like that.” Jesse reminded, “He ain’t sad. You ‘member how he’d start bawling when we started ticklin’ too?”

“Yeah.” Jack smiled in reminiscence of mornings when they’d all pile on top of Elvis and tickle him while Mama held his shoulders down. “But I know you don’t tickle people in the shower.” Jack fired back with six year old conviction, “Elvis hisself told me it wasn’t safe.”

Before Jesse was forced to choose between explaining further or else sullying his daddy’s reputation for safety ethics in the shower -or in general- the man himself and Mama breezed through the door, hair wet and as smartly dressed as always.

“Alright, alright, kids what’s groovin’ huh?” Elvis barreled in like his kitchen was his stage and topics of tickling and sadness were shelved, much to Jesse’s watery eyed relief, though he couldn’t quite meet his mama’s eyes when she scootched past him with a kiss to his head on her way to the sink. “Hey you I’ve got a present for you.” Elvis addressed Jack before plopping a very sudden and deformed whale plushie on the boy’s plate.

“Thanks a lot Elvis.” Jack muttered.

“Look on the bright side Trouble,” Elvis laughed while reaching down Jack’s back to grab a handful of his jean’s waistband, “all ya had to do was wait fifteen minutes and now mama’s got your glass o’water and your pancakes’ll be cut in triangles. Imagine that, patience.” and with that laughing admonition Elvis hefted Jack out of his chair by his waistband and proceeded to jostle his second born son in the age old manner often referred to as a wedgie. It even made Rosalee laugh and Jack hiccup from something they all suspected was enjoyment, although the kid would never admit it. “Alright, everyone alive and well? No fires?” He took stock of the place and found it comparatively tidy -little wonder as the kids didn’t have time to wreck anything, too busy knocking on his door. “Ella Bug those smell amazing and- Daisy, why’re you actin’ put out?”

“M’fine.” his daughter protested even as her face was folded into the identical sorta scowl that sold him a lotta records back in the early days.

“Is everyone mad at me?” he balked.

“No, she just ate fifty pancakes while everyone else was… busy.” Jesse cleared his throat. “Should enter her in a contest.”

“Oh Daisy, no!” Elaine swiped back her black curls and knelt by her, “Is your belly hurting?”

“Startin’ to.” Daisy was forced to admit through clenched teeth.

“Lordy, Mae Mae, that’s impressive,” Elvis murmured as he took his seat and, in a well worn routine, opened his arms and lap in welcome to a still sniffling Rosalee who catapulted into him, “what got into you?” he marveled as he tucked Rosalee into a snuggle and peppered her now glowing face with kisses.

“They were very good.” Daisy insisted and Ella beamed with pride over the stack of freshly made ones she carried to the table.

“Bet they were.” Elvis praised, tongue poked through his teeth laughing, “Glad ya enjoyed yourself at least.”

“Come lay down sweetheart, here on the couch.” Elaine led her to the adjacent wicker lounge. “Get you some ginger ale or something. Heavens, girly, the appetite on you!”

“Are you gonna eat with us, daddy?” Ella spoke up timidly as she took her own seat, the rather novel concept of her daddy at morning breakfast and the pride she took in her own cooking warring to make his verdict overly meaningful to her.

Elvis stared for a moment at the heaping piles of fluffy goodness with its melting pad of butter and sparkling syrup trickling to the plate as Jack voiced the very worry he had rattling in his head:

“That’s a lotta carbs.”

The whole table’s racket of pancake stabbing screeched to a halt and Elaine fumbled the glass bottle of ginger ale she had retrieved from the fridge to the very ground in her shock. “Jack!” she chatsized with more vehemence than the little stinker had ever elicited from her in his life, “Why on earth would you say a thing like that?”

Jack shrugged, although the combined weight of his family’s horror and Elaine’s blazing eyes made him timid, “It's just what the Colonel said. Last night. To daddy.”

“And why would you ever wanna sound like that good for nothin’ scallywag?” Elaine cried, “We appreciate a good appetite in this house, plenty of folks don’t have what we’ve got and we’re not about to thank the good Lord for his generosity to us by listenin’ to the worn out gimmicks of a corpulent glutton. Carbs! Maybe he should count some carbs-“

“Laney, laney.” Elvis moderated her with a shushing wave of his hand and she stilled, pinching the bridge of her nose in that way Jesse had learned from her and clipping over to Daisy with grief stricken eyes she hid behind her ire.

“Sorry.” Jack croaked while giving his mother the stink eye even as Jesse in turn glared at him, “I said I was sorry?”

“There’s nothin’ to be sorry about Jack.” Elvis insisted, eyeing his strangely cold wife as she tended to Daisy and got her a preemptive barf pan. “You were just statin’ nutritional facts and if you’re gonna be a scientist one day, your interest in ‘em will serve ya well. Now Ella, dish me up some a’those sticky carbs, won’t ya?”

Ella beamed and quickly stacked up a steaming pile on her daddy’s plate, presenting a blushing cheek for his kiss just as Daisy lost her battle with the bellyache and puked into the bowl Elaine held for her.

“Well that’s an appetizing sound.” Jesse pushed his plate away with a joking grimace and he and Elvis shared a silly moment that almost made Jesse forget about the shower and his subsequent vow never to look his daddy in the eye again.

“Poor Mae, Mae,” Elvis sighed, stabbing his pancake and making a show of chewing it obnoxiously for Ella’s benefit.

Elaine couldn’t help but smirk, even as she dabbed at Daisy’s mouth with a cloth, amused that her man was moaning louder over pancakes than he did from her attentions in the shower.

“So,” he spoke up as he scarfed them down, “what’s this about swimmin’? Hmm? For the record I never promised anythin’ of the kind but, loathe as I am to award bad behavior,” and here he gave Jack a pointed look over his poised fork, “since we’re all together, why not?”

“Really? Really?” Rosalee screamed so loud in his ear he shook his head just to get the ringing out.

“Oh daddy, it’s gonna be so fun! You there! Oh yes yes yes yes!” Ella was spinning in circles, having gotten out of her chair at some point to celebrate.

“Mhmm,” he hushed them and went on, pushing his plate away, “is it swimmin’ you’ve really got your hearts set on?”

“Well, no- we just wanna be with you.” Rosalee admitted.

“What? No! We wanna go swimmin’, just us and mama-“

“Jack, please hush up.” Jesse begged.

“See I was thinkin’,” Elvis rose above his six year old’s sharp remarks, “we could certainly go swimmin’ but then again, ya can go swimmin’ most anytime, near anywhere. But ya know what ya can’t do?”

“What, daddy?” a hushed chorus of anticipation went up from his little audience, even Daisy showed interest as Elaine doted on her.

“How would you Tiddlywinks like to fly ‘round in a helicopter?” He asked with a brilliant grin.

“No way!” Jesse nearley fell out of his seat and his eyes filled with excitement.

“Yes way, perks of the job, boyo.” Elvis sat smug at the head of his table as his children gushed around him in a frenzy of anticipation, Elaine watched their adoration with a pleased smile, praying only that he wasn’t going to be the lone pilot. “Now who’s glad daddy works for that ‘corpulent scalliwag’, huh?” he goaded and Elaine’s smile turned brittle as the kids laughed and cheered.

Elvis eyes met hers above the den of kids clearing plates and his sober, cobalt stare put her right back in her place, a place that more and more had little or nothing to do with his creative processes and business deals - a far cry from the production and artistry that first brought them to together. She bit her lip and walked the vomit pan back to the sink, receiving a wide berth from the little revelers as she did. “Alright well, help your mama with this mess and get yourselves sorted.” he clapped, “We’ll leave, soon as we’re ready. Gotta go brush my teeth.” he rose from the table, his hasty exit unnoticed by any save Elaine who postured herself to be in his path as he turned to go into the master bedroom,

“E,” she murmured softly as he brushed past and he didn’t stop, but she knew he was listening by the tilt of his head as he went “while you’re at it, be sure you don’t accidentally brush your tonsils again, silly man.”

This loaded tease met with a titter of laughs by the couple clueless kids who overheard it and this time it was Elvis’ face that grew brittle, his step halted and his lip was close to sneering as he lowly rejoined,

“If you know ‘nother silly man who can get you a helicopter ride, an all expenses paid for vacation to Hawaii and satisfy your particular tastes, then be my guest Elaine, you tell him how to brush his teeth.”

Hope y’all enjoyed! Your “bugging” and “screaming” is music to my ears, fuel to my fire and keeps me writing, please never hold back -this is a safe space for feral little Elvis loving rodents…like you and me.

If you’d like to be tagged in this particular series please drop a note below. I’ll admit I’m disorganized and have trouble keeping all the requests sorted when they’re scattered, what I do check regularly are the requests in the notes for chapters -and I do manage to get those added. So, if you’ve put in a request and I’ve failed ya, or if you’re new and would like to be added, please pop a note below. Xoxo

Taglist:

@eliseinmemphis

@prompted-wordsmith

@ab4eva

@foreverdolly

@powerofelvis

@butlersxbirdy

@crash-and-cure

@elvisabutler

@heartbrake-hotel

@stylespresleyhearted

@thatbanditqueen

@crazymadpassionatelove

@myradiaz

@ash-omalley

@arianatheangelgirl

@steph-speaks

@burningloverdoll

@angelface-555

@lookingforrainbows

@missmaywemeetagain

@coolgirl462

@kingdomforapony

@18lkpeters

@richardslady121

@from-memphis-with-love

@lillypink

@artlover8992

@pennyroyalcreep

@notstefaniepresley

@ellie-24

@renaissingle

@waiting4brucewayne2adoptme

@presleyenterprise

@marriedtopresley

@ashtag2887

@dkayfixates

@vampireindistress

@ashtag6887

@i-r-i-n-a-a

@obsessedvibee

@peskybedtime

@goth-cowgirl-03

@stephthestallion

@fav-fanficssss

@loving-elvis

@honeyorangess

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the-kr8tor · 5 months

Note

I don’t know if you’re still taking asks for fluffy Friday but could you do a fic of the Hobie x reader twin AU, where the reader goes into labor and has the twins and their reactions during and after the twins are born!! Your recent one of them seeing the ultrasound was so cute!! But now I kinda wanna see the chaos and the cute that follows lol!! I feel like the doctors would low key be intimidated by Hobie cause he’d taking care of reader but also be staring them down 😂 to the point they’re ask him to leave but he doesn’t of course!! Sorry for the long ask!! Your last fic was just to AMAZING 🤩 !!

Ahhh another twin au request! Thank you for sending this one ❤️

Pairing: Hobie Brown x fem! Reader/ Spider-Punk x fem! Reader

Tags: no use of Y/N, no specific physical description of the reader, TW blood mention, Billie and Ramona AU, twin AU.

ʕ⁠·⁠ᴥ⁠·⁠ʔ

You were in an unimaginable pain, the kind you would never wish on anyone, your voice is hoarse from all the screaming and cussing out whoever was unfortunate enough to slightly annoy you. Too bad for Hobie, your annoyance and anger were mostly thrown at him. You had him in an iron grip, he's sure his hand would be aching for days to come. He's been a great help in alleviating the pain, patting your sweaty face dry, feeding you ice chips, whispering words of encouragement and the occasional glare at the doctor who arrived fashionably late to the party.

The epidural was your best friend that you've never thought you'd even befriend. You were sure that you wouldn't need it but after what must've been the umpteenth contraction, you were more than happy to accept its friendship.

After twenty hours of labor, all the literal blood, sweat and tears were all worth it. From the first cry of the older twin came a sudden elation, then the younger came only after five minutes apart from her sister with a loud energetic cry. You were in pain, now everything you're currently feeling is extreme happiness, and also fatigue you've never experienced before.

Following all the ‘good jobs’ from the hospital staff and numerous tearful kisses from Hobie, it's safe to say you're officially a parent to the most beautiful pair of twins. Your girls, the light of your life.

With both babies cleaned and you wiped from all the fluids, they're properly swaddled and checked by the doctor and nurses, you lay almost half asleep with your babies on your bare chest. Hands securing them atop their tiny torsos. They gurgle, making the cutest sound you've ever heard whilst Hobie takes hundreds of pictures with his digital camera. He still can't believe his eyes at the little family he now has.

“Hobie,” you say hoarsely, eyes watery from all the happy sobbing and tiredness. “I think you've got all their angles covered.”

He lifts the camera off his eye, greeting you with a genuine grin. “Alright, let me have a turn at them so you can sleep”

You scoot over, giving him space to sit right next to your hip. Hobie takes the oldest first in his arm with slight trepidation and oh so careful like he's handling the finest china.

“Hi, dad's got you” Hobie looks down at his daughter staring up at him with curious eyes, he doesn't miss the fact that she mirrors your own, almost a copy of yours. With a quick peck on top of her forehead, he moves to take the youngest and smallest from your arms. You help him by cradling the back of her head. “And I've got you too”

She answers with her lips wobbling, looking like she's about to cry her little heart out. Hobie bounces her lightly, making cooing sounds that he would always make when the twins were particularly rowdy in your belly. It works, she still frowns up at her dad but the tears don't fall.

“My brave girl, huh? Just like mum” he leans down slightly, juggling his girls whilst he lifts up the blanket to cover your bare chest. “You did amazingly, love” Hobie tells you for the tenth time just in case you forgot.

You hum in reply, heart tender at the sight in front of you. Hands cupping both his elbows, your way of helping him carry the bundles of joy.

“Did you at least make me look good in the photos?” You gesture to the digital camera on the side table. “I must look horrible in all of them after all that”

Hobie shakes his head, “you're as beautiful as the day I met you, and it's impossible for you to look horrible in pictures��

“Even after almost pooping while I was pushing them out?”

“Especially then” you laugh softly, winching at the soreness.

“You alright?” Hobie scooches closer to you, sharing his warmth, taking a quick glimpse at his girls already sleeping. He's not jealous at all.

“I'm okay, promise” you drop your hands from his elbows down to his thighs, too tired to lift them for a second more. “How are they?”

“Sleeping, you should be too” he observes you closely, your eyebrows slightly knitted, hands limp over his thighs.

“We haven't even decided names for them yet” you whisper.

“We've got plenty of time for that. Sleep, they'll be here when you wake up, yeah?”

“I don't think I want to, I just wanna stare at them forever” you fight an oncoming yawn.

“Sleep or I'll name them B one and B two” he jokes.

“You wouldn't” you do your best glare despite the sleep slowly enveloping you.

“You wanna bet? On second thought Bert and Ernie sounds better”

You surrender, “alright, alright, I'll sleep” your eyes threaten to close. “I really like the first one you suggested, it's Ramona, right?”

“Love” he says sternly with hints of fondness.

You giggle, “okay, love you. All three of you” giving them one last look over, you finally succumb to sleep.

“We love you too”

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creative-caramel-coffee · 10 months

Text

Travel Troubles.

Prompt: Sick in an Inconvenient Place

Pairings: Wandanat x R

Word count: 1.1K

Summary: Sickness doesn’t care where you are. You get sick but your girls are there for you.

TW: vomiting

A/n I suck at grammar. So there are like three commas in this lol. Plus I typed it with one hand because I’ve hurt my other arm :(

Wanda had been begging you and nat for months now and you had finally caved. You were going to the beach for a few days. You were actually pretty excited to be spending some quality time with your girls so when you woke up the morning you were suppose to be leaving feeling like you had been punched in the stomach you groaned and shrugged it off. Luckily most of the day was going to be spent in the car.

Dismissing it as your usual cramps after your period you stuffed your duffle-bag into the car, opting for the backseat so you could starfish across the leather seats. All seemed well for the first two hours, the car seemed to be getting hotter though. And the pain in your stomach began to increase. Nausea set in around hour five. Curled up in the backseat in a ball Wanda shot nat a look.

<shes acting weird nat do you think shes ok?> she asked in Nat’s mind.

<we both know that’s not true> Wanda shot back

You were in too much pain to notice the silent conversation. Your face pressed against the cool glass of the window. It was way too hot in the car.

“y/n/n what do you want for lunch, Natty’s getting us maccas.” When all she received was a groan she frowned. Being stopped at a red light Wanda unbuckled climbing into the backseat despite Natasha’s protests.

“y/n/n?” she asked running a hand through your sweaty hair. She frowned placing the back of her hand to your forehead. She gasped. “natty shes on fire” you whined when she pulled her cold hand away from your flaming skin.

“oh bug why didn’t you tell us you didn’t feel good sweets?” muttering something unintelligent you flopped against her. Chuckling slightly she pulled you closer.

“natty can you get her an ice water from maccas?”

“sure.”

Pulling into the drive through the nausea only worsened at the smell of greasy food. Wanda noticed the colour drain from your face. Rushing she seemingly pulled a sick bag from thin air with her magic, guiding it under your shaking chin as your breakfast reappeared. Nat tried not to frown at the gagging noises coming from the backseat as she ordered for the three of you. Asking Wanda if you were ok when she had finished ordering.

