#truly and sincerely i could not do this without him! so much of this fic is me leaning on his ideas and i credit him all the time | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

memo-blogs · 3 months

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Wish An Astarion x Tav (any gender) fic (wholesome/SFW) ((Also, contains spoilers for the game))

As the warm glow of the fading sun caressed the sky, he awoke. Alone, again. Astarion trekked up to the first floor window and peeked outside at the fading sun, longing more than for its warming rays. He looked at the note he had been carrying in his pocket again. The messy familiar scrawlings of his darling.

"There's something I have to do. Please wait for me. -Tav"

It had been days. Where were they? Why wouldn't they take him with them? His mood darkening with the sky, Astarion turned away from the window of his humble abode with Tav.

Or well, maybe "humble" wasn't the right word. Fabulous, well and tastefully adorned, just as Astarion liked it. Tav had smiled that adoring smile of theirs as they let Astarion decorate their home. "You always did have excellent taste, love", Tav had said as they helped Astarion put everything just so. They had been all around the world, looking for just the right drapes, cutlery, carpets, paintings and so on. Their home had two floors and a surprisingly large basement. The days spent finding and putting together the place were mundane and domestic, but full of so much warmth and gentleness that Astarion let a sigh escape his lips as he descended back to the basement floor, painfully aware.

Aware that while the house was exactly how he'd like his home to be, and that while he was excited to actually have a place to call home, it was just a place without Tav. Astarion walked the corridors adorning their nest with knick-knacks and memoirs from their travels together, chuckling at the vibrating dog-collar found in the Underdark, realising that the most at home he'd ever felt was with Tav. He opened their bedroom door and winced at the empty bed. Somehow, even though he had room to roam, and the right to leave the house every night, the empty loneliness of their shared bedroom reminded him of the year he spent in a coffin in isolation as punishment from Cazador. He shuddered. His back ached with the memory of abuse. But he also remembered how softly Tav had wrapped their arms around him, promising never again would he be trapped. And so far, Tav had more than kept their word.

He sat down on their bed. His and Tav's. Astarion absent-mindedly caressed the bedsheets, lost in thoughts.

Where was Tav? What could take this long? Why not take him with them? After all they'd been through together, didn't they trust him? Or… Maybe Tav needed to do something in daylight. Astarion felt the pang of loss. While being tadpoled by an elder brain had been a horror, he had enjoyed the unexpected side-effect of being able to walk in the sun, and missed it dearly. Maybe it was his elf blood that made him ache for the sun. Ah, but to be a vampire, and to walk in the sun! That had been power. That had been the first taste of delicious freedom for him.

Astarion let his thoughts wander back to Cazador's ritual of ascension. Would have sacrificing all those souls really been worth not having to thirst and to be free to walk in the sun? Gods. There were moments where he genuinely thought he'd give anything for that. Fearful, painful moments. And he was so close to giving in to his panic to never be caged ever again.

But then, he recalled Tav's hand in his. Their smiling face. Their selfless bravery in battle, shielding him, always having his back. The way Tav looked at him, how, even if Astarion was just joking that he only wanted vain empty compliments, Tav's responses were always sincere and full of affection. The gentle way they made love. Something about the way Tav loved Astarion was so true, he couldn't deny it. It was in everything Tav did. It was in the way Tav opened up about being a Bhaalspawn, and fearing they'd hurt him. How they weren't afraid of losing power or control or murdering innocents in general - Tav was more scared and willing to give up the one thing they truly loved, if it meant keeping him safe. Him. Astarion. A measly vampire spawn who, in the grand scheme of things, should have meant nothing to someone like Tav. Yet they had died at Bhaal's altar, giving up all that power to be a decent, regular person, and to have a chance to love Astarion. For Tav, it had been more important to die wanting to be good and to love than to give up their soul to live powerful but practically in slavery. Thank the gods Withers had been there to raise Tav as a mortal, no longer tied to Bhaal. To give them and Astarion a chance to live.

Astarion lied down on the bed. Tav loved him enough to set him free. Tav didn't want to own or control him. They never had. They had always let Astarion make his own decisions. Stood by Astarion when he confronted Cazador. Never telling him what to do, but supporting him through it all. If he had ascended, he would have been lost forever. He would have gained power, but he would have lost himself, and become a beast beyond reckoning… Probably very much like Tav almost did, like their sister Orin had. Astarion had read up on vampire lords after, and realised part of the reason Cazador had been so cruel wasn't only that his master Vellion had been equally brutal to Cazador… But also because the one edge spawns had over full fledged vampires, was that they were still capable of love. Of feelings. Cazador had hated him with a passion, partly because he couldn't feel anything else.

And what if it hadn't been him to have been swept up in the mindflayer ship? What if it had been one of his vampire siblings? If the roles had been reversed, and he was still stuck with Cazador while his sibling dealt with the Netherbrain with Tav, he would have hoped to have been given a chance to live as well. He chuckled. Gods. All those spawn down in the Underdark, wreaking havoc. Ah, to be a spider on the ceiling!

Astarion stared at the ceiling of their bed. Mindflayers and vampire lords weren't that different beasts, after all. Soulless opportunists looking to drain whatever they found useful until it no longer wasn't. Astarion turned his head to look at the empty pillow beside him. The longing and uselessness he felt almost made him want to be some emotionless monster. He got up, frustrated.

He felt alone and oddly fragile. More so with each passing day Tav was absent. He trusted Tav. They said they'll be back. So they would be. But Astarion was worried. He walked to Tav's bedroom table and picked up the Sending Stone. He had picked it up and put it down many times as the days passed. He rolled it in his hands again, pondering who to message.

He finally gave the Stone a squeeze, activating it, and uttered: "Shadowheart love, sorry to bother you on a wonderful night such as this, but do you happen to know where Tav is?" The Stone flashed, letting him know the message was sent. He waited for a response.

None came. Odd. They weren't exactly the bestest of friends with Shadowheart, but she had always given some sort of reply when he had messaged her. Was she missing with Tav? Did they take Shadowheart with them wherever they went, but not him? What was going on? He thought of their old companions. Wyll and Karlach were still in the Hells, as far as he knew. Halsin was rebuilding the Shadowlands now that the shadows were no more. Jaheira was rebuilding Baldur's Gate. Lae'Zel was long gone fighting for the freedom of her people. He didn't dare to even think what Minsc was up to, or how he'd respond to any message, really. This didn't leave him many options on who to try next. He squeezed the Stone again, activating it.

"Gale - would you be a dear and let me know if you have any idea where Tav is?"

The response came in surprisingly quick this time. "Astarion! A little busy right now - ack!" The response cut out.

Astarion sat back down on the bed, Sending Stone in hand. So Shadowheart was unresponsive and Gale, professor of magic in Waterdeep, was clearly in some kind of battle - what were the odds these two events were unrelated? What was Tav up to that they had called on Shadowheart and Gale, but left him at home to worry? He stood up and paced. What was going on?

He heard a weary sigh in his ear. "Astarion." It was Gale. He was sending a message back. Astarion stopped to listen. "Terribly sorry not to respond. In a bit of a spot of bother. We're helping Tav… Retrieve an item, and it is proving rather tricky. Not to worry! Shadowheart has patched up the worst of Tav's injuries and we're nearly done here. We'll bring Tav home tomorrow night once we've all rested from today's activities."

"Tav is hurt?" Astarion found himself nearly shouting. He contained himself and poised his next words to be more his usual lax self. "Do make sure to tell them to not drag any blood on my Calimshite carpets when you return. They were very expensive. I suppose I'll have dinner waiting after sunset. You still drink wine, don't you Gale?"

Gale chuckled. "Tav says they wouldn't dream of dirtying your precious carpets. And a fine wine with some cheese sounds wonderful. See you tomorrow."

Astarion put the Stone back on Tav's table. Honestly he couldn't care less about the stupid carpets or even this entire house - he just wanted Tav back safe and sound. Tav getting injured worried him, as he knew how annoyingly self-sacrificing they could be. Didn't they agree to look after themselves first after the whole mess with the Netherbrain? What was Tav thinking?

Astarion walked upstairs and put on a coat. He needed the air to calm his nerves, and a meal to quench his thirst. Plus, now he'd have to prepare dinner for at least three since Tav was coming home with an entourage. He thought back to where Tav placed the recipe for that strange sauce Gale kept harping on about, and with a put upon sigh determined to make his best effort to make the stupid thing. Tav would be happy if he tried to be kind to their friends. And if they brought Tav back to him alive, maybe slaving over a meal wasn't such a big thing.

The next sunset, Astarion felt a little pathetic, sitting by their door waiting. But he couldn't help it. He was anxious to see what Tav had gone out to retrieve that was apparently worth dying over. And mostly, just to see his beloved idiot again. It had been horribly lonely and empty without Tav. And honestly, just mind-numbingly boring. He had started preparing dinner early as he couldn't really sleep the day, waiting. It was simmering on their stove. He had gone a bit overboard with setting the table as well, picking out Tav's favourite flowers and bringing out their best cutlery for their friends.

Astarion gingerly stole a glance at the last rays of the sun diving underneath the horizon, and as soon as they disappeared, a teleportation circle promptly manifested in their yard. As expected, Gale walked out, looking behind him as if encouraging whomever was behind him to follow. Out came Shadowheart and surprisingly, Jaheira, supporting a limping Tav between them. As soon as they were through, Gale shut the portal behind them.

Astarion couldn't contain himself. He flung the door open and ran to hold Tav. He held them hard, as if afraid Tav would vanish if he let go. For a small moment, he was lost in Tav's familiar scent. The one he had come to associate with being loved and being home, and he managed to hold back his tears on how good it felt to have Tav near him again. Tav gently kissed Astarion on his head, laying their head on his. "Hello, darling. Miss me?"

Astarion suddenly felt acutely aware they weren't alone and broke off their embrace. He tried to ignore Jaheira's knowing smirk and Shadowheart's little smile as he turned to face the latter. "I thought Gale said you'd patch my precious knucklehead before sending them home. Why are they still injured?"

Tav looked embarrassed. "Well, uh-" They were cut off by Jaheira. "Because we only have so many healing spells to spare a day, spawn, and we did as much as we could after a night's rest for the reckless cub, Shadowheart and I." Jaheira smacked Tav on the shoulder, as if to reprimand them for needing healing in the first place. Astarion's eyes widened in shock. "How hurt were you?"

"Exhaustingly so." Shadowheart sighed. "For a moment there, I wasn't sure Tav was still among the living, or that we could even bring them back, but we did, thank Selûne."

"Aye, burnt to a crisp by that one trap we missed. Shame the temple was filled with so much undead-repelling magics that we couldn't risk bringing our favourite vampire spawn in there to check for all of them, but we managed."

Everyone stopped when they noticed how quiet Astarion got. There was an awkward silence that hung among the group, as everyone realised even without tadpoles to connect them that Astarion was not okay with the news given. Tav looked at him apologetically. "I'm sorry I didn't ask you to come along. I know you would have come even if I didn't ask if I said I was going. But, there is a reason for this." Tav signaled for Shadowheart and Jaheira to release them, and stood up on their own feet.

Astarion sighed. "Just don't do it again. Now, I've made enough dinner for all of you, and there are guest bedrooms upstairs if you want to stay the night. You can tell me all about it over dinner." Astarion walked up to Tav, offering them a hand to lean on as he led them home. Their friends smiled and walked behind them, grateful for the offer of a hearth, a meal and a warm home.

Tav whispered in his ear. "Just like that? You forgive me for taking off without you?" Astarion gave their arm a gentle squeeze. "Yes love. I said I trust you, and despite all the evidence to the contrary, I still do." They walked together into their home with their friends. "But please don't leave me alone like this again. I don't like being alone with my thoughts for so long." Tav kissed his pale cheek. "I promise. This was the last escapade I'll ever do without your blessing."

As they sat down for dinner Jaheira laughed. "Astarion, seems I have misjudged you yet again. Not only was I right in mistaking you for a good man, now I am beginning to believe I might mistake you for a great husband. This is a beautiful setup!"

"Oh hush, you old crone. It's just dinner among friends", Astarion quipped back, smiling despite himself.

Gale sniffed the air as he sat down. "Is that Hundur sauce I smell?" He took a small dab of sauce on his spoon and tasted it. "By Mystra, you even got the flavours just right! Astarion! I didn't know you had the makings of a cook."

"There are many things you don't know about me, darling."

Shadowheart piped in while breaking bread for herself. "Indeed - I for one, am having a hard time telling which one of you loves the other more, you or Tav. Especially after this stunt we helped them pull. It'd be disgusting if you two weren't so adorable together… What isn't a mystery though, is who decorated your house. Really, Astarion?"

"You're just jealous you don't have my sense of style, love."

They all smirked, Tav smiling the biggest of them all. "Thank you, everyone. For being here. For you three for helping me with this… We can talk about what we did, but I'd like to tell Astarion in private what we got out of it, if that's okay. And… Just, you are all my family and I love you all very much. I am honoured to be among such amazing friends, and could not ask for better ones. If you ever need anything, anything at all, call and you know I will be there."

A choked silence hung among them, as no one really knew what to add to such heartfelt words of affection. Astarion smiled. Tav was one-of-a-kind. And all his. Jaheira turned her head to wipe a tear. Shadowheart smiled. Gale cleared his throat. "Well, let's not waste our gracious chef's efforts by letting this feast go cold. Shall we?"

They ate together as mostly Gale and Shadowheart regaled them with the story of how they had found a long-abandoned temple of Lathander, and plunged into it's surprisingly sunny depths, with occasional snarky remarks from the wizened Jaheira of all the blunders they made along the way. Tav focused on the meal, following along the story, nodding in places in agreement on the retelling of their past few days, and laughing at everyone's quips and remarks on their mishaps while at it. Astarion wondered what was worth this much trouble. The Blood of Lathander was still with Shadowheart. What more could the sun god offer that was worth the risk? He also noted that Tav seemed oddly nervous, and avoided his gaze throughout the dinner, shyly blushing into their dinner whenever their eyes did meet. Astarion found himself anxious as well, every now and then letting his foot tap under the table before he caught himself, and composed himself once more.

Eventually dinner came to a close, and they saw their guests to bed. Shadowheart promised to finish healing up Tav as soon as she woke up and before Gale teleported them all back home. They wished their friends a good night.

Astarion gently helped Tav down into their basement bedroom, and then to take off their armour and clothes. Dawn was already approaching, which was their bedtime, as Tav had adopted Astarion's nocturnal schedule with ease. He noted the bruising, the burns, the barely closed wounds from the battles Tav had recently fought without him while undressing them. He got lost in softly caressing Tav's battered body, until Tav's hand found his, and gently held it. Astarion looked into Tav's eyes. "Alright. We're alone now - could you please tell me what was worth nearly killing yourself over, again? The suspense is killing me, darling."

Tav looked at their knees, searching for their words. "You know how you showed me your grave stone", they started.

"Of course love, how could I forget? We made such excellent love on top of it that night. I cannot think of a better way to celebrate my rebirth at the time", Astarion shot back with a devilish grin. "I fail to see how my faded grave stone has anything to do with your little adventure", he added.

"Well that's just it - your grave was so faded, we couldn't make out the day you died. Or the day you were born. And you still can't remember, right?"

"Well no, I can't and honestly, I don't really care to. That person is long gone and can stay that way for all I care. Why does it matter?"

Tav played with their hands in their lap. "Today's a year from the day we first met. I was afraid I wouldn't make it back on time, but I did." Tav used the bed post to stand up, and limped to their satchel. They took out an unassuming scroll case. "I figured, today could be both yours and my birthday. Since I can't remember my birthday either. It could be our anniversary. A day of celebration. Our day. And I went out and got the one thing I really, truly want to give you above all... I've been plotting ways to find one for some time now." Tav limped in front of Astarion and painfully but meticulously got on one knee. Astarion could feel his cheeks getting hot - a feeling he wasn't sure he was even capable of anymore, being undead and all.

Tav presented the scroll case to him. "The temple of the sun god had been rumoured to contain a Wish spell. I risked everything to find out if the rumour was true, and it was. With this scroll, anyone can wish for anything; once." Tav placed the scroll into Astarion's hands.

"I know how much you loved walking in the sun, Astarion. Your life was taken from you. Your freedom. Even the sun was stolen from you. I give you this scroll, so that you can wish for anything. You can wish to ascend without sacrificing all those spawn, you can wish to be rid of your vampiric curse, you could wish to rule the world - anything you want." Tav gently squeezed Astarion's hands, holding the scroll case, and looked up at him with their piercing eyes. "I love you, Astarion. And I always will. I give you ultimate freedom to choose anything you want, anything at all."

For a moment, it felt as if time stood still as Astarion fully absorbed what Tav just said. What they were offering him. Suddenly, he couldn't help but cry. He threw the scroll case into a corner of the room and knelt down to hold his precious Tav as close as he could. How had he gotten so lucky? After centuries of misery, how was he here, now, with this amazing creature? He kissed them deeply, passionately, as if trying to convey all his overwhelming affection and gratitude in one, two, no; dozens of kisses and caresses. He didn't care he was still crying. He didn't care if he seemed insane. He just wanted to feel Tav, and never let go. To tell them without words Tav meant more to him than anything he could ever bring home.

After awhile, he stopped and they leaned their foreheads together, holding hands. Astarion noticed Tav was crying too, but Tav gave him a little smile nonetheless. There was an unanswered question in Tav's eyes -

What did Astarion want to Wish for?

Astarion kissed Tav on the forehead once more. "You are a reckless idiot." He got up and picked up the scroll case, and took out the scroll. Such a mundane looking piece of paper, to give out a moment of godlike powers to mere mortals. He played with it as if it was nothing. Tav smirked. "I know. So love, what are you going to use it for?"

Astarion grinned back at Tav. "Oh, I don't know. World domination does sound like an awful lot of work, doesn't it? And I have never heard of a happy vampire lord, now that I think of it. Powerful, to be sure - but not happy."

"I could wish for a sea of puppy dogs and kittens for you", Astarion joked. Tav laughed. "I got the scroll for you, smooth brain. I already have everything I need - what I want, is you to be free, in whatever way you want to be free." Tav dropped their joking demeanor and picked up their surprisingly disarming sincerity. "With or without me, I want you to be happy. You helped me find freedom and regain myself and my life back. Without you, I'd still be a slave to Bhaal's endless fervour to murder, or a mindflayer. You believed in me when no one else did, and supported me through bouts of madness. I owe my life to you… So I want you to choose yours. And whatever you choose, know I'll always love you for carrying me through my darkest days."

Astarion looked at Tav. He didn't need to connect through the no-longer-present tadpole to know they meant every word. He looked down at the scroll of Wish in his hands. He could be anyone. He could do anything. He could be the most powerful, influential and beloved man in all of Faerûn - all he had to do was say the words.

The scroll knew he meant to make his Wish. It glowed in anticipation. He smiled at Tav. "I wish to be cured of vampirism and to be an elf that's capable of walking in the sun with his beloved."

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iveriee · 9 months

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★;CATEGORY: A yandere x Reader

★;PAIRING: Yan!Tom Riddle x Gn!Reader.

★;SUMMARY: In which, he gets utterly envious of your s/o.

★;PS: This contains severe mentions of abusive and obsessive behaviours, Henceforth if you are uncomfortable with any of such topics, Please do not read this. I do not encourage toxic behaviour and this is only a work of fiction. I'm aware that I should be writing Part 3 of the Yule Ball fic, However, I've decided not to continue it. I deeply apologize, i just did not have any ideas on how to continue it. However, if you have any sort of suggestions, please let me know. I'll write anything as long as it's relevant and appropriate. I understand the anxiety of requesting a scenario at times, I quite literally am terrified of doing so myself.

★;EXTRA QUESTION: What's your favorite Taylor Swift song and why?

To say your life was mundane would be an understatement—Boredom filled your senses, even if it was Hogwarts you were attending. But perhaps, the truthful reason was that you did not share any classes with s/o/n. Your state was truly pitiable, Words engraved on pages were mere symbols to you—Questions, Paragraphs,Instructions, Incantations, etc all demolished right out of your mind like a prompt broom. The ending of classes were one of the only things that brought you joy. On a fretful Tuesday, you hurried out of the dungeon, sprinting profusely, eventually concluding by frisking right on s/o/n, legs enclosed on their waist.

"[Name]?" They questioned, astonished by your actions.

"I really missed you..." You murmured in response. "I wish we had classes together. I don't particularly enjoy studying anymore.."

Their expression configured into a frown. "[Name], you know you have to study. I don't want you to fail." Their hands found the route to your hair, fondling it dotingly(which, of course, made you grin) only to place you back on the ground.. "Please. I only want what's best for you." They added delicately.

However, you were not even aware of the most crucial thing. In the midst of your affections with s/o/n, You had been utterly and completely examined by none other than Tom Riddle. His envy and infatuation had been rooted extensively, like a coping plant—growing and growing until it surpasses the garden, destroying it in the process. He had harboured a bitter hatred towards s/o/n, so much so it turned into desires of murder. Why couldn't you comprehend how much he was better than them? He was the ideal student...with precisely placed dark curls, a charismatic (albeit untrue) smile, excellent grades, beloved by everyone..And so in many's eyes, even flawless...could it perhaps be that you were aware of his true nature? No. It simply was not decipherable. You could not have been aware. However, he should focus on you at this moment...he told himself..(or perhaps reassured?)... He could have perhaps done anything for you, anything to please you,whether it was unjust or not, yet this was what he received in turn? Perhaps he should have tortured you until you submitted. But then again, he could not watch you sobbing.

So, henceforth, it all led to you weeping nevertheless. The exception being that it was over s/o/n's corpse, not wounded, not varnished but frigid. Cold. Their eyes were vacant, no longer were they gazing at you gently. And they never would.Never again would you sprint to them after class and embrace them.... s/o/n was dead. And tears crowded your eyes, plummeting down your cheeks. How could somebody be so vicious? How could somebody use the killing curse on them without a second thought? Why was the world so brutal? Perhaps..you should have studied. After all, they did not wish for you to fail in your O.W.LS...

And so Riddle concealed his smirk and approached you, his ego calloused when you did not turn your gaze at him. His hand idled on your shoulders, in an almost comforting manner. "I sincerely apologise for your loss, [Last name]." He murmured, almost seductively if it weren't for your grief. Mine he wondered to himself. They are rightfully mine.

#harry potter #hp fandom #tom marvolo riddle #lord voldemort #yandere tom riddle #tom riddle #male yandere #yandere #jealousy #tom riddle x reader #yandere x reader #yandere tom riddle x reader

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seosracha · 1 month

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Haluu!! Currently obsessed with taylor’s guilty as sin, was wondering if you could make a fic with hanbin in mind? :0

⸻ guilty as sin - SUNG HANBIN

genre: strangers to lovers, fluff (ig??!), imagine

pairing: sung hanbin x gn!reader

wc: 0.6k

authors note: my nonnies have such good music taste cause this song is so pretty too🙏 im sorry if i got the meaning of the song messed up tho 😞😞 anyways requests are open!

Ever since you first saw him, walking so confidently down the hallway, his smile and eyes shining so brightly, you knew it’d be him. You knew Sung Hanbin would be the one you’d be pining for, thinking about endlessly, and daydreaming about.

Hanbin was kind. Not the type of fake, toxic kind, but genuine sweet type of kind. He was also so smart, his beautiful face being just a simple reflection of his truly incredible mind.

He was the unreachable, desired boy everyone wanted, and nothing really set you apart from any of the other girls who’d beg for a minute of his attention.

And maybe fantasizing about him, recalling things that never happened made you guilty, but there was no way you could help it.

Without ever touching his skin, you had fallen for the boy.

Your friends kept on convincing you to talk to him, try your chances, but you never did, too afraid of the annoyingly sweet rejection he’d probably serve you with. He had already done so with many of his admirers, and each time he managed to, not on purpose, make you feel wrong for even trying.

The thoughts of Hanbin accompanied you every day, and it deep down made you feel slightly insane, wondering how much longer you can take his absence in your life.

So when the moment you continuously dreamt about, was unveiling right in front of you, you still had no idea what to say. You had been admiring Hanbin from afar, and now he was right in front of you, that infectious smile plastered all across his face, as the simple words fell right out of his mouth.

You imagined it, but never expected it to be so easy for him to say. It surely wouldn’t be easy for you. No matter how much you liked him, putting it into words would never be something you’d be able to do.

“I really like you, Y/n. I have for a long time, but I wasn’t sure if you were interested in me” that exact moment replayed in your mind, and if he wasn’t standing right in front of you, you’d probably slap yourself.

Your imagination had become so vivid, that this could well be just another hyper realistic reflection of those thoughts. But it wasn’t. After 3 years you finally got to hear Hanbin say those pretty words to your face, with all of his sincerity and honesty.

You’d never tell him what you thought about, and he’d never tell you neither, but the affection was enough confirmation to know that it was real, and that it’d finally come true.

And even though you had done half these things in your head, it was now all so tangible, so warm in your hands. He finally felt so real, and you wouldn’t ever give that away.

So maybe you were guilty as sin for being so taken away by Hanbin’s image without even knowing him, but at least now you could say it aloud with a proud smile.

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kkongdakz · 4 months

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“ I SEA YOU. ” ft. kim gyuvin

gyuvin x gn!reader, genre : fluff & comfort, warnings : mention of anxiety and overwhelming feelings, wc : 2,3k>

author's note : this is a really, very, truly personal fic, so i'm sorry if you don't recognize or identify with y/n.. but still, i hope you'll like it anyway 😙👍🏻 also, could this be my official comeback? ..who knows..

ever since you were little, you've always considered the sea your comfort zone, your escape. the sound of the waves and the feel of salt water on your skin had a way of dissipating all your worries, help you avoid drowning under pressure and stress. you've long believed that nothing else in the world could give you a similar sensation — not even the hottest summer sun, not even the most beautiful spring blossom tree, not even the tastiest winter hot chocolate, not even the reddest leaf on an autumn tree. nothing could compare to the comfort of the sea in your heart.

that's why you've continued to visit this beach, which means so much to you, every week. this little beach, almost always deserted, where the clear horizon offers you all the splendour of the sky living side by side with the ocean. the palette of blue inked in your memory is enough to soothe you on rainy evenings, but you need the sound of the ocean coming out of a giant shell to soothe your mind. and even if you have to travel miles from your student apartment to get to what makes you so happy, you'll do it without hesitation. but no longer alone.

on the long river of your quiet life, a little boat named kim gyuvin decided to follow a stream to reach the blue ocean of your heart. it was no mean feat — even if you have to admit that the sincerity of his smile made you sink delicately to the bottom of the well of love. he crossed your path by chance, and kept crossing it. again and again. until you accept him on your raft. he hadn't been that insistent, but what really wins you over is feeling that gentle warmth in your heart every time he looks at you with all the goodness in the world in the corner of his eyes, accompanied by the most beautiful smile on the planet. the same warmth you get from watching a sunset reflected on the ocean's blue expanse.