“I’m not sure natty shes a bit too warm for my liking and joined with the vomiting I don’t want her to get dehydrated. Did you order the water?”

“yes. We’ll keep an eye on her temp, I can stop of at the chemist for a fever reducer and thermometer if you like?” Wanda nodded her agreement chewing on her lip as she brushed back your hair as you laid against her thigh in a fever induced haze. She had used her magic to rid the bag of sick and had a fresh one on hand if you needed it again.

After a quick stop, nat returned with the goods and Wanda fed you the tablets passing the water to you and holding the straw to your lips. Your eyes were glazed and your body ached.

“oh sweetheart. You really don’t feel good do you love?” nat asked looking at your shaking body. You whined like a child in response too tired to form proper words. Wanda tapped your cheek, using her thumb to tilt down your chin and open your mouth. She slipped the thermometer inside and waited for it to beep. When it did she removed it guiding your head back to her lap before looking at the number. Wanda hummed her disapproval upon seeing the flashing screen.

“what is it love?”

“102.8 too high for our sweet angel hmmm” she ran her hands through your hair again, rubbing your back to help you rest.

“that doesn’t sound good baby.”

With about a half hour to go, your eyes flew open, Wanda startled by your sudden movement pulled you upright, shoving the bag under your chin just in time as what small lunch you had spilled down you chin. With a choked sob, you continued to throw up. “shhh baby your ok. Your ok” Wanda cooed, still holding the bag. When you stopped Wanda waved her hand replacing the bag with her magic and guiding you back to her lap where you fell back into a fitful sleepy fever induced haze. Wanda took your temperature again slightly happier with the number but it hadn’t lowered by much. It would be a matter of a cold shower when they reached the cabin. You were silent the rest of the trip there save for fevered mutterings and the occasional groan. When you finally pulled in, Wanda peeled you off her lap. Passing you to nat who held you bridal style as Wanda climbed out and unlocked the door. Heading straight for the shower you were stripped of your clothes whining at the ice cold air on your fevered and flushed skin. Wanda guided you to the shower practically holding you up as the water ran over you. Despite your struggling she didn’t once let go as she held you and nat washed your body clean of the sweat that had soaked your clothes.

“shh love its ok” she cooed stroking back your damp hair from your face

After the shower from hell, as you called it, nat and Wanda dressed you in fluffy

PJs before carrying you to the bed and putting the sick bag on the bedside table. Your girls snuggled up with you.

“what about the car. We need to unpack” you yawned.

“don’t worry your pretty little head about it love your far more important.”

“plus I can use my magic to unpack it from here love” Wanda stated.

“okay” you sighed curling into Nat’s shoulder as Wanda wrapper her arms around you.

“goodnight sweetheart.” Nat cooed, stroking your hair back.

“night wands. night Tasha. Love you guys.”

“good night love. We love you too. Now sleep baby.”

Masterlist

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sillyguy99 · 2 months

Text

* don't look now, but i lost my shoe.

(Undertale Sans x Reader)

Chapter One: * what's with these homies, dissin' my girl?

[Index | Next]

Notice:

(This story is nearly 5 years old, and though it doesn't show my best work, I decided to post it, just because I stopped it at chapter 18, when there were only 2 more chapters left to finish it. So... I'm gonna give it another shot – making minor edits to make the plot less dramatic and angsty, lol.)

(***Also, since Tumblr has a more limited format: italic texts are from you, the reader, and bold texts are from others.)

• • • • •

You've changed.

The best thing your boss did was to give you that warning.

You shouldn't keep working for the law if you're just gonna be a traitor.

How am I a traitor?

You work 9 to 5, sometimes 8 to 6, for the benefit of monsters.

Now, all of a sudden, our sex life goes down the drain.

I haven't slept with you since you got that promotion, and that was two whole months ago.

I'm supposed to be your husband, but you've left me in the dry.

I'm tired.

And I refuse to sleep with someone who won't support me in my new job.

Or should I remind you said I wasn't a real detective?

That my degree's 'worth shit', simply because of the field I'm working in these days?

The rest is an ongoing, fruitless conversation you can't bother yourself with.

Through reading those texts for what has to be the twentieth time today, you sigh, hiccup, and close your eyes tight, lifting your face slightly to avoid letting tears fall.

Barely two hours are left until he comes home to drop off your child, and the mere thought that you have to sleep with him five hours after that makes your stomach twist and churn. You don't want to imagine him naked: panting, heavy, and on top of you again, doing whatever he pleases with little regards to your own limits. Nausea takes over – violent, making you open your eyes and suppress a gag.

You really, really don't want anything to do with him anymore.

Yet, he insists you should remain married until your child reaches their eighteenth birthday.

“At least wait until they're grown up,” he said. “Cuz what's six more years? Be honest with me.” Then, he chuckled. “As ugly as you frown when you see me, I doubt you hate me that much.”

That had been a year ago.

Would you really have to wait five more years until your freedom?

The thought sends chills down your spine.

While he was a good father, that adjective didn't really fit next to husband.

At the beginning of your marriage, yes – he was the best spouse you could ask for.

Now?

You'd rather eat drywall than have to spend a single second near him – without your child around, of course.

With your newest agreement, it felt more as if your husband were a client, his payment being not making your life hell, and your service what he claimed was something a wife should be willing to give twenty-four seven.

You shake your head and search for a distraction amongst the people surrounding the bar, aware you can only end up worse if you continue to dwell on the subject. The air presses down on you hot and heavy, a feeling that only increases the more time you stay seated without doing anything for your growing aches. Your sole companion is your mind when you realize you're too overcome with emotions to talk to someone without scaring them off. Chatter drowns out coherent thinking and sensory overload begins to show by how difficult breathing becomes. Seeking an escape route, you hold the bartender back with a raised hand and an 'excuse me'. Then, you ask him for some bottled water – the only kind he could touch willingly. Small embers flutter around the air as he turns around, leaving you alone with burning cheeks and a pounding headache.

Groaning, you pinch the bridge of your nose and blink through your blurry vision. Then, you adjust your glasses – despite knowing the excess shots have pretty much screwed you over already. The hour marked on your phone surfaces a sigh. How fast time seems to be going makes you notice you currently only have around an hour left before your husband arrives with your child. They would be staying with you while he went off to work, and the least you wanted was to look washed up for his arrival.

"need somethin' else, pal?"

You jolt at the new voice, deep and hearty.

Reluctantly, you cast your gaze up to see a skeleton monster standing behind the counter, now glossy with polish. His face is tough to make out with the blurriness, yet you can tell he's looking at you. From the way he stands behind the counter and the stuffy look his suit gives off with its pristine and exaggerated formality, you figure he's a new employee. His newbie appearance doesn't erase the warm and welcoming aura most bartenders appear to carry by default, however. Instead, it makes his smile and words more genuine in his approach.

It takes you a while to respond aside from shaking your head – mind hazy and disoriented. You thank him and sweep the water bottle off the counter, then turn the lid open, breathe in deep, and take a series of long, greedy gulps. Finally, you set it back down, more than half of it already gone.

One more screw up, and you were out of your job at the law department for good.

It doesn't help that you're currently hanging out at a place strictly and utterly forbidden by your boss: a hole-in-the-wall bar and grill establishment open to all, kept family-friendly during the day and becoming more daring during the night. It has been long since you ever drank alcohol of any sort, and it's beginning to show. You can hardly sit without tumbling pitifully to the side.

“hey.”

You're snapped back toward reality through the feeling of someone resting their arms over the counter, facing you and waiting for your return.

You frown and look up from the water bottle to see the same skeleton – his previous stuffy appearance appearing more natural now that he's taken off his tie and left two of the shirt's buttons unfastened.

"i’m no expert on humans, but you look like you could use someone to talk to."

You feel hazy again.

And whether due to the drinks or the heat, you're not too certain of.

But – right now – you're positive about one thing.

“U- Um…”

As you wipe a tear off your cheek and burst out half a sob and half a laugh, you realize you really could use someone to talk to.

“Thank you.”

#sans x reader #reader insert #undertale fanfiction #ao3 fanfic #weezer reference #female reader #chubby reader #detective reader #long fic #weekly updates #undertale x reader #sans undertale #classic sans #angst and fluff #slow burn

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saey707 · 2 years

Text

Nothing Personal

✿ Prompt: Yone lets his inner demon out ✿

♡ champion focus: yone ♡ tw: yandere, kidnapping, noncon, psychological horror, gore, obsession ♡ Female reader

Author’s Note: I bet nobody expected me to come back and offer yet another Yone piece... ̑̑ෆ(⸝⸝⸝◉⸝ ｡ ⸝◉⸝⸝⸝) I bet you all can tell I play favorites. While I was gone, I want to thank everyone for supporting my work! So many notes! (◉ ω ◉) I don't think I'll be around consistently because I am in school... But nonetheless, I hope you enjoy this piece! [Side note: I didn't read this over, so I am praying there are no mistakes lol]

Yone was desperate. For far too many nights, he longed to keep you by his side, to fulfill the weary, devoid hole in his heart. He ached to feel the touch of your soft skin, pressed flush against his own, hearts intertwined... Just like that evening when the two of you met in the spirit realm, sitting in comfortable silences. It was the one memory Yone wished he could have embraced a little bit longer... He clung to the idea that someday he would see you again.

In the beginning, he asked himself- no- pondered such menial questions: Why did he cling? Why couldn't he love like normal people did? And will the day ever come when he will feel loved again? Frustrated, it didn't take long for Yone to grow irritated with his lack of pursuit, deciding then to venture beyond the spirit realm... All to find you again.

When Yone found you, his heart swelled with joy. Just watching you from afar, safe and happy, was enough to provide the azakana solace.

But despite how happy he was for you, he couldn't stop his repulsive, killer instincts from feeling one other thing: Hunger.

Remnants of his days were spent watching you, longing to devour you whole. From what Yone has learned in his short return to the mortal realm was how women had a sweeter scent and squishy skin. Much easier to tear into... If he so much had the courage to feast. Most days he left the idea of eating up to his own interpretations. But you...The idea of your sweet blood, body, and soul flowing down his throat, staining his fanged teeth, all leaving him warm and full, made Yone feel profound greed, an unwillingness to share you with anyone else in all of Runeterra.

And one night, Yone was torn with conflict. He didn't want to kill you... But he did want to know in your final dying hours he would be able to consume you. To him, this was all slowly becoming a game. A sick, delusional game.

You were a deer caught in headlights, glowing heterochromatic eyes focused on you from the shadows. From there, all you were able to remember were those horrible, glowing eyes as this... monster swept you off your feet.

He tore his claws into you, eyes widened when your shrill voice begged him to stop. Your delicate skin was marked with the unholy curse of a demon; By the hands of a man, who you fell in love with once upon a time in another realm.

And once again, the hunter was faced with a difficult decision. He was unable to bring himself to risk your precious life for his five minutes of pleasure.

But, either way, it was too late.

You were Yone's possession.

He honored you with his name, tasting the blood that trickled along your forearm greedily, savoring every last drop. You were his now, and he didn’t intend to let you go.

“I'm sorry... I lost myself for a moment there." He heavily sighed, thumb brushing against the corner of his lips. "I'm afraid I can't let you go... Can’t you see, deer? Everyone needs to know that you’re mine."

What was pure agony to you was pure pleasure to him. Every terrible glimmer in your eyes, every rapid beat of your gentle heart. Every shrill scream. All of it was his and only his.

You may deem him to be a monster... But he saw himself as a hungry predator, longing to just corrupt his innocent prey.

And his dabbling hours of him feasting upon you, watching you, and clinging to your love and attention lasted for days upon days. For a moment, Yone thought the two of you could be happy together, that he could stop and realize... He really does have the potential to love someone so innocently again. If he just lets you live to be one with him, hearts intertwined like before...

But you just had to play hard to get. He could have let you see the light of day. That was before you hit him.

The slap forced enough impact to turn his head to the side, raven locks falling over his face. A gruesome snarl followed, clutching where you hit him with a bandaged hand.

“You’re going to wish you didn’t do that, (Y/N)...”

Yone dragged you to the forest, the aching cold blowing against the bits of your exposed skin. He grabbed you by the hair, snickering as he pushed you to the dirt. Fingers danced along the hilt of his dual blades, your eyes trailing to them. He was going to kill you, you thought. Helpless, little tears prickled along the corners of your eyes. But, Yone showed no remorse for the devastating look on your sad, innocent, little face.

The hunter began circling you. Cold nails traveled along your jawline; He was toying with you you, taunting you.

“It pains me that we have to do this, innocent deer... I don't want to be a monster." He muttered, listening to the steady stream of your sobs.

"You don't have to be..." You wallowed out.

"Then why?! Why did you keep running?! If you leave me, I’ll die!! You don’t want to let me starve do you?!”

He grabbed you by the face, his breathy voice dancing into your ear, malice trembling in his unstable laughter as he spoke, “I’m going to count to ten... You have ten seconds to run for your helpless, little freedom... But you won’t get very far. You’re so hopeless you can’t admit that you need me.” Chuckling, he teeth on your cheek a little, before placing his lips as a gentle kiss.

“Do you remember when I told you the cheek was a window to the soul?" The warrior queried, his heart sinking when you nodded your head. Of course, you remember. You remember all the memories you shared with him. They lived in your heart, in a part of your soul.

To him, it was a glimpse of the past, a reminder that the two of you could have been happy and human. But there was no point in looking back now when all Yone saw in the reflections of still rivers was a monster with a mask.

"If I catch you... I am going to kill you. You will be my perfect, little pet." He sighed, "I anticipated this day would come. You’re just a defenseless deer. You can’t protect yourself... And there will be no one to protect you or save you..." He smiled. You were terrified.

"Look at you, so desperate to leave the only man who cares about you!! It makes me sick.”

He could only smile at your determination. Such a headstrong woman you were. It was one of the many things he loved about you, and yet, one of the many he hated. Releasing you from his hold, he grabbed hold of mortal steel.

You scrambled to your feet, listening to his daunting voice begin the countdown. You screamed, cried, and struggled to navigate a way out of the treacherous, unending forest!!

WHICH WAY

LEFT?

RIGHT?!

Every way you turned you can hear him, ridiculing your chance of escape.

His free hand gripped onto the demonic blade, halfway done with the countdown.

Yone readied himself, one leg forward, blades forming a perfect "X" before the long forgotten, once dignified warrior. You can hear his footsteps, prancing atop the snow, beginning his prowl for your entire being...

Get OUT OF HERE! Go AWAY!!!

NO NO NO NO NO NO NO!!

HE'S COMING

RUN! RUN! RUN! RUN!

“FOUND YOU, DEER!”

Your eyes shut tightly, dreading the impact of his blades... But they never came.

“That was fun. However, you didn’t make that a challenge for me... How sweet! Are you really this weak without me?" He sliced your leg, making you fall to your knees with a howl.

"That’s adorable. Aww, don't cry, deer~" He licked your cheek, admiring how your head turned away from meeting his hungry eyes, "Is my little deer scared? I'm sorry~ I didn't mean it, honest..." But you knew he was teasing you.

The hunter's tongue and lips followed down to your thigh, beginning to suck the blood from your open wounds. The sight of your trembling shoulders, your delicate hand weft in his hair as he suckled on your sweet blood, was everything to him. It seethed eternities of endless love for the innocent spirit he so much adored.

“You taste so good... You want to be touched by me, don’t you deer? You love feeling absolutely incapable. Nothing but a dirty, little animal of mine...” His hunger was satisfied. His name was scarred into your skin. He broke you. And he was a monster to enjoy every bite, prod, and lick that satisfied the everlasting starvation that contorted the Yone you once loved.

You can struggle and cry and scream all you want. But you belong to the hunter, and the hunter would only ever belong to you.

#saeybaewrites #tw #short #yandere #x reader #yone #yone league of legends #yone lol #yone x reader #lol yone x reader #yone league of legends x reader #league of legends x reader

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witchywomanrunningupthathill · 2 years

Text

Will You Hold Me?

Request: Hello! I was wondering if I could request a blurb or something similar abt hugging Paul Atreides (as best friends (gn reader))? I feel like he'd give great hugs and I'd never pass on a Paul hug lol. Thank you in advance!

Pairing: Paul Atreides x gn!reader

Word Count: 1.1k

Description: Paul gives you a (much-needed) hug

Warnings: depression, suicidal ideation

A/N: Sorry for the mini-writing drought. I’ve been trying to figure out my life and have been super uninspired lately b/c #depression, but here’s my attempt to both fill this request and convince myself that I don’t feel like dying on the inside :/

Only three hours had passed since you last thought about throwing yourself off one of the Arrakeen Residence’s balconies. It was a long way down the brutalist palace reminiscent of the Egyptian pyramids that were once on Terra. In truth, you didn’t really have much time to lend to these violent thoughts, whether it was the pitching yourself off the balcony or otherwise. You’d thought about the sand worms and the Fremen, and you doubted you’d stand a chance against either. Sometimes you even wished the Harkonnens, in all their entitlement and vitriol, would return to “their Dune” and off you once and for all.

As these thoughts crossed your mind, hot tears streamed down from your bloodshot eyes. You sat in your chambers, staring across to the single window — if you even wanted to call it that. You sniffle before covering your face with your hands and sobbing silently. You didn’t want to feel like this. Miserable, helpless, misunderstood.

You’d pray to the stars to fix you, take your pain away, rebalance your body, mind, and spirit. But despite your distress and sincerity in those requests, it seemed that your prayers had fallen on deaf ears. Maybe this was just the cruelty of the Universe.

Or maybe you were just weak and unwilling to go out and actually do something about your pain. Pull yourself out of this mental hellhole. But it hurt so badly. Your soul ached. You longed for home — for Caladan, for cool breezes and rushing ocean waves, for the sound of the wind rustling through the trees, all of the things that helped you come back to reason when everything started to feel like it was spinning out of control. Now all you had were the recordings of those sounds from a Caladan filmbook Paul had given to you ages ago. A far cry from the real thing, though, because you were constantly fast-forwarding, rewinding, pausing, and then playing the recording to avoid the commentary on the planet. It was too much work, to be honest. So, you usually found yourself sat on your unmade bed, frustrated and livid that the rest of your life was to be spent on a giant sand dune with half of the universe counting the days to House Atreides’ extinction.

Perhaps no one would even notice if you did go through with the business on the balcony. Everyone was too busy running around, whether it was attending council meetings, going on aerial excursions around the desert, or even so desperately trying to find a moment for themselves, no one seemed to notice that you hadn’t been present for breakfast nor for your fight training.

Except, he had. Paul never spent a day without the thought of you crossing his mind at least once. You two hadn’t had the chance to spend much time together since the move to Arrakis just five days ago. He was busy being a prince and you had your own commitments to attend to. Your spiraling thoughts halt as you hear the doors to your chambers slide open. You quickly wipe your tears and opt to lay down again. You pull a pillow up to your face in an attempt to conceal it.

“Missed you at breakfast…and at fight training…” Paul says, trailing off. You smile sadly at him before turning your attention back to the pillow. He’s still in his fight training clothes, the linen top unbuttoned revealing his pale, lean chest still glistening with sweat.

He comes to sit on the side of your bed. “You wanna talk about it?” he asks. You frown, keeping your head turned away from him as your face begins getting hot again, tears threatening to fall.

“Not really…” you croak out. Paul studies you for a moment before pulling off his boots and scooting up next to you.

“Please, can I see you?” he asks, combing his hand through your hair. His lips are centimeters from your ear. “Please?” he whispers, dragging out the word. You turn over, shoving aside the pillow you’d been using as a shield.

“Will you hold me?” you mumble, failing to meet Paul’s sympathetic gaze.

“Come here,” he says as he pulls you tightly into his chest. He kisses the top of your head as you snuggle closer to him. Then the floodgates open. You grip onto the thin linen of his top as you sob, the sounds echoing out into your chambers. Paul just holds onto you, rubbing your back. He’s not exactly sure what to do, but he recalls how his mother would comfort him when he got upset. So, he did his best to do what Lady Jessica did until your cries began to die down. Your forehead brushes against his damp chest.

“Ew,” you grimace.

“What?” he asks.

“You’re sweaty,” you say, pushing away from him slightly and sitting up.

“That’s never stopped you before,” he declares, trying to tease a smile out of you. Paul sits up and leans against your stone headboard. He directs his attention to the filmbook that’s still playing, its projection slightly grainy on the opposite wall. The filmbook was currently detailing Caladan’s agricultural industry. Something about pundi rice fields. You nudge your head back into his shoulder, giving him permission to embrace you again.

“I can’t do it, Paul” you admit.

“Do what?” he probes.

“Everything. It’s just too much. My brain is like…overloaded with all of this. I feel paralyzed. I don’t want to do anything. But I feel hopeless if I don’t, if I just keep laying here…Everything is just really hard for me to do right now…I feel so alone.”

Paul doesn’t say anything for a while. He rubs your shoulder, pondering his next words.

“You don’t have to do anything right now, okay? This move has been hard…and things will probably stay challenging for a while, but we’ll get over this hump.” He looks down at you as you wrap your arm around his abdomen. “And you’re not alone — you’ve got me and mother and father…Duncan…even Gurney!”

A knock sounds at the door before a young Fremen girl appears from around the corner.

“Sorry, Samira, could you come back a bit later?” you ask, sniffling.

“Of course. My apologies, jalalatukah” Samira says before quickly bowing and leaving the chamber.

You turn back toward Paul, closing your eyes and resting in his embrace.

“Let’s get you out of this room. Take a walk with me?” Paul suggests. You huff out a breath, considering his offer for a moment.

“Okay” you say.

“Yeah?” Paul asks as he pulls his arm from around you and moves off the bed. As you swing your legs over the side, Paul slides your shoes over to you before pulling on his boots. You mirror him. “Ready?” Paul asks, holding out his hands. You take hold of the boy’s hands as he helps you up.

*jalalatukah - your majesty (my embellishment of the Arabic)

#request #fic request #this was supposed to be blurb but I got carried away #*a blurb #paul atreides x reader #paul x reader #paul atreides x you #paul atreides fanfiction #dune fanfiction #paul atreides

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angelst4re · 2 years

Text

Jealous - Brian Wilcox X Fem! Reader

It’s never good to have an argument hours before going to a party...

contains: NSFW, lowkey toxic, brian being an asshole but whats new, alcohol, smoking, use of y/n, porn with no plot lol

author’s note: i haven’t wrote smut in years so sorry if this is bad.. this is my first time actually posting something like this on this app, i have been a wattpad girl most of my life but don’t worry. i have seen the light. i’m here now. [also i wanna add that this hasn’t been proof read! pls point out mistakes and i’ll make sure to change it]

“I don’t care, Brian. That was the money we were saving for our trip this summer!”

“I work two jobs i fucking hate right now, y/n, and what do you do? Huh? Nothing. All that money was mine anyway, maybe if you got a job you wouldn’t have to rely on me-”

“I don’t rely on you!”

“No, of course you don’t. So I guess you’ll be fine if I left then? Yeah? Seeing as I took the money to pay for this month’s rent.” He stood up from the bed, throwing a hoodie over his head, grabbed his car keys and stormed out of their shared home.

You knew you fucked up. You should tell Brian your sorry, but you knew that would only get to his head, he would tease you for it. Yet, you didn’t just want to wait it out incase he really did mean what he said. It was true, you do rely on him, but not in the way he meant. You were independent, you don’t need anyone else, but Brian had always been your comfort.

However, you weren’t going to let this ruin your night. It was Amber’s birthday after all! She’s the reason you and Brian are together- when you visited her at work one day he caught your eye, she told you a bit about him and here you are now, mid-argument.

---

“Yeah, he got here like 20 minutes ago, when I saw he was alone I started to think maybe you weren’t coming.” Amber said, holding your hand as she directed you to her kitchen to get a drink, “So, what was it this time? Has he been smoking again?”

“No- I don’t think so- honestly, it was just something stupid. Anyway, I’m not going to let that ruin your party!” You began leaning on the kitchen counter when you spotted your boyfriend talking to a girl, she was very pretty. Suddenly you felt your heart drop as she touched his arm, laughing at something he had said. Also at the fact that he had a cigarette in his hand.

As much as you hated to admit it, your first instinct was to find a random guy and make him jealous. It was a good job you were wearing your hottest dress that barely covered your ass.

---

“See, I told you I don’t rely on you” You grinned up at Brian as he grabbed your arm and pulled you off of some random guy’s lap.

“You’re such a fucking embarrassment.” Brian muttered, not even bothering to look at you as he pulled you along through Amber’s house. “I don’t show you any attention for five minutes and you start acting like a slut. I guess that’s all you’re good for, is it?”

The way he spoke to you left you rather flustered, an ache in your stomach spread down your body, you shouldn’t feel like this right now. He took you upstairs and you knew where this was going, and you were not complaining.

“Shit I think someone’s in there,” Brian said, putting his ear against a bedroom door.

“What about this one?” You ask, opening another door. It was Amber’s room.

“But-” Brian started, before sighing, shaking his head and following you into the room. He made sure the door was locked before pinning you up against it. He was quick to lean forwards, sloppily kissing you, his hand tangled into your hair as he pulled you closer, his other hand travelling up your thigh. “This what you wanted?”

You nodded pathetically, his grip on your hair didn’t allow your head to move much. When you gave him permission his fingertips grazed your clothed heat, you were practically throbbing. Wanting more.

“Please,” you whimper, your eyes screwed shut.

“Look at me,” you could tell by his voice that he had a smirk plastered on his face, as you opened your eyes your thoughts were confirmed. He kept eye contact as he slipped his hand into your panties. His thumb found you clit, teasing it and watching your expression change as he slipped his index and middle finger into you. “My pretty girl.” He smiled as his actions got quicker, rougher. His fingers curled as he pumped into you, he could feel you clench around him which only encouraged him to do more.

His spare hand reached for your chest, pulling your dress down enough for your tits to spill out. His kisses move down your neck until he reaches your chest, surely there will be some bruises left by the time you were both done.

“You’re close aren’t you?” He grinned, lifting his face to look at you, “you gonna show me how much of a whore you are, that you can cum from just this? In your best friend’s bedroom?”

Once again, all you can do is nod your head. The feeling in your heat becoming overwhelming when all of a sudden you feel his mouth replace his hand as he pushes your panties to the side. You’re gasping for air as your orgasm hits, your fingers tangled into Brian’s hair and he doesn’t stop. You tap him on the shoulder.

“Too much,” you whimper, “please, please.”

He obliges, standing back up and taking his fingers into his mouth, looking down at you before placing a kiss on your lips.

“I’m sorry,” he says, in a tone that was quite serious for this situation.

“What for?”

“Taking the money, I was going to put it back but-”

“Brian,” you stop him from rambling on, “don’t worry about it. You were right though, I should probably get a job.”

“Let’s not talk about that right now, okay love? It’s uh... getting late. I think maybe we should go home?” You know that look in his eyes

He wants to go home to finish what he started.

#brian wilcox x reader #fast food nation #brian wilcox smut #paul dano smut

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sharkneto · 1 year

Note

Saw the Rob tag and rejoiced lol. I totally understand if you don’t wanna share the more Sarah and Rob heavy stories, but I would read the fuck out of them, regardless of how much or how little Five shows up (even though I would love to see his interactions with them too lol). Sarah’s just so relatable to me as a physicist who is a lady - I love her 🥰🥰 I LOVE Amanda, too. Five being surprised by good people gets me every time

Ah, thank you! <3 I really can't overstate how much your guys' love for Rob and Sarah (and Amanda) lights me up, it's really something special. The good news with how amazing you all are is that I no longer have that anxiety I had about them when I first started sharing HIT. Good luck stopping me from sharing more of my homemade blorbos, to be honest ;)

It's Christmas, and you said above you would read the fuck out of Rob and Sarah content, so how about a little nothing I wrote a while ago about their early days, so no Five anywhere lol -

The first two things Sarah is aware of is that it is very bright and her head hurts very much. A groan escapes as she scrunches her eyes shut. She’s vaguely aware of movement around her.

“Hey! You’re awake! How are you feeling?” a woman asks her.

Sarah groans again. That feels like it covers it.

“I get it,” the woman says, with sympathy. “Let me let the doctor know you’re up and then I’ve got some questions to ask you, hang on…”

As Sarah waits and tries to figure out what the fuck is going on, she becomes more aware that her body aches. Her wrist in particular is a sharp pain that’s starting to give her headache a run for its money. There’s a specific point on her head that’s starting to pound, just above her temple. She reaches up to touch it, surprised when her hand is stiff and constrained.

“Ahh, don’t touch that just yet, Ms. Martin,” a new voice says as a curtain moves.

Sarah tries opening her eyes again and it’s marginally better than it was the first try. A man in a white coat comes into focus and smiles at her flanked by a young nurse in green scrubs. He gently brings her hand back down to rest on the cot she’s laying on. Sarah watches it dumbly. Her wrist is strapped into a brace. Huh. That explains the stiffness then. And the pain.

The man sits and leans over her, bringing a bright flashlight to sweep between her eyes. Sarah flinches away from it. He clicks it off a moment later and leans back. “Alright, few questions for you, answer as fast as you can. Name?”

Still blinking from the light, Sarah scrambles. “Um, Sarah. Ah, Sarah Martin. Wait, full name? Sarah Marie Martin.”

“Good. Date of birth?”

“August third, 1974.”

“Great. Who’s the president?”

“Um, Clinton.”

“Top marks. Do you know where you are and what happened?”

Sarah blinks at him some more. “I’m at the hospital?” He’s a doctor, there’s a nurse, there’s medical equipment, people are rushing around through the crack in the curtain behind them. She’s in the ER.

“You’re at the hospital,” the doctor confirms. “Do you know why you’re here?”

She twitches her braced hand. Her head still pounds. “I hurt myself?”

The doctor looks at her for a long second and then nods. “Minor concussion, should be fine in a few days to a week. Scan came back clear so we can discharge her. Did you already call her contact?”

The nurse nods. “Should be here any minute.”

“Alright,” the doctor nods, standing. Turning back to Sarah where she’s still reeling on the cot as no one tells her what is going on, he smiles again. “You’ll be fine Ms. Martin. Have someone watch you for the next twenty-four hours and if your head hurts worse or you start getting confused come right back here. You can take some aspirin for the headache. Your wrist is sprained but not broken, so keep the brace on for a couple weeks.” He gives Sarah’s good arm a friendly pat and then whisks out of her cubicle.

“I—Wha—Okay,” Sarah says after him. She turns to the nurse for answers but she’s focused on the chart in her hands.

After a moment, she glances up to Sarah to also give her a quick smile. “I’ll get this set and then you’ll be out of here. Sit tight.”

With that, Sarah is alone.

She listens to the sound of medical talk and people walking past her curtain. Lifts up her arm to study the clunky brace. Twiddles her fingers. Ow. Lets that hand drop so she can bring the other one up to poke at the painful spot on her forehead. A row of prickly stitches meets it.

“Oh,” she mumbles to herself.

She’s brought back from poking her injuries by the nurses’ voice carrying, “…over here. She’s good to go, just a bit bruised up.”

“And the scans are clear? You’re sure it’s just a minor concussion? You made it sound pretty serious on the phone.”

Warmth blossoms through Sarah’s sore chest. That’s Rob’s voice, tight with worry but here. “You can look at the scans, Rob, I know you like looking at brains,” she says as the curtain slides open but then anything she was going to add to that dies on her lips. She frowns at him. “You have a beard.”

Rob stands behind the nurse, expression pinched. His hand half raises towards his jaw that is, indeed, covered by a trimmed beard. In the year and a half they’ve dated, he’s never had a beard. Sarah blinks at him. They stare at one another for a long moment, Sarah confused and Rob closed. Another first. He turns to the nurse. “Some minor amnesia?”

The nurse shrugs. “She has the big stuff down. Give her some time and she should put everything back into place.” She softens slightly and glances back at Rob. “Sorry. I can try her secondary contacts if you want? I didn’t make the call, I would have gone for those if I’d known.”

Rob shakes his head. “It’s fine, I’m already here. I’ll make sure she gets home safe. Thanks, though.”

“You’re a good guy. Let me know when you’re done moping, give me a call.”

His expression twists slightly, a tight, polite smile. “Yeah, sure. If you have those papers, I’ll sign and get her out of your hair.”

Sarah frowns at that. Is this nurse flirting with her boyfriend right in front of her?

The nurse shrugs easily and the pair goes through the stack of papers. Sarah lays ignored on the cot. They finish it up within a few minutes, the nurse goes through the instructions for Sarah’s care, again, and then she’s officially released.

“You’re sure you’re good, Rob?” the nurse asks, hovering at the corner of the cubicle.

“Yeah, I’ve got her. Thanks,” Rob says. There’s something off about his tone that Sarah can’t place. He’s been off since he got here.

“Alright, then. See you on Monday at clinicals. I’ll try and find a hard one for you.”

“You do that. See you Monday.”

The nurse gives a final nod and takes her leave, throwing a long glance over her shoulder back towards Rob before she’s swallowed by the bustle of the ER.

“Well, she was shameless,” Sarah says, smiling up at him.

He doesn’t smile back. He sighs. “Are you good to walk or do I need to find you a chair?”