« shall we go? » you suddenly heard, in a voice as gentle as a summer breeze, bringing you out of your deepest thoughts. turning your head to the right, your absent gaze fell on gyuvin's peaceful face, you smiled tenderly, gently grabbing the hand he was holding out to you to get up and follow him out the door.

the trip to the beach didn't seem as long as it used to be, now that a warm hand was keeping yours company. you no longer had to show him the way, as he now knew the route by heart — even better than you. but today, something seemed to have changed inside your heart. maybe it was because of the way his freshly dyed black hair swept across his forehead in the same way that grains of sand move across the beach in the wind. maybe it was the way numerous shivers ran through your body every time his shoulder brushed yours, like when cold sea water touches your feet on autumn mornings. maybe it was simply the beauty of his face that easily equalled the beauty of a sunset shining on the surface of the ocean.

a ton of maybe trotted through your mind as you struggled to stay focused on the road, far too busy watching the slightest feature of gyuvin's face. even his profile was perfect. unconsciously tightening the grip of your hand around his, gyuvin turns his soft gaze on your face, his pretty brown eyes instantly locked in yours. he was surprisingly so calm — usually, he couldn't help being an overexcited puppy, and you liked that about him. he contrasted with your far too calm personality — he was like the tsunami of your life, shaking up your habits for the better, of course.

but gyuvin knew that these seaside escapades were important for you, that they were necessary for the proper functioning of your mind, they were made to soothe you. so he knew how to stand still and give you the chance to recharge your batteries in peace, even though he had to admit that having the privilege of accompanying you was the greatest accomplishment of all.

let's go back up the creek into the reverse river, to revisit the first time gyuvin's curious eyes landed on your hair floating in the ocean breeze. he must have been in his fifties, where adolescence made him want to escape far away from everything. it was an afternoon when the late summer wind kept reminding him that school was just around the corner, after running aimlessly for an hour, his footsteps led him to this hidden, deserted small beach, where only the sound of the waves crashing on the sand disturbed the tranquillity of the place. it was so beautiful, so pleasant — he felt as if he were floating, his mind carried away by the waves. and that's when he saw you, like a dream. as pretty as a mermaid, your soft face so serene.. he was so jealous of you. you were approaching the serenity he so desperately sought, and it upset him. but that didn't stop him from continuing to look at you with curious doe eyes, as if you weren't capable of feeling a insistent gaze burn your skin. he suspected you must be around his age, because of your youthful facial features glistening in the sunlight. as he watched you without saying a word, without moving an inch, his heart fluttering with lightness at the mere sight of your devastating but peaceful smile. you seemed so far out in the ocean — that intrigued him and led him to appreciate a little more the benefits of the sea. you intrigued him.

so.. to say that he approached you by pure coincidence would be a lie, because when he recognized you, wandering the halls of his high school, he wondered why he'd never noticed you before. with hindsight and a bit of imagination, it was probably because your mind was always stuck in the middle of the ocean and no boat had ever managed to reach your soul — until he decided he was going to make it, even if he had to swim for it. which he did, with flying colors.

« you're okay? » he asked, softly, in a voice that sounded like a siren call to your ears. falling for kim gyuvin was, once upon a time, something inconceivable for you. your head was too much in the clouds, your mind too much in your dreams, and your heart far too rambunctious to consider loving anyone other than the ocean. but he managed to get you to change tack — him and his beautiful sun-kissed brown eyes. shaking your head negatively with a barely visible smile that only he could see, you finally looked away to the horizon, where the entrance to the beach wasn't far off. « we're here. » you announced, tugging a little more firmly on his hand to guide his steps, despite the fact that he knew this road by heart, having travelled it with you so many times.

as you carefully descended the stairs to the beach, the fresh ocean breeze was already tickling your fragile skin. gyuvin was careful not to let go of your hand to prevent you from falling, but this impulse of benevolence caused him to miss the moment when you stopped dead in your tracks to observe the landscape in front of you, his body colliding with yours. « oh.. » was the only thing he was able to say when his chest hit your back, and the next second his gaze was unconsciously fixed on your face, which, once again, seemed so tranquil at the mere sight of waves washing up on the sand eternally. a smile tugged at his lips, his free hand slipping to your hip to hold you close, and his heart racing at the simple knowledge that you were perfectly fine right now. « it's pretty, isn't it? » you finally commented, your words mixing with the wind to reach his ears, and gyuvin nodded positively, his loving gaze lost in the ocean of your eyes.

advancing through the sand, taking care to draw him along with you, you didn't give him time to dream about whether you could be his little mermaid, the one who could save from drowning the prince he could have been. the same one you might abandon on the beach, as you did previously with the fifteen-year-old boy who first saw you a few years earlier. gyuvin liked to think your story would be so pretty to tell — he was one hundred percent sure it would be his little sisters' favorite love story, the one that would make them dream by night and hope by day. yeah, gyuvin was convinced that your love story would inspire many.

now sitting next to each other on the warm sand, gyuvin's fingers quietly played with a lock of your hair, twirling it around his finger, with his tender, benevolent gaze fixed on you. his heart seemed filled with happiness, because he knew that there, right now, right here, sitting in front of that vast blue sea, your heart was soothed, at the height of the happiness you so preciously cherished. and he was perfectly right : sitting on the sand, you held your knees to your chest, your star-filled eyes exploring the ocean you seemed to know by heart. the beauty of the light reflected on the surface of the water, the waves breaking against the shiny sand of the beach, the sound of the latter disturbing the tranquillity of the place, with only a few people strolling by, each looking happier than the next. not far away, a little girl running with her feet in the water, followed by a little boy who seemed to be laughing out loud as he tried to catch up with her. the sun seemed to embrace their skin with its warmth, under the watchful eyes of their parents who were standing not far from them, a light, benevolent smile decorating their faces.

then, as you watched them tenderly, your thoughts suddenly began to wander, taking you to the back of your mind that never stopped thinking. after careful consideration, you began to think that maybe, just maybe, you didn't have to make weekly trips to the beach. because you'd found another way to feel good and happy when the world seemed to be crashing down on you.

looking away from the blue expanse in front of you, your pupils finally meet those of gyuvin. your boyfriend offers you a pretty smile — light, but filled with all the sincerity in the world, his eyes overflowing with love. in your chest, your heart began to race, furiously, warmly, pleasantly, like the first time you fell in love with the sea. gyuvin's love was as deep as the ocean, his hands as soft as water, his eyes as radiant as the sun reflecting on the surface. he'd come into your life by chance, and had been making you want to drown in his arms ever since. he cracked the shell of your heart and slipped inside and never left. and now, he brings you the same warmth and comfort as an afternoon spent observing the ocean. it was strange, a new feeling for you — in your whole life, no one has ever been able to fill the void inside you, to calm the storm that was sometimes your mind, when, with just one little smile, gyuvin made you forget all the ills of your life, as the sea was so adept at doing it. so maybe now, kim gyuvin was the ocean's main rival in your heart.

hooking your hands around his arm, you drew him gently towards you, feeling a certain shyness rise up in you after having spent long seconds staring at him without saying anything. laying your head against his shoulder, feeling the warmth of his skin against your cheek, his hand slips against one of yours, gently caressing your fingers. « i don't think i need to come here so often anymore. » you say suddenly, attracting the attention of the boy at your side, who raises an eyebrow at you. he wasn't used to seeing you refuse a trip to the seaside, especially knowing perfectly well your love for this beach so dear to your heart. so it was only natural for him to ask you why or how you'd come to think such a thing, his little why floating in the air for a moment without any answer escaping your lips.

tightening your grip around his arm, closing your eyes as the ocean breeze hits your face, a perfectly relaxed smile, the most sincere he'd ever seen, took place on your lips. « i found someone better than the ocean. » you replied, so naturally that gyuvin felt the tips of his ears redden furiously. he wasn't stupid — he knew, he understood that silently, and in your own way, you had just confessed to him that he was like the ocean in your heart. and for him, those words were more powerful than a simple i love you.

gyuvin knew that nothing meant more to you than the sound of the waves and the beauty of the ocean's expanse, which you cherished more than anything else. so, the mere thought of him being superior to the sea in your heart could only make him fall even more in love with you than he already was. his rebellious teenage heart of a few years ago was definitely not wrong : you were the mermaid who kept him from drowning. without answering you orally, gyuvin decided to simply close his eyes in turn, resting his head against yours, enjoying your stroll by the sea which managed to open your heart to him.

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johnny-slaughter-me · 9 months

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— “ 𝐅𝐥𝐮𝐟𝐟 𝐀𝐥𝐩𝐡𝐚𝐛𝐞𝐭. ” | Johnny Slaughter x Gender-Neutral Reader.

Headcanon. My take on a fluffy alphabet with Johnny.

Notes. English isn't my native language so typos and grammar issues are likely.

Warnings. This fic is sfw. Canon gore and cannibalism mentioned.

Enjoy. I hope you enjoy the content. Much love, Cherry. 🍒

- A. Activities, how they spend their time with and without their s/o.

Without you, Johnny mostly spends his time hunting or preparing for hunts. Hunting is (almost) everything for him. It gives him a thrill to chase and a sadistic satisfaction when he kills his prey. With you he'd grown to love more of what nature the backyard has to offer, whether it would be the sunflower fields or stargazing at night from the bed of his truck. He really enjoyed spending time with you and had learned to appreciate the simple moments you two could share together.

- B. Beauty, what do they find pretty about themselves and their s/o.

Johnny has a charming look, he maintains a certain figure as it helps him in hunts and in loring and tricking victims, Johnny wouldn't be out here calling himself beautiful. He boosts his ego though other means, mostly ones relying on strength and power, so he finds his arms to be one of his most admirable physical features of himself. As for you, it was something in your eyes, that captured him and had made him decide to keep you as own of the family rather then dinner. He'd learn so much about just from how your eyes reflected your feelings. He can get lost in them for hours if he had a chance.

- C. Comfort, how would they comfort his s/o.

Johnny isn't one to talk things through, he is a man of patience, as seen through his incredible hunting skills, but his exposure to social interactions is limited. He takes pride in how strong he is, depending on the situation he would either hold you in his arms, let you take your time to calm yourself while knowing he is there for you, or physically and verbally defend you if you are in a situation that calls for it. Needless to say, he'd kill for you.

- D. Dream, how do they picture their future with their s/o.

There's not a lot of room for change in Johnny's life, he isn't planning on it either. Family is for life, and he wants you to be a part of it. Some nights he'd dream of you finally eating human flesh and not the meat of the dead rabbits he'd hunt down for you. Help the family deal with the victims and enjoy it as much as he does. He wants you to truly devote yourself to the family just like he does .

- E. Equal, how much effort do they put in the relationship compared to their s/o.

The relationship you have with Johnny is never going to be an equal one, considering it started with you originally being kidnapped for dinner, and the fact that he and his family can always turn you into it at any given moment puts you in a powerless position. However he does his best to accommodate you, hunting rabbits so you won't eat human flesh, getting you basic necessities from his trips to the city, spending quality time with you during the short windows of time he has off "work". You had also grown to like Johnny and you try to help around the house, and spend whatever time with Johnny you can, always reassuring him that you love him.

- F. Fight, how are fights between them and their s/o.

You and Johnny haven't fought much, nothing big at least. If you had you'd probably not be among the living. Sometimes you have petty fights, but Sissy told Johnny its probably because you are still getting used to the family and the new environment you are living in. So he'd learn to ignore it. They usually end by you apologizing to him. Johnny will never apologized, at least not sincerely.

- G. Gratitude, how grateful are they for their s/o and the things their s/o is doing for them?

Whilst Johnny's mindset is that of a savior, he was the one sparing your life and thus you are now his. I would like to believe he is grateful for you not trying to tun away, for being kind to his family and to him, and for truly loving him, a love no one in the family could ever give him.

- H. Honestly, are they honest and open with their s/o? Do they have any secrets?

He doesn't really hide anything from you. You know of the family's secret and that is what mostly shape his character. He won't necessarily open up and talk about his past or feelings though, and the one time he tried hiding something from you was the fear that washed him during the first week of your stay with the family, where you hid in one of the cars because you were scared of a hunt that went down between bubba and a victim. He'd never let you see him in a vulnerable state.

- I. Inspiration, has their s/o inspired them and vice versa.

You had inspired Johnny to also enjoy his downtime and not just the hunts. You thought him that there's more to life then the adrenaline that comes with the chase. In a similar way, Johnny inspired you to be more grateful for every moment you spend breathing, and what a true community feels like. Sure they are twisted but that doesn't mean they don't inspire you every now and then. Honorable mention is how inspiring Johnny's dedication is. Both for you, the family, and for his hunts.

- J. Jealousy, how jealous are they.

Johnny is jealous and possessive, but he manipulates his jealousy so it comes off as more of a possessive aspect then a jealous one. Johnny doesn't like showing anything that could be interpreted as a weakness.

- K. Kiss, are they a good kisser? What was the first kiss like.

He is surprisingly a good kisser, Johnny mostly care about his own needs and usually kisses you messily and roughly when you two have some alone time. He won't really kiss you in front of the family. He will now return a soft good morning kiss to you, but he still prefers makeout sessions over small soft kisses.

- L. Love confession, how do they confess to their s/o.

Johnny originally kidnapped you for dinner, but after taking a liking to you he just kept you alive and toyed with you. He never really confessed to loving you, but his actions throughout the time you spend with him let you know that he does indeed love you.

- M. Marriage, do they wanna get married? What would the marriage be like?

Despite how untraditional the family is, mostly Nancy, would want the two of you to get married. That would be a way to truly have you as part of them, and Johnny wouldn't oppose to the idea of marriage with you. Johnny isn't a big dreamer but after the initial start of your relationship he fell harder and harder and he truly wants you to be a part of the family. It would also make him worry less if he has to go out of town and leave you alone since the family will never turn on one another. That is if you ignore the fact that Nancy killed Johnny's mom and stole him to raise him as her own. The ring would be simple and the wedding would just be a family dinner but with some homemade decor and a little ceremony. Life after the wedding won't be much different, the day to day would be similar, however if you wanted to have any kids, the family would help keep them safe.

- N. Nicknames, what do they call their s/o and vice versa.

Johnny's pet names for you are darlin' and doll, sometimes he'd also call you a cutie. You mostly call him honey, sometimes babe, although never baby, he doesn't like being called baby. (In bed he'd give you more dirty pet names and likes it when you call him daddy).

- O. On cloud 9, what are they like when they are in love.

Johnny's love language is actions of service, he takes pride in his physical strength and appearance. He never lets you carry anything heavy even if you are capable, he protects you if you are scared of something, but also he likes to hunt animals for you since you aren't fond of their premium human meat. The family can tell Johnny is in love with you, as usually he only thinks about himself and devotes a little bit of thought for the family, but sometimes he goes out of his way to help you or be there near you.

- P. PDA, how are they with their s/o infront of others.

He won't kiss you or call you pet names infront of the family for the longest time, he didn't want them to find something to use against him, he'd be more open about your relationship once he feels the family is comfortable with you and won't try to slaughter you. But infront of anyone other than the family, Johnny he really doesn't care. He knows he can protect you and you what they think of him doesn't matter to him. He'll do whatever he wants with you.

- Q. Quirk, a random ability they have that benefits the relationship.

His truck, he sometimes takes you on rides through the different parts of land the family owns. It's refreshing for the both of you. Johnny is always the one driving, no one gets to drive his truck no matter how much he loves them.

- R. Romance, how romantic are they? Is it creative or cliché.

Johnny is romantic in his own ways. Mostly through shielding you from danger and trying to provide for you. Sometime into your relationship you started initiating some romantic times in tbe sunflower fields or through car rides with him, and now he himself offers them to you.

- S. Support, are they helping their s/o achieve their goals? Do they believe in their s/o?

Johnny isn't very supportive in that regard. He wants you to be part of the family, if you want to take on a certain role within the family and its not one that will possibly put you in danger, he'd be all for it. But if you dream of your old life, Johnny would go out of his way to sabotage that and try to get you to shift your goals into ones that benefit the family.

- T. Thrill, do they need new things to spice up the relationship or do they prefer a routine.

Your relationship with Johnny is limited. You can't really leave the lands the family own but even then you are limited to safer areas where living victims aren't roaming free. Johnny's life is very much based on a routine and he has no problems with the relationship being the same. But if you suggest something new to do every now and then and it is within the boundaries of where you are allowed to be, he won't say no to you.

- U. Understanding, how understanding are they of their s/o. Are they empathetic?

Johnny is narcissistic, and he cannot undo himself into a good person. He does try to be understanding and to accommodate you. Took some advice from Sissy at first, since she had actually spend time living outside the family's land in different cultes but he mostly relayed on skills he picked up to study and capture his victims to form an understanding of you.

- V. Value, how important is this relationship to them.

Your relationship with Johnny literally means the world to him. He never knew he was capable of experiencing love like this, no matter how twisted the circumstances of what formed it are. And he also knows he will never be able to experience it with anyone else, so he places a great value on you and the relationship with you.

- W. Wild card, a random fluff headcanon.

You asked Nancy about Johnny's birthday once, and she gave you the date. You took it upon yourself to try and make him something sweet for desert and you set the dinner table with some flowers you found in the garden. No one expected it, but the family, and mostly Johnny (he has a sweet tooth) really appreciate this gesture and enjoyed the dessert. Now it became a tradition that for each family member's birthday you'd set a special table with something sweet. They all looked forward to the occasion as well.

- X. Xoxo, are they very affectionate, do they love kisses and cuddles.

Johnny is a fairly rough person at first he wasn't one to really kiss you if it wasn't leading up to or during spicy times. He did let you since day one sleep in his bed with him, and as you slowly felt yourself falling for him you started snuggling up to him at night. He never pushed you away and now he can't fall asleep without you by his side.

- Y. Yearning, how are they when they miss their s/o.

The only days you and Johnny are separated is when he has to go out of town. He can't help but miss you, and he copes with his loneliness by having a side quest of getting you something you'd like. When he finally gets back home and gifts you whatever it was that he thought you'd like, seeing you thank him each time with your eyes litting up like a child opening a Christmas present makes it all worth it.

- Z. Zeal, are they willing to go to great lengths for the relationship, and how so.

Considering Johnny is a serial killer, and him and his family practicing cannibalism, him letting you live- and arguing with his family to also let you live (which is a big deal for Johnny), means he did go to lengths not normal for him in order for this relationship to work.

#Cherry Writes 🍒#Johnny Slaughter #Johnny Slaughter x Reader #Johnny Slaughter x GN Reader

114 notes · View notes

tswwwit · 1 year

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28.7% of you voted for this filth

NSFW! Here's some smut.

This won the poll, and here's what I ended up giving you in return. My condolences for this entire thing. 😔

Highlight below for kink/content warnings

Dom/sub, mild bondage, dirty talk, prostate massage, creampie/cum kink, mirror sex

Now here's the actual fic!

Dipper forces himself to turn away from his phone.

He takes a deep breath. Tapping his pen on the paper, where he has notes to make. Really important ones. In theory.

Right now, he could be making progress on any of the dozen mysteries on his plate, or unraveling another half-dozen demonic plots.

Hell, there’s even peace and quiet.

Being in Bill’s bedroom - their bedroom - means he has something like. Well. A secret lab, though a weird one. Definitely a private sanctum. Their room in the Fearamid is a profoundly private space to work in - as long as Bill's not around - because nobody else would ever dare intrude.

Time, and space, and power. Knowledge, even. Everything Dipper could ever ask for. For finding focus. For doing good.

Dipper catches himself looking at his phone again. This time, he gives it the glare it truly deserves.

It really is gaudy as hell, isn’t it. An eyesore if there ever was one. What a shame that magical function doesn’t always fit an aesthetic; golden’s what he’s stuck with, as long as he wants this thing to work.

The flipside is that nobody can deny that his phone’s very functional.

No other device has interdimensional reception. Making calls even between other realms of existence, texting between worlds. Best phone connection in this segment of the multiverse, courtesy of one accidental life bond.

Dipper can’t exactly sell the patent, though. Since it’s partially created from semi-illegal bits scavenged from Ford’s lab, partly from a concoction of spells of his own creation -

And partly from Bill’s own exoskeleton. Hence the gaudiness.

Plus the internet gets finicky, which is kind of a hiccup. And while a life-bond makes it work, the average magic-user doesn’t have a good conversationalist at the other end. Sometimes the connection gets garbled, or the thing itself corrupts other magic around it. Apparently it radiates an aura, too. One that Dipper can’t feel, but is ‘vaguely creepy’.

But even Bill admitted the design was impressive, and that’s an accomplishment in any entity’s book. Sincere compliments from Bill freakin’ Cipher are very, very hard-won. He’s seen basically everything, knows so much, and what Dipper came up with was, quote, ‘pretty cool!’.

Inevitably, Dipper finds himself staring at his stupid phone again.

It’s the way it catches the light, he swears. He’d spraypaint it if he could without compromising the spellwork. Like the major part of its physical makeup, it’s ridiculous, showy, and overly complicated.

And oddly tempting.

Dipper keeps tapping his pen, point down, on the paper. He doesn’t have anything to write down at the moment, though he feels like he should. Even though he has the time to work out a thousand other things, a million investigations, his thoughts keep drifting towards. Other stuff.

Which is so dumb. Dipper could be doing any number of things, with all the power and knowledge he has on hand. Unfortunately, his stupid brain and dick are full of ideas too, and they’re ganging up on him. It’s very distracting.

If only things were more difficult, this wouldn’t be an issue.

Because if Dipper really wants a distraction, it's a phone call away. Basically no effort at all. He could have it within minutes - theoretically - because Bill tends to like this sort of thing. He’d be game for it, any time.

Dipper plants his elbows on his desk, and rubs his eyes with the heels of his hands.

But there’s so many reasons not to do it.

Bill’s not here, for one. Dipper would be interrupting his entire ‘business’ day, and throwing a wrench into his ‘work’. He doesn’t know precisely what Bill’s up to this time, but there’s thousands of plans Bill could be enacting. Millions of beings to torment, or terrify. Bugging him for something this petty, pointless, and kind of perverted, is -

…Another reason Bill would like it.

And, technically preventing evil from happening. Distraction goes both ways; Bill can’t do two things at once.

Dipper glares down at the paper in front of him. No words there, just an exercise in abstract pointillism.

Great. Now he’s talking himself into this.

It wouldn’t even be difficult. No fire, no fighting, no clever mind games. Hell, Dipper could just literally just call, or even like, text, or something, and it’s not like he’d get a no.

Or rather, he might get a no. But it’d be with some very distracting responses that’d derail his own day, with a promise to make up for Bill’s absence. A sincere one, for once.

Nobody else could get that. Not from Bill. Sincerity. Earnestness. Even if it’s about his desire, it’s something so rare that it’s almost -

Dipper sets the pen down with a decisive click.

Screw it.

He’s young, he has…. Feelings about stuff. Ones that he can actually do something about, unlike his awkward teenage years. With someone who thinks he’s hot.

Really, he’d be betraying himself by not taking advantage. There were times he would have done way more embarrassing things, for far less attention.

Dipper nods to himself, and picks up the phone.

Worst case scenario, Bill’s too caught up in stuff to duck out, and he has to wait a few hours. Best case Bill’s going to be distracted himself, Dipper gets something he wants - and less evil happens. A win three times over.

…And maybe he shouldn’t have put his phone on silent, because he has over forty missed messages.

Dipper turns that off, and starts scrolling. Up, then down again.

There sure is. A lot.

Bill’s sent ninety percent of the texts in the last half hour, every one of them in his typical all-caps. Without any bragging, hardly any bullshit, and basically zero smug asides. Not even a bunch of cryptic comments about what a clever demon Bill is.

Dipper starts smiling.

Guess things aren’t quite what Bill was expecting when he took up this latest ‘business’ trip.

In fact, if Dipper’s any expert - and he is - Bill’s been having a shitty day.

So. It’s not selfish, really, to want him to get up to something else. It’s actually a fantastic idea.

Dipper taps the phone against his chin. End goal in mind, plan… not created yet. That requires some thought.

Does he just... Ask? It seems simple enough, but how is he supposed to phrase it. One way seems too forward. Another one might sound like some weirdo stole his phone. Can’t get too subtle, either, Bill’s missed it when he veiled it too much before….

Dipper manages to come up with two or three lines that aren’t totally cringy, before the buzz against his face interrupts his train of thought.

Bill, again. More messages in his ranting missive.

“SUMMONS, FOR CHAO’S SAKE. DOES THIS GUY EVEN KNOW WHAT THAT MEANS OR DID HE JUST PICK UP THE RIGHT INTERDIMENSIONAL PHONE BOOK”

“I’M CONSIDERING DELETING MOST OF THIS GALAXY NEXT CHANCE I GET. JUST TO GET RID OF THE CONTACT INFORMATION”

“A SUMMON IS NOT A *SERVANT* FOR CRYING OUT LOUD, THERE”S A DEAL AND EVERYTHING”

“DO THE WORDS ‘CONTRACTOR AGREEMENT’ MEAN ANYTHING OR DOES IT GO IN ONE EAR AND OUT THE OTHER TWO”

“WHY DO YOU CONTACT AN EXPERT AND NOT TAKE THE ADVICE??? IT WAS ALMOST FREE!”

Dipper rolls his eyes.

Yet another reason he should go ahead with his idea. If he doesn’t nip the complaining in the bud soon, Bill’s going to ramble on forever.

Serves him right, anyway. Bill may not be able to be summoned to Earth, but he’s sure as hell still taking calls from other realms. Dipper can’t even tell Bill he’s sorry one’s gone wrong; it’d be too obvious a lie. He’ll settle for not commenting.

Dipper taps the back of the phone for a second, thinking. Then responds.

“I take it you’re not having much fun”

“OH NO, I'M HAVING A HELL OF A TIME”

“COULDN’T FIND A BETTER PARTY AT THE INTERGALACTIC DMV”

Not a great sign. Bill knows that Dipper doesn’t want to know the details of his work - but the metaphor’s a clue. That it’s complicated, and annoying.

Dipper frowns. There’ll likely be a wait.

“So… pretty busy.”

“YEAH THIS COULD DRAG ON”

“SERIOUSLY SCREW THIS GUY THOUGH. CAN’T TAKE A HINT, CAN’T MAKE HIS OWN PLOTS? I’M UP TO HERE WITH THIS LOSER.”

“THE SECOND I CAN PULL A DECENT DOUBLE-CROSS I’M GOING FOR IT”

Huh. Usually Bill’s better at finding chances. Dipper doubts the summoning was that ironclad; loopholes are too common. More likely than not, Bill simply hasn’t found something entertaining enough yet.

“I’m surprised you haven’t found one already.”

“HEY! DOUBLECROSSING IS AN ART, KID.”

“GOTTA COME UP WITH JUST THE RIGHT THING TO REALLY RUB SOME SULFURIC ACID IN THE WOUND”

“Yeah, fine”

Yep. Just like he thought. Dipper sticks his tongue out at the screen.

Typical Bill. Can’t get his ass off the metaphorical couch unless it’s interesting. Without the promise of a prize at the end, Bill’s more likely to laze around with a martini than put effort into complicated plans. Or chores. Even if he could literally wave his hand and take care of things, if it’s not entertaining-

Actually.

There’s an idea.

Dipper hops up from his seat and heads over to his dresser. Tugging the middle drawer open, and rifling through it until he finds the prize. The slick black wood is easy to find, he hasn’t moved it in a while.

He drops down on the bed this time, and sets the box on his chest. Heart beating a bit faster, a little tense with nerves. A little excited. He sends the next message in a rush.

“Maybe I could help out?”

“WOW!! THAT'S A FIRST! PINE TREE, I’M BOTH INSULTED YOU THINK I NEED IT AND FLATTERED YOU OFFERED!”

“ALRIGHT WHAT’S GOING ON”

Dipper unlatches the box, and picks up the collar.

The black leather is soft between his fingers. He lets it dangle for a moment, tag jingling slightly as he holds it above his face. It’s not heavy with anything but implied meaning.

This particular item doesn’t see a ton of use. It’s not always the right time, because Dipper’s not always in the right mood. Once it is, though. When Dipper puts it on….

That’s. Offering power to an infinite being of pure energy, who shouldn’t even need the token to take it. And once he has it, he’ll be very, very thorough about using it. Something that sounds pretty intimidating, because it is pretty intimidating.

Right now, if Dipper’s being honest with himself - it kinda sounds great. It’s always worked out really well for him.

And there’s no way Bill won’t find this interesting.

“Thought I could uh. Give you some motivation?”

“???”

Welp. Here goes.

Without hesitating (much), Dipper wraps the collar around his neck and clasps it shut.. Feeling a light chill from the golden triangle tag on his neck, just above his collarbone. The leather not-quite tight against his throat.

He shuffles into the blankets, getting comfortable. Time to go for it.

Clearing his throat, and breathing in, then out, Dipper holds his phone up with both hands. He takes the picture.

…it doesn’t look as cool as he thought it would.

The first three don’t look great. Another he’s not - well, a glare can be sexy, in Bill’s mind, but this one just shows how annoyed he is with trying to take a stupid picture.