“I can walk,” she says with confidence. When she doesn’t move, Rob sighs again and steps closer to help her sit up. His touch is very gentle. Careful. As soon as she’s up, he lets her go and steps back again.

“I’m not going to break, again, Rob. I already did that,” she jokes. He’s being so serious about this; it’s scaring her a little. She must look awful if he’s not trying to lighten the mood.

“Come on,” he says without acknowledging her (perhaps badly timed) joke. He holds a hand out for her to use to leverage off the cot and to her feet. The world spins when she’s up but it settles to something relatively stable quickly. Rob lets her cling to him as she totters along with him out of the ER.

It’s a quiet walk. Sarah tries a couple times to get Rob talking but he gently ends every attempt within a few words. He leads them to a beat-up SUV and carefully deposits Sarah in the passenger seat before swinging around to get into the driver’s side.

Sarah looks around. “Who’s car is this?”

“Jen’s.”

“Oh. That was nice of her to let you borrow it.”

“Yup.”

It’s quiet as he navigates them out of the parking structure. Quiet as he pays. Quiet as he pulls them out of the hospital complex and onto the road.

His hand rests on the console between them. Carefully, Sarah reaches for it, intending to give him a reassuring squeeze, remind him that she’s fine. As soon as she makes contact, he pulls back and moves it to the wheel.

Sarah’s heart sinks. “Rob?”

“Yeah?”

“Are you mad at me?”

His expression twists again, like it had in the ER. He lets out a small laugh, no mirth to it. “Yeah, Sarah. I am a little mad at you.” He stays focused on the traffic.

She sits and tries to wrack her brain for what he could be mad at her about. They had a fight recently. Obviously, if he’s mad at her, but once she thinks that it rests heavy on her mind. Not just a fight, it was big, it was— “Oh.”

“Yeah.”

Sarah broke up with him three weeks ago.

She brings her hands up to hide in them, forgetting about the brace and bonking her nose with it. “That’s why you have a beard.”

He stares at the road.

“It looks nice.”

“Sarah.”

“I’m sorry. I can’t believe I forgot.”

“You have a concussion. It’s understandable.”

“Yeah, but. You didn’t have to come.”

“I’m listed as your emergency contact and I got a call that you were unconscious in the ER with a head wound. I wasn’t not going to come.”

“Well. Thank you.”

He jerks a nod. “I’ll just drop you off at your place, Trish can look after you, and you won’t have to see me again.”

Disappointment curdles in Sarah’s gut. That is what she wanted, though, to not see Rob again. Apparently. She’s having a hard time remembering why she broke up with him. Oh, and also, “Trish isn’t here for the weekend. She’s in San Diego visiting her boyfriend.”

“That you remember,” Rob mutters.

“You can still just drop me off. I’ll be fine.”

“I can’t. You have a concussion and yes, it probably will be fine, but you do need someone to check on you for the first twenty-four hours in case it’s not.”

Sarah nods, the motion causing her headache to pulse. “I’ll think of someone I can call when we get home. Worst comes to worst my parents drive over in a couple hours.”

“Thank you.”

Quiet again. Sarah turns to watch the traffic and buildings pass around them. “This is my turn,” she says.

“I know where you live, Sarah.”

“Right.”

Rob pulls up her street, slowing as they approach her building. “There’s a spot,” she points out.

His head falls back to hit the headrest. “Oh fuck, I have to park.”

“Did you just swear?” She turns to frown at him, moving too fast so the world blurs a little and her head throbs.

He lets out a huff. “I’m having a bit of a rough day,” he mutters as he lines up to parallel park.

Sarah bites down on her tongue to stop from pointing out that he’s not the one who woke up in the ER and still doesn’t know what the fuck happened to get there.

It takes Rob three tries to get into the space, heralded by lots of honking as cars attempt to pass them, but he gets it. It’s right in front of her building, too, so it’s really a perfect spot. Sarah waits for him to make a joke about third time being the charm, something about good things come to those who wait, something about patience.

He just turns off the car and gets out to help her.

Right. She broke up with him.

Walking is easier but the stairs are still a bit tricky for her woozy coordination. “Sorry,” she apologizes as she has to lean heavily on Rob to get up. He just hums. He lets her go the moment they reach her door.

She’s sure she’s imagining how much colder the hallway is without his arm wrapped around her.

He digs in his pocket to pull out keys, going through the practiced motion of unlocking her door and swinging it open. He freezes as he’s pulling the key from the lock. “Should probably give this back to you.”

Sarah swallows. “Probably should,” she echoes. She follows him in, letting the door swing shut behind her.

“You have a name you can call?” Rob asks, still standing just inside the entry and bent over his key ring, working her key off. She watches it slide around and away from the key to his apartment.

She should probably give him his key back, too.

“Um, yeah. Um. Jake. He should be around this weekend.”

Rob’s hands stop maneuvering the keyring. “Jake?”

“He’s just a friend. Nothing like that,” she hurries to clarify.

He finishes pulling her key off. “Doesn’t matter if he is or isn’t. Not my business.” He holds up her key and sets it on the counter next to her.

Sarah nods and makes her way over to the phone, pulling their notebook of numbers over to find Jake’s. It takes her a couple tries but she gets it punched in. She puts it to her ear, listens to it ring, until a warm voice answers, “Hello?”

“Hi, Jake. This is Sarah. Martin.”

“Hey, Sarah! What’s up? You looking to go out tonight? I’ve got some friends talking about going to Lou’s tonight, you’re welcome to join the gang.”

“Um, no. Um, actually, I, well. It’s a little bit of a long story and I don’t actually know it but long story short, I hit my head.”

“Oh, fuck! Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I just, um. I’m not supposed to be alone and Rob’s here but he can’t stay because… you know – do you know? – but so I was just wondering—”

A large, warm hand gently pulls the phone from her ear. She watches it move away until she’s looking up at Rob as he holds it up to talk into. “Hi, Jake. This is Rob… Yeah, that’s me… Uh-huh, I remember you… Sure, doesn’t matter, not my business.” His gaze flicks down to her. “Yeah. Sarah had a bike accident and hit her head, she’s got a concussion… No, she’s alright. She just needs someone to be with her for the next twenty-four hours to make sure she’s alright and doesn’t need to go back to the ER. Her roommate is out but she thought you might be free… Uh-huh… Great, thanks. When can you be here?” He lets out a long sigh and glances at her again. “Sure, no it’s fine. You’ve got the address and number and—alright. Good. See you then.” He hangs up and sets the phone onto the receiver with a soft click and looks down at her. She hadn’t moved when he came to take the phone from her and they’re standing very close. She has to crane her neck back a bit to meet his eyes.

“What did Jake say?” she asks.

“He can be here in a couple hours.”

“Good.”

They look at each other.

Sarah clears her throat. “You don’t have to stay, I should be okay for a couple hours.”

“Probably.” He doesn’t move. He swallows. She watches his Adams apple bob.

“Thank you. For getting me and getting me home.”

“Yeah, of course.” He takes a step back from her. Stops again. “You should probably change your emergency contact.”

“I’ll get right on that.”

He takes another step. “Not today, though. You shouldn’t be doing any reading. Or screens. With the concussion.”

“I’ll do my best to not go to the ER until I have a chance to change my emergency contact information.”

Rob smiles. Tries to, anyway. It’s rough. He lets it fall with a sigh. He looks at her, not how he usually does, how he used to, like she hung the moon for him. It’s mostly sad. “I should go.” He starts to turn to the door.

It’s definitely colder with him a few feet away and getting farther. “You don’t have to leave,” she blurts.

He stops. Turns back to her. “Do you really want me to stay?”

“Yeah,” she says without hesitating, voice small.

He considers her. “These are some very mixed signals you’re giving me, Sarah Marie.”

“I’m sorry. It’s just—” Just she still doesn’t really remember why she left him? Vaguely knows she felt like she had to but has lost the conviction she had to have had before that it was the right move, for both of them. “Just I’m not supposed to be alone, right? And I’ll probably be fine, I know I said that and this is weird and awkward and I don’t like that it’s weird and awkward between us but also what if something happens and—”

“I know,” Rob interrupts her softly. “I was worrying about something happening before Jake got here, too.”

[WRITE BLAH]

“Rob?” Sarah calls.

“Here.” His voice comes softly from just the other side of the closed door. Low down, like he’s sitting on the floor.

“Oh. Just… checking.”

He hums. “Gotta make sure you don’t drown in your bath.”

Sarah splashes in the tub a little. Gently washes the dirt and blood and hospital smells from her body as well as she can around the swimsuit, careful around her wrist. She brings the washcloth up to wash her face and—

“Don’t get the stitches wet,” Rob reminds from behind the closed door.

“Right,” she agrees with a smile. He knows her so well. She shakes her head. To herself, she mutters, “Why did I break up with you?” It comes out louder than she means it to.

A sad laugh comes from Rob. “That’s a good question.”

“I didn’t tell you?”

“Not really. Just… a little bit of a bumpy week and then you said it would be better if we took some space from each other and that you’ve had a wonderful time with me but you weren’t sure it was going to work out, so you wanted to save me the heartbreak. And then you walked away.”

He says it readily, the words rolling off his tongue. It’s something he’s said a lot, or at least thought about. The words are familiar to Sarah, too. She doesn’t really remember saying them to Rob, but she remembers thinking them. Twisting and agonizing over them in the days before. Trying to sort through her feelings and then trying to find the right words so she wouldn’t hurt him.

“Did it work? Did I save you some heartbreak?”

“I have a beard, Sarah.”

“…and it looks nice.”

He huffs another laugh. “It’s what men do when they’re heartbroken, right? They grow a beard. Or shave it off if they had one.”

When they’re heartbroken. Sarah swallows. “Women usually chop all their hair off. Or dye it a crazy color.”

“I see yours is still long and brown.”

She reaches up to pull at a lock falling down her shoulder. “Yeah,” she mumbles. Louder, she asks, “Have you ever had a beard before?”

A pause. “No.”

Sarah wants it to be just a comment on that he’s never grown a beard out before but it’s Rob so he’s saying he’s never been heartbroken before. She pretends like she interpreted it wrong, took it the first way. “You think you’re going to keep it?”

“Don’t know.” There’s a pause and then he adds, “It’s kind of grown on me.” There’s a small smile in his voice for the intended pun.

Sarah laughs. It dies quickly. “I keep thinking about it and I just… I can’t remember why I was so sure I needed to break up with you.”

“Well, your brain is bruised so maybe let’s save these thoughts and conversation for later,” Rob says mildly, although his voice is a little tight.

“Yeah,” she allows, but then can’t let it just end there. She needs Rob to understand. What, she hasn’t figured out but it presses on her, weighs at her heart. “But I love you and—”

“Sarah. Please,” he cuts her off, pained now. “If you want to still have this discussion in a week when your brain is up and running again, please call me. But I’m not doing this when you have a concussion.”

“Right.”

She hears him take a deep breath in and out. She does the same. It makes her side ache, where she apparently landed after flying off her bike.

“You’re just… too nice,” Sarah blurts.

There’s a pointed pause from Rob’s side of the door and the sound of him shifting his weight against it. “You… you broke up with me because I’m too nice?”

“No! It’s more… you’re so…” She flails for a word to encapsulate what she’s trying to say to him. “Midwestern!”

“You broke up with me because I’m from Iowa?” His voice has hardened, frustration and hurt bleeding into it.

“No, Rob! It’s—I’m not saying it right! You’re a lot, though. Can be a lot. In a good way!” He scoffs. She’s just hurting him more. “I mean,” she rushes to try and clarify, “you’re just always there! For example, you’re here, now. After I broke up with you! Taking care of me.”

“I didn’t realize that was a bad thing. You’re hurt. You wanted me to stay.”

“It’s not coming out right!” She sniffles and reaches up to wipe at her eyes. Her head is pounding.

There’s a heavy pause. “This is just a really awful ‘it’s not you, it’s me’ that you’re giving me, right?”

“Yeah.” It really is. “I love—”

“Sarah. I can’t—I was right before. I’m not having this conversation with you when you’re concussed. If you still feel this way in a week, please call me and we’ll talk. I promise. If you don’t… I can’t do this again. Get my hopes up. So, when you’re better and if you feel like you made the right choice in ending us, just let it go. Don’t talk to me. At least give me a clean break. At least give me that.”

She nods, not that he can see her. “That sounds fair.”

It’s quiet as Sarah sits in the tub. She hears Rob get up and move around the apartment. The water grows cold.

#i can't believe i went from writing emotionally angsty tua fics #to romcoms for my homemade blorbos #why have violent time travel problems when you can have cliche miscommunication in relationships lol #for the record #rob knew he was going to marry sarah from Day 1 #and sarah realized she was probably going to marry him a year and a half in and immediately panicked and broke up with him #i should have a rob tag #sarah #ficblogging #snips

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noses-in-winter · 1 year

Text

Gnomes With Colds: the Musical (18+, naked gnome sneezing ahoy)

Soooo I wrote another part to these two on my old blog (which I’m just gonna post on this page soon since characters are overlapping and all)!! This is Solara, my human-sized fairy princess (don't ask) and Opal, @virarushi 's asshole gnome OC (1, 2). They're dating and Opal is WAY more distant than Solara would like so she loves when she can take care of him when he's sick :sob: I'm so blessed (lol) to have Virarushi's approval when writing with this prick, I love it!! Please don't reblog to non-sneeze blogs, this is nsfw

She’d been trying to get him to shower all morning, but prying a cold-ridden Opal off the couch was like helping a beached swordfish back into the ocean; Even if it was in their best interest, they were both more than ready to take a stab at anyone trying to move them. As Solara had insisted would happen, the steam had gotten Opal to (quite audibly) sneeze out a decent amount of the congestion that had his sinuses aching all night. By the time he finally left the bathroom with a wall of steam in his wake, Solara had counted a good five sneezing fits that sounded far more relieving than she knew Opal would admit to. He had never said anything along the lines of ‘you were right, Solara’, and certainly never would.

Solara set her book down as Opal came sniffling out of the shower. She raised both eyebrows in his direction and straightened up on the bed. “That feel better, darling?”

Opal gave a small grunt and a snuffle. That also gave away how much better he really did feel after being too congested to take in a sniffle for over an hour. “A bit.” He was about to head for the walk-in closet before noticing the silk briefs, lounge pants and robe that Solara had left on the bed for him. Opal shivered and didn’t hesitate in dropping the towel from around his waist, taking the briefs first thing.

Solara couldn’t help but watch his efforts to get the briefs on. She had, admittedly, picked out a pair that she knew were a touch too small on him. The opportunity was there, and Solara had taken it. It was just too much fun to watch Opal struggle a little to get the band around his round ass. Solara had to resist the urge to just go take a handful of his butt the way she normally might do, but she knew Opal was in no mood today. He’d been an irritable grouch for days now and was not up for cheekiness.

Solara sat cross-legged on the bed and set her elbows on her knees, plopping her chin into an open palm. “Well, a bit’s better than--”

“ihhd’chheuh!” he suddenly sneezed, a heavy mist bursting from his nose. His ass wobbled, briefs only pulled halfway up. Ohohh, what Solara wouldn’t have given to just go cradle a freckled cheek while he rode out this inevitable-

“hh!”

--sneezing fit.

There was no effort to cover. Opal had barely bothered with that after the first day of being worn down with this sneeze-heavy cold. Solara couldn’t have minded in the slightest. A good show was her reward for taking care of Opal at his pissiest. “hhuhdd’ishuh!” he sneezed again, the second of which Solara knew would be several to come. Those chubby gnomish nostrils of his were teeming with weighty mess that was promptly sneezed away an instant later. Opal gave up on pulling up his briefs, instead setting one hand on the dresser to steady himself. He used the other to cage shaky fingers over his nose, fingers that did nothing to stop the next sneeze-- “hHd’jeuhh!”--that sent a deluge of mess bursting audibly to the floor. Opal groaned, sneezy tears welling in the corners of his eyes as he continued to hitch.

Solara got to her feet, grabbing the box of tissues on the bedside table. Opal normally preferred handkerchiefs, but productive colds like this one always had him busting out the expensive, imported tissues that remained in the back of his closet for when his supply of handkerchiefs would be spent within hours. “Ohhh, Opie…” she cooed, coming to stand before him and offer Opal the tissue box.

He looked at her through cracked eyelids for a brief moment before they snapped shut with another sneeze. This one broke through the flimsy confines of his fingers to douse the front of Solara’s top. The flirt, she thought. “ghhsh’shuh!”

She shivered at the wetness splattering her collarbone. “Here, treasure,” Solara said near breathlessly, giving the tissue box a little shake to get his attention. At last, Opal noticed it and used his caged hand to go for a tissue. A long trail of mess followed his reach. His chest heaved with a whining hitch that, somehow, managed to wait a moment for those tissues to get to his nose before another sneeze erupted from him. He smothered an additional two sneezes into the tissues before the fit seemed to finally come to a close.