Dipper spends longer than he wanted just futzing with the camera and the view he’s about to provide. Bill’s a stickler for angles especially, Dipper wants to get it right.

Another buzz from his phone. Damn it, he should just send something, he’s leaving Bill hanging. For once, Dipper has like, some kind of ‘seduction’ momentum going, he can’t lose it now.

He holds his phone up again, and makes himself relax. Just a pic, doesn’t need to be fancy.

Dipper smiles, tilting his head back, neck arched with its strip of black leather fully on display. He snaps the photo and hits send before he can hesitate. Take that, second-guessing, Dipper got ahead of it this time.

Maybe it’s not the best photo, but it doesn’t have to be great. Just as long as it shows the important parts. Dipper’s not trying to do a model shoot for crying out loud. He’s just. Sending an invite.

One he hopes Bill will accept.

He lasts about three seconds before he nervously adds a text. Just in case Bill got the wrong idea. Not that Dipper’s sure what that would be, but still.

“Bedroom in half an hour?”

He’s left on read for a full, anxious two seconds.

“!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

“YOU KIDDING? BE THERE IN THE”

"*TREE"

“THRE MAYBE FIVE"

"OKAY TEN MINUTES TOPS”

“DON’T GO ANYWHERE”

Dipper drops back on the bed, letting out a soft laugh.

Wow. That was easy.

Somewhere, through their bond, Dipper can feel Bill bustling around at a far distance. The trip back’s going to be a bit, he guesses.

Dipper sets his phone on the bedside table - then pauses. Heart beating a little faster, a tent in his pants - then tugs the drawer below it open. They’re going to need the lube soon anyway. Might as well snag it.

Still, the bed’s comfy and Dipper wasn’t doing anything anyway. He settles down to mess with the internet on his phone - spotty, again, it never works right in Bill’s place.

About nine minutes later, he realizes he’s obsessively checking the door now.

Totally normal, though. Bill’s usually later than he says he’ll be. Dipper knew he was in for a wait, though for once he’s oddly impatient. As soon as Bill gets here, he’s going to -

…Not be able to do much, since Dipper basically has nothing set up but the lube. Might as well get on that now before it makes another delay.

Dipper sighs, shrugging his shirt off, and kicking off his shoes. Shuffling out of his pants, and casting them aside. The underwear has to go, too. Last time Dipper tried a ‘seduction’ with his boxers still on, Bill teased him about it.

Lube, check. Collar, on. Being naked in their bedroom isn’t uncomfortable even on top of the blankets, with that eternal fireplace burning. Dipper kicks the last leg of his boxers off just as the thumping of footsteps sounds from outside the door.

Eleven minutes of waiting. Something to tease Bill about in a minute.

Then a thud. The locked knob jiggles for a moment. A muffled swear - then the brief zap of the magical locks unclicking.

Bill’s not only eager, it’s like he’s worried that he’ll miss out on the chance. Like Dipper would pull this and take off, leaving Bill to arrive back at an empty bedroom.

Which, okay. Dipper could. But he’s not going to. Bill may be a multiversal asshole, but he’s done nothing to Dipper to deserve it.

Years ago, he wouldn’t have had any reason to send racy messages to someone. Knowing any picture he did send would get an ‘ew’ or a ‘why’.

Clearly, he hadn’t met the right person yet.

It’s really hard not to smile, so Dipper doesn’t even bother trying.

The door to their bedroom slams open, and Bill Cipher emerges. Still holding the door handle, arms spread wide with a wild, brilliant grin on his face.

Dipper sits up, gives him a little wave, and a slow onceover -

Then raises an eyebrow.

Bill’s grinning. Bill’s delighted. He’s full of all his impeccable confidence, radiating ‘infuriatingly smug’ in a way that Dipper could spot through a blindfold -

But his hair is rather messy, and his suit is in ruins.

Bill stalks forward, and the door slams shut behind him as he starts undoing his tie. “Well, well, well, well, well!” His tongue runs briefly over his teeth, eye roving. “What have we here!”

Dipper shrugs. Normally he’d have a response, but. Eying Bill again doesn’t change the disaster of his clothing.

There’s certainly a lot of something on Bill’s jacket. Greenish stains, brown on his cuffs. Odd purple flecks gobbed on him like clumps of glue. Typically when Bill’s had a summon, he ends up in less dire sartorial straits. There isn’t much blood - Dipper doesn’t think any of it is Bill’s, it’s too drippy - but the stains are unmistakable.

The shirt’s also very. Holey. It’s surprising Bill hasn’t made a pun before stripping it off.

“What happened to you?” Dipper folds his legs under himself. Bill’s still his focus, but now the interest is less specific. “Bad spell? Weird summoner?” Another lookover; it makes him grimace. “A toxic waste dump?”

“There was a lotta stuff around for the summoning. No biggie.” Bill shrugs, nonchalant. He flicks an unidentifiable blob goo off his sleeve, offering Dipper an impeccable smile. “And when things go south in a deal, sometimes you gotta get a little hands on!”

Dipper folds his arms, and says nothing.

“Now look at you!” Bill practically purrs, striding in to flick the tag on the collar. His eye roves over Dipper, gleaming bright. “What a style! Coming from a fashion-comatose guy like you, of all places.” He tucks two fingers under the collar, and leans in with a leer. “I could get used to this.”

“Don’t count on it.” Dipper dodges the finger to his chin. In his peripheral vision, he catches Bill looking disappointed. “You’re not getting anything at the moment.”

Dipper knew what he was implying with his. Invitation. The terms were set a while ago, and the sign of their ‘deal’ is wrapped around his neck. He knows that Bill’s supposed to be in charge -

But, like. There are some limitations.

“Aha! So that’s the game today, huh?” Bill rubs his hands together, eye lighting up. “I can-”

“Nope.” Dipper smacks a palm on Bill’s chest. Bill blinks, but stops gloating enough to look surprised. “Hold on a minute.”

“What?”

“You’re a wreck, Bill.” Like it wasn’t obvious. Bill glances down at himself. A flicker of a grimace crosses his face, and Dipper gives him a couple quick pats on the chest. “Go clean up first.”

“Oh, is that the problem?” Bill’s grin returns, leaning in anyway. Dipper dodges the kiss, only to have it land next to his ear. Squirming doesn’t help, because Bill plants a few more, nipping briefly at his earlobe - and chuckles. “I thought you liked things messy.”

Dipper feels heat rise into his face. Now he gives his idiot husband a shove. “Not like this.”

“Aw, c’mon!” Bill puckers up to an absurd degree, hands clasped near his chest. “Give your husband a smooch. It’s the least you could do!”

“Nope.” Dipper isn’t going to smile. It’d only encourage him. His next push doesn’t move this obnoxious dick, so he gets up to add more force behind the shoving. “Go on, get moving.”

Bill starts cackling. Dipper ends up having to dig his feet in the carpet, bearing down as Bill keeps trying to kiss his face, nudging him in the vague direction of the bathroom. Adding an elbow, for emphasis. At this point, he’d settle for getting Bill to the dresser to change.

“What, not into the acid-splattered gooey look?” Bill backs up slowly as Dipper presses him along, with a teasing grab or two at his butt - though eventually, he raises his hands. “Alright, alright. Hang tight here. I’ll be back in a sec.”

Bill clicks his tongue as he finally backs into the bathroom with double finger guns and a wink. Dipper flips him off, just because. Sticking his tongue out in Bill’s direction for good measure - then at the mark on his left palm.

Off in the bathroom, he hears a distant chuckle.

Not the most elegant start to the evening. But then, he doesn’t think they’ve ever had one.

Dipper sits back down on the mattress. Bouncing in place a few times. At least the bed is comfy. Waiting here is more than tolerable. It’s not even chilly, with the eternal fire burning in that fireplace.

A little more waiting won’t matter, anyway. Bill will be out within moments, as quick as he can; Dipper can hear the rush of water, and his husband humming a cheery tune to himself.

Once Bill’s done changing. Once he’s wiped off the residue and changed his clothes. He’ll be ready, and wanting things from one young human, who’s - not technically helpless, but for the moment pretending to be. He could make all kinds of demands.

Dipper runs a finger under the collar.

Bill’s enthusiasm, in fact, carries over into all the things he does. Especially when he wants to entertain, or if he’s on a mission to conquer.

Technically this situation qualifies for both.

Dipper rubs his slightly damp palms on his thighs, and breathes out slowly.

He can already imagine Bill bursting into the room, with a show of power. Throwing the door open, alight with fire, full of all the energy and violence that a nightmare demon can display. His strong arms braced against the doorframe, and a wicked grin on his face. Ready to shamelessly ogle the present he’s arrived to collect.

The lube’s close by. Dipper fumbles for the bottle and clicks it open.

It’s cool against his palm and cooler against his dick as he takes himself in hand.

He already knows what Bill looks like when he’s naked, and it’s easy to picture the lean lines of him, all the bare skin and the shape of his muscles. Bill’s unfortunately attractive. Oddly compelling. Dipper has to hand it to himself; he did an amazing job on the human shape, even unintentionally.

The form enhances what should be absurd. Someone. Demanding. Conniving and evil and selfish, taking what he wants, and he wants Dipper, badly. Undeniably so; Dipper's felt it before, in his palm or in his mouth or inside him.

Letting a slow sigh, Dipper rests back on the bed. He slows in his strokes, running his thumb over the head of his dick.

Soon, Bill will loom over Dipper and take him by the collar, tugging him up with undeniable force and an evil grin. Maybe with his pants unzipped, his thick cock hard and -

“Already getting started, are ya?”

With instincts long-honed from many lonely nights, Dipper yanks the blanket over himself.

“Aw, someone’s shy!” Bill walks closer, wearing both a smug look and a fresh set of clothes. He throws in a wink in response to Dipper’s glare, and starts rolling his sleeves up to his elbows. “Ease up already. Nothing I haven’t seen before.”

Right. Just Bill. Dipper feels his shoulders drop; he still flips Bill off again, out of sheer contrariness. Bill may have seen everything before, but he also didn’t have to make a startling entrance. Probably part of the fun for him. Because he’s a jerk.

Dipper sighs, and tosses the blanket away. “You could have told me you were ready.”

“Oh, I’m more than ready.” Bill responds easily. He waves off Dipper’s comment as he walks to the side of the bed. As he draws his arms apart, a thin line of black connects them. Pulled straight into existence, with all the power he has. And winks. “I’m prepared.”

Dipper swallows, touching the collar again. His eyes follow the long, long line of the leash, held in Bill’s solid grip.

He knew what he was in for. What he signed up for, technically. Having it be so certain makes him want to tremble - and also makes his traitorous dick very, very hard.

Bill stalks in, nudging Dipper’s chin upward with a grin - and clicks the lead onto the collar.

He nods to himself, once. Wraps the very end of the leash around his palm. Then simply stands there, hands on his hips. “Go on.”

That’s. Kind of a vague prompt. Dipper hesitates, he’s not sure what to do-

“I mean, don’t stop the show, sapling.” Bill settles back, tucking his thumbs into his pockets with a wicked smile. “Touch yourself.”

“Oh.” Dipper feels his heart start to race.

Bill’s watching intently, with a pleased smirk on his face, expecting his ‘show’ - And, while he’s ogled Dipper going at this before, it wasn’t in this context.

Typically, Dipper doesn’t let Bill push him around. Definitely never listens to his weirder requests. But this time, Dipper asked for it. He knew what he was getting into. When he called Bill over. When he made himself available, when he invited Bill to take advantage of it - and that means following Bill’s lead.

Dipper lies back on the mattress. Shutting his eyes, and taking his dick in hand again.

If he doesn’t look, he can pretend that Bill’s not watching. Not that it helps much. Jerking off feels different, it’s hard to keep it slow. Bill’s keeping quiet, but Dipper can feel his gaze on his skin like heat.

“That’s it.” Bill’s voice drops a little, lower and more intent. “Very nice.”

Dipper keeps his eyes shut. Now he presses his lips together to cover a moan. Knowing Bill’s watching him always makes him self-conscious no matter what he’s doing. Especially with this. Keeping note of how he holds himself, to how much Bill can see - whether he should arch up or angle himself differently, it’s embarrassing and exciting, like the picture he sent but with Bill right there watching. Dipper burns with awareness, and heat rises into his face.

There’s a soft shuffle of steps. Like Bill’s getting closer - no, he is, Dipper can tell by the pleased sound he makes. “Spread your legs.”

Demanding as always; why does he have to, isn’t this enough? Dipper’s already so exposed and - There isn’t much space, sitting like this - but he lies back and props his feet on the bed. Knees lifted and legs open.

There’s a soft click, and a softer groan. Dipper blinks an eye open.

Bill’s undone his belt; his fly open and his pants pushed slightly down. He’s hard and standing out against his shirt, at least as turned on as Dipper is - and taking himself in hand with slow strokes that Dipper watches with a sharp spark of arousal.

Maybe it’s more like outright staring. Who cares; Bill’s doing it right back to him, fair’s fair.

Dipper tightens his grip. Dick throbbing at the knowledge that Bill likes what he sees. Knowing he’s admiring him, that for some reason Bill loves watching this, he’s said as much before.

None of which helps Dipper keep the pace slow, he’s wanted to come for a while and now he could, if it wouldn’t ruin the upcoming events.

“Now that’s what I like to see.” Bill sets a palm below one of Dipper’s raised knees, sliding it downward. “Every bit of my eager little mortal, ready for me.” His eye trails over Dipper’s own frantic grip on his dick, stroking himself at a far more measured pace. Watching Dipper like he’s fascinating, like this embarrassing display is a delight. “All mine.”

“Shut up. It’s not -” Dipper wants to clamp his legs together, but Bill shoves them back apart. Thumbs tracing the skin of Dipper’s thighs, leaning in to plant a kiss on the skin. Dipper takes another breath. “I just wanted…” He stumbles over what he was going to say, as Bill settles in between his legs, leaning over him - and Dipper lets his head drop back with a groan. “Fuck.”

“Oh sure, in a minute. Though honestly, I could watch this all day!” Bill keeps petting his legs, and yeah, definitely looming - while looking terrifically smug about it. “But I think you called me in ‘cause you wanted a hand.”

“Yeah.” Of course Dipper wants a hand, or. More than that. He could jerk off anytime, that’s simple, he didn’t need to get Bill involved for that. It's just that what Bill does to him is so much better. ”Please.”

Bill hums for a moment, considering his prize. Tapping Dipper’s sides briefly, before leaning in to lick at his nipple, sucking it into his mouth before nipping, teeth light on the flesh.

Dipper holds back a gasp. That sent a spark of heat right down to his dick. Bill’s tongue lathes over it again, warm and wet, while he takes the other between two fingers, rolls it around, and pinches, both sharp and good.

“God.” Dipper keeps a deathgrip on his dick, slowing down. The other grips Bill’s hair. He’s not sure if he wants to push him in or pull him away - and Bill’s hum against his chest sounds like he’s covering a laugh. “You bastard.”

Bill mutters something that might be ‘you like it’, shoulders shaking with amusement. Moving on, and kissing further down Dipper’s stomach. Much less intense. Warm, and pleasant. Dipper lets out a held breath.

Only to pull another in, quick, because now Bill’s switched. Taking the already teased one in hand to roll and pinch when it’s already oversensitive from his tongue. It’s a bright shock of pleasure, of pain, and Dipper arches up with a gasp, before clasping his free hand over his mouth.

“Hey!” Bill stops his descent suddenly, pausing just above Dipper’s navel. He’s frowning, mouth inches away from Dipper’s dick. “What did I say about noises?”

Wait, why is Bill - Dipper sits up, blinking down at him.

He heard what Bill just said, but retorts are. Difficult right now. Made worse because he’s watching Bill’s lips, and the way his tongue moves, so close to where he wants them.

But wait, right, he remembers this. It was…. Dipper stares at him, unable to think. “Uh.”

“It was ‘make lots of ‘em’, if you need the reminder. Say whatever comes to mind!” Bill slides his hands down Dipper’s chest, rudely squeezing his thighs again. His smile widens, bright with enthusiasm. “Tell me what you’re thinking.”

Dipper swallows. What Bill’s asking for is-

No, he can’t. He has so many thoughts, all the time, and during sex they’re all dumb and horny. Downright ridiculous.

Right now, his mind’s drawing a blank. Even for the stupid stuff.

For Bill, it’s easy. He always says what he’s thinking, especially in bed. Hell, he can go on a full on monologue; has, at times, and it’s always something filthy and insane and arousing. Half of the things Bill says sound absurd in the light of day - but in the moment they’re actually pretty great.

And Bill’s seen thousands of minds and dreams, he’s encountered every situation, seen infinite fantasies. Dipper doesn’t think he has enough imagination to get weird enough to match.

Dipper turns his head away instead, keeping his mouth shut. Hearing - and feeling - Bill’s impatient sigh.

There’s also no way Bill’s going to move forward without being told something. But. Dipper can’t think of anything good.

After a moment, Bill smacks him lightly on the side. “Speak up already.” He plants another wet kiss on Dipper’s stomach, so close to his dick. Offering up a wide, teasing smile. “What do you want?”

A lot of things. Some other stuff. A myriad of ideas, none of which Bill knows about, because -

Dipper sits up. The idea snaps back into place.

Because Bill can’t get into Dipper’s head.

He’s been million brains, encountered a million fantasies - but none of them are what Dipper thinks about when he jerks off.

Dipper takes a slow calming breath. Bill’s been waiting, mouthing against his hip, hot breath ghosting over his groin. Distracting, but not enough to truly help.

In theory, this is simple. Just like his invitation, it doesn’t have to be perfect, so long as the intent is there.

Really, Bill might love whatever comes out of his mouth, because in this one, specific circumstance he’s not a mind-reader. It must drive him insane, that he can’t reach in and drag out every fantasy Dipper’s ever had, and use all of them against him.

And Dipper’s supposed to do what Bill wants.

Bill’s drags his teeth against the soft skin of his thigh, leaving red lines; his thumbs digging into the juncture of his hip fingers on his stomach - it’s a lot and not enough at the same time, it -

Dipper shuts his eyes. Takes a shuddering breath, and says, “Feels good.”

“Is that so?” Bill’s voice drops to a purr. Dipper hears the bottle of lube click again. “How good?”

Just. Good? Dipper doesn’t know what to tell him, so he ends up saying, “A lot.” Then, “Can you use your mouth?” But that’s not quite it, and now that the words have started tumbling from him Dipper finds he can’t stop - “And I really want you in me again.”

So awkward, without any of Bill’s eloquence. Dipper can’t match him, he just stumbles trying to get it out.

But the way Bill’s eye literally lights up makes Dipper feel a bit better. And the way he groans against Dipper’s skin, and sucks his cock into the hot wet of his mouth, dragging his tongue on the underside, makes it feel fantastically, absolutely better.

Dipper bucks his hips up, tangling fingers in Bill’s hair. Urging him on. Bill moves with it easily, and Dipper feels a low vibration of a held back laugh that makes him groan.

Okay. Not exactly the hottest thing in the world, but, fuck, it didn’t have to be. If it works, it works; Dipper will take the embarrasment, and say way, way dumber stuff, all the time, if it gets Bill to do this.

Bill pulls away, all too suddenly, leaving Dipper bereft and annoyed. Glaring up at Bill’s smug grin, and handsome face.

There isn’t any reason to startle when Bill’s finger pushes in, but. Well, the lube’s cold, and it was sudden. And also...

“Just one?” Dipper frowns up at Bill as his finger works slowly inside him, dipping in and out. Thin and firm, not nearly enough - and Bill’s smirking, too, the jerk. “You can do more than that.”

“I dunno. Should I?” Bill purses his lips, like he’s contemplating it. “I haven’t heard how it feels yet.”

This asshole. Dipper wants to swear, but. That’s useless, so he squeezes his legs around Bill instead.

This jerk just wants to drag things out, doesn’t he. Won’t let up until he’s satisfied. Bill might have control, sure. But he thinks Dipper’s hot, and that means there’s some leverage.

Since Dipper's not getting what he wants. Then he’ll just have to tempt him.

Bill wants to hear him? Fine, no more repressing. Even the soft panting has clearly raised his interest, and Dipper can totally do less to hold himself back.

“It feels great, okay?” Dipper glares up at him. Bill licks his lips, finger curling - and the involuntary moan Dipper lets out makes Bill’s cock visibly twitch. Dipper arches up and strokes himself again, while Bill’s occupied. “I can take more. I want it.”

Bill opens his mouth. Like he’s about to interrupt, or tease - Before he can say anything, Dipper reaches down and hauls Bill’s hand closer, urging it in.

He knows Bill can do worse. That he wants to be inside, so he’ll help him imagine what else he could be doing -

“Ah ah ah! Fantastic performance, sapling.” Bill catches his wrists, forcing them up and away. “Until you got too cocky.” And winks at his own awful pun.

Damn it, Dipper wants to swat him. He was almost - he tries to yank away, but Bill’s too strong and his grip too tight. Leaning over him, and drawing his arms over his head. over him now, kneeling between his legs.

Bill slides the collar to the side, wraps Dipper’s hands together with the long leather of the leash. Not tightly, but firm. He leans over Dipper, chest above his face - and damn it, Dipper’s halfway tempted to just bite some of the buttons of Bill’s shirt open.

Then he sinks back, and grins. Dipper moves to swat him, and can’t. He yanks at the leash again, strains against it, but there’s barely any give -

And when he glances up at the headboard, Bill’s looped the end onto a hook. The leather drawn tight, keeping Dipper's arms raised.

Glaring at Bill gets a temporary reprieve as Dipper glares at his restraint instead. Then back at Bill, who’s unbearably smug about his stunt. Dipper sinks back on the mattress with a huff.

“Can’t have you coming too soon, y’know.” Bill releases his arms, tracing down Dipper’s neck, fingers trailing around the collar. And throwing in a wink for good measure. “Not when we got all night to play around.”

Oh god. That doesn’t bode well. Or rather, it does, but. In a very specific way.

Dipper tugs at his restraints, arching up and finding no escape. Okay. Better brace himself. Bill’s always loved to torment; he’ll take his time with things. Touch and tease and taunt without truly being satisfying; he’ll make Dipper wait until it almost hurts; it’s going to be terrible and great, just like the demon himself.

“Now!” Bill claps his hands together, rubbing them with anticipation. “Where were we?” Not waiting for a response before slipping a finger - no, two - back inside, rougher than before..

If Dipper does whimper, he’ll deny it later. It makes Bill raise an eyebrow, smile growing a fraction; Dipper pushes into his fingers only to find Bill retreating with a grin. He’s not going to let Dipper urge him on. Definitely won’t let him come by himself, or get there before he’s allowed. Everything’s under Bill’s control, something both incredibly frustrating and. Interesting.

And Bill’s too experienced. Bill’s too clever. The way he presses inside is unfortunately great. They’ve been together long enough that Bill knows exactly where he needs to touch, and does it with aplomb -

And just enough to tease.

Dipper clicks his teeth shut against another sound. Breathing slowly, and shutting his eyes.

The stretch is good. The pressure, so much better; warm and invasive. Arousing. Bill rolls inside him, presses and strokes, his hand pushing against Dipper hard - then retreating - only to fuck into him again like Bill could make Dipper a mess just with his hand.

Which he is, the asshole. Because it is good. Really good. A firm pressure and a repeating touch, sending a throb of pleasure each time, and making precome drip from Dipper’s dick. Withdrawing, then returning with a hard push, in and out, a burst of pleasure only to deny it again. Slow, then fast. A quick slide and a long press that makes Dipper see stars in his vision, only to pull back out. It’s Bill, curling his fingers in the way that makes Dipper arch up and moan - then suddenly leaving him empty and nearly gasping.

Dipper can’t - His teeth are gritted, he doesn't want to sound so needy - but he whines, and doesn’t choke it back.

“Look at you. So responsive! You must have really missed me, huh?” Bill sounds delighted. Adding a third finger - and this time Dipper couldn’t cover the whimper he makes even if he wanted to. “It’s adorable.”

God, everything he’s doing is teasing. Deliberately not-quite-enough, on purpose. Keeping up that low, intense pressure without letting Dipper come, just driving him close to the edge and backing off like a bastard.

“It’d be easy to make you come like this.” Bill kisses down Dipper’s dick, then. Licking up the length with a wet sound that makes it jump under his tongue. He kisses the head with a smirk - “Could be fun to make you lose it.”

He could, he really could. His tongue on Dipper’s dick and his fingers inside - Dipper strains against the leash, swearing under his breath. It would be good, sure - but he wants to reach down. Make Bill do more. To stop the teasing and taunting, treat him rougher, and he ends up blurting, “Don’t.”

“Oh?” Bill curls his fingers; a firm shock of pressure, and the heel of his hand nudging his balls. Spreading wide inside him for an aching stretch.“Then why’d you call me here?”

“Because I wanted it.” Dipper says, out loud. Speaking is the only way to get Bill to move on, and it’s easier to ignore the embarrassment, when the burn of needing to come is so much more. Bill licks his lips, anticipatory - and Dipper admits, “I wanted you to fuck me.”

All he gets is Bill’s fingers withdrawing and that sucks. Dipper whines, teeth bared. Now he feels empty and urgent and Bill’s not touching him, the jerk.

“Well, why didn’t you say so!” Bill shuffles his pants down, stroking another palmful of lube over himself, a little faster than usual. “Not a problem. In fact,” He pushes Dipper’s legs further up, and winks. “It’d be my pleasure.”

Dipper slumps. He goes with Bill’s positioning, rude and insistent, letting himself be pliable this time. Though he feels empty, he knows that won’t last, and he’ll have what he wants.

Finally.

Bill rubs the head of his cock against Dipper, smugly enough to make Dipper swear - then laughing. Holding himself steady, and pushing in, just enough for Dipper to feel the slight jolt as the head enters - then withdraws again, tapping against him. A motion that doesn’t have any intent of really going for it -

Frustrated, Dipper tries hauling Bill in with his legs - for a moment, thinks he’s succeeded - but Bill’s cock slips away to rest against him, brushing against Dipper’s own. It leaves Bill cackling with amusement; Dipper wants to swat him, or maybe kiss him. Since he can’t do either, he tugs at the leash again. “Bill.”

“Gotta take my time, kid!” No remorse; the torturous bastard leans over him, and guides himself in, with a low, lingering stretch, one Dipper knows so well, heavy and hard inside.. Bill surges forward, fully seated and Dipper has to gasp, back arching - “You’re always.” He shuts his eye, a brief flicker as his hips rock in. “So tight for me.”

“Hn.” With nothing to protest, Dipper nods instead, rapid and eager. Bill’s cock hits just the right places, Dipper can’t help but move into it. Arching up, pushing his. his hips into that filling weight, feeling Bill fucking into him, deeper and so much that Dipper has to yank at his restraints - “You’re just. Too big.”

“So that’s what you were thinking about,” Bill hisses. There’s a throb inside, a surge forward that makes Dipper gasp, open his eyes. Seeing Bill’s own eye alight, glowing gold. The weight of his presence and his quickening pace makes Dipper want to grab at him, anything to get him closer. “That’s what gets you off.”

“Yeah.” Mostly what Dipper was imagining, but not quite - and shit, he should just say it. He could come like this, it’s good, it’s great, but Bill’s not quite putting his back into it the way Dipper would really like. If he’d do a little more, he could almost - “Like. I wanted it and. I didn’t have to say it, you just.” He shuts his eyes, thinking about half-remembered sessions alone - “Come over and have me, because you want me.” He takes a shaking breath, Bill’s hands are suddenly tight on his hips - “‘Cause I feel too good.”

Bill swears, loud and urgent - and the next snap of his hips makes Dipper strain against his bonds. That’s it. Strong and demanding, and rough, he missed it.

“You got that part right.” Bill breathy, his tongue flickering over his lips. He adds another startling pinch to a nipple that thrums down Dipper’s body, electric pleasure. “I’ll take everything I want from you.” A violent thrust, Bill’s breath hitching as Dipper moans - loud enough to make him want to cringe - but must Bill like it, because his voice lowers into a growl. “Have my way with you. Make you come on my cock.”

If he keeps this up. If Bill puts his back into it, Dipper would, definitely, it’s already a lot and nearly enough -

“Yes. Please.” Now that he’s started he can’t seem to shut his mouth. Thinking about Bill, shoving him down, or up against a wall, giving Dipper what he wants and then - “And you’ll come in me. So much.” Dipper blurts, and hears Bill suck in a sudden breath. “You always - I really like it.”

Bill slows; he nearly stills in place. Dipper can see his chest heaving, his eye bright - Then he captures Dipper’s face with both hands, pulling him in for a kiss.

Dipper opens up for it, groaning into it. Wanting to draw his arms down around the back of Bill’s neck. Since that’s impossible, he kisses back. Trying to tell Bill how much he needs this, with just his mouth.

Until this bastard, this asshole. This absolute monster, pulls away and out.

Dipper nearly kicks him. He definitely swears. He needs to come and Bill’s being twice the bastard than usual; he tries to get a hold of his dick, but he’s trapped, left to writhe, helpless, with Bill staring down at him.

Bill shuffles out of his pants, unbuttoning his shirt. Looming over Dipper again, with his bare chest almost distracting from that horrible wide smile. So close, but so far away, unable to be touched -

“Glad to hear it, kid,” Bill purrs, low and pleased. Jerking himself off again, quicker than before, his grip tight. “‘Cause I’ve been thinking about that all day.”

Dipper’s eyes widen - oh, he’s really going to -

And Bill slides inside again, the pressure heavy inside. Dipper groans at the return. Only one thrust, though. A brief second, Bill’s hips tight against his own - then, fuck, Bill’s coming. Unmistakable, making Dipper whine between his teeth, muscles tensing. Watching the flutter of Bill’s eyelashes, feeling his thick cock pulsing and the heat inside. And Dipper wants to match that pleasure, touch himself as well, get off, but Bill won’t let him. This is unfair.

“How’s that feel, kid?” Bill asks, squeezing Dipper’s thighs for a moment, before he grasps Dipper’s dick and jerks it, with quick, effective motions. “Having demon come inside you.”

Making words is a struggle, so Dipper simply nods again. Face burning, arms pressed together. He can feel it hot and deep inside and fuck, he does like it, he can’t hold Bill in place forever with his legs but he wants to keep as much as he can. Knowing how it means Bill wants him. How much he can make Bill feel good, and having the proof, right there.

Bill pulls out again, after a few slow thrusts, gazing down with a smug, satisfied look that Dipper wishes he was wearing. He wants Bill to come back. For him to fuck him, he’s left Dipper bereft and empty, with an aching throb between his legs. With urgency fading, and the pleasure dropping from the peak, it’s going to be a while before he gets to feel the same way. Building things back up is going to take so long.

Then Dipper’s arms are freed, and he’s hauled up to sit by the tight grip on the leash. The relief of that tension, at least, is something. Dipper rubs his wrists, blinking back at Bill. What -?

The next tug forces Dipper up to his knees, and Bill draws him in for a kiss, free hand buried in Dipper’s hair. Dipper responds as best he can. Would love to grab Bill back, in the same way - but his arms are shaking. He settles for touching Bill’s chest instead, in slow petting motions.

Bill makes a pleased sound, drawing back with a smile. “You like it better when I fuck you?” He prompts, shifting behind Dipper to grab his chin, tilting his head back. A firm thumb runs over Dipper’s bottom lip. “Or when I take your pretty little mouth?”

Which is - Dipper doesn’t know. He wishes he could think straight, but most of his thoughts are drawn to the unfulfilled throb in his groin. He likes taking Bill in his mouth, likes what Bill does to him in bed, all of it, he couldn’t choose - “I… don’t know.”

“Eh, that’s fair! I couldn’t pick a favorite either.” Bill pats Dipper’s hip, drawing him in until his back is pressed against his chest. “It’s all fun.”

Then Dipper’s wheeled around, quick enough to be startling. Behind him, Bill settles down comfortably, drawing Dipper fully into his lap.

It’s a comfortable enough position. Dipper even hears a soft ‘thump’ as Bill drops back against something soft. Likely he’s conjured another pillow pile, or something other surface to relax against. All cozy enough that Dipper would normally lean back with him, tuck Bill’s arms around him, and wriggle in an interesting way that might get him to help.

Instead, he stares ahead for a long few seconds - then scrambles at the sheets in surprise.

So much for the headboard. Bill’s taken a new tactic, thrown in a new addition. In this case, a very reflective one.

Dipper guesses the ‘show’ isn’t over.

He blinks - his reflection blinks back at him - and Dipper’s suddenly nervous. He can’t back up, it only puts him further into Bill’s grasp. “What-”

“What a sight.” Bill sighs, sounding very, very pleased with himself. He grabs Dipper’s thighs, parting and squeezing them. “One of my favorites, honestly.”

The ‘sight’ is. Something.

Dipper stares at himself in the mirror. God, he looks like a total mess. Face red, marks from Bill’s mouth, hair disheveled - ‘fucked’ would be a good description, in multiple senses - And there’s Bill, sitting behind him with a smug, pleased grin. Dipper meets his gaze in the reflection momentarily - then jerks his head away. He can’t look at this, it’s not -

“And why wouldn’t it be?” Bill continues. His breath is hot against Dipper’s neck, hands slipping around and under Dipper’s thighs - “When I get to see this.”

When Bill pulls his legs up, Dipper squirms - hard not to, he’s flexible but still, rude - and tenses at the sight. Bill’s a pervert, of course he likes staring at this, but Dipper can’t just. Look at what Bill’s done to him. Not without feeling a burn of shame and arousal curling in his stomach. Bill’s come has slightly spilled, wet on his thigh, dick still standing up, so obvious that he’s been taken and fucked, that he’s let himself be used, and behind him Bill’s practically gloating at how thoroughly he’s left his mark.

“I see you’re a fan as well!” Bill sounds all too chipper. He shifts slightly, nuzzling against Dipper’s shoulder. “You got good taste, kid.”

This jerk. Dipper’s brief attempt at glaring at him means he catches sight of himself in the mirror. With his traitorous dick leaking a bead of precome, and his face so red, he looks like he’s sunburnt.

“Y’know, I’d say how much I love fucking you, but eh. You won’t take my word for it. You’re a guy who loves having proof.” Bill’s voice lowers, as he leans further back - “Good thing I left you plenty.”

Dipper glances at their reflection again, grimacing - then does a double-take. Because Bill’s cock has risen with interest again, nearly covering Dipper’s own embarrassing sight. And well. He’s only human. He might look a little bit longer at that.

“You want another round?” Bill asks, almost nonchalantly, all-too innocent. Fuck, yes, of course Dipper does, he doesn’t know why Bill asked - “You wanna come on my cock?” Dipper nods again; he swallows. Yes, he really does, he’s aching and empty and been left hanging - And Bill laughs. “Then go ahead, sapling.” Voice lowered, deeply amused. “Put it in.”

Bill’s really going to make him - Dipper slumps a little, realizing that of course he is. Bill’s not in position to do it himself, and it’d be stupid to let him just poke around and hope it found its mark. If Dipper wants - then he’ll have to -

Dipper hesitates, then reaches down to get Bill into position. Hard and throbbing in his grip. Strokes it once, just to feel it, and hear Bill moan. Teamwork is rare, but as Bill lowers him slowly, Dipper adjusts his hips and holds him steady.

The blunt head of Bill’s cock pops in easily; Dipper draws his hands back up. Glancing, inevitably, at his reflection.. He already knew Bill was impressive, he’s handled it hundreds of times. Watching is different.

The very sight of Bill’s cock entering looks so much more impossible than it is. Like it shouldn’t feel as good as it does. Dipper’s own cock twitches and he takes a quick breath, watching as Bill slides him down his length, inch by inch.

“That’s it. So ready for me.” Bill moves his hips in slow motions, small, teasing thrusts. A slow push-pull that makes Dipper want to slap his hands away and sit down, take the rest in already. With Bill holding him, all he can do is watch. As Bill guides it in, then draws back, nearly popping out before making him take more, and Dipper can see the length of his cock streaked with white from his previous release. “Good boy.”

Dipper nearly shoves a hand into his mouth - no, he’s not supposed to cover the sound - then grips tight at the sheets instead. Shit, those words shouldn’t affect him this much, but they sound really good. Or maybe it’s the way Bill finally sets Dipper in his lap, fully seated, and lets go of his legs. One of the two leaves Dipper shaking, and pushing against that heavy length inside.

“Feel that?” Bill pushes his hips up, and Dipper whimpers. Being so full, so completely taken, he can feel it inside and it’s so much, enough to almost make him lose it- “You got all of it in, kid.”

Bill adds a particularly vicious thrust behind the words. No hesitation, no gentleness, and Dipper braces himself, getting his legs under him. Because he can take it, he wants to - and joke is on Bill; he has no idea what he makes Dipper feel. Why he asked for him. Why he thinks of him when he jerks off, and why he wants this, exactly this; Bill inside him, treating him roughly, it’s going to make him -

Dipper’s aware he’s talking, this time. Making sounds, and words, both too loud and too embarrassing- but Bill got him started on it and now he can’t stop. A meaningless ramble, total nonsense about how it’s good, how he likes it, urging Bill to fuck him, no harder, all in a stream of thought that he can’t stop, even though his face burns.

Which Bill really likes.. Even his rhythm occasionally stutters. Like he can’t help but move when Dipper says something he truly likes, and that seems like every other word, with his touch constantly roving. Straying from Dipper’s hips, just to grope at his chest or his stomach or legs.

“You want it so bad. Like you were made for me.” Bill growls, finally setting his grip on Dipper’s waist, leaning back more to jerk up into him - “Have you any time I want. My own personal slut.” Bill’s not only fucking up into him, he’s now holding Dipper tight, strong arms lifting and shoving him down, ; it takes everything to try and match his pace - “A perfect little toy.”

And Dipper would let Bill have him, like it if Bill took him, whenever. He could be trying to make notes at his desk and Bill would walk up and shove him down, taking him just because he wanted to, or was bored; make him kneel and suck his cock, heavy in his mouth - or sit in his lap, feeling Bill staying hard inside, impossible and inhuman, waiting for Dipper to be ready to get fucked again, fill him up with every load of come Bill has, over and over - Bill’s touching his dick, but he barely needs to stroke twice before Dipper’s coming in and over his hand.

Behind him, Bill swears again, long and loud. Then he’s coming again, his chest heaving and his cock pulsing inside. Dipper pushes into it with a few nudges of his hips.

They sit there for a moment. Both catching their breath Dipper lets his head loll back. god he needed that.

Getting up should probably. Be one at some point. But Bill’s still petting his sides, and his legs feel like jelly.

Lesson learned: Calling Bill over for this. For, essentially, a booty call, was a fantastic idea. No need to doubt it, it’s quick and effective and great. Absolutely the right choice.

Cuddling like this is nice, but with the pleasure faded it’s. Vaguely sticky. Dipper shifts a bit, trying to get up the urge to move - but Bill takes the initiative, and Dipper lets out a little ‘mh’ as he’s lifted up and plopped on his side onto the mattress. The gesture’s oddly disappointing -

“Ugh,” Bill groans, and follows a moment later. He tucks an arm under Dipper’s head, another pats his hip. “Y’know, I used to hear all the time about how getting hitched really killed the bedroom stuff.” His fingers idly trace nonsense patterns on Dipper’s side, over his stomach. “No idea what they were on about.”

Dipper huffs out a little laugh. Figures that Bill would pick up on that cliche, over all the time he’s been around. One even Dipper’s heard of, for that matter.

All he can do is shrug. “They must be doing it wrong.” Dipper suggests. Behind him, Bill hums in agreement.

Not that Dipper really knows much about how other people go about their relationships; he’s only had the one himself. Plus, well, demon involvement, that always complicates things. Especially a marriage so strange and unnerving. Complicated, and weird, unexpected in some ways, a billion things. Something neither of the people actually in the damn thing have completely figured out.

Though Dipper can’t deny that it’s very functional.

He wouldn’t trade it for anything else.

When Bill nuzzles into his hair, Dipper takes his hand in his own. Holding it up against his chest, where Bill can feel the beating of his own heart. And because Bill is a jerk, he takes that chance to sneakily pinch a nipple again. Which leads to the predictable bickering, though it’s a little calmer than usual.

Eventually, it kind of just. Trails off. Dipper guesses they’re both too pleased to put real effort in, even for appearances. With a sigh, he rolls onto his back and stretches. Feeling a lingering ache, but mostly relaxed - and Bill’s warmth, so close, is adding to the latter. Plus, everything that Bill’s done to him. Even now, he feels a bit tingly from all the touch.

After a moment, he reaches up to the collar, lazily searching for the clasp.

“Hmmm.” Bill props himself up on one elbow, narrows his eye, and catches Dipper’s hand with his own. He draws it away from the collar, interlacing their fingers with a grin. “Not just yet.”

Oh. Surprising, but not unpleasantly so. Dipper glances down, then back up again. He gives Bill’s hand a squeeze, raising an eyebrow. “Really?”

“Ahem.” Bill rises up, smacking a palm on his chest with pride. “You summoned me, sapling. Trust the contractor you contacted! I’m a real expert in this stuff, ya dig?” He leans over Dipper, planting a kiss on his chest, then his shoulder. “And I don’t think you’re gonna be satisfied with just one.”

Dipper swallows. Right now he’s doing just fine. Relaxed, a little achy, and satisfied. But.

Okay, Bill does have a point; he was in a particular mood earlier. One that’s not completely gone. Even the suggestion has sort of exacerbated the problem.

Though he’d be an idiot not to make it a little tough for him. Just for kicks.

“I summoned you for one thing,” Dipper retorts. He swats his husband on the top of the head, then squirms a little, like he’s about to wriggle out of his grasp. Predictably, Bill reacts by grabbing onto tighter. “You can’t change the deal now.”

“Ha! Didn’t prepare for a double-cross, didja?” Bill draws him back down, looming once more. Pressing Dipper’s shoulders into the bed and grinning, white and wild. He clicks his tongue. “Classic rookie error.”

“You monster.” Dipper presses the back of one hand to his forehead, turning his head to the side - and watches Bill’s shoulders shake with repressed laughter. “I’ll need a minute, though.” Some people have a refractory period, for crying out loud.

“Sure, no problem! The night is young, so are you, and best of all,” Bill says, cheerful enough. He smacks another kiss on Dipper’s forehead, stroking his sides in a not-at-all subtly possessive gesture. He throws in a wink. “I’ve got you right where I want you.”

Arrogant ass. Taking charge of things is par for the course, but now Bill’s acting like this was his idea.

Fine, let him have it. It’s nothing but a pretense, anyway. Dipper rolls his eyes.

They both know who really had the clever idea this time.

Though he does surge up, arms around Bill’s neck, to drag him in for a kiss. “Right back at you.”

#Not Safe For Working #Oh look it's pornblography #Sorry about all this #I don't have any fun tag things I think?#Other than man I am glad to have this done with #Some of these things were finicky as hell

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juyeonszn · 7 months

Text

I WANNA SHOW YOU OFF

PAIRING ju haknyeon x f!reader

WORD COUNT 1.65k

GENRES smut

WARNINGS 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, idol!juhak and non-idol!reader, stupid man not getting the hint, jealous juhak 🤭, DOM JUHAK !!!! this deserves its own warning phew, marking, no foreplay bc we ball like steph curry, little bit of exhibitionism but also not really, unprotected sex, sex against a wall?? standing upright?? what is that position called, creampie lol

SUMMARY you hated when men flirted with you, but god if it didn’t result in such a thrilling experience.

MORE im actually yelling like no way i’ve done 9 of these…. each time a fawntober fic goes up i rattle my brain around in my head to make sure it’s not empty 😭 ANYWAYS!!! if u enjoyed, please reblog <3

PERM TAGLIST @winterchimez @maessseongs @itsbeeble @zzoguri

You couldn’t wait to get out of here.

Your feet were starting to ache from the uncomfortable heels you were wearing. Your faux smile could only handle staying on your face for so long. Your head was throbbing from all of the superficial conversations. You were just about ready to crash.

That was the thing about being the girlfriend of a successful idol, you had to accompany him to these company parties despite everyone being so fake. The only genuine people were the idols themselves. All of the higher ups and staff members were just too vain and shallow minded, you could hardly talk to them without feeling like you’d lost multiple brain cells.

To be fair, you weren’t required to attend these. Haknyeon technically wasn’t even supposed to have a girlfriend, for the sake of maintaining his image for the fans. But everyone at his company knew of your existence and he liked having the excuse to parade you around like a little trophy.

His group members often teased him for being the first to get into a relationship. The two of you had been friends way before he even began idol training and preparing to debut. During that time, you’d lost touch, thanks to his rigorous training process and dedication to his craft. But a couple years into the limelight and you found your way back to each other. Fate was a funny concept.

You were currently standing at a high-top table, mindlessly chatting with some guy from the PR department. Haknyeon had disappeared to grab you some drinks to kill time before you could finally leave. Sunwoo stayed back to keep you occupied while he was gone, but at some point, you heard Eric calling for him and he, too, had wandered off. You kind of wished you went with him, now stuck with this random man you didn’t know.

“You’re really pretty, Y/N,” the guy says, smiling at you. “Haknyeon is very lucky.”

You laugh awkwardly, thanking him for the compliment. He kept inching closer to you, making it palpable that he was flirting in spite of his awareness towards your relationship. The dude clearly couldn’t take a hint, oblivious to your uncomfortability. You didn’t want to be rude, though. These were the people who worked with your boyfriend on a near daily basis.

Where the hell was Haknyeon?

“Does he treat you well?” He asks, clearly steering the conversation in a specific direction. You know what he’s aiming at, but you pretend to be ignorant to his attempts.

“He’s an exceptional boyfriend, actually. He treats me like a princess.” You state, eyes darting around the large event hall in search of said boyfriend. If he didn’t come to your rescue soon, you feared you’d say something worthy of putting his career on the line.

“If that’s truly the case, why is he nowhere to be found? How could such a good partner leave his girlfriend all alone like this?” The gaslighting is hilarious. The fact that this guy genuinely felt he was so much better than Haknyeon, that he was much more attractive, was laughable. He sincerely thought he was powerful enough to come between your secure, loving relationship.

“Here you go, baby,” a drink is placed in front of you, a kiss left on your temple. “What are you and Seojun talking about?”

Haknyeon’s arm wraps snugly around your waist. To anyone else, he’d look normal. He was remaining neutral, lips pulled into a thin line but curved at the ends so it appeared that he was being nice. But you knew otherwise. You knew this calm was just a facade to hide how pissed off he really was. His jealousy wasn’t because he didn’t trust you. His jealousy was because he didn’t trust others.

Namely Jung Seojun, the PR department’s resident fuckboy.

You glance up at your boyfriend, surprised there wasn’t any drool rolling down your chin. You couldn’t help but be drawn into the darkness of his eyes and his clenched jaw. The best part of this was what lies ahead of you once you get home. Maybe this night wasn’t a total bust.

“Oh. Um. Just, you know, the usual pleasantries…” This dude was a shitty liar. He was fortunate that he hadn’t actually made a move on you, lest he wanted to keep his job. Ju Haknyeon didn’t play around when it came to you, the love of his life.

Thankfully, you don’t stay at the party much longer. He tried to keep his cool until it was deemed acceptable to make his exit, but at a certain point, he just couldn’t anymore. The drive home wasn’t uncomfortable, but there was a thick tension filling the atmosphere. If it weren’t for the driver in the same car, you’re sure his hands would’ve been all over you.

So, the moment you step through the threshold of the dorms, door barely locked, Haknyeon’s pinning you to the surface. His lips are searing on your own, rough but soft all at once. His fingers don’t know where they want to rest, first tangled in your hair and then digging into your hips only a second later. Your head is dizzy, spinning around a mantra of his name and nothing else.

He bunches up the fabric of your dress, pulling back slightly to catch his breath. “Who the hell did he think he was? Talking to my pretty girl like he was deserving of her presence?”

“Hak…” You sigh, his mouth trailing down the side of your neck. He nips and sucks at the base, and then again where it meets your jaw. You hated when men flirted with you, but God if it didn’t result in such a thrilling experience. Your regularly sweet, gentle boyfriend becoming someone nearly unrecognizable drove you crazy.

“Hmm?” His hands hook under your thighs, picking you up so you can wrap your legs around his waist and your arms around his neck. You can feel him this way, already so hard and ready for you. You don’t think you can handle waiting for all the foreplay, your entire body tingling with want and desire.

“Need you to fuck me,” you whine, head lolling to the side when he sucks at that particularly sensitive area on your throat. “Want you so bad…”

“Yeah, princess? Gonna fuck you so good that you’ll be ruined for anyone else. No one can give it to you like I do.” He chuckles into your skin, pushing your dress up further and kissing your shoulders after the straps have slid off. Ju Haknyeon might actually be the death of you.

That was your favorite thing about sex with him. He was so uncharacteristically cocky, so uncharacteristically aggressive in the way he manhandled you. You moan when he shoves aside your underwear, undoing his slacks enough to slip his cock free. He presses into you slowly, forehead falling to your shoulder with a groan.

One of his hands comes up to fist at your hair, yanking back so he can bite at your jugular and exposed chest some more. He thrusts up into your cunt with what feels like ease in spite of your walls squeezing him. His hips snap up and meet your ass with every kiss of his cock to that spongy spot deep inside of your pussy. Everything is moving too fast, but not fast enough at the same time.

“W-What if someone comes home?” You gasp, fingers getting lost in the hair at the nape of his neck. As much as you were enjoying this, you don’t know what you’d do if one of his members walked in on you. For sure, you’d be mortified, unable to show your face around the dorm ever again.

“Who cares? Let them see how well you’re taking it,” he mutters, sucking in your supple skin and ensuring bruises are left in his wake. “I should let everyone witness how good I fuck you, right baby? Marking you all up so the world knows your mine.”

A loud moan rips from your vocal cords, his cock so deep inside of you that you’re starting to see stars. Haknyeon grins against your sternum knowing that you’re enjoying this as much as he is. You wanted him to stake his claim on your body, wanted anyone who could see to know that you were his. Even the way he fucked into you had that same purpose, like his dick was meant to be there. It was almost as if your cunt was acclimating to the shape of it.

“Fuck, feels so so good, Hak…” You whine, lower half squirming when that knot in your stomach is about to unravel. Your toes curl and your back arches off of the door, legs spreading wider in an attempt to suck him in further. “I’m gonna— oh god— I’m—”

You don’t even finish your sentence, your orgasm washing over you without a moment’s notice. The feeling of your cunt fluttering around his cock has Haknyeon groaning, twitching and spilling into you seconds later. He fucks his own release back inside of you, teeth sinking into your collarbone to steel himself.

The two of you stay like that for a minute, catching your breaths in spite of his cum beginning to leak out of you. He kisses the crown of your sweaty forehead. “You did so well, princess.”

Just like earlier, you’re interrupted before you can reply, the sound of keys jingling on the other side of the door. You share a look of terror, scrambling to his room so you don’t get caught. You both flop onto his bed in a fit of giggles, recalling how he’d said he didn’t care who saw you in such a compromising state.

“You’re all talk, aren’t you?” You tease.

“Oh, just you wait, baby,” he shakes his head, moving to hover over you. “I’ll make you regret that you said that.”

#the boyz #the boyz x reader #the boyz smut #tbz #tbz x reader #tbz smut #the boyz haknyeon #tbz haknyeon #ju haknyeon x reader #ju haknyeon smut #haknyeon x reader #haknyeon smut #juyeonszn #fawntober.2023🎃

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weirdkpopgirl · 8 months

Text

Dark Hours | Mark Imagine #3

Title: Dark Hours

Genre: Angst

Warnings: mentions of past self-harm, reader has a breakdown (yay)

Word Count: 594

Author's Note: Am I crazy for writing this at midnight and posting it an hour and a half later? Yeah, especially when I have a million other things to do. This was an idea that I just really wanted to get out, and I thought it was also a good opportunity to post something for Mark. I truly hope this story comforts anyone who is going through a hard time ^ ^

P.S. I am currently working on a few fics for different 7Dream members. In the meantime, I will try my best to post small things like this when I can!

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Mark quietly entered the mostly dark bedroom, where the only light came from the distant city lights filtering through the window shades. As he switched on his lamp, he was surprised to discover that you were still awake at this hour. You lay on your side of the bed, just as you always did. But your gaze seemed distant as it fixated on the ceiling above. In Mark's eyes, you looked so beautiful, yet so burdened by the invisible chains of your mind. He longed to free you from their grasp. But he knew it wasn’t that easy.

Without a word, he slipped beneath the deep blue covers and gently tugged you closer into his embrace. The warmth emanating from his body provided a stark contrast to the chill of your skin. Mark hoped to share his warmth physically. But he also wanted to share it emotionally.

Neither of you said anything and lay beside each other in silence. Then you felt the touch of Mark’s fingers tenderly tracing the faded pink and white scars on your thigh. Despite your legs being concealed beneath the comforter, he managed to find the textured lines etched across your bare skin.

Another two minutes of silence passed before Mark sensed your body beginning to tremble. It was then that he locked eyes with you, and they were brimming with tears.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, worried he had done something wrong.

You cringed internally as your voice quivered when you whispered, “I’m sorry for hiding this from you for so long.”

“(Y/n)...” His lips parted, but for once he was at a loss for words.

The fact that he had only learned about this secret of yours earlier this week—after being together almost a year, weighed heavily in his thoughts. To only imagine that you had been suffering for so long, without anyone to guide you was deeply troubling to him. He wished so badly that he could’ve been with you during those dark hours.

Attempting to blink away the tears, you paused before confessing, “I just... I was afraid you'd look at me differently if you knew.”

Mark’s heart broke when he heard you say this. He moved his hand to gently cup the side of your face, guiding your eyes to meet his.

“Hey, those scars don't change how I feel about you, okay?” he reassured, his words resonating with sincerity. “I love you, (Y/n), every part of you.”

Unable to suppress your emotions any longer, you sobbed into his shoulder, your tears likely staining his shirt. Mark didn't hesitate to draw you closer and gently stroke your hair as you wept.

“You’re not alone anymore, (Y/n),” he whispered, “I’ll help you heal, and we’ll get through your darkest hours together.”

Eventually, your tears slowed and your body gradually stopped shaking. Mark used his thumb to gently wipe your cheek. You’ve never felt more grateful to have someone by your side.

With his thumb, he wiped away any lingering tears, and in response, you released a heavy sigh. “I love you so much,” you whispered. You could say those words over and over again.

Mark smiled a little before leaning in for a deep, slow kiss. “I love you more than words can express.”

The two of you instinctively snuggled closer, closing any remaining distance between the two of you. In the warmth of that moment, you both found solace in each other's arms, knowing that your love would conquer any darkness that life might throw your way.

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#nct dream #nctzen #czennie #nct dream imagines #mark #mark x reader #nct dream x reader #mark imagines #nct dream angst #nct dream scenarios #mark scenarios #mark lee #kpop angst #kpop #kpop imagines

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gale-sized-hole · 5 months

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A short VisGale fic, a sketch of sorts, a concept born of yelling back and forth with @renn-the-rascal, and something I hope to expand on soon. But for now…

Armor

~750 words

“There, can I get you to—“

“Certainly.”

A small exchange, one they’ve repeated every day for at least two tendays, if not more. Sharing a bedroll became sharing a bed, and in that time, Vissenta has relented to let Gale help her with more than just an assuring word and a kiss before leaving. She lifts her arm slightly, relinquishing her grip on the strap of the pauldron to let him take over, securing the piece in place and giving him room to check those down her sides that hold the cuirass.

Like every day for two and a half tendays (because he has counted, every single precious one, if only to feel the shape of that number grow as steadily as his love), they dress to face whatever this quest might throw their way.

But today, it’s not her demons they face, or those of their companions.

It’s not a demon at all.

“With you, I forget my goddess.”

In the stillness of the outer planes, he could hear her every breath, and he heard it catch at his words. And he heard, too, the warmth in her voice, when she answered with words of her own that might have been too harsh otherwise.