“Eugh…” Opal groaned, tears finally escaping his eyes to slide down fevered cheeks. He slowly took the tissues from his nose and reached for more, grasping with desperation.

“Bless you,” Solara said after waiting for that fit to draw to an end.

Opal coughed as he mopped up his nose, meeting Solara’s affectionate gaze at last. It was only after blowing his nose fiercely that his eyes fell to her splattered pink top. Even the confident heir to a financial empire wasn’t exempt from moments of feeling slightly mortified. “...Shit. Sorry,” he said, voice cracking with overexerted hoarseness.

Awwwhhh, her heart. “Don’t worry,” she said, setting the box of tissues on top of the dresser. Solara looped her middle and index fingers around the band of Opal’s briefs, easing them up to finally tuck his ass in. “You can’t help it.”

He most likely could. Solara knew it should have pissed her off a touch that he didn’t seem concerned with her potentially (definitely, really) catching his cold, but she just couldn’t be upset with Opal. It was easy for her to feel mind-splitting rage toward absolutely anyone else, but…not Opal. He was her world and her heart and the only person who had ever wanted her. The only person who ever would. He was going to marry her and bring her into the big family she had always dreamed about, a family full of people who might be able to actually stand her. Catching his cold and dealing with his attitudes and dismissiveness was worth that and then some.

Opal blinked at Solara with heavy eyelids and took in a dragging sniffle. She could see in his eyes how completely exhausted he was with this cold. No matter how assertive and self-assured Opal was, it was times like this that even he couldn’t pretend that he wasn’t knocked down a peg or two. No matter how much was in his bank account, no matter how bright his future was, no matter how much of a jerk he could often be, Opal wasn’t above human need.

…Well. Gnomish need.

“Come here, treasure.”

He didn’t pull away when Solara drew him in close to hug. She loved the handful of inches she had on Opal. It made it all the easier to hold him. Solara set a kiss in his wet hair. Opal shivered in her arms. Despite wanting this sweet moment to last as long as it could, it didn’t take long for Opal to pull back from the hug. He wasn’t anything close to the touchy-feely individual that Solara was. She took a breath, shaking off her desire to plead for him to let her hold him again. She’d seen how that had gone plenty of times before. “Let’s get you dressed, Opie. You’re freezing.”

His expression knit back into one of the irritation she’d grown used to these last few days. Oh, well. It had been nice while it lasted. “I’m fine,” he huffed just before a sharp shudder ripped down his spine. Solara bit back a laugh at Opal’s annoyed pout as he went back to the bed with a new shiver and a sigh. He donned his monogrammed robe and matching lounge pants. Opal ran splayed fingers through his hair before setting his glasses back on the bridge of his nose, still as plump and red as a tomato.

He was so lovely. It made her emotional sometimes.

“I’m going back to bed,” he grumbled with a near-useless sniffle. Opal winced with a groan and drew a hand to his swollen sinuses. “Ugh. It’s like I never even fucking showered, now,” he said, shaking his head.

Solara went to Opal’s side as he made his way back out to the living room. She wound her fingers with his, giving Opal’s hand a squeeze. It was only a matter of time before he would go through another period of being irritated with her company during this cold, so she was going to utilize the time of relative peace. “Why don’t I give you another sinus massage, heart? That’ll help.”

Opal didn’t seem put off by the idea, but definitely knit his brow with some concern. He rubbed the underside of his nose with the flat of his hand. “I dunno…Really made my nose run last time.”

Did this man really have no clue how sexy he was being? “It helped, though, didn’t it?”

Opal didn’t answer, but he didn’t need to. She had seen the relief on his face before when his sinuses had been cleared of some of this heavy deluge. “Fine,” he said, one nostril hiking up higher than the other with another attempt at a sniffle. He met her eyes briefly before his eyes flickered away, lamplight reflecting off of his glasses. “...Thanks.”

Again, her heart could have just sang. That seemed to be a talent of his.

#friends ocs #sneeze fic #noses in writing #that’s my writing tag now #sneeze kink

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jazz-miester · 1 year

Text

All I Could Say

Pairing: N/A

Reader Type: Gender Neutral Human

Song: It was a sin - The Revivalists

Warnings: Swearing. Mentions of smoking.

An: Chapter one of something I'll probably never continue after I post part of chapter two or maybe I'll do a rewrite. Idk. Just trying to keep the blog alive lol.

Word Count: 5642

And if I hadn't said "Hello." What then?

“So do right people with wrong timing ever get a second try?” - (Via Welcometothedarksideofthemoon)

If there was one thing I could wish for it would be to not have to wake up in the mornings. It always came with the expectation that you had to do something. That in order for a morning to be good you had to be productive. God that was a bunch of bullshit. Mornings are for you to contemplate life then immediately go to your nine to five job.

My alarm blares to the right of me Breaking the silence of the room. I pull my arm out from beneath the duvet, goosebumps prickling the skin as it meets cold air. I smack my hand around until I find my phone on my bedside table. Toppling over water bottles and pencils to the floor as I do so. I just pray that one of those bottles wasn't open.

“Ah! Shit!” My dumbass self forgot to turn the brightness down before plugging it in last night. It was four in the morning. Sighing I drop my phone on my bed and cover my eyes with my arm. “God help me.” It’s too early. Why the hell did I live this far out of town again?

The back of my head aches. Tendrils of pain curling around with the promise of a migraine to come.

The end of my bed dips causing me to shift to one side momentarily before a heavy weight flops onto my stomach. Drool seeps through my t-shirt. “G’morning Orion.” My hand meets fur as I scratch behind his ears. “You’re up early. Ya hungry?” He barks once and lifts his head so I can get up. “Let's go get you some food then.”

“Yuck.” I pull my shirt off as I nudge my bedroom door open with my foot. The lock broke a month ago and I'm too lazy to replace it.

I let Orion outside to do his business before filling his bowl up, throwing in some of last nights dinner as well. By the time I started the coffee maker he’s already back inside. Orion drops a stick at my feet and barks once.

“Ah. Gee thanks bud.” Satisfied with whatever was going through his doggy brain he left the stick to go eat breakfast. I toss it into the corner with the other sticks.

After getting my first cup of coffee I hop on the kitchen counter setting the cup to the side as I search my sweats pockets for my cigarettes and lighter. Forgetting I left them in last nights pants.

It doesn’t take too long to find them.

If only mom could see me now. Such a star child I am.

I flick through the radio to find a station to get rid of the silence while I smoke. After settling on classic rock I hopped back on top of the counter to drink my coffee. Flicking through my phone as I do. I flick through any social media for a bit. Looking for any kind of news, messages, notifications.

A picture of Orion had gotten twenty likes on Instagram. He was slowly getting up in age as the years piled on. It showed in the slight grey on his muzzle and feet. In the aching of his hips as he needed more and more help up the stairs or into the pickup. He also slept a lot more, which says a lot for a Mastiff. They already slept a lot. Lazing about during the day. He’s seven now. O got him when I was sixteen. A birthday gift to myself.

“Shit!” The clock read four thirty. I had to be in work by six and I lived about an hour out from Jasper. I down the rest of my coffee, now cold. and ram the end of the cigarette into the ashtray.

I scramble to get ready.

Pulling out random jeans, shirts, and jackets until I find something that sort of matches. Taking a little bit more care to dig through my rings and replace a few piercings so I don’t completely look like a loon.

I forgo cleaning my face to save time and go refill Orion's food and water dish. Leaving the kitchen door open so he can have the backyard.

I shove my wallet and phone charger into my pockets. Along with my lighter and half carton of cigarettes. I flick the lights off as I leave, turning the ac on so it wouldn’t get sweltering in the house.

“No keggers and no girls over.” I point my finger at Orion who huffs from his bed and turns to look the other direction. “Rules are rules man.” Laughing to myself I walk into the garage. My clunker of a truck and my bike sit, waiting. I grab my helmet from the truck bed and pull the keys out of it. Patting the side of the truck I apologize to it. “Sorry blue but you still need fixed.” I’ve been waiting for replacement parts for about a week.

I put the helmet on and get on the bike. Turning the engine on as I kick the stand up. I have to walk it backwards in order to get it out. The garage door clammers closed as I took off down the road.

My mom’s always hated the fact that I ride my bike. Multiple times she’s tried hiding my keys, my helmet. Fuck, she’s gone as far as driving nails into my tires, claming that I must have drove over them on the road. There's more, honestly. But it's not something I can think about without my blood boiling.

This bike was the one thing I had left of my Grandfather. It was his bike when he was younger. And now it’s mine. Maybe one day, if I find someone. I might pass it down. But as for now it's not a concern even worth thinking about. I'm fine as I am. Complete by myself.

It was an intoxicating sense of freedom that this bike gave. One wrong move and it was over. I’d go ass over tea kettle and night night Y/n. Or a trip to the hospital.

It was one thing I could control.

Another way to flirt with death.

I’m in town a while later. The hustle and bustle of the small town is a cacophony of sounds. From cars to children and chiming doors.

The bike's engine rumbles beneath me. My hands tighten and loosen on the handlebars as I roll to a stop. Booted feet planted firmly to the pavement as I waited for a greenlight. I get a few looks, not unusual, A little girl waves excitedly at me and I wave back. The light flicks to green and I take off.

I work in a tattoo shop. When I first came to this town I was amazed that I was able to find one. I pull into the small lot and kill the engine. Shoving the keys into my pocket. The glass door opens with a quiet chiming of bells. I rub my hand over a wooden statue of a dog that sits next to the doorway. A force of habit after working here for so long.

“Y/n! You finally made it!” I laugh and pull my helmet off. I catch sight of myself in the reflection of the window. My hair wild around my face. smoothing it down I reply.

“Hey. I made it on time.” I glance at the clock. “I mean. I’m only a minute late.” The old man smiles.

“C’mon kid. You’ve got an appointment at seven thirty. Set up now and it’ll make your life a lot easier.” John was the store owner. He started the place after he got back from vietnam. He held the same physic he did when he was younger. Corded muscle bound beneath tan skin. Just a slightly more round belly from his beloved apple fritters. I only knew what he had looked like from his wife. A sweet lady who often sneaks Orion treats when she thinks I'm not looking.

“Ya ya I know. Ya mind if I go pop in the Cafe after I’m done? I didn’t get the chance to eat.” John shook his head.

“Kid. I swear if you don’t start eating I'm gonna give you to my wife. N’ she doesn't take no for an answer.” I drap my jacket over the back of my chair, telling him that, indeed, I will try. The last time the couple found out I hadn’t eaten all day, Marie, John's wife, made me eat till I was fill to bursting. Then sent me home with enough food for a week.

I made a tray of brownies, the only thing I could bake without burning, and did all their yard work as a thankyou.

I had gotten two black coffees and two bagel sandwiches from the caffe. The barista was one of my favorites. Always asking about my tattoos and piercings. Asking why I got them and how much it hurt. I was happy, as always, to answer them. Today’s was whether or not it would hurt if they got a vertical labret like my own.

“Come by the shop and find out. Include some of those lemon squares and I'll take some off the price.” They laughed and said maybe some other time.

My seven thirty came in a few minutes early. She was a bit younger than me. Maybe twenty two, twenty three. And this was her first tattoo. She was a bit nervous but still held on to that bubbly personality she had when I first met her. She didn’t get a very big one. and it was on her upper thigh.

After going over the placement she sat on the chair. I taped the hem of her dress so it wouldn’t hike up as I tattooed her. Consistently I asked her if it was ok if I placed my hand here, is this comfortable. Do you feel ok?

It was her first time and I didn’t want her to have the same horrible experience I had.

Her tattoo came out great in the end. If I may toot my own horn for a moment. It was one of my own. A woman from the waist up, a skull in one hand and a sword in the other. A crown of thorns resting on her brow. It was pretty clean linework and shading. One of the best I’ve done so far.

I go over on how to take care of it as I clean everything up and place the protective cover over it. She’s ecstatic as she looks at it in the mirror. The hem of her dress flutters around her thighs as she moves side to side.

“Thank you! It looks amazing!” I just laugh and lead her over to the till.

“Ah, Thanks. M’ just glad you like it. Be sure to come back if you see anything out of the ordinary ok. Don’t be afraid to call either.”

The day basically goes on the same. Consultations, designing new tattoos, and actually tattooing. John has people coming and going for piercings. He’s actually done a few of my own. My labret, tongue, and nose piercing.

My stomach growls as we lock up and clean up. Having skipped lunch and downing an energy drink instead. My body, as tratorus as it was, rebelled against my poor choices.

I pull my jacket on and grab my helmet after cleaning my station. My back aches and my hand hurts from constant drawing and leaning over.

“Heading home kid?” John askes. He had a binder tucked under one arm, phone in hand.

“Ya. I gotta feed Orion, then I might go take a drive.” It was three going on four so I had time before nightfall. John pulled a dog treat out from a drawer on his desk.

“Well, give this to the big guy. Make sure to tell him it was from me.” I smile and take it, putting it into the breast pocket of my jacket so it wouldn’t get crushed.

“I’ll be sure to, John.” The guy loved him. Both dog and man being gentle giants.

The ride home is a bit longer than the way up. Having to pick up groceries for dinner.

Orion could hear me the moment I pulled into the garage. His tail thumping on the floor behind the door. Speaking of which. The moment I open it i’m knocked over by two hundred and forty pounds of slobbering mastiff. He barks twice, nudging me to get off the floor.

“Ya ya, ya old bastard. Here ya go. A gift from John.” Orion perks up at the name as I pull the biscuit out. He nibbles at the end until I release it and tell him “ok”. It’s gone in seconds. He barks once he leaves to go to his bed.

“Really feeling the love bud.” I pull my shopping bags out from the saddle bags of the bike and head to the kitchen. Tossing everything onto the table along with everything in my pockets and my helmet. Dinner was nothing special, a rotisserie chicken, potatoes, mac’n’cheese and some greens. I was too lazy to actually cook anything that night.

Orion rests his head in my lap while I use his head as a table for my sketch book. Doodling new tattoo ideas and whatever happens to pop up in my mind. A cigarette dangles loosely from my lips. Unlit because I didn’t want any ashes to fall on Orion and hurt him. After a while I set it to the side and pet him. Ringed hand going from his head to his back then up again. Orion licks my hand at the fourth round about. Brown eyes looking up at me.

This dog has been with me through some tough times. I left home when I was sixteen. Barely any money to my name. I was homeless for a while. Working odd jobs wherever I could to keep him fed. He’s been with me through yelling and screaming. He’s kept me safe from horrid people. He kept my ex from harming me. Orion was quite literally the only reason I was still on this earth. The only constant in my life that hasn’t left or tried to hurt me.

“I love you Orion. You know that? I hope you do. Oh god. I hope you do.” I bow my head and press a kiss to his head. I know that I’m going to be devastated the day I lose him. I have no idea what I’m going to do without him. Orion licks my hand again. Whining as if he could feel the hurt welling in my chest. I shake my head and lean back against the couch. It wouldn’t do good to dwell on things that haven’t happened yet. Nor is it good to reminisce about the past I've tried so hard to run away from. I haven’t thought about my family in a long time. It wouldn’t do good to dredge up the feelings I've worked so hard to chain down.

“Do ya wanna go for a drive Orion?” I glance up at my bike helmet. He just looks up at me. Then huffs. He used to love driving in the sidecar on my bike. I took it off a long time ago because it got to the point he couldn’t sit in it anymore. I always offered it to him. But, like always, he went and flopped down onto his bed. “Well, i’m gonna go on a ride bud. Ok? You stay here and be good. And I'll bring you back a couple of burgers from KO��s. Despite how bad you stink afterwards.” I give him another treat before leaving. Turning the tv on so he had something to pay attention to while i’m gone.

It’s cooler outside now. The sun slowly sets over the horizon. It felt weird not seeing mountains out in the distance. Just flat land with the occasional rock jutting skywards. As if it were desperate to touch the clouds. I flew along the pavement. Everything is blurring around me. I stay on the main road for a couple of miles before peeling off into an old back road.

Pavement eventually turns into gravel then gravel evens out into solid rock. Cliff faces surround either side of me. The air cools down even further. Icy cold and bitting into my skin despite the jacket as I drive on. The sound of the bikes engine echoes against the rock walls. Deafening to my ears. The rocks close in almost dangerously close. The sides of my legs occasionally brush against the cliff face. If it were any other time I probably would have gotten scared and backed off. Afraid that I would get wedge and unable to get out. But, as it were, I've gone here what felt like over a million times. So I knew that the walls would part again. Opening up to the most bizarre place I had ever seen.