“Then forget godhood.”

With her hands free, Vissenta takes the chance to ensure that her hair is pinned up securely; Gale takes the chance to map the small curls that grow askew at her nape, only just covering the jagged, puckered scar that starts at the base of her skull and disappears into a web he’s felt beneath his fingertips, when he cradles her head to melt into her more lingering, passionate kisses.

“I’ll have you as you are.”

He couldn’t quite believe those words; he tried to protest. “Have the best possible version of me.”

She leaned over to kiss him, briefly, and the warmth in her voice turned to fire that burned bright behind her eyes. “I already do.”

“What divine calculus plucked us from the ether,” Gale muses as Vissenta seizes his hands, insistent on helping check that his bracers are secure, “and thrust us together?”

“I’d rather keep the gods out of it,” she says mildly, but her hands tighten around his wrists as she lifts her chin, eyes flicking down to his neck before she raises them to meet his. “After we pay one more a visit, anyway.”

Scars, on the both of them. Scars that, if opened without care, could destroy everything around them.

“You… you’re everything.”

He meant it. He truly meant it. He’d seen her, bloodless, lifeless, as she made the choice to reject a great and terrible thing, a darkly divine right that she foreswore in the face of death.

He could foreswear the same. He owed her as much.

“Is this what being nervous feels like?”

Tucked into an alcove in Stormshore, Gale can hardly look over his shoulder at Mystra’s likeness. He can feel the Weave, pure and perfect, the way open to him at last, and no matter how ready he’s believed himself to be, how long he’s prepared to see her again, he feels woefully vulnerable.

Vissenta reaches up to brush his hair back behind his ear, her fingertips brushing the silver star of the goddess as she does so. “Nervous is good.”

He knows his scowl is unbecomingly petulant. “I hate it.”

All Vissenta does is smile, lifting herself up on her toes to give him a kiss. He feels the slip of her tongue against his lips - always so daring, even sequestered in a temple, and his heart swells with her boldness - before they part, all too soon. “It suits you.”

“Does it?” Gale doesn’t want to let go of her just yet, his knight in all her glorious armor.

She nods, suddenly solemn. “It suits Gale Dekarios.”

“Him again.” Searching her face for the telltale signs of teasing, he comes up short, left only with the sight of heart-aching sincerity. “You’re rather taken with him, aren’t you?”

Nodding again, she cups his cheek in her palm. “What would he want, right now?”

The answer is startlingly quick, shockingly certain. “Forgiveness.”

Vissenta’s smile returns. “I can’t give him that, but…” She tugs at the gold-edged purple kerchief around her neck, pulling it loose, and takes his hand to turn it palm up. There’s just room enough for her to tuck the slip of cloth beneath the bracer around his wrist. “He can have my favor, while he goes to ask.”

#bg3 #durge vissenta #gale of waterdeep #gale dekarios #vissenta x gale #otp: at a great precipice #my writing #gale x durge

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elvisabutler · 1 year

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spark ( chapter one: company )

fandom: elvis presley | elvis ( 2022 ) rating: m pairing: elvis presley ( fameless big daddy electrician ) x female original character word count: 13957 told y'all it was just shy of 14k warnings: old southern church ladies being all up in people's business. not the best of marriages. talk of children. copious amounts of sweat. elvis preferring to wear a jumpsuit that's worn in versus getting a new one. infidelity in some form. elvis in glasses. religion playing an at least faintly important part. a bit of negative self talk. this is not safe for work. i am not giving away anything else in these warnings. author’s note: first off the largest and most sincere of thanks to the ever delightful and loving marina who once upon a time just had whispers of a sort of off shoot/same vibe sort of thing for crawfever ( yes this is why this fic has gotten crawfever adjacent as a tag despite it not being the same thing ). and let me take them, burrow into her brain and find the bits and bobs that her brain had dreamed up but not been able to put into words. this fic would not exist without those whispers and without your edits. second, special thanks to my phenomenal wives and besties christi and birdy as well for you two know just how much you supported me in this from when marina did the whispers and i spewed what i affectionately called marina's brain herpes at you two, your screams and thoughts have been so powerful to get me to work on this. third, special other thanks to the charming @prompted-wordsmith for the edit job and the saving my ass on that one spot both me and marina could not figure out words for and putting up with my frankly excessive em dash use. beyond that, thank all of y'all who've enjoyed my vibes posts and have been getting excited based on what i've said to y'all, what marina has said to y'all, etc. just i'm very excited to show y'all this and i hope you enjoy. and quick tiny note, this is set in the 50s, so elvis is a wwii veteran and thus his birth and everything is pushed a little bit back to make this work.

“Call that handyman—the one from the church, I have to get to work,” her husband Nathan calls out as he leaves without a kiss exchanged between the two of them.

Words left unsaid die a quick death on her lips and tongue as she lets out a sigh. Once again she was left alone with barely a goodbye. She supposes she should be thankful he at least waited until she was awake. That he waited till she at least was conscious and able to ask him what she needed to, even if his response left so much to be desired. Call the handyman—Mr. Presley was his name, not that Nathan cared to know. After all, that would require him taking an interest in the church life or her sister’s life. It would require him to see the look on her face when she holds little Elizabeth while grabbing her from Sunday school or dropping her off at Sunday school for Melly. It would require… so many things.

Mr. Presley always told anyone to call Crown Electric and ask for him if they were in need. Some people argue it was some form of shrewd marketing but the pastor likes to reassure the congregation that Elvis, the godly and kind soul that he is, wouldn’t do that willy-nilly. Lilly’s hand shakes as she calls and reaches what she assumes is the receptionist before being reassured that he'll be over in a jiff.

A jiff turns out to be a surprisingly quick time, no more than a half an hour before she hears a knock that somehow sounds delicate and gentle but is forceful enough for her to hear it easily. Adjusting her dress, she smoothes out an imaginary set of wrinkles, nervous for reasons she couldn’t quite put her finger on. Perhaps it was because she feels so very silly calling up a handyman for this fix. Truly if she could she’s certain she could fix it herself and she knows Nathan had fixed this very problem before. And yet here she was, about to answer her door. Oh, she hopes he doesn't judge her too harshly—hopes he doesn't think less of Nathan or her.

As she opens the door she is greeted by the sight of Mr. Presley in a simple olive jumpsuit that appeared to be a bit tight in the middle, his paunch pushing at the fabric the same as it appeared to do in the area of his thigh. It's strange for her to see him like this, far more rugged than he ever is in church or at the potlucks. Lilly swears her heart skips a beat in what she thinks is shock cause she looks up at Mr. Presley’s face and sees what is one of the most genteel and warm smiles she's ever seen on a person.

"Mrs. Harris," Elvis greets Lilly with that smile that has Lilly's own lips curling into one even as she bites at her lip and tilts her head down.

"Mr. Presley. You came quickly," A statement of fact while hiding a question of why and how as she moves aside to allow him to enter her home.

“It's not everyday lil Miss Lizzie’s aunt calls for help from me. In fact, I think this is ya first time," Elvis answers while keeping his gaze on her as he enters, carefully avoiding looking around the house. "Musta been an emergency."

"Lil Miss Lizzie’s aunt" shouldn't sting as much as it does and yet she feels herself wince just slightly at the idea of only being known as an aunt, never a mother. Of being known as a barren woman who defied her family's legendary fertility to have an empty house and a husband who tolerated her at best as of late.

"Oh you just have to try harder, Lilly. Must be something—in your diet. Or that stress of yours. Nathan days you've been downright mean when you talk sometimes."

She's been downright mean, it would take a downright mean person to know one wouldn't it? It would take a man who ignores his wife like Nathan does to recognize a woman who's mean when she talks. Frustrated is what Lilly was, dejected is what Lilly was. But mean? No, she tries too hard not to be mean that the idea of Nathan accusing her of such a thing is a betrayal of her heart.

Lilly sniffles slightly, attempting to play it off as allergies. "You could say that, Mr. Presley. Nathan had to rush out and I'm—I can't quite fix it myself. And you did say if anyone needed help with anything to make a call for you."

Elvis opens his mouth to speak before her sniffles hit him. It's as if a grenade has gone off in front of him. It's as if he can see the rubble of whatever had been in front of him at those small, barely-noticeable sniffles. Why…? There was no reason for her to be crying. 'Less she didn't want him to be here. Had he said something to offend her, something that made her emotional? Or was it embarrassment from needing to call him? He shouldn't reach out to touch her, shouldn't offer comfort he isn't sure she needs. But there's something about that small little sniffle that has him frowning and praying it's just allergies or the dust from his suit or something physical causing them. His hand moves to grab her own and—zzzt—that's when he feels a spark shoot into his hand, up his arm and settle in his chest. If he didn’t know any better he swears his heart skips a beat or two as he shakes his head.

"Know I'm not the most charming o' company Mrs. Harris but—I do good work. As for Mr. Harris, I'm sure he's busy bein' a good provider. Givin' ya everythin' ya need. Fixin' things can be a bit o' work for you young ones, ‘specially for the men after a long day. That's why you got ol’ fools like me. Fix things so ya don't gotta worry that pretty head of yours.”

Lilly's lips can't help but quirk into a smile, small as it is, at his words. They're not entirely comforting at face value but the longer she allows them to sit as she watches him set his bag down on the floor by her oven and make moves to actually do his job, the more they settle something inside of her. A final sniffle escapes her before she blows her nose by her sink, turning to face Elvis when she's finished.

Lilly's never put much stock in the idea that someone's entire aura and demeanor can change based on the clothes they wear. After all, she was the same person whether or not she was in her nightgown versus her dress or in the dresses she’d wear around the house compared to, say, her Sunday’s best. Mr. Presley, though, there’s something to be said about how he looks standing in front of her compared to how he looks every Sunday. There’s something to be said about how the jumpsuit he’s wearing almost looks too small for him but it’s just his middle that tightens the fabric. It’s just that paunch of his stomach yanking the fabric forward in an effort to contain him, stretching the fabric across his chest and making it so he has to leave the zipper partially undone before it reaches his neck. Her eyes refuse to linger on his lower half for too long but she can see how tight it is around his legs, around his thighs and she feels a shiver come over her for just a moment. This–this isn’t the same man who dresses in a full suit, jacket and all to church. This isn’t the same man who has his hair slicked back and his suit pants pressed like his mama’d taught him in church.

This isn’t the same man she hands her niece off to every Sunday. No, this is another man entirely, a rugged down to Earth—salt of the Earth man. He’s a man who isn’t afraid to get dirty and afraid to work on things other people might stick their nose up at. He’s a man through and through and Lilly can’t help but wonder what else Mr. Presley’s been hiding. If there’s another side of him she hasn’t seen that is as fascinating and as invigorating to look at as this one.

Not that she should be looking, not that the Lord wouldn't… perhaps this is why Nathan and her still have a fruitless marriage. A marriage of short kisses and dinner on the table and mothers who touch her belly and whisper how soon enough they'll be blessed. Perhaps with two at once. Maybe this is why the lord refuses to bless her—maybe if she didn't wish for company—covet her sister’s and her friends’ growing families. She could have company if she could keep Nathan home for longer than a few hours.

Elvis’s mouth is opening and closing as if words are passing through them and Lilly blinks once, twice, three times before shaking her head to clear it of the thoughts that have started to swirl around it. "I'm sorry Mr Presley, could you–could you repeat what you just said. My mind went… I started trying to figure out what I could scrounge up in case this takes too long.”

There’s a chuckle, warm and inviting that leaves Elvis’s lips at the explanation before he shakes his head. “Got that little faith in me, Mrs. Harris? Think ya gonna be without an oven for a whole day? I’ll have this fixed up in in an hour, two if that.” He pauses and smiles. “Most of the time, it’s somethin’ real simple. Like ya said, you or Mr. Harris could’ve fixed it but ya both got things to do. Him, goin’ to work and bringin’ home the money and you, uh, takin’ care of… the house.”

Lilly’s chest tightens at his words, at how he stops mid sentence. She knows perfectly well what he was going to say, that she would be taking care of the children and the house, but the house is as empty as her womb. There’s a warmth to it, of course, attempts at making things as inviting as can be and yet there’s always the gust of cold air from the fridge or from the screen door opening and closing making the house feel even emptier than it is. Emptier in a way it doesn’t feel right in this moment with someone else in the house. Not with someone like Mr. Presley taking up so much space in her kitchen just from height and bulk by his lonesome. Maybe even just from his presence alone. Still, his words settle her fear just a bit as she watches him bend down to open her oven. She can’t help how her eyes linger on the worn fabric stretched across his backside and under, between his legs. They’re right there, and she hadn’t meant to look, she was just about to say something to him, something that’s been swallowed up by every thought that slams into her head at the vision in front of her. Oh, she–she’s just on edge from this morning and how Nathan left so quickly. That’s all this is, nothing more, nothing less. She takes a breath and moves to grab a pitcher from her lower cabinets unaware that Elvis had looked back to ask something of her before being presented with the sight in front of him. It’s nothing untoward, and is purely chaste but there’s something about the way her dress tightens just a smidge around her backside that has him swallowing his tongue and moving to stick his head in the oven with a flashlight to see what might be the problem.

The problem as he expected was something simple, an easy fix with a part he has in his bag but he notices how there’s a few other things that could be dealt with while he’s down here. He should charge her for them, but… he finds he doesn’t want to. Finds that spending time in her company is worth the extra time he’d be spending in her oven. Especially when he hears her voice softly singing some—he thinks that might be Jo Strafford but he can’t be sure. There’s an element of homeliness that has him sighing while in the oven. Normally he feels this sense of ease in church and here he is with Mrs. Harris and she makes him feel just the same.

“Mr. Presley, are you alright? Do… Is it worse than you thought?” He hears her soft voice above him and bashes his head against the top of the oven, cursing slightly as he does.

“‘M fine. It’s fine Mrs. Harris. Jus’ looking at the work I gotta do. Definitely—gonna take all two of those hours I promised ya but it’ll be good as new when I’m finished with it,” Elvis answers, rubbing at his head and moving his arm down to rummage through his bag, worried about how he’d look if he bothered to pull himself out from inside the oven.

The problem with doing that, the problem with hiding away in the oven as he does, is that even though the thing isn’t on, it’s stifling in the summer heat. Roasting him slowly but surely as he feels beads of sweat enter his eyes and slightly fog up his glasses. His free hand, unoccupied with his work, moves to grab a cloth he has on his belt just to wipe at his eyes. He hopes he doesn’t get any dirt on them. Meanwhile above him, Lilly busies herself with puttering around the kitchen. She’s making lemonade that’s almost as sweet as her sweet tea, but only because she’s never really enjoyed how sour lemons can be, sure that was supposed to be part of the allure but—Lilly’s never been that sour of a person. Instead more full of sugar sweet smiles and sweet Southern charm that had her husband falling at her feet when they were teenagers and had his parents eating out of her hand the moment she said hello.

It takes Elvis damn near the whole two hours to finish, finally managing to finish a little bit after lunch time. Just enough time for LIlly to whip up something real quick, nothing too fancy, but Nathan would understand in this case, after all, it’s not as if he had fixed it before work. She hears Elvis’s groan from inside the oven and she can’t help the way she crouches down at the noise, making sure her legs are covered with her dress and moving to hold out her hand in an effort to help him pull himself out from inside her oven. She notices the dirt on his hands but doesn’t mind in the slightest, knowing she’s got a functioning sink and from that groan he honestly just might need a hand getting up out of it. There's a hesitation and an aborted attempt to swat her hand away before he takes it as both their arms twitch at the same time when their hands touch.

"Didn't shock ya, did I, lil darlin'?" His voice sounds distant for a moment as he uses the leverage from her hand to scoot himself out and then pull himself up into a sitting position.

“No, Mr. Presley, you didn’t—” Lilly’s words trail off as she looks at Mr. Presley’s face and notices just how covered in sweat it is. It shouldn’t be that sweaty, she thinks, it shouldn’t look like he’s practically used her garden hose in the back to hose himself down. That rag should’ve been used to mop up the glittering beads rolling down his cheekbones and collecting in the dip of his cupid’s bow. Unless he has somehow lost the ability to put it to use—but as Lilly’s eyes trace down his strong forearm she finds it’s translucent in a way that brings to mind summers outside and gigglingly waving at the boys across the lake. Being in a confined space like her oven would cause something like this, would cause someone to sweat as much as this but seeing it in front of her, seeing it before her very eyes has Lilly struck a bit speechless. There’s a glass of lemonade in her hand that she plans on offering Mr. Presley but the words refuse to come out, caught in her throat as she just stares at him. Stares at the sweat covering his face and his hair and making there be this curl among all the chocolate brown plastered to his head. It shouldn’t—it isn’t attractive on Nathan or any other boy she had ever seen look similar to this after a football game or after a hard day of entertaining outside. Yet here was Mr. Presley looking so very attractive that Lilly can’t find the words to describe it. This could not be the man she had seen so many times at church, at Sunday School when she dropped off her niece.

Elvis is confused the longer he looks at Lilly, the longer he sees her staring at him like he’s a prime cut of meat. That—he hasn’t seen that look on a woman since after the war, since before his overeating and the nightmares and the grief and the visions he can’t ever stop thinking of unless he’s working. Sure, there’s still the few who try and set him up with their daughters who they figure can’t find another man and the few widows who remember how he was when he first came back to Memphis. But someone who’s Lilly’s age looking at him like that? Like she might be willing to pounce on him despite the ring on her finger? Oh, that was… That is something he cannot entertain, that has to be the heat finally getting to him, finally making him imagine things that certainly aren’t there. There’s no conceivable way someone as sweet as Miss Lilly, Mrs. Harris, Lilly, would ever be looking at him like that. His eyes drift down to the glass in her hand and a grin threatens to overwhelm his face as he grabs it with a simple thanks and starts to down the drink without a care in the world.

Lilly’s eyes watch as a single sweat drop rolls down his skin. Mr. Presley’s neck is stretched out as he drinks, Adam’s apple bobbing. The drops of water on the outside of the glass fall to his neck. They join their sweat brothers in rolling slowly but surely down his throat, tracing a path her mind whispers to her about chasing with her tongue as she had more than once before with Nathan. They roll down past his collarbone and down to his chest—his exposed chest because of that stupid zipper. They make a home in the patch of sweat and musk and warmth that is his chest hair and Lilly’s mouth opens to let out a choked-off squeak, she thinks. Or maybe it was her choking on her own breath, on her own tongue as she tries to say something, tries to tell Mr. Presley to set down the glass or drink slower or that he missed so much sweat on his body. Maybe–maybe it went all the way down, oh, maybe it…no, she cannot entertain this idea, she cannot entertain the way her mind wants to explore the possibilities. Tonight Nathan can help rid her of these thoughts, he can help her forget how she sees all this sweat gliding down another man’s skin. Down Mr. Presley’s skin, down the skin of someone who teaches Sunday school and wears tight jumpsuits that leave nothing to the imagination. The thoughts swirl and swirl as she clenches her thighs together and rubs them against each other. There is a smooth, slick quality to the glide that makes a flush of shame rise to the very apples of her cheeks, or maybe that’s the way Mr. Presley’s body is burned into her mind.

“Oh.” She exhales the word, swaying a little before she shakes her head, “Mr. Presley. You— Your—” Lilly shuts her eyes before continuing. “Are you enjoying the lemonade? My lemonade?”

“My lemonade”? What was she thinking, it was just lemonade, she didn’t have a claim over it, she didn’t want to know if Elvis enjoyed something of hers. That way of thinking—no, she just wanted to make sure she had made it correctly. That she had made it the right amount of sweet for him to enjoy and for it to quench his thirst. A repayment for making him do such a silly job as he just finished doing for her. Her eyes meet his as she finally is able to take her eyes off of his neck, off the vein in his neck that throbbed as he swallowed, at the way his swallows allowed the droplets of sweat and water roll down his throat. Her hand twitches with a desire to touch and hold.

“I loved it. Sweet as anything I‘ve ever had.” He licks his lips, tasting the tangy salt of his sweat cutting through the sweetness of her lemonade. It’s not a lie, he truly does enjoy her lemonade, but he thinks–he thinks he might enjoy her company more, enjoy how she asks if he’s alright and worries about him enough to give him lemonade after he swears he’s practically sweat through his own jumpsuit. Not many people extended such domestic kindness to him anymore. He was Elvis the Pelvis, Elvis the Sunday School teacher, he was Elvis the electrician, but never just Elvis. He wasn’t ever just a man that a pretty wife might offer lemonade to. “Ya mind if I have another glass?”

The way she hands over the pitcher is almost robotic or automatic and Elvis can’t help the way his hand shoots out to grab it, his fingers brushing over hers yet again igniting another spark between them. It’s not possible and yet he swears he feels it from his fingertips up to the top of his arm. Lilly pulls back her hand quickly, cradling it against her chest. “You can have th-the whole… the whole pitcher if you need.”

Elvis laughs, the idea almost as comical as the way she says it with a straight face. Pouring the glass, he shakes his head at her and shrugs, “Can’t polish one of these off myself. If I had help now—”

There’s something inside of Lilly that loosens at those words, at the playful nature of them despite how there is perhaps a flirtatious edge to them. It’s as if there was something inside of her that she hadn’t realized was a problem before that evaporated at Mr. Presley’s laugh and at his smile. It felt like true enjoyable company, the sort of company you’re supposed to have with your friends and your husband, but Lilly can’t remember the last time she felt it with anyone other than her sister. Her mild bitterness at swollen bellies and husbands who came by and kissed their wives on their cheek, happy to see them and see their handiwork coloring her happiness to see friends. God hadn’t seen fit to grace her womb with a child, and Nathan was alright with that despite Lilly’s pleas so she had dropped it all the while pushing those friends away, the reminder of the dream she wanted slipping farther and farther out of her grasp, through her fingers like the sand on the beach.

Lilly smiles and grabs the other glass on the table, it is normally Nathan’s but she can set out another one, she can do the dishes before he arrives home while dinner is cooking. She sets it right in front of Elvis. “If you’ll do me the honor of pouring it. If you’re a gentleman.”

The laugh sounds almost sinister when it leaves his mouth, a dark sort of thing but the warmth in it has Lilly realizing that perhaps it’s a special laugh. Maybe it could be his laugh for only her. Nathan had one of those for her, once upon a time. She misses that laugh and to have another person give one to her is… it warms her soul from the inside out and she swears she feels a part of her, a part she knows has been snapped in half for the past year at least snaps back into place. His words are almost missed but when she focuses, puts him back in focus, she hears him clear as day as he pours her a glass. "God and my mama'd strike me down if I wasn't a gentleman, 'specially to you, Lil darlin."

There it was again. A nickname. Nathan never gave her one, told her that her name was already short enough and pretty enough and yet here was Mr. Presley giving her one. It’s an open secret he’s liberal with his use of nicknames and yet hearing one perhaps only for her has her heart fluttering in her chest, fluttering against the confines of the bones keeping it inside. Lil darlin, a shortened version of Lilly and darling in one simple nickname. Her body warms at the implication of familiarity. “Thank you, Mr. Presley.” Her teeth move to worry at her lower lip as she toys with a question inside her head before looking at him. “Would–Would you like to stay for dinner? Nathan—Mr. Harris might be late and I’m—you’re charming company.”

The way she starts and stops in asking makes Elvis want to say yes, wants to put her at ease and tell her there’s perhaps nothing he’d like to do more that afternoon, but his eyes drift down to her ring glinting in the light and he sighs, shaking his head. The thought is tempting, but thou shalt not covet thy neighbor's wife and thou shall not commit adultery. While he may not do the second, he knows if he stays much longer he’s likely to do the first. “Not—I appreciate the invitation, Mrs. Harris, but I have to get home. Maybe. A raincheck?”

A raincheck. A promise of maybe another time. A promise of if things were different he would say yes in a heartbeat. A promise that if he could he would stay sitting at her dining table and drink lemonade as she cooked dinner for her husband. Her husband, the one she cares for and loves with all her heart. He— He— There should be no raincheck and yet he wants her to agree to one.

“A raincheck.” Her face had fallen as he let her down easy before the mention of the raincheck, the mention of it making her smile once again. The mention of it having her smile and beam and bloom like her flower namesake, soaking in the attention as if it was water meant to nourish her and fulfill her. “Of course. You—Just finish as much of the lemonade as you’d like and you can see yourself out, if that’s alright? Just—so I can make dinner and have it done on time.”

His eyes watch as she stands up, smoothing out her clothes and sees how she practically glides across the floor of the kitchen as if she’s a natural in it. Her body moves as if it’s used to being around people and used to having people underfoot and Elvis is struck by how it feels like something is missing watching her, feels as if something doesn’t seem right in the picture. There should be someone else near her. He—no, that’s not a path he’ll go down today. After another ten minutes of him just watching her work and two more glasses of lemonade, he sets down the glass and makes his way out the door. “Goodnight, Lil darlin’!”

It feels a little dirty, the way when he gets home and is in bed for the night his cock jumps at the memory of her staring at his chest. He knows she's married, saw the ring clear as day in the sunlight but that look. He only remembers that look from June when he took her once upon a time. Had her husband not been giving her what she needed? Had she not been given the proper water to blossom? Had he been leaving her to wilt inside their shared home that she kept so well? Had he–had he deprived her of the ability to put down roots? The idea knocks the air out of his lungs and has him praying for forgiveness no more than five minutes later as he wipes his hand on a dirty shirt nearby.

Elvis doesn’t see Lilly until that Sunday in church, and yet his mind wanders to her when he’s working with other people’s issues. None of them are as simple as hers was and it makes him almost angry that he’s stuck spending his time with these issues when hers were over far too quick. Time flies when you’re having fun, but had he been having fun? Or was it just that God himself knew better than to allow him to stay in her house for too long, the urges he could feel flowing through his veins almost too hard to ignore. When he does, though, when he does he sees her in the most gorgeous of dresses, a simple baby blue number that matched her sister’s and matched her brother in law's tie. He expects to see her husband. Nathan, she had called him, and instead only sees the three of them and one small little girl in Lilly’s arms. Little Lizzie being carried by Lilly and looking so at ease and happy in her arms that Elvis’s heart twists at the image. A woman like that, a woman who can get a child that was less than a year old to be so calm and collected in a sea of people… now that’s a woman who ought to have a passel of kids, a football team of children. A platoon of children behind her, all in single file, smitten husband bringing up the rear. Yet here she was on a Sunday without her husband and tagging along as an extra hand, helping her sister who, if rumors were to be believed, was expecting again. He sees her wave off her sister and brother in law before she walks toward him, a soft smile on her face.

“Mr. Presley,” Lilly murmurs softly as Lizzie yawns in her arms and snuggles closer. “I was going to hand her off to you but I don’t think I can. I think she’d much prefer to keep her pillow.” She looks down at her niece before looking up at him. “I—If it’s alright, do you mind if I stay here?”

His hand moves in such a way as to brush off her concern. Did he mind if she stayed there? What sort of silly question was that. Did he mind if a woman who occupied his mind as he pleasured himself stayed in here with him. He has to bite back a laugh. If he could he’d let her stay in this room with him until time eternal, until the rapture where those who were worthy would be saved. She would be saved and perhaps–perhaps, if he could resist, he would have mended enough fences with God for him to do the same thing.

“I can always use the extra help, Mrs. Harris.” He motions to the children already around him. “They can be a bit of a handful.”

A laugh that sounds like the church bells ringing leaves her mouth as Elvis watches her bloom like she did at her house. There’s… It’s strange, seeing her so happy because of words he’s saying, almost as if he’s the reason she has to smile and she’s soaking up every bit of attention he can give her. Elvis has never fancied himself a gardener by any means but for her he thinks he might be one. Her husband should nurture her as she nurtures him and their children when they have any and yet he wonders if he does. He wonders if the boy, Nathan, realizes what he seems to be doing to Lilly, how her petals fall without attention, how she withers without his care, without his water nourishing her soul, her body and filling—Elvis shakes his head to clear it.