An open lake with large, deep blue crystal jutting put from the ground and rock walls. I've never boon good at identifying crystals so I looked it up online. Nothing I saw looked like what they were. As weird as it was, those crystals were comforting. An image I've drawn time after time.

I just hoped they weren't radioactive and that my hair wouldn't fall out.

I will admit I've checked to make sure I didn't grow any more extra toes once. I. I got a little too high that night.

I come to a stop at the opening of place. Turning my bike off and letting it sit next to the valley. My helmet sits next to my bike as I walk off. It's quite a bit away, the pool of water. Maybe a couple of football fields length away.

The air hums with the strange energy the crystals give. As if though they were singing. My toes touch the edge of the pool. It was crystal clear all the way through. And at the bottom more blue rocks. Like one of those crystal sinks filled with water.

I run my fingers over the surface of the water. Ripples distorting the image below. I hum along with the crystals. My voice echoing in the great chasm. The moon reflects in the pool. Stars looking as if I could reach right down and grab them. I wish I could bring Orion he. He would love it. Peaceful. Almost to the point of near sleep. As if though this was the resting place of tired souls.

I sit down on my heels. Still fluttering my fingers in the waters surface. Fingers tingling from the cold and the crystals. My rings clicked together as I moved my fingers.

As stupid as it sounds I chances swimming in the thing once. Stripped down to my underwear and dove right in. Not only did I freeze my ass off but I fleet whole body tingles for a week after. My entire body feeling as if I got supercharged and down a hundred monsters.

I didn't do it again after.

Not a whole lot anyways.

I lit cigarette and just smoked for a while. Letting the smoke curl around my lips and float into the open air. Just breathing in the good shit and exhaling all the bullshit I had been feeling before I came here. Letting the place wash away all the negativity I held. Wasn't that what crystals were for? Raising your vibrations or some shit.

I jerked my head upwards as I heard another hum. This one more deep and engine like. I glanced at my bike. No. It was turned off. I look back up in time to see the underside of a plane.

I'm calm for all of two seconds before I realize the damn thing is falling down right above me.

I uttered every swear word I knew right then and their. My heart jumping into my throat as I willed my legs to run. Falling flat onto my face and kicking up dirt as I jump back up and run what is hopefully far enough away.

The cigarette falls from my lips as what lands in front of me definitely is no longer a plane. I fall right on my ass and lose my breath as the thing lands. The ground shuddering beneath me.

That mother fucker was a giant robot. My brain resets. Blinking a few times and pinch the skin on my wrist. Hard. Pain bloomed. Nope. This was real.

Deep purple metal glints in the moonlight. Thick legs lead into a thicker waist. Then to broad shoulders and a head with no face. The things looks around at all the crystals. Body vibrating with what I could only call excitement.

"Commander Starscream. I've found the energon deposit." Asshole speaks english then. Dope. And what was energon. From the way the robot rapped it's knuckles on the blue crystals I supposed that's what energon was.

At least a had a name for it now I guess.

I glanced over at my bike. Wondering if I could make it there without altering grape juice there. I was halfway between him and my bike with nowhere to hide. So either I ran now and get caught with a headstart or the fucker sees me standing here and maybe tries to eat me.

I didn't see it coming for me. My eyes still trained on my bike. It wasn't until I heard rocks being crushed underfoot did I realize it was making a beeline towards me. It stops when it realizes that I'm looking right at it.

My heart pitter patters in my chest. Drumming along to the adrenaline pumping in my veins. It's silent. Save for the creeking of my leather jacket and whatever exhale breathing thing it's doing.

Blood rushes through my ears. It's red eyes cycling dark to light then back again. My mouth opens before I realize it.

"What in the fresh fuck are you supposed too be? WALL-E on steroids?" It rumbles deep and heavy. Shaking me where I stand.

"And what are you fleashy? Another Autobot pet?" I snort. Did this reject barny just call me a fleashy?

"Hey tin for brains! I got no idea what the fuck an Autobot is." Bad choice! Holy fuck bad choice for words. A scream hurdles out of my throat as rocks and dirt flung into the air. Raining down upon me. Rocks pelting my head and shoulders as it came back down.

I blink the dust from my eyes and glance to my right. A large crater where ground use to be. Any closer and I would have been incinerated. I swallow thickly and look up at the robot.

"So. Not reject barny then." My voice shudders and my body both shakes and feels like it's floating. I can't move. Frozen to the spot as realization rolls over me in cold wave after cold wave.

I. Almost. Died.

No one would have been able to care for Orion.

He comes for me again.

I'm still frozen.

Move.

Fucking move.

GOD DAMNIT MOVE!

My whole body surges forward. As if though it were a rubber band pulled back as far as it could go before releasing into the air. It shoots again and I wanna vomit. Fear like I had never felt it before.

One moment it's chasing me. The next it stops. I turn around in time to see it being tossed into next Tuesday.

"You will leave the human alone." Its voice rumbles like thunder before a storm. Promises over disaster dangling on the edges. Red and blue become a blue against purple as the two fight before bright blue stained the rocky floor.

Red and blue lays down purple as if it were a child. Cradling it's head as it helps purple lay on the ground. Offering it solace in its final moments.

The crystals change it's humming tune. Red and blue looks over at me. I step backwards. Sky eyes lock onto me. Darkening as if it were upset that I had flinched backwards.

"I am sorry." It rumbles. It's voice unlike any other I've heard. Gentle and commanding. Peaceful yet full of chaos.

"For what? Saving my life? Uhh. Thanks. By the way." I swallow thickly. So either this is hella A.I or...

"I am sorry for what you had to witness. I prefer if less human knew about us. For the safety of your kind. No doubt he has sent images of you back to our enemy." Hold up.

"Barney was taking pics?" My hands shook. Shit shit shit shit shit shit shit. Whatever cotton candy here considered and enemy I did not want to know.

"Most likely. Yes. We have human allies. And with you being this close to an energon deposit no doubt he has thought you to be an Autobot ally." I say nothing. Do nothing. Was this gonna hurt Orion?

"So what? We part ways and pretend this didn't happen? I move towns and quite possibly see a therapist for what seems like the umpteenth time?" What I previously thought to just be a part of his face retracts. So. He has mouth.

"No." He starts. "You will go back to your residence. I will send Agent Folwer to come bring you to Autobot base in the morning." I raise a brow at him.

"How the hell will you know where I live? That being if I want to even see you again." Still quite a ways away he takes but three steps for him to come close to me. He drops on one knee. Hand dropping down beside me.

"This is for your safety. And that of any family you have. As for figuring out where you live, I will accompany you to assure no Decepticon follows you." His face is now level with mine. "I assure you. I mean you no harm." Something humms deep in my chest. Sparks shooting through from head to toe.

My hand moves on its own. My palm coming to rest upon metal skin. My hand small compared to the rest of him. He lets me. Not budging an inch. My fingers follow the curve of what I assume are his cheeks. The metal surprisingly warm and malleable. My hand shakes as I follow the contours of his face. Right up until I look into his eyes.

Not once had he stopped watching me. Not once had he looked away. They cycle and twirl. Like a camera lens focusing itself. Hot air rushes over me. He blinks.

Suddenly I'm five again. Bared open as me and this being look at each other.

I feel like I'm five again and staring into the night sky. Knowing full well I'm looking into something ancient. Something far older and wiser than I. It breaks me down to my very soul. Leaving me with my most vulnerable part. I swallow thick and jerk my hand away as if it burned.

He was old and ancient. And so very past his resting point. His body is tired and worn. And I feel guilty. Why? I truly don't know. But empathy wins over and all I want to do is say sorry to him, for whatever the universe has has done. For whatever fate deemed fit to steal from him.

"Sorry. I whisper." For touching what seemed like a gods instrument. Sorry. For whatever that God had done to him.

I glance to the ground. Then to him.

"Whats your name? What should I call you?" A smile. Barely there.

"Optimus Prime. And you, little human?" I hold my hand out to him.

"My name is Y/n. Y/n L/n." He held his own hand out to me then. His hand was so large my own couldn't wrap around one of his fingers. It was an akward little handshake, never the less, despite his gentleness. There was nothing but power behind that hand. He could very easily be rid of me if he wanted to. Left to be nothing. Just like the Decepticon laying on the ground. Nothing more than a husk of its former self.

"Home." I began. "Is this way. I don't think your gonna blend in very well though." He said nothing but nodded.

"I will meet you at the end of the valley. Y/n." He waited for me to get on my bike and drive off. I could feel his eyes on my back as I left. Watching over me for some reason or another. Maybe he thought there would be another purple robot?

The drive back through seemed longer than ever. Purely for the fact that I wanted to know just how he was gonna go through town unseen. I supposed I could go through the back roads. But then Orion would worry. I'm never longer than a few hours unless its for work. My legs once again touch the walls. A whispers breath apart. I shake my head. And who was this Fowler that I was supposed too meet? Was he a robot thing as well? Or was he human and one of the allies that Optimus spoke of. Maybe a government agent? I wouldn't put it past the government to hide something like this. Fucking hell. I appreciated it. Up until this point in time I was content without knowing their existence. And now I have to worry for mine and Orion's safety. Gods above I've really gotten into it this time. Lord knows was gonna happen at the end of it all.

There's a bright light when I pop out. And a large blue and red semi and im sent into a panic for a moment. Up until that thundering voice come out of it.

"I will follow you home. No one will know, Y/n." I swallow thickly and I'm thankful in that moment for my helmet hiding the surprised look on my face. I'd look like a right fool. With my mouth hanging low and eyes wide open.

"Holy fucking shit." I mutter beneath my breath. I had to drive past him in order to get back into the side road leading to the main road. My body screaming to get away from the semi from years of riding my bike on the highway. "Jesus christ he turns into a truck." Do the others all turn into other vehicles? Or is it strictly planes and trucks?

He's behind me the entire time I drive home. Just barely in view of my mirrors. Everytime I glance into the mirrors he'd blink his headlights as if he knew I was looking to see if he was still there. Showing me that he would keep his word. Dread swims in my stomach every so often; just because he saved me doesn't mean that he would be a good guy. I saw the way he took grape juice down. But. I click my blinkers on and turn left onto the road that leads to my home. Only one more hour and I could go and hug Orion and pretend that I wasn't scare shitless tonight. I glance back at my mirror and sure enough he blinks his headlights. Something inside me told me I could, at the very least, trust him to keep his word. That heavy feeling in my chest was back. A bright warmth unlike i've ever felt before. The only kind of warmth I felt once before.

Fucking hell. God damn gut instincts. I've only been wrong once when judging someones character. Despite everything screaming at me to not trust the guys. I just knew. That at the very least, with him, another one of those purple guys wouldn't hurt me.

Orion's howling when I get home. I don't even weight for Optimus to pull up behind my little garage and just dart into the house. Orion jumps up and gets his paws on my shoulders and effectively topples me over when I misstep and land one one of his toys. I hit the ground with a thud and get slobbered all over. Not one inch of my face is safe.

"Ah! Gahh! Orion! Dude! It's okay! I know, I know. I was gone to long but im here now!" I manage to sit up and hold his head in my lap. He's whining as he noses into my stomach. Every so often glancing over at the semi that has yet to leave. Despite wanting comfort in knowing that i'm not gonna just up and leave, he wants to make sure I'm safe. Optimus is the stranger here, and he's confused as to why no ones left the vehicle yet.

"Your companion is names Orion?" I look over at him. My hand soothing the top of Orion's head as I talk to him.

"Ya. Uhm." I look down at Orion. "It's after the constellation. I like learning about space n shit." And that's all he's gonna learn about me. Optimus rumbles a hum. The sound rolling over in my small garage.

"I will send Fowler over in your morning cycle. Feel free to bring your companion as well." He begins to roll backwards then stops. "And stay safe Y/n. Do not let anyone else but Fowler in." And with that he's gone. I watch as he rolls out of view before hearing some weird static. Like an old glass tv. The sound is gone just as quickly as it came.

I look down at Orion.

"Something tells me were gonna have a hell of a couple of weeks bud."

#maccadam #transformers #optimus prime #transformers prime

8 notes · View notes

adoringhaikyuu · 3 years

Text

you’re horny on your period

characters: aone + atsumu + kageyama + kenma + (gn!reader)

request: hey babes, can i request hq boys (of ur choice, but with tsumu on it pls) with a fem s/o whos on her period and very horny? lol, if ur uncomfortable with it i'll totally understand • by anonymous

warnings: horny tings, suggestive tings, period sex mentions but nothing actually happens <3

notes: everyone is 18+ in this !! the reader has their period obviously but there are no pronouns used so technically it’s gn :) i actually rly like this one!

aone

you tried to get over it, but it was no use

it’d been an hour and you were still needy, an unsatisfied ache in the pit of your stomach and between your legs, not just because of your cramps

you were debating telling aone because you didn’t to bother him and period sex could be messy and some might even say gross

but of course, like the observant boyfriend he is, he noticed something was bothering you

aone walked into your bedroom, immediately sensing your discomfort. he stopped in front of the bed where you were sitting. his voice was gentle, despite his serious exterior but you could tell he was worried. “cramps?”

you paused, deciding to speak before you changed your mind. “yeah, but that’s not really what’s bothering me...”

he raised his brows, silently asking you to explain so he could help you.

“i...” you rubbed your thighs together, shuffling on the bed nervously as you focused your eyes on the sheets rather than his curious eyes. “i’m just feeling kind of needy?”

he stayed standing, “oh...would you like me to help?”

“yes–no?” you looked up to see him tilting his head at you, confused. “i just know some people find it gross and it can be messy, you know? don’t wanna be a bother.”

“your issue is the mess?”

you nodded and he hummed before leaving without another word. you sunk down a bit. you were fully prepared for it to go either way, but the rejection still kinda hurt a bit. you were about to go to the shower to take care of yourself when aone came back into the room, a towel and wipes in his hand.

you looked up at him shocked, “what––”

he put the towel down and set the wipes aside, “for the mess.”

you immediately got up and pulled him in for a kiss, making his eyes widen slightly before he gave in, holding you by the waist. you mumbled against his lips, “i love you so much.” when you pulled away, you noticed the light blush and subtle smile on his face.

he licked his lips. “i love you too.”

atsumu

normally when you were on your period, you wouldn’t let tsumu touch you tbh

period sex was a hassle

and normally you could control yourself or just take care of yourself on your own time in the shower or while he was out

but today for some reason, you needed him

well you knew the reason actually––

as soon as atsumu came home, drenched in sweat from the gym, his grey tank top practically glued to his torso. you could see his neck shining and even his hair was wet, which you saw once he took off his cap.

he set things down and immediately ran over to you on the couch to give you a quick kiss. “hey babe,” he grinned and stood up straight, stretching his arms behind his head, which wasn’t helping you at all. “damn that workout was intense, i’m beat. i’m gonna head to the shower, okay? then we can cuddle.”

you opened your mouth but didn’t say anything, nodding instead. he smiled and headed towards the bathroom but he only made it about three steps before you stopped him with a call of his name, the sight of his back only furthering the feelings you had.

he turned back, “yeah?”

you paused, “i um...” you sighed, “i need you.”

you could see a smile forming it’s way onto his face slowly, not wanting to get his hopes up too soon. he always wanted to help you out on your period but you’d never let him.

“like need me need me?”

you nodded “but we’ll only do it in the shower!”

the smile finally burst on in his face. he made his way over to you again and planted a big kiss on your lips, groaning happily when you moaned lightly.

“on second thought another workout doesn’t sound too bad.” he winked and smiled cheekily before throwing you over his shoulder and running to the bathroom, ignoring your yelp.

“what got you so worked up anyway?” he asked casually, stepping into the bathroom.

he set you down and you looked up at him sheepishly, “you...”

he grinned smugly, his hands reaching for your shirt. “oh i am so blowing your back out–”

kageyama

you tried to ignore what you were feeling, not wanting to ruin the moment since you and kageyama loved to do this every week

have a movie night and just relax

and you now he’d been working really hard lately so he deserved some rest

but you had a problem

you kept fidgeting in your seat next to him, trying to either relieve yourself slightly or make it go away, you weren’t too sure

and to be honest you weren’t really paying attention to it and kageyama could tell

after twenty minutes or so into the movie, he asked you what was wrong but you waved him off, assuring him it was nothing

but you couldn’t help but focus on him, the sharp cut of his jawline, the curve of his lips

then he put his hand on your thigh and you got to thinking of the feeling of his hands on you

and that sent you down a tunnel of unholy thoughts

kageyama felt your fingertips tracing the veins in his hands and tried to ignore it at first, keeping his eyes trained on the tv. but when you let your fingers trail up along his arm as well, his hand subconsciously squeezed your thigh and his eyes widened when you let out a quiet moan.

you both paused and kageyama turned his head slowly, eyes wide and looked at you, his lips parted. “are you–” he swallowed, trying to calm himself down. “okay?”

you looked over at him, trying to act innocent. “mhm. just tickled, that’s all.”

he nodded and turned back to the screen, and you tried to as well, but you kept glancing back at him, debating with yourself about whether or not you should say something. you didn’t want to be selfish and disrupt the movie, but you also couldn’t ignore what you were feeling, it was too intense.

it lasted about five minutes before he looked at you from the corner of his eye. “you know i can see you watching me, right?”

you felt your cheeks heat up and you huffed. “i’m sorry i just...” he turned to face you fully, curious and a bit concerned. his hand trailed up to your inner thigh, completely innocently and that’s when you decided you couldn’t hide it anymore.

“i’m horny tobio.”

his eyes brightened and he stuttered for a bit, “o–oh. well––do you want me to help?” he started to move closer but you looked to the side and he stopped.

“it’s just––i’m on my period.” when he didn’t say anything for a few seconds you looked back to find him staring at you blankly.

he tilted his head and looked from side to side. “and?”

you opened your mouth and closed it. “well...i’m, you know...bleeding...doesn’t that bother you? it’ll take more like effort and i know you’re tired––”

he cut you off, placing a hand under your chin, a shy smile on his face. “i don’t care about that. plus wouldn’t it help with your cramps?”

you nodded, “well, only if you make me cum.”

his brows furrowed, offended. “i always make you!”

“yeah you do.” you laughed, taking his hand in yours, making him smile at you. “but are you sure you want to do this now? it might get messy.”

he leaned in and kissed your cheek before pulling back to look at you earnestly, his eyes a shade darker. “i don’t care.” he kissed you on the lips, “all i care about,” his hand tilted your head and pulled you closer, whispering against your lips. “is making you feel better.”

kenma

kenma could tell something was off about you

he knew you were on your period but there was something else that he couldn’t figure out

he was waiting for you to tell him but you never did

the thing is, you’d just moved in together a few months ago and while you’ve had a couple periods in the same house

(which he’s totally normal about)

you haven’t done anything while you were on your period

normally you’d take care of yourself, but you felt a little self conscious about doing it in your shared house for some reason

and kenma like never left the house

sure, he had his headphones on a lot but still––

so you were a little tense and though you thought he was distracted, he definitely noticed

kenma stepped into your room and you smiled up at him before going back to your phone, thinking he was switching from the ps4 to the pc set up in your bedroom. but he didn’t, he came and stood next to your side of the bed, making you look up at him in surprise.

“oh hey ken,” you sat up, your legs pressed tightly together. “what’s up?”

he looked at you for a moment before speaking up. “nothing...what’s wrong with you?”

your brows furrowed, “what do you mean?”

he sighed. “i can tell something’s wrong...” he looked down, a bit shy. “i was waiting for you to come to me about it but you never did. was it something i did?”

your eyes widened, he’d noticed? “no––no you didn’t do anything wrong babe.”

“oh.” he nodded, crouching down beside you, resting his chin on the mattress. “then what is it? i can tell it’s not nothing.”

you swallowed and set your phone down before looking down at him. “i just...” you sighed, “i’m kind of worked up...and i was too nervous to do something about it.”

his eyes widened this time. “oh––”

you looked away. “yeah.”

“well you don’t have to be nervous about that.” he stood up, a small smile on his face. “that’s perfectly fine.”

you looked up at him, “oh, really?”

he nodded, “of course.”

you smiled, “oh thank you. so how long are you staying out for?”

his brows furrowed, “what? why would i leave the house––”

“wait you wanna stay?––” you paused, “well can you at least put your headphones on and close the bedroom door on your way out?”

he blinked at you. “how can i help you if i’m not in the room?”

you blinked back. “you want to help me?”

he blushed and nodded sheepishly, “yeah...why wouldn’t i?”

you stuttered a bit, “well i just––you know i’m bleeding, that could get messy...”

he paused and glanced around the room seemingly in thought, and you figured that he was rethinking the whole situation until he spoke up again. “well i want you to be comfortable and the shower isn’t the best place for that...so how about i just get a towel to put here instead?”

you stared at him for a few seconds, “each day i fall more and more in love with you.”

he blushed even deeper and tried to hide his smile as he turned around, “shut up––i’m going to get the towel.”

2K notes · View notes

glowingbadger · 2 years

Note

I’m currently doing the black eagles route, and I got total brain worms for the concept of Yandere!Seteth falling for Byleth, but then she ends up siding with Edelgard, but in a twist of fate the knights of seiros manage to capture her when they ambush garreg mach…and they deliver her right to Seteth for some good ol’ fashioned ✨ reconditioning ✨

Oh man Friend Anon this wiggled right into my brain and did not let me go lol guess it's time to write some Dark Shit™️. Since I don't write Yandere as often, I'm honestly not sure if I hit the right balance of like... "this is fucked up and he's fucked up" vs. "but like he's handsome and persuasive so it's fine, right?" lol so idk, hopefully you guys like it. I've been staring at it for too long and now I have no idea if it's any good xD Also God this thing ended up too long- it's like around 6k words I think wtf.

Side note- I actually decided to stick with my usual Reader-Chan perspective for this, but you probably could still just put Byleth there in your brain tbh

Also I guess if Byleth/Reader is with the Black Eagles originally for this, then technically Garreg Mach should fall after that battle, but for narrative purposes, I'm doing kind of a hybrid route where the conflict is ongoing and GM doesn't fall immediately idk man I needed a setting lol

TW: dub con, manipulation, general dark yandere-ish stuff

As always, please do not push yourself to read something you're not comfy with ❤️

Yandere!Seteth (FE3H) x AFAB Reader

Reconditioning

NSFW 18+

Seteth's is the first familiar voice you've heard since your capture and imprisonment in the dungeons beneath Garreg Mach, and you're not certain whether to be relieved or all the more terrified. It's distant at first, but unmistakable still.

"We are not to be disturbed until I specifically send for you, do I make myself clear?"

The soldiers outside of your cell answer in the affirmative, and you hear their boots on the cold stone floors as they depart. You hadn't even realized there had been guards assigned to you specifically. There is a small barred window in the cell door, but the shackles around your wrists had been latched to the wall the moment you'd been taken in, so you've hardly moved an inch in what felt like hours, maybe a full day by now. Your muscles ache, your empty stomach aches worse. You're exhausted, filthy from the battlefield, mouth dry and hair a tossled mess. You had started to think your mind and heart had numbed through in your desperation, dulled by hopelessness. But Seteth's voice stirs something in your chest up to your throat, and you force your head up to watch him as he enters.

Five years look as though they've hardly touched him. Other than perhaps a deeper crease at his brow, he appears unchanged. It's almost crueler this way. Looking at him makes it so easy to imagine simpler days and pleasant chats over tea. You want to say his name, or say anything, but you're silent as he approaches. He seems... Sad isn't quite the right word. Regretful would be closer, if maybe not exact. He breathes out your name, and raises a hand as though to touch your face, but stops himself.

"I often prayed that I would see you again someday," he says, bright green eyes fixed on you, "But... Not like this."

"Seteth..." You finally choke out, your voice rasping painfully in your throat.

"Shh, do not push yourself," he replies. Once more, his hand nears, and when his fingertips graze your cheek, you instinctively lurch away. He looks hurt, and you almost apologize to him. But you remember- he's the enemy commander. He's the reason you're in this cell. He's your captor.

Nonetheless, Seteth sighs softly as he cradles your face in his hand,

"The things they must have done to you... When they took you from us, I feared the worst."

"No, Seteth-" your eyes plead with him, "You don't understand, Edelgard's ideals are similar to your own."

His brow furrows deeply, and he leans close.

"Poor thing, that witch has even poisoned your mind."

"It's not like that, please-! If you would only speak to her, I know-"

"That is enough," his eyes narrow to a glare.

"I could mediate, we could come to an agreement-"

"Silence!" His face twists into a horrible grimace, and the hand that had caressed your cheek is at your throat, his grip forcing you to look up at him. His eyes are wild, his hold at your neck restricts your breathing and pins you to the stone wall. Your heart pounds in your ears. You wonder if Seteth can feel your pulse racing beneath his hand.

Then, slowly, gradually, his expression softens, his grip loosens.

"This isn't why I came to see you."

Your chest rapidly rises and falls as you gulp in precious air. You don't dare to say a word in reply. His touch is gentle once again as he smooths back your hair. Then, he takes a waterskin from his belt.

"I cannot release you, you must understand that," he says with genuine remorse, and you nod, "but I will ensure that you are taken care of. You have suffered so much already..." He raises the water to your lips, one hand under your chin to guide you as he carefully tips the pouch so you can drink from it. It's fresh and clean, cool but not cold. You can't remember water ever tasting so good, and you lap it up gladly. Seteth is patient all the while, watching intently as you gulp down every drop he offers you. Then at last, when the waterskin is spent and he lowers it from your mouth, he runs his thumb across your bottom lip to dry it. You wish there were more, but the invigorating feeling of water in your belly fills you with such relief, you feel gratitude welling up in your chest unchecked.

"It would be foolish to think that things could truly be as they were..." He says, his voice low and bittersweet, "But if you are willing to meet with me, perhaps we can mend what's been broken."

You stay silent, and he steps away. Turning to the heavy cell door, he pauses to say,

"There are others who have been taken in. Your cooperation would reflect positively on them, and may allow the guards to treat them more generously. That is all."

The following day, Seteth brings food when he visits. Good food, at that- not some prison slop, but an array of cooked vegetables, meat and bread that looks to be straight from the dining hall. The scent alone makes you salivate, and your pupils grow wide as he approaches you.

You would be willing to eat from the floor. Frankly, you're surprised the food is plated. You know you can't have your hands free, but eating like an animal would be preferable to starvation. Yet, instead, Seteth carefully feeds you by hand, starting with easier, lighter foods. He regulates your pace, though you very nearly beg him for each bite.

"Easy now, go slowly. Don't overwhelm your stomach all at once and make yourself sick."

On the third day, he brings food and water, and a key. With it, he frees your shackles from the wall, and attaches them instead to a lengthy chain rooted in the floor. Your wrists are still bound behind you, but now you can walk, sit, and at least wander the breadth of your cell. You try to tell Seteth not to feed you today. You try refusing him, struggling, lashing out. He's patient, rebutting your attempts with a parent's measured tolerance, until you finally settle and allow him to feed you once more.

On your fourth day in captivity, Seteth brings a basin of water, towels, and some kind of subtle floral soap. He sets these down on the floor and gestures for you to kneel beside him. Only gradually does it occur to you that he intends to wash you himself. If the situation allowed for emotions like embarrassment, you're sure you'd be beside yourself. But, somewhat surprising even yourself, you simply allow Seteth to begin undressing you. His touch is gentle, even tender as he removes layers of fabric caked in filth and sweat. One dirt-crusted button at a time, he exposes your breasts, your stomach, your hips, his eyes wandering each inch of you with a focused, yet unreadable expression. His arms draw around you, and you feel his breath in your hair as he says,

"I'm going to free one of your arms so I can remove your tunic. Please, do not try anything foolish. I want to help you."

You nod. He opens the cuff around one of your wrists. You should fight. You should try to resist him- take the key and make your escape. Your muscles tense. It may be your only chance. Seteth holds you more firmly against his chest and pulls your clothing from your body. The air around you is cold, but he warms you, surrounds you.

Your muscles are weak from your imprisonment. He could easily overpower you. You relax in his arms.

"Very good, Y/N." He praises you softly, and you feel the words tickle the shell of your ear. Then, the cuff is locked around your wrist once more.

He tugs your breeches down your hips, then legs. Your undergarments soon follow. You're bared completely, but Seteth watches you with a softness in his eyes that's ill suited to a war general. He dampens his hands, then lathers them with the faintly sweet soap, and begins to massage it across your skin.

So good. His hands feel so good; they're calloused and strong, but he's gentle with you. And it's then that you notice you don't shy away from his touch anymore. In fact, you find you subconsciously lean into him. You savor him.

Madness. His care and kindness are breaking you.

"Seteth-" you try to bite back your own voice, but his name comes out too quickly.

"Yes? Do you need something of me?"

His hands run along your sides, and you inhale sharply, arching back.

"Why... Why are you doing all of this for me? I'm... Your prisoner. An enemy."

At first, he doesn't reply. He takes the towel and dampens it, then sets upon scrubbing away the filth of your last battle and the grime of your time locked up. At last, he says,

"I have never been capable of viewing you as an enemy."

You're about to question him further, but the way he looks at you stalls the words before you can get them out. For the first time since he'd discarded your clothing and left your body exposed to him, you meet his eyes. He leans close, an arm around your back to cradle you to him, as the other cleans you, caresses you, soothes you. Then, his lips are on yours, and you're almost glad your shackles keep you from reaching out to him.

It's not a delicate kiss- more the type that lovers share. You'd imagined kissing Seteth before, back when you had the luxury of such pleasant idle fantasies. It was never anything like this. His tongue passes your lips, toying with yours as he tilts his head and leans into you. And you kiss him back. Your lips and tongue move on instinct, welcoming him despite all reason. Your mind is screaming at you, but the screams sound muffled and far away. At some point, he dropped the towel he'd been using in the water basin. You only realize this because his hand is running up your inner thigh, and you gasp against his lips.

"Did that wretched woman take you as her own, I wonder?" He whispers into the miniscule space between you. There's a bitterness in his voice, yes, but also a deep and sorrowful sympathy.

"No- she... Edelgard never-"

"Or perhaps she gave you over to that snake of a man she calls her advisor... No, she wouldn't," Seteth's fingertips brush the swell of your lower lips, and your thighs twitch inward around his arm, "A covetous warmonger like that, who only seeks to conquer and subsume. She would not gift you to another."

"Seteth-!"

You should push him away. You should scream for the guards and hope against hope that they'd dare to stop him. Instead, you accept his lips once more, and allow his fingers to part you, slowly pressing into your tight opening. Cradled against his warm frame, you feel him exhale, feel his heart thudding in his chest. His fingers gradually work you open around him with gentle, rhythmic thrusts, careful never to hurt you. Your chest is tangled in a million different knots- one of guilt, one of fear, one of desperate, longing need. The noise in your head is near unbearable, but above it all, you hear Seteth's voice against your ear,

"I want you to know that I forgive you. For everything."

Forgives you...? The words sound nice, but you can hardly parse their meaning. His fingers are coated in your slick, allowing them to fuck into you more steadily. You bite down on your lower lip to hold in a moan. He forgives you...

"Ha...!" A gasp finally escapes you. As though satisfied by that very sound, Seteth's fingers ease out from your drooling cunt, only to refocus on your clit. You barely even realize how you'd let your body slacken in his arms, letting him hold you close as he drives you to pleasure you've been without for far too long. Seteth, a man of the church, a man who lead troops against you and your allies. His touch pulses around your stiffened clit, sending shuddering waves of pleasure through your nerves. Rhea's advisor is going to make you cum. The realization grabs hold of you, filling you with white hot shame- and something far worse. A thrill of arousal. The temptation to surrender.

"Given my station, I feel it only right to take full responsibility for your spiritual well-being," his voice sounds like a lustful whisper, but the words are frigid, formal, "it would do you good to relearn several of the core values of the Church."

Then, his hand pulls away.

"We will begin with patience."

A moment of confusion rapidly devolves into desperation. You sit upright and lean towards him.

"Seteth, please-"

Please what? Continue to touch you? Make love to you? You find you don't want to face the truth of what you're pleading for.

He stands with all the dignity of a holy ceremony, then unclasps the cloak from the back of his robes. He kneels briefly to drape it around your shoulders. It's warm, and it smells like him. Like incense and old parchment.

"I will return with a change of clothes for you, and send for these to be cleaned," he says, picking up your old clothes and turning to depart, "I trust that you will be a diligent student in the coming days."

The night is agonizing. Seteth is all you can think of. Him, and the shame and guilt of how obsessively your mind circles him. His voice, his scent, his touch. You want more than anything to relieve the desperate need he awoke in you- to satisfy the nagging urge for release, and then perhaps be free from the memory of his hands. But with your own bound behind your back, there's simply no way.

How could you ever face your allies among the Empire's forces now? Now that you'd allowed- practically begged for a man of the church to pleasure you, to enter you. The phrase "sleeping with the enemy" comes to mind.

In the end, the moment you see Seteth open the cell door the following day, the heat of unresolved need floods your core. You tell yourself it's because his is the only touch you've felt in recent memory. You tell yourself that, if circumstances were different, you would resist him, push him away. Yet something in your expression must please him, as he grants you the slightest hint of a smile when he approaches.