“You always handle them so well, Mr. Presley. You’re a natural, I think.” The question is on the tip of her tongue, the question of why Elvis doesn’t have children of his own but she stops herself, she stops herself because it’s none of her business why. Maybe he just never found the right woman—a shame, she thinks. He would make a great husband from what she’s been able to see. A loving husband. A caring husband. So wrapped up in her own thoughts she very nearly misses him speaking to her as she sits down, shushing Lizzie’s protests at the movement and making sure the little ones around her quiet down.

"Surprised ya don't have children, Lil Darlin', ain't ever seen a woman be a natural with 'em like you," Elvis says, peeking over the rims of his glasses to a child who looked about ready to cause a complete ruckus. His focus is purely on that as he misses her wince and the way her hand reaches out to rub at her stomach, almost as if to mourn the lack of children from her womb.

"Nathan and I… We've been trying. Less often, lately, but—oh I don't—it just hasn't happened. God's saved those blessings for my sister. Little Lizzie and, and the one she's carrying now." Lilly bites her lip, trying not to let the tears she feels pooling in her eyes fall. She’s in public and Mr. Presley is just an acquaintance as of now, he doesn’t need to see the emotion she’s only ever reserved for her sister, Melly. A sniffle escapes her before she can stop it and Elvis’s hand reaches to grab a handkerchief from his pocket to give her to blow into and to dry her eyes. She takes it gladly.

"God'll gift ya one soon enough, be a cryin' shame if he didn't." A true statement of fact disguised as a reassurance. Elvis doesn’t think there’d be any true justice in the world if the Lord didn’t bless her with a child or several. Even now as they talked just her presence seemed to calm the children as they sat near her, waiting expectantly for him to tell a story or sing a song. Even Lilly dabbing his handkerchief at her eyes looked as if she was waiting for him and what he would do. As much as he wants to continue to talk with her, he thinks perhaps he should just entertain her. He thinks he should show off what he can do for her. His mind doesn’t dwell on the meaning behind it, instead choosing to dwell on how all he wants to do in that moment is watch Lilly be happy with her niece in her lap while she makes children listen and remain calm even if they are excited.

The class is the calmest one he’s had in at least a year.

Things keep breaking in Lilly’s house and if Elvis was a suspicious man—if Elvis felt any hope when it came to Lilly, he would venture she called him on purpose. He would venture that she wants to see him and perhaps breaks things to do just that and yet they’re so different, each thing that’s broken, that he thinks perhaps it’s honestly things just breaking. The one true joy involved in it, though, beyond seeing her face when he’s fixed yet another thing is how she smiles when she sees him.

Elvis is a man. Elvis is a man who can’t help himself sometimes. Elvis is a man who is not perfect. Elvis is a man who cannot and will not avoid the temptation of at least seeing Mrs. Harris more often. He learns Nathan rarely comes home on time except for certain days. He learns how great of a cook Lilly is, the smells wafting around the house when he works. He learns she’s a great cook because he’s tasted it at her insistence that he take home the food she’s made, if not insisting that he comes and eats with her. There is a part of him that thinks he’s playing her husband, replacing the man who is never home and is rarely at church with his wife despite how much it means to her. But Elvis knows he isn’t her husband. Despite what he does when it comes to cooking with her, despite how every so often his body betrays him, pictures her beneath him or on top of him, taking him in a way he wouldn’t think she could… he never acts on it. He never tells her. They haven’t crossed any lines, they are just friends who are becoming closer the more and more time they spend together. Days turn into weeks and weeks turn into months and before he realizes, before either of them realize it’s been three months and another thing has broken. Something feels different as he finishes up and prepares to leave only to realize that he can’t, not with her the way she seems to be on this particular day.

He knows he should have already left, knows that her husband is liable to be back sooner rather than later, after all today isn’t a day he normally goes straight out with his friends. Today is a day he comes home to eat dinner with his wife, perhaps—enjoy other pleasures with his wife and then leave with his friends. It is a Friday, he has the rest of the weekend to spend with the boys and he knows Lilly will be with him on the Saturday with their wives and Sunday during church and the potluck afterward, not that he enjoyed going to them. But Lilly looks so… she looks so in need of company, something had happened the night before, he reasons, something had caused her soul to curl in on itself to the point where she doesn’t talk nearly as much as she normally would with him. Sure, they had still been floating around each other, and she answered a question here and there and would check to make sure he wasn’t accidentally shocking and hurting himself but there was no humming above him, no subtle roll of her hips that made him ache when he was alone at home. Done with his work, he washes his hands in Lilly’s sink, watching as she busies herself putting the finishing touches on her dinner before she pops it into the oven he fixed a few months ago. Yet he can’t shake the feeling that something else in this house needs to be fixed beyond the oven and beyond the wiring he had fixed tonight. He’s never been one to leave a job undone or hastily finished only for it to fall apart some time later for someone else to repair, damage caused by his carelessness. His eyes against his better judgment watch as she bends, watch as her dress rises and stretches around her backside, highlighting it in a way that has him averting his eyes. When he hears the quiet slam of the oven closing he finally looks back at her and is met by her wiping her brow for a moment before staring at him.

“Do I have something on my face?” The question is so innocent he almost laughs. She has nothing on her face. There’s nothing wrong with her face other than the fact that it’s marred by a frown instead of—at the very least—the small smile he’s used to seeing from her. He wants to fix it, he wants to keep her from wilting, make it so she can continue to bloom the way she has been from the moment they properly met outside of church.

“Ah… No, Lil Darlin, you don’t. Ya jus’—did somethin’ happen with you and Nathan last night? Ya look awfully sad and I—you weren’t even hummin’ today. Felt like I needed to put on a record it felt so quiet in the kitchen.” Elvis tries to choose his words carefully and even so Lilly’s face falls just a hair as she sighs.

“Oh. I–I didn’t realize it looked so obvious. I…We were supposed to go on a date, Mr. Presley. We were supposed to go on a date and he was supposed to take me dancing because we haven’t in over a year and I miss it. But—there was a business meeting that ran late and by the time he got home I was too tired and the dance hall was—”

“Closed,” he finishes off for her, knowing full well what time every dance hall in the general area of Memphis closed. He knew full well that the only one that might have stayed open past a normal time was the army one and Nathan, unlike him, was not an army man. No, he was merely a boy–a boy playing at doing business and taking care of his wife financially but not emotionally. There it was again, that deep unceasing urge to fix it, that urge to fix this even if it’s not his place to try to fix anything beyond her appliances and her wiring. His fingers twitch against the side of his leg as he feels them both loosen, one even bouncing just slightly. It’s as if his body is trying to rev up while his mind reminds him with a traitorous whisper he still has every bit of equipment needed to help—to fix this, even if it's all more than a bit rusty. He can shake off that rust just fine, if it was for her.

“I… Lil Darlin. If—I know how to dance. Know I don’t look it, with this paunch,” he gives his stomach a light slap that has it jiggling just a bit and has Lilly’s eyes widening and a flush of desire coursing through her veins, wondering how that would feel under her hands, not that he notices. “But I used to do a lot of swing dancin’, if—I could dance wit’ ya if ya want me to. Ya can say no, but the offer’s there.”

For a moment, Lilly just stares at Elvis as if he’s grown an extra head. Surely he’s saying this in jest, he doesn’t mean what he’s asking, he isn’t offering to treat her better than her husband did. He isn’t offering to dance with her in the kitchen or the living room. That’s–that’s such a silly notion that despite how their relationship, their friendship has grown he can’t be caring for her more than her husband does. The laugh that escapes her sounds harsh even to her own ears as she winces at the sound, her eyes meeting his as if there's a million and one apologies on her tongue. His eyes make every apology that tries to form disappear in every breath she takes. He's not angry, doesn't think she's mocking him with her laughter. As always he realizes she just thinks he’s joking or that there is no way he actually wishes to do what he’s mentioned because after all, if her own husband doesn’t want to dance with her why would a stranger or a friend of sorts want to? That’s not something you do for a woman when you aren’t married to her. Swing dancing in her living room, that has to be a joke.

Her voice is quiet, though, once she stops laughing and notices how Elvis still looks like he might be expecting an answer, as if she hadn’t practically mocked the mere idea of them swing dancing in her living room. Maybe—oh, maybe he was being genuine. Oh, he was far too good to her, indulging her silly wants and desires as if they were married instead of just merely friends. "You're… you don't have to." There. There, she had given him a chance to take back what he offered and made it so they could move on from this—move on from what such an offer meant to her and how she could feel her throat tightening and her heart in her chest twisting.

Elvis takes a moment to just take her in, take in the way her body seems to wilt at the mere idea of him not dancing with her and the idea of him taking her up on her offer of taking back what he agreed to. The breath that leaves him is overtaken by a laugh, though he tries to stifle it. He holds out his hand and moves to the living room. "Lil Darlin', wouldn't've offered if I didn't. Gonna have to forgive me if 'm rusty. Haven't done it in a while."

"Neither have I."

He's sure he feels a muscle in his jaw tense at those words before he shakes his head to clear it. Soon enough her husband would realize how much he's let his wife wilt from lack of attention, from lack of water to nourish her body and soul. For now though, for now he’s here to help her, to make her smile and be happy in a way she deserves to be. Her hand is soft enough that he almost feels wrong touching it with his callus-filled ones. It feels wrong to have such soft skin against his own but at the same time, it settles something deep within him to feel her hand in his and to feel her pressed against his body. He takes a moment to put on a record, praying it actually is something they can dance to only to realize it’s “Sing Sing Sing”, a song he’s danced to more times than he cares to count. Laughter erupts from in a fit of pure joy as he sees Lilly’s face light up when they start to dance.

There should be a bit of awkwardness that only comes from when you first try to dance with a new partner, and yet they fall into a rhythm so natural his mind swirls with the possibility of dancing with her like this the rest of his life. Her feet move in step with his, easily avoiding his own, before he grabs her to pick her up, a move he hasn’t done in almost a decade but he does with an ease that shocks him as she giggles, the sound adding to the music as if it’s another horn. He’s getting dizzy with the sheer joy of hearing it. It feels so natural to swing and toss and lift her up as she smiles brighter than anything he’s ever seen. It looks like the sunrise in France when there was those brief moments of peace. All he can think is how that smile needs to be there every second of the day, that’s a smile that deserves to be seen, deserves to be shown off to everyone and yet—and yet he hopes not even her husband has seen this smile. Perhaps this is just for him and his swing dancing with her. Maybe no one else has seen this smile, because he swears even when he was younger he didn’t move nearly like this, didn’t smile so hard his cheeks are burning from the use.

Elvis is so wrapped up in his thoughts that he misses her foot positioned a certain way when he moves to pick her up for another lift and stumbles. A short curse leaves his lips as he moves to fall on one knee with Lilly falling onto his other knee. He hisses at the pain, knowing he’ll regret this move later, but he couldn’t have her falling to the ground, couldn’t have her risk being injured because he couldn’t catch her—because he lost his footing like a klutz. Except Lilly is still laughing, she’s still laughing and still putting off every bit of joy in the world in his lap. His eyes run down her body, seeing how she’s breathless, her chest heaving and pushing the buttons of her dress. He shouldn’t look and yet he sees, he sees how her chest is heaving in delight. As if to help himself—to keep himself from staring even longer his eyes dart down to her legs, down to her thighs where, oh Lord, her dress has risen up just a hair. Just enough to reveal more of her thigh, to reveal a hint of a stocking that has his mouth drying up the longer he stares. Her legs haven’t seemed to catch up with her brain and the rest of her body, thinking they’re still on the ground and needing to kick up and down almost like a child. There’s a playful exuberance in the action as she appears to not have a care in the world despite how the action has her dressing riding up that little bit more as she continues to giggle and kick at the air in his lap. The skin and the stockings threaten to overwhelm him as he feels the stirring in between his legs a moment too late as he sees Lilly’s eyes widen.

“Oh.” A singular word yet one that packs such a punch as he realizes what it means. What it means for her to utter it to him like that when she’s in his lap as his cock rises to attention like he’s back fresh from the army, wanting to dance with a new girl every night and yet here is one singular woman reacting in such a calm and startled way that he has to stop himself from tossing her off of him in a huff. Still, he lightly pushes at her in an effort to keep her from feeling just how aroused he is only to have her hand reach out and touch his face. Against his will, he nuzzles into her palm before remembering that he needs to make sure she’s not… she needs to be away from his lap. The—his cock—Lil Elvis was not needed here, she was married and he was not that young soldier returning from war any more, no he was merely this fat old man who let himself go and found himself lusting after a fellow church goer’s wife. His young wife.

He misses her words before she repeats them, allowing them to cut through the haze he feels from having her looking up at him happy in his lap. “Your knee! I’m so sorry, Mr. Presley.” Her words are said in a rush as she scrambles to get up, her hand accidentally brushing across his cock before she finally stands up and holds out her hand. “Let me help you up, are you alright—?”

“‘M fine.” Elvis grunts out, as he pulls himself up using Lilly’s hand and his own strength. He hears his knee crack, wincing as it does. “Jus’... Lil–Lil darlin, I gotta, I need to go.”

Needs to get out of her house, needs to not be in front of a woman who has his cock standing at such intense attention that he knows if she looks down she’ll be shocked and horrified at him. He’s committing such an egregious sin even thinking of her this way, even viewing her in the light of a romantic partner, a sexual partner. Viewing her as his—no, he needs to find his way to his truck and to his house to be free of this temptation that he worries he’s about to succumb to. His eyes notice how her face falls but she doesn’t try to stop him, instead frowning and stepping away, smoothing out the bottom of her dress. As if he’s running away—fleeing her presence like all the other men in her life. He moves quicker than he has any right to, right on past her, forgetting about niceties and being a gentleman and wanting to make her happy, shutting the door behind him.

It only takes Lilly a few minutes to realize that she forgot to ask him something about Sunday school and his plans for this week. The question isn’t perhaps important but to her it is. And Mr. Presley has never once made her feel unimportant, so it is without hesitation that she trots outside to where she sees him still in his truck in her driveway muttering angrily to himself while looking down. Her mama had always told her it was rude to eavesdrop and yet here she was doing exactly that as she walked up to the truck, not immediately announcing her presence. She hears curses and mentions of his cock and “she’s a nice young woman, why are ya standin’ at attention like she ain’t married, boy. Like ya ain’t attached to an old man she’s jus’ spendin’ time with to be nice.”

Lilly wants to correct him, wants to tell him that she values his company because it’s better than anything she’s received in so long and yet she doesn’t, instead choosing to come up to his side of the truck and lean against the window before moving just enough that she’s leaning her head inside the truck as well. What she sees—she could not have prepared herself for what she sees.

Feeling his interest in her is one thing that can be explained through the two of them dancing in a way that had her moving against him. It’s a natural response. Feeling it when she collapsed onto his knee, breathless and laughing with enough joy that she wishes she could chase till the ends of the Earth is one thing. Coming out to his truck because she forgot to ask him about his plans for Sunday school this week and seeing that same interest still there was another thing entirely. Lilly tries to keep her eyes focused on his face, tries to not allow her natural position of leaning into the car to make it easier for her to look down between his legs but her eyes drift there against her will. Her eyes drift and the olive of the suit doesn’t allow him to hide what’s going on. Instead it broadcasts exactly what he feels between his legs.

There is a spot slowly growing in size on his jumpsuit. There is a spot where she felt his arousal. There is a wet spot on his jumpsuit for her. No, because of her. Mr. Presley is aroused by her, he’s aroused so much that it’s seeping through his clothing. Even when she was younger and fooling around with Nathan she hadn’t seen someone react to her as strongly as Mr. Presely is right now. The concept of breathing is foreign as she keeps looking down at it and she swears she sees the fabric twitch under her gaze. Somehow that twitch and the accompanying noise—the whimper, maybe—from him is almost like a harsh smack to her back to force the air to leave and enter her lungs.

“Lil—Mrs. Harris.” Elvis’s words are choked out and he thanks God that his stutter didn’t reappear in that moment, the shame of everything making his skin feel flush and warm even as his cock twitches under her gaze, aching and wanting to play with its new friend, its friend it yearns for same as his heart and mind. Damn the societal norms and what’s proper for a good Christian man, he wants, he wants, he needs her to stop looking at it. “I’m—my face is up here.” His hand tightens against his thigh after he says that, almost as if he wants to wince. “What do ya need?”

Her eyes finally wrench themselves from the spot even as his cock twitches yet again, a wave of goodbye to her eyes—to her. What had she needed to tell him? What–What did she need from him other than—? No, it was church. God. It was about Sunday School. A shaky exhale leaves her mouth before she speaks. “I-I just wanted to make sure you–you might want my help again this week with the children? I know that since everyone—all the children seem to have gotten over the tummy trouble that we’ll—you’ll have your hands full and I—”

The more she speaks the more her mind cycles back to what she’s seen, the more her breaths come by shorter and quicker, her chest heaving right near Elvis’s eye level and that… her dress has just enough of a sliver of skin showing he can see them heave with only her brassiere on, it’s threatening to drive him mad, threatening to cause him to reach out the hand he’s fisting into his jumpsuit to touch the skin. To touch her skin and feel if it’s as soft as it is on her arms and her thigh and—

“Yes!” His answer is barked out, sounding more like an order than him merely answering a simple question in the affirmative. Forcing it out is the only thing he can do to calm his mind, to calm his cock, to get Lilly, Mrs. Harris to lean back out of his truck and to remove the temptation of her, her, her from his view. “You—please, I’d love your help, told ya before—the babies love ya.” He coughs, clearing his throat, as he remembers how she looks with a child in her lap, singing lullabies and cooing. It does nothing to help him calm his body, to help him calm his mind. “Is—Was that all ya needed?”

Lilly jumps a little at his bark, her breasts bouncing as she bonks her head against the top of the truck with a soft ouch leaving her mouth. Her hand moves to rub at her head as she pulls back a little, trying to keep her eyes looking firmly at his face versus where it had been. She hears him curse and feels his warm hand touching her head where she had hit it, gingerly investigating if she hurt herself in a major way. A hum and a feather soft touch that she wishes were his lips are what tells her she’s fine, there’s no damage done to her head. She should pull away, should finally stop leaning into his truck, should stop acting as if she’s a wife trying to have the last bit of attention from her husband before he leaves for work but she can’t help it. She can’t help how she wants to stay where she is, just because of how heady it feels to see his attraction—his desire for her. When was the last time she had seen Nathan like this? Lilly couldn’t remember. Couldn’t… the realization sucks the air out of the truck and Lilly feels every bit of heat and humidity in the cabin and around her skin. Her mouth opens and closes before she smiles softly at Mr. Presley. “Yes, that—yes. I just—I had forgotten to ask before so that was all I needed, Mr. Presley.” Her eyes glance back down at his lap to see how his hand is still clenching the fabric of his jumpsuit and how his cock once again twitches at her attention. She feels her skin flush and she shivers slightly when she finally starts to move back.

Elvis looks at her as she leans back, watches her start to stand up straight by his truck and tries to not focus on her chest, tries to not focus how her breath seems shaky as she does this. His mind cannot think about what this means, cannot think about why she’s reacting in this way. She is not—he is not. They are not one. They are Elvis and Lilly. He’s so busy trying to make sure she’s out of his truck that he doesn’t realize she’s leaning back in until he feels the brush of her lips against his cheek. His head turns as if he wants to catch those lips only to realize she’s already left, only to realize she’s back to standing straight, acting as if she didn’t just kiss his cheek and looking so happy he can’t help but be reminded of an actual lily in full bloom.

“I should–I should get goin’. Mr. Harris should be here soon. Wouldn’t want to cause you any trouble.” He looks down at his lap as he turns on the truck and sighs. He needs–he needs to get home, to wash away how dirty he feels in this moment.

“You–you wouldn’t. But, yes, Nathan should be home soon. Thank you for, um, thank you dancing with me, Mr. Presley. I-It was—I haven’t had a good time like that in a bit.” Her upper teeth worry at her lower lip. “Perhaps… Maybe we can do that again some time. The next time I have to call you out.”

“May—you just have to ask, Lil darlin’.” His answer is airy, shocking him in how it sounds almost as if he’s in a tunnel or floating on air at the idea. The truck is finally ready to allow him to back out and he finally lets go of his jumpsuit to wave at her with a tight smile. “Good night, Mrs. Harris.”

Elvis tries to not focus on how she looks in her driveway waving at him as if all her neighbors aren’t peering through the curtains wondering what’s happening next door. He tries to not focus on how she looks so natural waving to him with her arm cupping her waist almost as if she aches for… no, she–she wouldn’t. The heat and the events of the afternoon were causing him to think these dumb thoughts, these dumb desires. A shower would solve his problems once he got home.

His mind wanders in the shower, a consequence of it being one that's meant to relax rather than to just cleanse him of the day's adventures. His mind wanders and rather than settling on the horrors of his memories that he can never get rid of, it settles on her. It settles on the comforting smell of her perfume and how she smells of a soap he swears his mama used to use. It settles on the light he sees in her eyes sometimes that burns brighter than any light bulb or sun or explosion he's ever seen. It settles on the comforting weight of her body against his when he danced with her, lifting her in the air like he was a decade younger and half a person smaller, he thinks. It settles on the weight of her body on his knee, an action that hurt and had him nearly stumbling and falling on top of her, but had him catching himself before he did. It settles on her face, so full of joy and life that it thawed something inside of him. It settles her face with a smile so big he smiles at the memory. It settles on the laugh and the feeling of her kicking her legs while on his knee. It remembers the glimpse of her thigh and—he looks down to see his cock at attention once again, precum already dripping out like he's turned on a faucet and he groans, his fist slamming against the wall as he tries to stop his other hand from wrapping around his cock. He fails miserably and shudders, his eyes shutting and mumbling her name, his mind picturing her sweet hand around it before she puts it in her mouth. His cheek burns when he comes.

Elvis tries to avoid thinking of what happened for the next week. He tries to avoid thinking of how his body can’t forget how it felt to have her notice his arousal, to have her touch his arousal however accidental the action was. He tries to avoid thinking of everything and yet he can’t. It mocks him to the point of near insanity. The guilt of wanting—the guilt of needing—the guilt of wishing has him visiting his mother’s grave one early morning after another restless night of sleep. His joints groan and ache as he sits down next to it.

“I met someone, Mama. I wish she wasn't married. You'd–you'd've loved her. Dances so well, perfect lil housewife. She'd–she'd take care of me like ya did. Take care of ya lil boobie right." Elvis huffs out a laugh. "God hasn't given… Hasn't blessed her wit' a baby and—she'd—it's a cryin' shame. I'd take care of her child any Sunday. Any day."

His mind drifts as he tells her more about Lilly, drifts to a world where it’s their children he takes care of and his stomach flips from the mere idea. Thou shall not covet thy neighbor's wife and thou shall not commit adultery and yet he feels like he’s edging closer and closer to doing it. Feels as if something is going to break inside of him or between them soon. The prayers he sends to God every night are starting to include pleas to give him strength to resist his urges, to allow himself to remain on the correct path and to not allow himself to fall prey to his base desires. To fall prey to sin of the highest order, to wreck a marriage no matter how much pain and destruction it contains, no matter how the pain threatens to burst at the seams.

“Don’t know why… Don’t understand why God is testing me like this. Lilly—Mrs. Harris—Miss Lilly deserves to be happy. Deserves to make a life with her husband and here the Lord wants to test me by putting–by putting her in front of me like this. By… I don’t know if I’m strong enough to resist. I—I wish she had met me before the war. ‘Fore all this.”

Elvis feels a gust of wind in an otherwise calm breeze that settles him down as he tries to work himself up. It settles him down and reminds him of his mother’s listening to him and protecting him even in death. Knowing her, she might be trying to have a talk with the Lord Himself right in this very moment.

“Thank you, Mama,” he whispers as he moves to stand up, running his hand across the top of the headstone. “I’ll see ya tomorrow.”

Something is different about today, another day Nathan where once again told her to send for the man who tempts her, unable or unwilling to mend his own house. It no longer feels like Nathan’s house, and that should be worrisome to her. Instead, something is different in the air between them and Lilly wonders if Elvis can feel it, if he can't feel how her heart is beating out of her chest when their fingers brush against each other as they swap ingredients. If he can't feel how her breath catches every time she looks up at him and sees him staring at her, watching her stir something or sprinkle a bit of salt onto the food. She wonders if he can hear her thoughts, hear what nasty things her brain thinks watching him be so domestic with her. She wonders what it would be like to be his wife instead of Nathan's.

Her hands are dirty, covered in raw juice from the chicken and she knows she needs to wash them before cutting up the collards and the snap peas and—Lord she knows she's making far too much food but perhaps Elvis can take some home and remember today. Remember the care the two of them put into the meal. Her mother had always taught her to put the same amount of love in food as you would put into the person you make it for. Perhaps it should worry her that her heart feels fit to burst with her love for this food. It doesn't take too long for her to wash up and grab the towel and yet it's enough time for Elvis to reach a dish above her in the cabinet by her head. It's enough time to have him press up against her, his stomach a warm and solid yet soft presence behind her. It's enough time for her body to freeze in place, before she feels herself sway back a little and feels her breath leave her mouth all at once. It's enough time that Elvis notices these things, sees his reflection against the glass of the window above the sink and sees Lily's against his. He sees—he sees her eyes shut and her head bow as he feels her body shudder.

A dam—the dam holding back any shred of self control Elvis had breaks in that moment. It breaks the second he feels her body shudder against him, the second he sees her melt into his embrace like she belongs there. A groan leaves his lips unbidden and Lilly, sweet Lilly, whimpers at the sound, her eyes opening and seeing the erotic vision of the two of them still clothed against each other. Her body rocks back even as his arm snakes around her trying to hold her in place, trying to keep her from moving against him and yet it barely works, her body seeks him out, wishes for more than what he’s giving her and he–he can’t oblige. She doesn’t know what she wants. His lips brush against the shell of her ear, his breath a hot dagger against her skin. “You want this?”

A simple question. The most simple question with the most simple answer. A yes or a no determines Elvis’s actions in this moment. A no will have him backing away and apologizing profusely, a yes will have him granting her what she needs, what she wants. It will have him giving into the temptation he should resist but cannot any more. The temptation that the Lord must be putting him through for a reason, some higher plan he doesn’t understand quite yet.

“Elvis, please,” Lilly’s voice is a whisper but Elvis hears his name finally fall from her lips and hears how desperate her please is and before he realizes it his hand moves to unzip his jumpsuit to reach down at the bottom, to try free his cock as Lilly starts to whine, wishing for more. Wishing for his touch.

As her chest heaves with quick breaths that Elvis tries to steady, a hand snakes up her body until it reaches her chest, covering so much of it that it ignites something primal within him. He’s always known he’s a large man and yet the way he sees her breasts rise and fall with his hand covering one is to know another thing entirely. He almost moves it away before Lilly stops him, her own hand covering his. There’s a tug of his hand forcing it into the gap between her dress and the skin of her neck and collarbone and Elvis can’t help but oblige her desire even as the heat from her body threatens to set the whole of his hand on fire.

“I gotcha, Lil darlin'. Elvis's gotcha." His words are practically inaudible, they're said so low and deep from within his chest, but Lilly seems to get the message as her breaths start to slow, beginning to match pace with Elvis’s. He’s got her and she can relax. He’s got her and he’s going to take care of the ache inside of her. The ache she’s felt every day she’s seen him since he fixed her oven. Lilly’s brain swears it hears something about him needing to pull down his jumpsuit fully, something about the damn buttons and zippers and she feels her mouth moving to offer to help before she feels the heat of what has to be his bare chest against her dress.

In another time and in another place he would have her help him, have her lift up her dress and help him with her undergarments but the way she sways and moves against him has him realizing he can’t trust her to do such a thing, he can’t trust her to be able to help him the way he needs her to. It’s not a problem and a selfish part of him thanks the Lord for it, thanks the Lord that she won’t turn around and that she won’t have her hand brush up against his unclothed cock. His foreskin won’t scare her off. He won’t scare her off with the intensity of his arousal and of how his cock is already dripping his precum onto her kitchen floor. It takes some maneuvering and he leans against her, pushing her against the sink, his body practically covering her as he lifts up her skirt and manages to pull her underwear down. Her vagina—her pussy—her flower is glistening just from the touches he’s given her. Nathan truly had been forsaking the wife he promised to love and cherish in the house of God if this is all it took to see this level of pleasure from Lilly. His fingers move to touch, to just feel the slick of her arousal. The cry she lets out nearly has him jumping away and yet he knows he can’t, knows after hearing that noise from her mouth he needs to hear it again. He wants to wrench it from her over and over until she’s hoarse.

Elvis takes his time sinking into the wet heat between her legs, he’s seen the pictures of Nathan and seen the man in person once before. There is no conceivable way she is used to someone of his size inside of her and he'd be damned before he ever injured her in any way. Let alone when he’s—no, he won’t think of that, won’t think of anything other than treating her as she deserves to be treated by a man. By her own husband but he’ll do—he can do what her husband won’t. His eyes can’t help but watch even as his mind tells him not to. His eyes can’t help but watch how her hole stretches around him, trying to take him in bit by bit. The memory sears itself into his brain and he knows in that moment he won’t likely be able to forget this, won’t be able to walk away from this unscathed.

Her body feels full, between her legs feels full, she feels so full even as she knows there has to be more. He’s as long as her husband but Nathan’s never filled her like this. It’s almost as if she can’t breathe, the shock to her system too great. She wants to tell Elvis this, wants to tell him this is too much, she doesn’t know if she can handle this and all that comes out of her mouth is noises she’s never heard. Whimpers and whines as he pushes in slowly but surely, his grip on her never faltering, the reassurances never stopping. He’s got her. He’ll have her through all of this. He’s got her even as he bottoms out inside her, a growl of pleasure coming from deep within his chest. The hair on his stomach is against her backside, rubbing against her bare skin in a way that shouldn’t serve to heighten her pleasure and yet it’s all her mind can focus on- it’s the only thing that is bringing her back to the earth, back to the present moment. His thrusts are gentle… almost slow and inviting in the way he pulls out, the stretch of his cock erring just enough on the side of comfortable despite how she feels almost as if it’s catching on something inside of her but that can’t be true, Nathan’s never had that problem, why would Elvis be having it despite how he possesses more girth.

Elvis wishes this was different, wishes he could have her against the sink with her facing him but that’s—this isn’t about what he wants and desires. This is about Lilly, isn’t it? This is about making sure she knows how someone in this world wants to treat her with the love and care he’s trying to treat her with. This is about making sure the pleasure she feels is almost too much, that it threatens to overwhelm her. This is about her and making sure she is happy and taken care of by him. His head had moved down, kissing at her neck, one hand trying to fondle her breasts while the other hand was resting firmly against her lower stomach, practically cradling where her uterus is—not that he realizes. He knows his body isn’t equipped to last too much longer, his age and everything slowing him down just that little bit and yet the slap of his stomach, the slap of his skin against Lilly’s has his thrusts getting stronger as she tries to thrust back, needy in ways that—from the sound of her sighs—she’s not used to.

“More.” A sob she tries to choke back. “Please.”

The only thing he has to give her is his come, that’s all he has left from his thrusting, he can’t go any deeper, can’t stretch that little pink hole any more than it already is. He can’t give her anything else that isn’t already there as he hears the squelch between the two of them. Hears how his cock is welcomed by her body, how she’s wet and it’s only been made worse by his precum and he–he has to look up. He has to see the picture they make in the window if only for his own sanity, if only to perhaps settle his roaring mind.

A second too late he realizes he shouldn’t have looked. A second too late he realizes that seeing the line of her throat as she leaned her head back against his shoulder in pleasure is too much. A second too late he feels his hips stutter as he feels himself coming, feels his come fill the spaces his cock isn’t filling inside of her, adding even more liquid between them and making the noises louder. Her mouth is open as she pants and as he’s looking in the window, watching as the rays from the sunset illuminate the pair of them in an almost heavenly glow, Lilly looks up and catches his eyes.

Her eyes tighten just a bit as she realizes what’s happened, as she realizes he’s had his release. His hips aren’t moving as he pants behind her, trying to recuperate and trying to catch his breath. Her eyes tighten and her shoulders start to follow suit. This—this is something she knew, this is an outcome she knows. This is where Elvis pulls out of her and leaves her aching and wanting. This is where Elvis and Nathan are the exact same two men when it comes to her desires and needs. She can’t look, can’t watch as he pulls out of her and leaves her to be slumped over the kitchen sink. Minutes pass and yet he’s still inside of her, he’s still inside of her and she can feel half thrusts against her backside, his release and her arousal and whatever else squishing and squelching as he moves. Some trickles down her leg as she shivers in anticipation at what’s happening. There isn’t a reference point, she has nothing to compare this to and yet it feels so right. This feels how it’s supposed to be.

Elvis can feel she hasn’t come, he knows—he may not know her body inside and out but he knows how women tick, he knows if he were to pull out of her he’d be no better than—he wouldn’t have done what he set out to do against this sink. It’s as if his body and his cock know this, too, and through a grace or an act of God he can feel himself firming back up the more he thrusts into her, the obscene noises between her legs spurring him on. Her gasp sounds like a plea and a hymn all in one. She hadn’t been prepared for this, he can tell in how her movements are scrambled as she starts to rock with him. Could it be that she was chasing after her release? Could it be that she just needed that extra push? He’s already in so deep and his thrusts are going deeper and deeper but the angle, the angle is all wrong.

“Elv—” Lilly starts before he shushes her softly, his hand moving to between her legs as she keens softly. He doesn’t go where she feels he needs to, where she can feel her body throbbing and she needs him to understand that he’s missing it—he’s missing where she needs him to be but that’s when she hears it.

He’s cooing, crooning, he’s talking so gently to her, praising her as she tries to stand on her toes, trying to change the angle. If only she was higher up. If only she could allow him even deeper, deep enough for him to be where she feels she needs him to be. A whine leaves her lips as his hand still doesn’t move to help and settles on her thigh, grabbing it and squeezing it as he lifts it up onto the counter gently as he can.

“Let Elvis take care of ya darlin'. You're feelin' something, ain't ya? Somethin' right there, right? You just need help with it, don't ya?” His words have the fire growing inside of her, have her whimpering and nodding because yes, yes, she feels something, she feels that there’s something there. What that is she doesn’t know, only knows that he’s giving it to her, he’s coaxing it from her as she feels him so deep inside she wonders how he fits.

Her hand moves down to between her legs, wanting to touch him, it, herself only to have his hand that had still been fondling her breasts, playing with her nipples to swat it away with a small tsk, “no, no, Lilly, let Elvis—let me take care of you the way you need. Do—can I touch you there? Help you rub yourself there?”

A groan, high pitched and almost anguished leaves her mouth as his fingers finally move between her legs, finally reach the part between her legs that throbs in time with her heart. The sob that escapes her mouth comes from deep within her, a release before he’s even properly touched her. He’s got her. Elvis has got her. He’ll take care of her.

Elvis is taking care of her as his fingers, calluses and all, brush against her clit, slowly but with such intent that Lilly finds herself arching against Elvis, the strength of his body behind her making arching forward impossible. Her pussy clenches around Elvis’s cock, fluttering while still trying to milk him for all he’s worth. It’s hard to tell who’s making which noise as he thrusts into her, chasing his second release inside of her, never thinking of the lack of protection between them. His groans and her moans and their breaths are a symphony of sounds echoing through the kitchen, his glasses askew on his nose as he watches Lilly lean forward whining, almost as if she’s passing out. His own body follows hers, leaning against her, the sweat between them fusing them together as much as their come is.

Their breath is the only sound in the room.

#elvis presley #big daddy elvis #spark universe #elvis presley x oc #big daddy and lil darlin'#elvis x lilly #elvis presley fanfiction #elvis presley fanfic #elvis fanfiction #elvis fanfic #elvis x reader #crawfever adjacent #elvis

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intheticklecloset · 10 months

Text

Redeemed (Junjou Romantica)

Summary: After a fight, Usagi is overly apologetic and Misaki is beginning to feel guilty. But then Usagi gives him a coupon book for personal favors, and he gets an idea...

A/N: This is a fic I wrote for the one and only @otomiya-tickles several months ago. It was originally going to be part of the 12 Days of Ficmas last year, but when that didn't happen I decided to write it just as a special gift. I've finally decided to share it with the rest of you as well. (This was also the first fic I wrote after...certain events.) Hope you enjoy. <3