"Have you had ample time to consider our lesson in patience?" his voice is firm yet kind, the voice he might use with a somewhat dense student. Your lips tighten to a thin line, and you step back against the stone wall. You give no reply, to which Seteth merely sighs and shakes his head.

"I cannot help you if you choose to be obstinate," he says, stepping towards you and raising a hand to your cheek as he has many times before. You realize that he hasn't brought any food with him today. The thought causes your stomach to tighten, grumbling low, yet loud enough that Seteth takes note. He gives a short, contemplative hum, then his hand comes to your chin to force you to meet his eye.

"Your body already associates our visits with food, I see." He knows what he's doing to you. He knows how he's training your body to respond to him. You force your head to turn from him, and he allows it, though his fingertips brush through your hair, "Don't be difficult, Y/N, I will have your meal brought after today's lesson has concluded."

Before you can reply, Seteth's hand begins to travel down your body. He caresses your neck, then continues downward, only pausing for a moment to cup your breast in hand. Your posture tightens, your face warms. But his free hand urges you to face him once more, and he kisses you with that same possessive intensity that hasn't left your mind since his prior visit. His thumb brushes across where your nipple has begun to harden against the fabric of your tunic. But rather than pursue this pleasurable sensation, his hand continues down your stomach and hips, then slides his fingers beneath your waistband.

The moment you feel him press between your folds, you whimper against his lips. His fingers run firm against your opening, but refuse to enter. You know you're positively soaked for him already. You know he notices the way you try to subtly shift your hips against him, rutting yourself onto his hand.

"Seteth, please..." you sob between kisses, and once again, he merely sighs.

"I had hoped that you would exhibit at least some measure of restraint," he says sternly, pulling away his hand and bringing his fingers to your lips. Some deranged part of your mind thinks that perhaps if you please him, he'll satisfy you- and so you immediately take the digits into your mouth, sucking and lapping at your own juices. Fierce emerald eyes fix onto you and watch you intently until you've finished, and he says,

"Your lessons will continue until you have fully grasped and appreciated the values of our Church," he continues, his tone even but his gaze firm and direct, "Now then, on your knees. Today, you will learn humility and service."

After only a brief glance at those unyielding green eyes, you obey.

You kneel at Seteth's feet, wrists still bound behind you, stubborn arousal and anticipation roaring in your veins. With pupils blown wide, you watch as he parts his robes and tugs down the front of his breeches, revealing the hardened length of his manhood. Once more, Seteth's reality is far more lurid than your idle imaginings had been, back when you'd entertained an innocent crush on the man who would someday be your adversary. His size is, in truth, a bit intimidating. But you straighten your posture and part your lips, worried that stalling for too long may provoke him.

Instead, he's patient. Excruciatingly so. If only he would be harsh with you, you think. If only he would attack or berate you. Then, you could hate him. Instead, a part of you that grows like a wildfire spreading too quickly for you to trample down so dearly wants his approval. His care and concern. The forgiveness he claims to offer, which you can only hope you're truly worthy of.

Your lips wrap around the head of his cock, a bit clumsy at first without your hands to balance you. Your tongue massages the glans steadily, and you turn your eyes up to him, not knowing what you hope to see in his expression. He's unreadable, but not cold. His hand comes to stroke your hair fondly, and he murmurs,

"That's right, Y/N. Take your time, and don't push yourself. This is all for your benefit."

True enough, forcing yourself to take him deeper would be uncomfortable at best, and suffocating at worst. Given his generous size, you're forced to work your way down the shaft gradually, working to widen your jaw and open your throat for him inch by inch. And all the while, Seteth instructs you, petting you and occasionally encouraging you.

You feel him grow harder within the warmth of your mouth, but he gives little indication of his pleasure. He seems utterly focused on you, his gaze unwavering as he watches you dedicate yourself to him. In a way, allowing you to service him slowly, rather than fucking into your mouth at his chosen pace, grants you the uniquely cruel opportunity to enjoy the process. You imagine a different scenario in a different life; one where Seteth is your lover and not your captor. You imagine how his strength would comfort you, rather than cage you. More than anything, you imagine this incredible cock making love to you- how it would feel inside of you, how he might sound groaning your name in pleasure.

Instead, as you urge yourself to take him as deep into your throat as you can manage, you only hear him exhale between his teeth. You quicken your pace, bobbing your head and taking him into the tight passage of your throat over and over. And at long last, you hear him from above you,

"I'd like for you to swallow it. Can you do that for me?"

You whimper around him, but don't dare to pull away.

"Very good. I'd rather not make a mess of you."

You hardly register the words. For the first time, he's thrusting back into you, his hand in your hair still, and his breath finally just a bit strained. With the slightest groan, he holds deep in your mouth, his cock twitches, swells, and begins to pour his release down your throat. Your eyes nearly water with the strain, but you force yourself to gulp down his cum as he grants it, swallowing until he's spent.

When he pulls away, you nearly slump forward, but he steadies you by the shoulder. You cough a bit, but somehow don't spill a drop of his release. Seteth fixes his breeches, then kneels down and caresses your cheek fondly.

"Seteth..." you half-moan his name, your eyes blatantly desperate, "Please, will you... I- I want..." you can't bring yourself to tell him that you need your own relief, but he understands your intent. And, if anything, he looks disappointed. He sighs, and stands once more before you.

"I see. So you had hoped for your own gratification in return. Have you truly lost sight of our lesson so quickly?" You struggle up to your feet, and he continues, "A servant of the Goddess does not act for the sake of personal reward. Service is done for its own sake, Y/N."

He turns toward the cell door, and only pauses to say,

"No matter. I'll bring you your meal, and we will try again tomorrow."

Days pass, and lessons pass. Seteth brings you food and water, he cleans you and feeds you by hand. Sometimes, he grants you a few precious moments of pleasure, his fingers working expertly between your thighs and yet never bringing full satisfaction. You wonder whether it would be more merciful if he never touched you, if you never experienced the rush of his lips on yours and his fingers stroking your most sensitive nerves. But then he draws near again and you can't even think to protest.

He continues to teach you patience and service, of course. And over time, further lessons follow. He teaches you obedience, instructing you to pleasure him with only your tongue, or to hold his cum in your mouth until he orders you to swallow it. And after this, your lessons become more intensive still. You're taught an extensive list of prayers by being made to repeat after him, knowing that success would earn you a few blissful moments of pleasure at Seteth's hands, while continued failure would bring punishment.

And you're a good student, only earning his punishment on a single occasion. One day- and only once -you dare to suggest that he may free you. That negotiations might be possible. You should have known he would react poorly, but the memory of his hand constricting around your neck is distant, and clouded by days of patient instruction, of food and bathing and touching.

Your suggestion earns you a lesson in contrition. As Seteth fucks into your throat so hard you can barely breath, he snarls from above,

"I don't wish to be cruel to you, Y/N, but you have forced my hand," his fist is tight in your hair, and his voice is low and dark, the warning of a far worse fate barely concealed in his tone. Your jaw strains around his thick cock and your eyes threaten to roll back, already dewed with tears. You nearly gag several times over, yet even when he feels you choke around his cockhead, he shows little mercy. Your throat feels sore and raw, and you wonder how you're even able to withstand him brutally pounding into your mouth for so long. Then, once he's finally sated, he pulls you off of his member by your hair, and shoots powerful ropes of cum across your chest as you watch him with dazed, puffy eyes and swollen lips. He's never marked you like this, always preferring that you take his load down your throat. Feeling his hot, thick release dripping down your skin fills you with a confusing mess of emotions- arousal, shame, humiliation, and strangely, a thrill of submission. The thrill of being claimed.

Seteth takes a moment to fix his clothes and steady his breath. Then, he kneels before you and cradles your face in his hands. For a moment, neither of you speak. His thumb brushes across your cheek, drying a single shed tear.

"I want to help you- you know that. Everything I have done has been for your sake. I take time out of my work each day to ensure you're cared for. In light of your favorable progress until this point, I have even given orders that other prisoners are to be given more generous treatment."

You raise your eyes to meet his. Bright green, and so earnest, as though desperate to reach you. Your chest feels heavy. Your mind is buzzing loudly, yet utterly silent.

"I'm... sorry," you choke out, "I'm sorry, Seteth..."

You're not certain what you're apologizing for- but he pulls you to him, cradling your head to his chest, and you feel a wave of relief. He kisses your hair and runs his hand over your back. He's warm- so warm, and his scent on his robes soothes you.

"You are forgiven. Always."

The soft sweetness of his voice seeps into your mind- into your heart.

It's intoxicating. He releases you, and smiles gently as he brushes your hair back.

"I will return in a moment to clean and feed you. Behave yourself and wait for me, I won't be long."

You never again go against Seteth's wishes. You never again mention your former allies, and with time, you think of them less and less. Such thoughts are replaced with lessons and prayers and Seteth's hands on your body. Yet you wonder why he has never fully taken you, instead choosing only to use your mouth. The surface answer appears to be that it would not serve to educate you. But is it what you want? The obvious answer comes far too readily. You want it more than anything.

Yet the day you realize this is the first day that Seteth does not visit you. You had found it strange that, during his prior visit, he had altered the shackles around your wrists so that your hands were bound in front of you rather than behind. In addition to putting less strain on your back and shoulders, this allows a guard to pass food to you through the openings in the barred window of your cell's door. You accept your meal, but call out before the guard leaves,

"Where- uh, where is Seteth?"

The guard hesitates before answering, and when he does, his words are rushed and clumsy,

"He- said he was busy today. And... that we were not to interact with you under any circumstances."

With that, he turns from the door and hastily departs. You know that Seteth must be a busy man- his consistent visits despite this are yet one more testament to his immense care and kindness towards you. But then the days continue, and for what you estimate to be a week, you don't see him. You don't feel him or hear him. The guards resolutely refuse to speak to you, only passing your meals before returning to their stations. The time spent alone is unbearable- worse by far than any punishment Seteth had ever granted. Are you being punished now? What had you done wrong?

The days without him are agony. Perhaps you had taken him for granted. He went so far out of his way for your benefit, taking the time to teach and train you, always so patient and understanding even when you made mistakes. If you could only see him again and prove that you would be good, that you would behave and obey him.

When the door of your cell opens at last, your heart leaps in your chest. Seteth enters, but his expression is grave. His eyes are narrowed, his brow low and stern as he silently approaches.

"Seteth-!" you gasp out, your face lit up with relief. A shadow of a smile shows through when he meets your eyes. He whispers your name with a strange sort of heat in his tone. That's when you notice the blood smeared down the side of his face. On a second inspection, he looks worn and haggard. His robes are frayed and torn in several places, the worst of which being a gash across his lower abdomen at his side. There's more blood still- some his, and some not, by the looks of it -and not even fully dry. Your expression falls. However before you can question him, Seteth says,

"Did any of the guards lay a finger on you in my absence?"

You're surprised that this is his concern, but you manage to reply,

"No, not at all."

He draws close and brings a hand to your cheek.

"Good. If any so much as looked on you even once, I would have them punished within the full extent of the Church's authority." You feel a chill at the thought- you know fully well that he means to imply execution.

"What- what happened?"

"Only a minor skirmish," he replies, his voice carefully measured. Then, his hands are at your waist, and he guides you back against the nearby wall, "Another attempt at breaking through the Monastery's gates. Preparation for this assault is what has kept me from you as of late. But you've no need to concern yourself with such things,"

He seizes the chain that joins your shackles and draws them upward, latching them to the wall behind you above your head. Then, he pulls you up and into his arms, embracing you and trapping you between the wall and his body.

"You- you should see a healer, you're hurt-" you stutter out.

"Such wounds couldn't possibly keep me from you," Seteth whispers, his voice rasping in his throat. When he kisses you, it's full of possessive hunger, and you feel the now-familiar ache for him roar to life at your core. You whimper against his lips. It feels different from before. Perhaps it's because of your recent separation, but he's more direct now, more passionate. He smells like sweat and iron and the carnage of the battlefield, but you can't think clearly enough to be bothered by it. If anything, it only spurs on your need for him.

Large, calloused hands run up your sides beneath your clothing, and you moan into his kiss. You're certain he means to tease you still, to bring you to the edge to leave you dangling by a thread. Instead, he tears open the front of your tunic with one hand while the other grips your thigh, down its outer curve to your ass, holding you firmly against him. And you feel his manhood, hot and incredibly hard, rutting between your lower lips behind layers of clothing.

You try to say his name, but he smothers your words in heated kisses, his tongue thrusting into your mouth to claim you. Before you can track, he's tugged down your breeches and adjusted his own clothing to free his throbbing member. Then, with your back to the cold stone and your legs wrapped around his hips, you feel the tip of his cock at your entrance and whimper aloud. You think he may make you beg or plead or pray. Not today. Today, at long, long last, Seteth murmurs your name and pushes the head of his cock into you, groaning as he feels you clench around him.

You're already panting, whining softly as he works his massive length into you. He had wasted no time, and yet you're already soaking wet for him, your juices coating his cock and welcoming him into your needy cunt. He spreads you open gradually but insistently, fitting you around him as he opens you up with thrusts that drive deeper and deeper with each pass. It's bliss- a bliss that makes you so dearly grateful for your own imprisonment. In this moment, you feel you'd gladly remain caged for life if it meant Seteth would care for you and satisfy you. Briefly, you do struggle against the restraints that hold your wrists in place, though only out of longing to wrap your arms around his broad shoulders, to pull him close and offer yourself to him.

"Seteth..." you say, your voice shaky and weak. He glances up at you, and the heat in his eyes nearly takes away your breath. He's held inside of you to the hilt, the tip of his cock pressing hard into your core and the girth of it stretching you to your limit; yet he pauses, and you manage to say,

"Please- take... take me..."

He smiles and rests his forehead against yours. You feel the cool metal of the circlet he wears, and the tightening of his grip at your hips as he holds you against him.

"My angel..." he whispers into the quiet of your prison cell, "Yes, darling, I'll take you. Until you're mine and mine alone."

Seteth's hips begin to move, thrusting into you at a steady yet impassioned pace. His arms hook under your legs, urging them back towards you and spreading your thighs, allowing him to fuck you even deeper, driving into you to the hilt and filling you until you're gasping for breath. Your body arches up from the stone wall as his lips travel down your neck. Where it meets your shoulder muscle, he bites down, and you breathe out his name as he marks you, his teeth harsh around your flesh. His beard grazes your skin, his hair tickles your neck and chest, and not even the still-present scent of blood can lessen the thrill of finally receiving him.

You wear a dazed smile, mumbling his name amidst cries of pleasure, and his pace increases. He fucks into you harder, his hips slamming up against you, the tip of his manhood sending shocks of pain and pleasure up through your core. The distant sting of his nails digging against your upper thighs hardly even registers in your hazy thoughts. Your body can't withstand the onslaught of pleasure- not after days and night and weeks of building need -and with a shiver that runs up your spine and across your skin, you see white, and the tense knot at your core comes undone. The relief of cumming is like a potent drug, and the thrill of cumming around Seteth's cock is indescribable bliss.

You're a boneless, trembling mess in the wake of your long-awaited climax, and it's all you can do to watch Seteth with unfocused eyes and lips parted as he continues to chase his own satisfaction. Shocks of tingling pleasure wake your nerves despite how positively spent and dizzy you feel. But then his eyes meet yours, and the animal hunger in that gaze rushes you to the edge all over again. You bite at your bottom lip. He presses you harder against the wall, pounding into your cunt as it clenches and spasms around him, then growls against your ear,

"Say that you belong to me. Now."

You rally any sense of control you still have over your body to gasp out,

"I... I'm yours-! I'm yours, Seteth..!"

With a final shaky groan, he holds your hips painfully tight and shoves the entire massive length of his cock into you. His member swells and throbs, and then, the heat of his release bursts out inside of you. His lips find yours, drawing you into a messy, heated kiss as thick cum fills you, his full length swelling and pulsing against your aching inner walls with each wave of his orgasm.

You feel light. You feel dazed and unfocused and practically mindless. Once Seteth has finally poured out the last of his climax into you, he lets out a heavy exhale, holding you to his body while he catches his breath. With his cock still nestled deep inside of your over-full and over-used hole, he nuzzles his face against your hair, and with a tenderness that makes your heart ache, he says,

"I will never let her take you from me again. I swear it."

'Her' is someone who mattered once- you're certain of it. But in Seteth's arms, full of his warmth and cradled to his sturdy frame, you find you don't have it in you to care. Perhaps a lifetime ago, you would have questioned him, or even resisted him- but you know better now. He provides for you, protects you, gives you pleasure beyond what you've ever felt before. There's no doubt remaining in your mind that this is right. That you belong to the Church. You belong to Seteth.

#yandere #tw yandere #seteth #seteth fire emblem #fire emblem #fire emblem three houses #feh #fe3h #seteth x reader #fire emblem x reader #fire emblem smut #fire emblem imagines

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