Word Count: 2,642

~~~

This coupon book was ridiculous, but it had been given to him with good intentions and a sincere apology behind it, so Misaki sighed resignedly and flipped open to the first ticket, beginning to read.

One free massage. One day without interruption. Wow, really? One fancy dinner of choice. One shopping trip. One…

The list went on and on, each page more intriguing and confusing than the last. Misaki felt his heart warming. He appreciated that Usagi seemed genuinely remorseful for what he’d done the other night – forcing himself on him so much the younger boy cried for an hour straight, feeling violated and unsafe in their shared home – but this almost felt…too much.

Then he flipped to the last five pages of the small coupon book, wrinkling his brow when he saw that they were blank. It took him a few moments to notice the small text at the bottom of the page:

Write-in. Whatever you want, I’ll do it for you, Misaki. I love you.

Misaki’s heart officially melted.

It was almost too bad that Usagi was out of the apartment right now. He felt as though he could go to the man this instant, wrap him in a hug, whisper that he’d been forgiven. Really, he’d been forgiven before the coupon book was even handed to him – his partner’s profuse apologies upon seeing his tears had been enough, even if they hadn’t felt enough in the moment. But now he felt their roles had been reversed, that he needed to go and comfort his boyfriend this time.

Well, he could cook them a nice dinner and they could have that conversation later. For now, Misaki put the coupon book back in his pocket and flopped sideways on the couch, curling up comfortably, mind swimming with possibilities.

Of course he would use the write-in space – it was too good to pass up. But what could he ask for that hadn’t already been offered to him in a different coupon? He could always ask for another full day of no interruptions if he wanted. That was truly beneficial to him on several levels and appealed to him the most out of everything he saw. An opportunity to get his work done without being snatched away for a spontaneous makeout session or tickling? That would be amazing.

Wait.

Misaki’s eyes flew wide open. No. No way. I get enough of that already – I can’t ask him to—

But he was already searching for a pen, heart hammering in his chest.

After all the apologies and all the thoughtful coupons, truly, this was the least he could do to meet Usagi halfway. Pen now in hand, he clicked it open and shakily began to write in his first request.

The door to their apartment clicked open. Misaki glanced up from where he was making dinner at the stove and smiled shyly. “Welcome back.”

Usagi hung up his coat and removed his gloves, maintaining uncertain eye contact with him the entire time. “Thank you.”

Things hadn’t felt this awkward between them in a long time, and Misaki was determined not to let it last. “Did you have a good day?”

“I did.” The older man approached the kitchen cautiously, like he was afraid of spooking his partner. “Did you?”

Misaki smiled genuinely then, remembering the coupons, thinking of the one in his pocket he intended to hand his boyfriend after dinner. “Yes.”

Usagi nodded. “Good.”

There was a beat of silence, then the younger man couldn’t help but chuckle a little. “Aren’t you going to kiss me hello?”

Usagi blinked, then seemed to relax, sauntering around the counter to meet him and pull him gently into his arms, kissing his lips tenderly, with none of the harsh determination he usually exhibited. “Hello, my love.”

“Mmn.” Misaki groaned, pulling away when he heard the contents of his pot about to boil over. “All right, that’s enough. Go sit down; I’ll bring you a plate.”

The older man opened his mouth – probably to protest that he could do it himself – then seemed to think better of it and did as he was told for a change. Misaki smiled to himself, turning off the burner and stirring up the last of their dinner before reaching for two plates out of the cupboards overhead. Usagi was kind of cute when he was being docile, though he knew that once that coupon was out of his pocket and in his boyfriend’s hands, that would end quickly.

Dinner was uneventful, if a bit strained on Usagi’s part. Clearly he was still feeling badly for how he’d behaved before; his conversations were empty of their usual teasing cadence and flirting comments. He was polite, interested, and tame.

Misaki couldn’t wait to get him back on track.

When they’d finished eating, Misaki glanced at the clock. Half an hour, he decided. That’s what they say for swimming, right? I’ll wait half an hour and then give him the coupon.

In the meantime they migrated to the living room after putting the leftovers away for tomorrow. Usagi seemed relieved when his boyfriend sat beside him on the sofa, cuddling into his side like he did when he wanted comfort or affection.

“How did you like your coupons?” Usagi asked him after a while, voice soft.

Misaki tensed at first – thinking of the one in his pocket – then remembered that wasn’t one of those that Usagi offered and relaxed again, humming contentedly. “They were really thoughtful. I appreciate it, Usagi-san.”

“Any that caught your eye?”

“One day without interruption?” Misaki said, voice teasing. “Can you really do that?”

“For you, I can do anything.”

At this, the younger boy lifted his head and looked at his boyfriend, surprised to see how serious Usagi was about this. He felt himself melt again, though this time it came with a pang of guilt. He was definitely feeling too badly about what had happened for too long. He glanced at the clock. Forget the half hour – he had to do this now.

Misaki shifted, throwing a leg over Usagi’s lap. The older man looked surprised in the split second it took the brunette to lean down and kiss him. After a long moment strong hands wrapped around him, pulling him closer, holding him almost reverently.

“I’m sorry, Misaki,” he murmured for what felt like the hundredth time since that night a few days ago. “I know I can be pushy, but I never meant to hurt you—”

“I forgive you, Usagi-san,” Misaki whispered into another kiss, reaching into his back pocket. “In fact, I’d…I’d like to redeem one of those coupons now, if I can.”

Usagi pulled back, eyes darting to the paper in his boyfriend’s hands. “Of course. Whatever you want, my love. My Misaki.”

Misaki whimpered at the endearment, blushing as he held out the coupon. Usagi took it and angled it until he could read it.

“Oh, one of the write-ins?” he mused, then fully took in what the words said and what they meant. He blinked. He glanced at his partner. “Oh?”

“Don’t ‘oh’ me!” Misaki protested, shoving at his chest lightly, feeling heat rising in his cheeks.

“Are you trying to tell me something?”

“N-No! I mean…” The brunette hesitated, certain he wouldn’t even be allowed an explanation before he was attacked, but surprisingly, Usagi was sitting there patiently, watching him, waiting for him to speak. Misaki whimpered again, averting his eyes. “I don’t…don’t entirely hate it, you know? Just…maybe we can have a safe word this time?”

Usagi’s curious look gradually shifted into a sly grin that made Misaki’s heart race. He tossed the coupon aside and pulled him in closer, earning a squeak in response. “What word would that be, my little tickle toy?”

That did it. Misaki covered his face with both hands and flopped into Usagi’s chest, groaning. “Don’t call me that! It’s embarrassing!”

“Answer me, Misaki.”

He whined. “I-I don’t know…why not the same one we use in the bedroom?”

“Because I want a different one for this.”

Of course he did! “Fine! You pick one, then.”

At this, Usagi gripped his waist tightly and got to his feet, hoisting him over his shoulder and beginning to trek upstairs. “You’re the one who will be laughing himself silly. You decide.”

Misaki’s eyes widened. He knew – he knew they’d be doing this now, but still! He gripped Usagi’s sweater and yelped, “W-Wait!”

“You wrote it,” the older man said matter-of-factly, swinging their bedroom door shut behind them, plunging them into darkness without bothering to turn on the light. “You wanted this.” He tossed Misaki onto the bed, making the smaller boy squeal and start giggling already even though he hadn’t been touched yet. Usagi loomed over him, and the brunette could tell he was smirking even though he couldn’t see him perfectly. “Choose a safe word, Misaki.”

“P-Purple,” Misaki stammered, not at all sure why that was the only word that came to mind in the heat of this moment. He shrank back on the bed, arms glued to his sides preemptively.

Usagi chuckled. “Purple it is.”

“Eeek!” Misaki cried when his boyfriend pried his legs open to sit between them, leaving his thighs vulnerable to the first tickles, which came swiftly once their word had been established. “Ehehehehehe wahahahahahait! Wait, I d-dihihihihidn’t have tihihihime to gehehehehet reheheheheady!”

“Did you need time?” Usagi teased, amused by his partner’s weak attempts to swat at his hands. “Would it really have helped you?”

“Shuhuhuhuhuhut up!”

“So, tell me, my love. What inspired you to use one of your write-in coupons for this?”

Misaki desperately wanted to cover his face despite it already being dark in here. “I tohohohold you alreheheheheady!”

“Explain it to me again.”

“Jeheheheheherk!” Misaki whined, bucking his hips with a near scream when Usagi moved up to pinch his hipbones in warning. “Okahahahahay, okay! I l-lihihihihike it, kihihihihind of! A lihihihihittle bit!”

Usagi hummed. “Like it how?”

It took a moment for the younger man to process what the question meant in his ticklish haze, though thankfully his partner had moved up to his sides instead of his death spot. “Nohohohohot like thahahahat, you pehehehervert! Just for fuhuhuhuhuhun!”

“All right,” Usagi chuckled, shoving his hands under Misaki’s clothes to get to the bare skin beneath. “But don’t think that means I won’t try this in the bedroom, too. Just to experiment.”

Misaki couldn’t even bring himself to protest or fight back; he was too lost to his giggles already. It had only been a few days, but he didn’t realize until now how much he’d desperately missed Usagi being on top of him, making him squirm and let out involuntary noises that embarrassed him beyond belief.

And really, after how tense and awkward things had been between them since that night, seeing the outline of his boyfriend’s happy grin made all of this worth it.

“Tickle, tickle, tickle,” Usagi teased, fingers scribbling and scratching at his sides and tummy. “Look at you squirm, Misaki~ Does it tickle here? What about here?” He darted up to his underarms without warning, earning a loud shriek and even harder giggles, legs kicking the air but doing him no good with the way they were positioned. “I’ve missed your laugh, my love. It’s been a while since I’ve tickled you, hasn’t it? Were you missing it, Misaki?”

“Stahahahahahahap!” Misaki pleaded, tossing his body this way and that, going nowhere fast and feeling a little thrill from the knowledge. “Quit teheheheheheasing me!”

Usagi leaned down to bite his earlobe playfully, fingers digging harder into his armpits while his body pinned the smaller boy to the bed so he could hardly move at all. “Never.”

“Ahahahahahahahaha! Usahahahahahagi-sahahahahahan!” Misaki cackled, throwing his head back with waves of mirth, the reality of his situation sinking in more and more the longer he felt those strong, singing, unbearable sensations wrack his body. “Plehehehehehehease!”

“Please what? Use your words.”

“Jeheheheherk! It tihihihihihihickles! Please, it tihihihickles so bahahahahad!”

“Does it?~”

“Mohohohohove somewhere ehehehehehelse!” Misaki begged, frantically trying to dislodge his boyfriend’s fingers from his underarms. “Plehehehehease, new spohohohohohot!”

“Oh? Would you prefer if I tickled you…here?” Usagi’s fingers moved down to his ribs, pressing and digging into each one, clawing and raking and drilling in rapid succession that left Misaki near breathless with hysterical giggling. “You do seem to like it here, don’t you, tickle toy?”

Misaki cursed, surprising and pleasing Usagi immensely. “Stahahahahahap with that crahahahap! Don’t call me thahahahahahat!”

“Tickle toy,” Usagi chuckled darkly, still pinning him in place with his body. “You just want to laugh so loud for me, don’t you? Laugh and squirm and kick and beg me to stop? Hmm, tickle toy?”

Misaki dissolved into silent laughter at the incessant teasing, shaking his head, mirthful tears springing to his eyes. “Plehehehehehease!” he wheezed, barely able to catch his breath. “Dohohohohon’t!”

Usagi seemed to sense he needed a moment, so he sat back up and slowed his tickling to a light tracing along his body, up and down his chest, digging in randomly just to watch the brunette jolt and giggle helplessly.

“You’re mehehehean, Usagi-sahahan.”

“I rather think you like it.” The older man went back down to his thighs, pinching in tandem with his teasing intonation of, “Mi-sa-ki.”

Misaki tossed his head back, spewing even more giggles, wiping a tear from his cheek. “Mehehehean.”

Usagi grinned at him, gently pushing his legs down flat on the mattress so he could straddle them, unbuttoning his boyfriend’s jeans. “Relax,” he said when he got a wide-eyed, horrified look from the younger man. “I’m not doing anything like that. Just getting easier access.”

Misaki’s eyes only went wider at that comment. He smiled wobbily, knowing full well what was coming next. “Wait!”

“Nope.”

“But it tickles so bad—!”

“I know.”

“No! Wahahahahahait!” Misaki squealed, then screamed full-on when Usagi’s thumbs pressed into those super sensitive spots along his hips where they met his thighs. He arched his back and yelled his ticklish agony into the air, and not for the first time he wished he had a way to cover himself up, this time to muffle what had to sound like him being murdered horrifically. “AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA NOHOHOHOHOHOHO!! NOT THAHAHAHAHAHAHAT, USAGI-SAHAHAHAHAHAN!!”

“But I love hearing you scream and laugh like this,” Usagi replied reasonably, drilling his thumbs in deep, adoring the way Misaki’s body thrashed beneath him at the simple touch, shrieks and curses and loud, desperate laughter filling the air around them.

“STOPSTOPSTOHOHOHOHOHOHOP IT PLEHEHEHEHEHEHEASE!! PLEASE USAGI-SAHAHAHAHAHAN!! NAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!”

Usagi chuckled, shifting just slightly downward toward the ultimate prize, smirking when Misaki’s laughter when silent a second time, wheezes and gasps for breath replacing the ear-piercing noises he’d been letting out moments before. He didn’t stay there long, thankfully, lightening his touch and scribbling gently over his belly, swirling into his navel a few times as Misaki panted for air, his giggles having turned whiny and exhausted.

“Purple?” the older man asked, checking in. It was clear he was trying not to go too far again, and for that reason alone, Misaki felt like he could withstand a little more, his love for his partner swelling up inside him twice as much as usual.

“No,” he replied breathlessly, even going so far as to pull his own shirt up further, exposing more of his bare torso for Usagi to tickle. “Not yet.”

Usagi looked both elated and touched. He leaned over him again, kissing him so hard Misaki saw stars. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” Misaki replied just before being sent back into a world of ticklish bliss, giggling and squirming uselessly on their shared mattress, loving the feeling of Usagi’s hands on him, making him melt, making him submit as he always did.

It was good to have him back.

#fanfiction #tickle fic #junjou romantica #usagi x misaki #misaki takahashi #usami akihiko #boyfriends #lovers #tickling #ticklish #tickle

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muzzleroars · 1 year

Note

Dude i am so fucking insane about your art its genuinely the main reason i made a tumblr account. also. Do you think v1 will ever break down in gabriel’s lifetime? I keep considering the idea after reading this fic where gabriel came across him half-buried in the sands of greed

omggg thank you so much!!! it sincerely means a lot ;o;

in my idea of events with the fallen gabe au, gabriel would likely still be able to continue for a long, long time, though perhaps not indefinitely necessarily. no matter what, his lifespan is still long enough to see the breakdown of v1's parts, which can only be mitigated by blood for a time. the process starts to become less effective, its body not healing properly and beginning to give in to the passage of time besides - plus, its mind isn't protected from these things either, code becoming overgrown and the hardware itself so delicate that it would inevitably fail. everything on earth has an end point, flesh and machine bodies breaking down in the same way being made from elements just held together in natural processes and so eventually rent by them.

(some mentions of mental deterioration/death under the read more)

gabriel would do regular maintenance on it, but they would both see when it was becoming more and more frequent, how v1 is slowing down physically and mentally. the body can be repaired almost indefinitely, especially if gabriel delved into metalworking, plastics, robotics - becoming a one-man factory creating bespoke parts with v1's assistance is hardly out of the question for a fallen angel. the problem is truly its computer, which isn't so easily stabilized and replaced, especially when it comes to preserving v1's memories and personality. they could keep its body in perfect working order if they can custom create any piece it needs (especially again if we go with paradise lost's idea that hell is rich in a wealth of all earthly minerals), but increasingly catastrophic software failures are harder to deal with. they would plan for it of course, figuring out the solutions they can try ahead of time, but when the time comes...watching v1 flicker, seeing its movements falter with newly repaired parts, the absolute heartwrenching, ice-cold fear of it shutting down unexpectedly and not waking up for hours, days....how it forgets, how it can't store many new memories, gabriel feels the deep, aching horror an immortal must when they truly understand what they love cannot last. intellectually it was always there, but to see it unfold, to be there now...gabriel's eyes finally freeze over with tears, v1 has nowhere to go, no soul to find heaven or hell or be reborn the way he was. it will just go dark. gabriel will see it, its perfect body that they've made and remade over so many decades or centuries, that he put all his love into preserving, but with no will to move it.

and i just don't think he could take it.

PERSONALLY my favorite wild headcanon for this scenario is gabriel storming heaven or going to find wherever god left his dead body and using that blood to revive v1 (that blood stays fresh forever.... guess lol) i'm just too much of a baby to commit to character death, plus i just really love the idea of everyone being like "where did god go....nobody knows...." until gabriel loses his mind and breaks every single law of heaven and hell without any limits to bring back his itty bitty bot!!!!!

#alternatively gabriel could augment v1 with hell energy in some way #but i just like the solution being fully unhinged lol #WHAT the implications might be after that....who can say....#and also.....the fic sounds VERY interesting so if you still have the link send it my way!!!#i can't do character death but i can read it to make myself sad lol #cake answers #gabriel #v1

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danceswithsporks · 5 months

Text

Calm- Part 6

Part 2 of 6 in the Complete Series

Wrecker x Seamstress!Reader

Parts 1 2 3 4 5

Authors note: Coming in under the wire!! I wanted to get this out before the end of the year and talk about cutting it close!! This one isn’t as long as my other ones but I truly hope you enjoy it all the same.

This will be my final post for the year! It’s been an amazing year getting to write for all of you and develop this series! It’s still so crazy to think that I started out the year with barely any interaction and now I actually have you wonderful ppl waiting to read my work! I seriously can’t thank you all enough for your support!

I will be taking the first two weeks of the year off from all writing to give my brain a break. Between 5 different fics, 3 that aren’t Star Wars related, I’m starting to wear thin. I have a bunch of Legos to build and a back log of video games to play so I’ll totally not be productive at all. Which is what I honestly need lol.

I sincerely hope you’ve all had a lovely Christmas and a happy holidays. Have a safe and fun new years and I’ll see you in probably a month!

Without further ado, please enjoy Part 6 of Calm!

Chapter About: a month has gone by and some things are coming to light.

Calm was the only way to describe the night compared to the chaos that had been the day. Chai had left that morning. Unable to handle being on the island anymore. How could you blame her? She’d lost the one her heart had been yearning for. The one that made her warm all over. In the back of your mind, just barely visible behind the terror of stepping foot on a starship, you’d thought about the same thing if Wrecker hadn’t returned. Your aunt had been begging for you to visit Coruscant and you would learn a lot working with her. But you’d been lucky, your warmth and security had returned to you. Her’s hadn’t.

It had been a month since he’d returned to you and what a month it had been. You were, for lack of a better word, exhausted. Between your day-to-day work, caring for Omega, and being there for Wrecker, you’d barely slept. Most nights started the same, everyone would settle after dinner and you’d put time aside to brush Omega's hair and talk with the girl before going to Wrecker's side. The two of you would sit beneath the night sky and watch for shooting stars. Wrecker would tell you stories of his life before Pabu, of the adventures he’d had with his brothers. Even tales about fighting alongside the Jedi. He’d even discovered the name of the Jedi that had saved you.

Kit Fisto.

He’d asked Echo about the Jedi when he’d checked on his brothers a few days after they’d returned. Echo had served with two Jedis who had worked with Jedi Master Fisto on a few occasions. From what Echo had told Wrecker, he had been amazing and kind. All the more reason you never believed that they’d turn traitor against the galaxy.

As for how his brothers were doing, it seemed the one they’d saved, Crosshair, was having a hard time adjusting to his new life. Wrecker, being the joy and light of the group, had taken it upon himself to try and help his brother adjust. A decision that weighed heavily on him. You could see it whenever the two of you would go silent at night. He’d stare into the stars and you could see the sadness peeking through the happy mask he wore.

But it was at night when the darkness wrapped its cool arms around all of you and lulled the island to sleep, did you see the true depths of how much the two you cared for so fiercely were suffering. If it wasn’t Omega suffering from night terrors and screaming herself awake, it was Wrecker tossing and turning in his sleep. You wouldn’t tell him that he kept you awake at night, that he spoke and mumbled about that day in his sleep a lot. That when you weren’t lying with Omega and stroking her hair until she was asleep once more, you were laying beside him listening to his words. Listening to how his heart ached from the pain and knowing that every morning he woke up and masked it all for the sake of his siblings.

So every morning, for the last month, you woke up before him and Omega, then got dressed and made them all breakfast. You’d pack three extra breakfasts and lunches for Omega to drop off at the inn as she headed to school and Doll would handle dinner. She’d send some fresh market supplies with Omega as she headed home for the three of you and you’d make dinner for your small family. During the time that she was in school, you would do your usual work around your shop and Wrecker would help you with whatever he could before checking on his brothers. The three of you would share dinner as Omega told you two about her day, watch a holo, shower, and then bedtime for Omega while you and Wrecker spent time together alone. Tackle whoever was struggling in the night and get whatever sleep you could manage. Rinse and repeat.

The routine had become almost second nature to you and through it all, you felt as though you were hiding your exhaustion pretty well.

Except you weren’t.

Wrecker had noticed your exhaustion pretty early on. But never could he pinpoint why you were so tired. Sure, every once in a while he’d be woken up by you holding him and telling him everything was ok. But it wasn’t enough to make you exhausted every day, was it? Most nights when he woke up, you were peacefully asleep next to him. That was until a few nights ago when he woke up to the bed empty, a night terror scaring him awake. In the darkness of the night, he’d followed the soft sound of your voice to see you sitting in Omega's bed with the girl's head in your lap. You gently stroked her hair and told her a story as she drifted. The next day as they both walked to the inn, he’d asked her how often you did that. When she revealed that it was nearly every night and that sometimes she heard him calling out. He realized that you’d been up every night taking care of them. On top of everything else you did for them and his brothers, it was no wonder you were so drained.

He’d made a vow to himself that day, that he’d do his best to wake up to Omega the next time she called out.

His chance came only a few days later.

You’d felt yourself beginning to drift when the familiar sound of Omega crying out echoed down the hall. With a quiet hum, you threw your legs over the side of the bed and began to get up. Wrecker's warm hand landed on your shoulder and pulled you back into the warmth of the bed instead. You hadn’t even realized he was still awake. “Wrecker? What are you doing?” Your name echoed down the hall from Omega's room making your heart ache to go to her side.

“I got her tonight. Get some sleep. sarad.” He leaned over and gently kissed your cheek before standing from the bed.

“But you need to sleep, Wrecker.” You savored the gentle show of affection from the clone. Aside from a few kisses here and there and the cuddling you did outside every night, the two of you hadn’t been intimate. You were far too exhausted at the end of every day to be in the mood and somehow you felt it was the same for your clone. The only difference was that his exhaustion was emotional while yours was physical.

Wrecker shook his head while standing in the doorway. “Tonight, you need to sleep, my love. Please, let me handle Omega.” You opened your mouth to speak once more but he heals his hand up to stop you. “Please.”

That beautiful pleading eye was enough to make you nod slowly to him. “Ok.” You couldn’t argue with him when he looked at you like that. He smiled at you and blew you a kiss before turning and disappearing into the dark hall. You could still hear Omega crying out and it made you worry that he wouldn’t be able to handle it. But soon his deep voice could be heard speaking to the young girl. Sighing softly, you leaned back in the bed and rested your head against the headboard with your eyes closed. With how exhausted you were, it would be easy for you to fall asleep, wouldn’t it?

-*-

Wrecker returned to your room thirty minutes later expecting to find you peacefully asleep. Instead, he found the light turned on and you sitting up, staring at the datapad in your hands. “Mesh’la,” he said with such sadness that it made you feel guilty for still being awake. “Why aren’t you sleeping?”

You chewed your lip as you watched him step around the bed to your side. Kneeling beside you, he took your hand between both of his large hands. “It’s hard for me to sleep when I know she’s struggling.” Not to mention you had a good deal on your mind.

A soft sigh left the giant as one of his thumbs stroked your hand. “Thank you for taking care of her…and me. I’m sorry I haven’t said that enough this past month.”

“Wrecker, you don’t…” a thick finger was pressed against your lips, shushing you gently.

“Please, let me speak?” When you nodded slowly to him, he continued. “I’ve spent the last month lost in my thoughts and problems. Trying to juggle my feelings while helping Cross and keeping Omega as happy as I can. I was so distracted I didn’t realize that it wasn’t as hard as it could have been because you were ahead of me taking care of…” he shook his head in disbelief. “Well…all of us. Especially myself and Omega. You take care of my brothers, sister and I like we’re your family. You hold me and her nearly every night and soothe us from our demons. You make food and clothes for all five of us and still run your shop. All on very little sleep.” His eyes shifted to the datapad in your hand that had a holo of yourself and Chai on it. “And through all of that, you held yourself together when your dearest friend left the island. You’re…Stars, you’re so much stronger than me. I don’t know how I managed to get so lucky to have ya in my life. But thank you, Sarad. Thank you for taking care of me and Omega. I’m sorry I didn’t say that sooner.” He kissed the back of your hand with gentle lips while you squeezed his hand that was still in yours.

Reaching down with your other hand, you cupped his cheek and turned his face to face yours. “You don’t need to thank me for anything. Nor do you need to apologize. I don’t mind taking care of you. You’re going through so much right now. Losing a family member, especially one so close, isn’t easy and I want to be the support for you that I also had. I love you so much, Wrecker. I love Omega so much as well. She’s like the little sister I always wanted. Knowing what you’re going through and the pain you both must feel makes all these long nights worth it. If I had the choice, I’d do it all the same. I wouldn’t change a single moment of this last month.” You gave the hand that was still holding yours a slight tug, motioning for him to join you in the bed. With a nod, he stood and crawled into the large bed next to you. You repositioned yourself so that you both were looking at one another while also making it so he could see your datapad. “Chai leaving…hurts. She was a dear friend and trying to think of life on the island without her is…hard. But I have you, Omega, and Doll.”

Wrecker watched and you changed the holo to one of you, Doll, and Chai on the beach. “Would you have gone with her? If I hadn’t come back?”

You swallowed a large lump in your throat. “I’ve asked myself that question a lot today. Asked myself if I was in her shoes, if I’d lost the one I loved, would I leave?”

“And?” Wrecker watched you carefully, wondering what you’d say.

“I don’t know honestly. I want to say that I’d stay here for Omega. She’d need someone to help her through all of this through the loss of you. But at the same time…” you sighed softly while placing the datapad down and nuzzling into his chest. “Being here without you? It sounds like torture.”

His strong arms wrapped around you and pulled you close, a kiss being placed on the top of your head. “It’s hard to imagine my life without you. If I lost you I’d leave.”

“It’ll never come to that, thankfully.” Your eyes shut as he kissed the top of your head.

No. It wouldn’t. Wrecker would sacrifice his own life before allowing anything bad to happen to you. “Get some sleep, Sarad. Tonight it's you who should be held.” His arms remained tight around you as you began to drift. Tomorrow he’d make it all up to you. Pay you back for the month-long care you’d doled out to him and his vod. He whispered a gentle ‘I love you’ before pressing the light control beside the bed and plunging the room back into darkness.

-*-

You were confused when you woke up, the sun already high in the sky and your room glowing brightly from the rays. Why hadn’t your alarm gone off? If the sun was that high then it had to be well past morning meaning you were late for a lot of things. “Wrecker?” Pulling yourself out of the bed, you continued to call his name while heading out of the room. You found him in the kitchen. “What time is it?”

Wrecker turned and smiled at you, a pair of oven mitts very tightly on his hands. “Good afternoon, Sleepyhead.”

“I take it that means it’s past midday?” When he nodded, that big goofy grin on his lips, you sighed softly. That grin was contagious and even though you were upset about sleeping in so late, you smiled back. “Something tells me you have something to do with my alarm not going off?” You watched as he walked over to you and handed you a cup of coffee.

“Ya deserved to sleep in. Don’t worry, sent Omega off with food for the others like you do.” He watched you take a sip of the warm liquid and close your eyes in bliss. Good, you liked it.

You’d forgotten that he knew what he was doing in the kitchen. You’d done all the cooking since he’d been back. “You did? Thank you.” Wrecker stepped forward and took your hand carefully in the oven mitt. “These feel a little small.” You playfully squeezed his hand and the gentle giant laughed brightly while leading you towards the table.

“Might need to get some bigger ones.” He wiggled his free hand at you in the blue and green mitt. “Also told ‘Mega to take her time coming home today.” When you raised an eyebrow at him, he kissed the tip of your nose. “Was hoping you’d do me the honor of being my date tonight.”

“Your date? What’s the occasion?” To your surprise, he pulled off the mitt with his teeth and let it fall to the ground. The mug of coffee in your hand was placed gently on the table and with a smirk, he leaned in and kissed your soft lips. You could taste something sweet on his lips, perhaps from whatever he was cooking. Whatever it was, you enjoyed it. A hum left you as you enjoyed the sweet moment with your clone.

Wrecker ran his tongue across yours for a few moments before humming and pulling away. Your lips looked nice and plump for him as he licked his lips. “The occasion is that I’ve been home for a month and haven’t treated my girl to a single special night. Instead, she’s been working that cute ass of hers off taking care of me and my family. It’s time for me to take care of her instead.”

“Wrecker, you don’t have to do anything special for me. I don’t mind taking care of all of you. You’re all my family now.” To your surprise, he chuckled softly while shaking his head. “What’s so funny, strong man?”

“Just how you think you don’t deserve the galaxy on a platter for how amazing you’ve been. I don’t think there’s nearly enough I can do to show you how thankful I am for you.” He reached up and held your chin between his thumb and forefinger, enjoying the way your beautiful eyes sparkled. “But I’ll spend the rest of my life doing what I can.” He kissed you once more before pulling away and standing. “Starting with today being a relaxing day for ya.”

Stars, he knew just what to say to make your heart flutter. “That’s sweet of you, Wrecker. But I can’t just take the day off from my shop. I have shipments coming in. Plus, chores around the house that need to be done, alterations on Crosshair’s pants that need to happen, and…” his finger rested against your lips shushing you once more. It seemed to be the theme of the day.

“Shipment already came in and I moved it to the back of your shop. The old ladies are gonna keep an eye on things for the day and Magda has already started on Cross’s pants. Already did the dishes and made lunch for ya. I can handle some sweeping and laundry.” He’d done all these things himself growing up on Kamino. Surely it wasn’t that different here? His hand slid and cupped your cheek before running his thumb across your cheekbone. “Please, just relax today. For me.”

He was giving you the cutest puppy eyes ever right now and how could you resist that luscious brown eye? A small giggle left you while nodding “ok, ok. It does sound like you’ve got everything under control right now. But what do I do?” You weren’t exactly used to this much downtime.

Wrecker chuckled before kissing your cheek quickly. “Eat, first off. Then let me help you relax.”

The comment made your eyebrow raise. “And just how will you do that?” He’d started to head towards the kitchen to no doubt grab your food when he suddenly stopped and smirked over his shoulder to you. The look made excitement race through your entire body. It had been nearly a month since you’d last felt this feeling.

“Don’t worry, Sarad. I still have a few secrets up my sleeves.” He watched you bite your lip at the implications of his words. Good. It had been far too long since he’d been inside you. Something he’d realized that morning as he watched you sleep peacefully, the hem of your sleep shirt riding up and revealing your cute ass to him. He’d failed a lot when it came to you this past month. There would be every intention of making it all up to you now and boy did he have a lot planned.

-*-

“W-Wrecker! Ah!” Your head tilted back as tiny gasps left your lips. The clone between your legs grumbled something you couldn’t understand making your clit vibrate. His deep voice rumbling against your heat was driving you crazy. You were so grateful that Omega would be in school for another two hours. The last thing you needed to happen would be the girl walking in on her brother devouring your pussy. Though the chances of being caught by someone were still very much there. Magda and Sue could easily walk over from the shop at any moment and see you here with your legs wrapped around the head of the large clone. His face covered in your first release and no doubt soon, your second.

He could easily listen to you make these sweet little sounds all day. The way your body arched against his mouth and those sexy pants and cries of yours. Damn did they turn something inside him. Breaking away from your heat, he looked up at you through hooded lids. “Any louder and the grandmas in the shop might start to get curious.” You cried out a cute ‘it feels too good’ making Wrecker chuckled deeply while blowing his hot breath against the sensitive nub. “Good. I want my girl to feel as good as possible.”

His hot lips returned to your clit once more, making you whine and wiggle against him. “Please, need you inside me.” This felt good, really good, fuck it felt downright amazing, but you needed him inside you. You needed that closeness more than you needed air right now.

It was so damn cute when you begged. Wrecker broke his lips from you once more before moving your legs from his shoulder and down to his hips. He slotted his place between them and pressed his still-clothed bulge against your soaking core. Leaning over your body in a protective cage, Wrecker kissed you deeply. “Patience, Goddess. Can’t rush the best part.” Came in a rough whisper between kisses.

You could taste yourself in him and realized that you’d never tire of the mixed taste. You squeaked as a large digit found its place on your pearl and quickly you were crying out against his lips. “F-fuck, I’m gonna cum again.” His lips found your throat as your head fell back, a long moan of pleasure leaving you.

“Good girl. That’s right. Cum for me again.” He rubbed his bulge against your heat and sighed at the way you moaned his name. Did he want to fuck you into the couch right now? Maker, yes. But right now it was about treating you to the most amazing day possible in thanks for the past month. His pleasure would have to wait until later. For now, it was all about you. His other hand made its way to your heat, dipping into your soaked core with ease. “Look at that, taking three fingers today.” Looked to him like your pussy was ready for him now. Hopefully, that would hold throughout the day.

You nearly came at the feeling of the three thick fingers inside of you. It felt nearly as thick as him, just barely matching the girth of your lover. “N-not as good as your d-dick.” Your hips rolled against his hands as you tried to chase your release. So damn close.

“True.” Wrecker moved his lips to your ear and growled deeply. “We can compare later tonight when I fuck ya into the bed.” You cried out against him at the words. His fingers twisting as you did so hitting the spot inside you that would have you covering his hands. Rough lips pressed against the smoothness of yours as he swallowed your screams of ecstasy. Yes, your release tasted amazing to him but your breath as you peaked tasted even better.

Pants of exhaustion rolled from your lips as you rode out your release. The lewd sound of his fingers squelching between your now-soaked thighs filled the air, as did the unmistakable scent of sex. If anyone was to walk in now then they’d have a clear idea of what had just been done. “S-still want you.” Your eyes shut as exhaustion began to take you over. While your energy had been zapped, you were positive that you could find some extra stores to enjoy him. To your surprise, he shook his head no and pulled away from you. His fingers slipped from your heat making you whine softly. Brown eyes stared into yours as his fingers slipped into his mouth and he licked your release from the digits. A long sigh left the clone as he savored the taste and the heat that had just left your body and returned once more. “Please, Wrecker.”

The clone chuckled as he watched your cute little body wiggle with exhausted need. “Now, now.” His hand wrapped around your soaked thigh and squeezed it gently. “Gotta be patient. You’ll get this later.” He rubbed his bulge against your core before finally pulling away and closing your legs. “Give ya something to look forward to.” Wrecker winked at you before moving to get something to clean you up with.

“So is that a promise for later activities?” You leaned back on your elbows and watched him smirk at you before he disappeared down the hall. You took a moment to try and think about how you’d gotten into this position. How you’d gone from cuddling on the couch watching a romance holo to him wearing your thighs like earmuffs. You honestly couldn’t seem to pinpoint the exact moment. The last two hours had been spent in happy bliss with the clone running around cleaning while you watched patiently from the couch. The lunch he’d made you had tasted magnificent and you’d made a mental note to allow him to cook more often. The remnants of which sat on the small table in front of your couch. He’d made you a quiche Lorraine with a delicious salad on the side. It tasted magnificent and you’d found yourself falling for him even more. After you’d finished eating he’d thrown a load of laundry into the wash and pulled you into his lap to show you the holo his brother had recommended. What the premise was had been lost to you quickly as Wrecker had started his teasing. Now here you lay waiting for him to return to you. If this was what was in store for the day then gods help you survive.

Wrecker returned to your side within moments with a warm rag in his hand. Down the hall, the sound of the shower running could be heard echoing against the stone walls. He’d set up everything you’d need for a nice long shower. You’d told him one night before he’d left how your favorite thing to do was take a long shower where you got to just enjoy the warmth of the water running over your body. He’d pull a warm towel from the dryer once you neared completion of your shower to wrap you in. Then cozy clothes and off to your date. Leaning down, he kissed you sweetly with a playful twinkle in his eye. “It is.”

-*-

You looked up at the imposing ship before you. The Marauder. The ship that had brought your love to you and had taken him and his brothers away only to return with one less on it. It terrified you. The ramp was down and the clone you spent every night dreaming about stood in its entryway with his hand outstretched towards you. You shook your head free of the hundreds of worry-filled thoughts racing through it and stared at him. “W-what?”

“I asked if you would join me inside.” He watched you carefully, watched the way you shifted, and fidgeted with the hem of your shirt. He’d had a feeling that this would be how you’d react, it had been a gamble to decide to do the date inside the starship. But he wanted to help you with your fear. Because if you could get on a starship then he could show you the beauty of the galaxy outside of your world and take you to some of his favorite planets. Planets that you’d only dreamed of that he knew for sure existed out there. Wrecker walked down the ramp and stopped in front of you with his hand still outstretched. “The ship is off and I have no intention of turning it on. The door will remain open if you want.” He lowered his hand and sighed softly while moving a strand of your hair behind your ear. “We can sit in the doorway and eat if that’ll make it easier.”

The way that deep brown eye was staring at you was making your heart flutter. How could you say no to him when he'd thought this all through? “C-can we go slow?” He nodded to you and you slid your hand into one of his. “O-ok.” Wrecker turned and led you to the bottom of the ramp, waiting for you to take the first step. Your foot met the metal of the starship ramp with a soft thunk at the same time a lump began to form in your throat. Your heart raced with each ascending step until you were halfway to the door. It was starting to get harder to breathe. The world around you felt like it was caving in and soon the ground would open up and swallow you whole.

“We can stop here, Stitches.” Wrecker stood only two steps behind you, watching every one of your movements. He knew that if the roles were reversed then he wouldn’t want someone pushing him too much to face his fear.

You quickly shook your head while taking another step. “I can do this. Like you said. It’s not even on.” Stars, why did the air feel so thick? It was like you were breathing through a straw! Your foot raised to take the next step and suddenly it felt as though lead was tied to the bottom of it. Why was this so damn hard? It had only been…a year since the last time you’d stepped on a starship. It had been a lot longer than you’d realized. You forced your foot down and froze as you stood in the entryway to the ship. It was a lot smaller than you thought it would be.

The slowness with which you walked up the ramp worried Wrecker. This was too much for you. It was clear you were struggling. “Sarad?” He reached out to you, making you jump suddenly. You turned and uttered ‘I’m sorry’ before burying your face into his chest. “Shhh, it’s ok.” He rubbed your back gently, doing his best to calm you. Stepping back with you still in his arms, Wrecker tried to lead the way back down the ramp. But you stopped him, your foot raised as though you were trying to step backward into the ship. Perhaps he could help you? Take your mind off of the worry by distracting you?

“My love.” He placed his finger under your chin and tilted your face up towards him. “Have I ever told you about the first time I saw a nebula in person?” Your head shook slightly against his touch. “It was…breathtaking. Like staring at all the greatest works of art at once. Tech once broke down how a nebula was formed and what it was made of, but I didn’t listen. All I knew was that the way the colors danced together was mesmerizing. It was the first time I’d ever understood the meaning of true beauty.” He looked down at you and ran his thumb across your bottom lip. “But then I met you.” Wrecker leaned down and kissed you deeply. “You’re far more beautiful than a nebula. I want you to see one in person and truly understand how beautiful you are. One day I will take you to see the same Nebula.”

“I can’t even step foot on a starship. How can you be so sure that you’ll take me to see it?” You pressed your lips against his once more and savored the way they molded into yours. This man, this magnificent man, always knew how to speak to you. How to make your heart beat fast and your head spin.

“Because.” He whispered while pulling away from your touch. “You’re already part of the way there.”

“What?” You looked around and realized you were standing in the center of the starship. How had he done that? “H-how?”

Wrecker hummed sweetly while moving around you towards the little table with your dinner waiting. Behind you Gonky chittered as he slowly hobbled his way out of the ship and down the ramp, giving the two of you privacy. “You're easy to distract, my goddess.” He pulled a stool back and motioned for you to take a seat. “We can leave at any time.”

He’d distracted you so well that you’d easily backed into the Marauder without realizing it. Now that you were inside of the ship, it wasn’t too bad. How long that feeling would last was unknown but you’d try your best to enjoy the time that you could. You walked over to him and placed your hand against his chest, taking a moment to allow the feeling of his heartbeat beneath your palm to calm you. “Thank you.” You weren’t sure how many times you’d thank him during this. But something told you it would be a lot. You took a seat on the stool and felt Wrecker easily slide you forward.

“I hope ya don’t mind, but I used that roast you had in the fridge for our dinner.” He pulled the cover off the container that held your dinner to reveal the still steaming roast surrounded by potatoes and root vegetables. It was the first roast he’d successfully cooked, he hoped it tasted good.

Your mouth watered at the sight of the food before you. “Not at all. It looks amazing, Wrecker.” It smelled wonderful too. There was a chance he was a better cook than you. Perhaps you could have Omega be the judge of that. Though you did have the feeling that the girl would choose her brother's food over yours. Wrecker smiled that adorable crooked smile at you as he began to cut a piece off the roast for you, pride flowing off of him in waves. Gods, he was adorable. You took the moment to look around the small space you were in, getting your first real glance at the ship. It was small and compact. Towards the back, you could see a few bunks as well as a curtain at the top of a small ladder. You stood from your stool and walked towards the curtain. “What’s this?”

Wrecker looked up from the roast to you standing at the base of the ladder. “That's where Omega sleeps when we’re traveling.” He placed the utensils in his hands down and walked behind you. Reaching up, he moved the curtain to the side and motioned for you to climb up and take a peak. “Don’t got a lot of space here. So we made do with what we could.”

You carefully climbed up the ladder just enough to peek into the space. It seemed to be the perfect size for the young girl. A few curtains had been hung up to give her privacy with string lights being added for a warm feel. Her pillows and blankets were stored to the side while a few little trinkets funk doubt from their travels lay next to the pile. “Is this all she has?” Omega had arrived at your place with very little.

“We fled Kamino in a hurry. She wasn’t able to grab much. None of us were.” But they’d saved each other and AZI and that was enough for now. He watched you climb back down the ladder and turn to look at him. “Ain’t got a lot of space here so we try not to buy too much.”

“Oh.” Well now that they were staying here with you and she had her room. Maybe it was time to take her to one of the bigger islands for a shopping trip. Your eyes fell on a larger lower bunk. “Is this your bunk?” Moving around the large clone, you sat on the stiff material. It seems stiff and uncomfortable was the theme when it came to army-issued materials.

Wrecker rubbed the back of his head and nodded. “Y-yeah.” He should have cleaned up more before bringing you here. “Sorry bout the mess.” He motioned to the bundle of blankets at the bottom of the bunk and the few pieces of scattered clothes.

A familiar dark bag peeked out from behind the pillow as you looked around the bunk. “You kept it very close, didn’t you?” With a playful grin, you rolled onto your stomach and reached for the bag, only being stopped by two large hands around your waist.

“Kept it close enough to smell it every night that I slept. Might need to update it before our next trip.” The sight of you like this on his bunk was doing something to him. He’d seen you on your knees in front of him a few times now and while it was hot as fuck, it was never this hot. “Mesh’la, we better get back to dinner.”

His grip on your waist tightened making you hum and rock back towards him. “Dinner can wait, I'd rather be filled a different way first.” Besides, eating after a workout was always good for the body, right?

A low growl left Wrecker as he rubbed the growing bulge in his pants against your ass. Now that he thought about it, if he fucked you here then he’d be the first to fuck someone in the Marauder. A tantalizing notion that was far too good to pass up. Watching his head, he leaned over and pressed his body against yours with one hand on your waist and the other snaking its way around your throat. “I’m gonna need to lock the door then. Can’t have anyone ruining your meal.” He nipped at your earlobe while pressing into your ass. “That ok?”

Fuck, was there anything hotter than him asking for your consent? Maybe the sight of him naked? It didn’t matter. You nodded quickly as your kind filled with all the delicious positions you could try out on the ship and in his bunk. You’d never fucked on a starship, how interesting and new it would be. His lips pressed to the side of your neck as he hastily kissed your skin before quickly moving to shut and lock the door. Its hiss filled the ship and for a moment that tightening pressure on your chest began to return making you feel like the walls were closing in. But then he took off his shirt so you could see those delicious muscles and the feeling began to dissipate. It seemed Wrecker was just the distraction you’d need to get through this. “Where do you want me?”

His deep brown eye watched as you turned and faced him once more. That sly and mischievous smirk on your lips. Your arms crossed in front of you and in one swift movement, your shirt was removed revealing a dark green bra. His mouth watered at the sight of the material covering what he wanted. “That bunk.” He motioned to the one across from his with a devilish smirk. “On Hunter's bunk.”

-*-

Hunter stared at the Marauder with a look of confusion on his face. He could have sworn he’d left the door open. It was Pabu after all. It wasn’t like someone was going to steal the ship and after the last time it had been stolen, Tech had put in a new system where their datapads would need to be in the cockpit for it to turn on. So why was the door shut?

“Gonk Gonk Gonk Gonk”

“Gonky?” Echo tilted his head as he stood next to his vod. “What are you doing out here?”

“Gonk Gonk Gonk.”

Amber eyes squinted as Echo translated out loud for Hunter to hear. “Wrecker asked you to give him and Stitches the space for dinner?”

“Gonk”

“Huh, thought Wrecker said she was terrified of starships.” Hunter shrugged while walking up the ramp towards the door. When it didn’t automatically open, he frowned.

Echo followed close behind and noticed the way Hunter's head tilted from side to side. “Maybe he’s helping her work on it? Speaking of which, we should find a way to thank her for all the food she’s been sending.” And the custom-tailored clothes as well. Echo watched Hunter place his ear against the cool steel and close his eyes, no doubt listening to see if it was a good time to enter.

“Ah, W-Wrecker. Fuck!” Your voice carried through the steel as well as the little pants and whines you were making.

“fuck you’re so damn pretty when you make that noise. Such a good girl taking all of me.” Wrecker’s deep bass of a voice was hard to miss as it mixed with your pants.

Hunter felt his cheeks flare at the sounds coming from inside the ship. Why him? Why did he have to be the one with enhanced hearing? He pulled away and headed back down the ramp. “Come on, we’ll grab the chip later.”

“Wait, what? Why?” Echo stumbled after the leader of their group. “We came all the way over here. If we have any chance of breaking the encryption on that datapad then we need Techs chip.”

“Trust me. Echo. It can’t wait until tomorrow.” There was no way Hunter was going to explain why they needed to come back later. He honestly hoped that Echo would figure it out on his own.

“What is stopping us from sneaking in right now and grab… oh.” The way Hunter was looking at him had suddenly made things a lot more clear. “Oh.” His eyes went wide. “oh!” Echo needed to wash his ears and eyes and maybe his brain now. He should have just listened to Hunter in the first place. Shaking his head and shivering slightly, he followed the bandana-wearing clone back towards the inn. “Better not be on my bunk.”

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