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#darlin is a precious mess
dominimoonbeam · 2 years
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I Would Die For That
Got an ask for some Sam/Darlin hurt/comfort goodness from @taelonsamada where Darlin is overly honest due to blood loss. Hope you all enjoy!! <3
Posted here but also on ao3.
tags: injury, hurt/comfort, blood, classic Darlin,
pre-romantic relationship.
I Would Die For That
“Don’t…” Darlin said. It was so hard to talk. Could words be too heavy?
David knelt in front of them. They were sitting sideways in the passenger seat of a car, shoulder to the seat and legs out the door, boots in the gravel. They were so deep into the night now. “You need a healer,” he said. He was always so clear. How come words didn’t sound heavy for him?
Darlin looked down at themself. Jeans torn by design and shirt torn not at all by design. Everything bloody. They didn’t hurt anymore. They were just tired and cold. Oh shit. That couldn’t be good.
“He’s on his way,” Asher said from the side, worry in his voice.
Darlin winced, closing their eyes. He always came when they needed him. How did he do that? Why did he do that?
David’s hand settled on their knee, firm and warm and there—reminding Darlin they were alive and not alone even when they couldn’t bring themself to open their eyes. Everything was heavy.
They almost fell asleep but then they remembered the vampires shoving their car off the road, into the woods. Quinn hadn’t come after them alone, but Darlin had been on the phone with Asher and headed to some stupid pack thing. He heard the crash. Maybe he heard some of what came after too. They remembered Quinn’s teeth in their neck and jerked away hard, eyes open and body spasming. Their boots kicked at gravel and the pale wash of car lights burned their eyes.
“Whoa, you’re okay,” David said.
Darlin felt like their heart was going to beat out of their chest. It was going too fast. They felt sick. Their vision blurred at the edges. They groped at the front of their shirt, over their heart. Oh shit.
Voices swirled around them and suddenly Sam was there, pushing into the space in front of them. He was talking but they could only stare at his moving mouth and his teeth. Why did those teeth look so pretty in his mouth when they’d been nothing but a nightmare in other mouths? He touched the side of their neck, the side teeth had ripped into with the vein that felt like it was going to beat right out of their skin. Magic washed through them and slowly, but surely, their heartbeat settled and so did everything else. Calmer. Calmer. Calmer. Until they could understand the sounds around them again, until they could slump again into the cushion at their side and cringe against the exhaustion.
Sam’s expression eased from tight fear to that usual, exasperation they were so used to when he was patching them up. God, he must be so sick of me by now. I’m always messed up.
“I’m not, and you’re not,” he said, voice low and steady and eyes flicking over them. “Can I touch?”
Darlin frowned. What did he mean he wasn’t and they weren’t? Weren’t what? “Yeah. Yeah, but I’m fine. It was just the neck…”
He touched their arms, one at a time, lifting and running his hands from elbow to wrist before fanning fingers. His mouth twitched in another frown and he healed some of their fingers that had broken.
“What happened?” he asked.
At first Darlin thought he was talking to them, but the tone was off. He never sounded that hard and, well, pissed, when he talked to them.
“Quinn ambushed them down the road. He had two others with them. They pushed the car off the road. We got here as soon as we could. The other two tried to bolt when the pack got close but we ran them down,” Asher explained.
Sam’s hands touched the back of their head, neck, and shoulders. When Darlin winced he made a soft, soothing sound. “You’re okay,” he promised, almost a whisper, magic rolling into their body and fixing whatever the hell had gone wrong in their shoulder. He gently tugged them away from their lean into the cushions of the car seat, making them sit upright. “Can I lift your shirt?”
Darlin shrugged but the gesture was shallow with exhaustion.
“Do you want privacy?” he asked, voice still low, like it was somehow just the two of them even though David and Asher would definitely hear him too—not to mention any other wolves still circling the area.
David snorted. “They’re not shy, Sam.”
Sam still waited, eyeing Darlin. His eyes are so pretty.
Sam’s mouth quirked curiously and Asher laughed at something.
“Darlin,” David said, voice louder and clearer, snapping them from the haze of staring at Sam. “Is it okay if he looks at your ribs or do you want the rest of us to turn away?”
Darlin made a face. “I don’t care, man, just do it so I can sleep.”
David grunted.
Sam lifted their shirt and whatever amusement had been in Asher before left in a whistle. They must be banged up. Asher whistled like that at broken bones and deep bruises. “I’m gonna touch, but it’s not going to hurt,” Sam promised.
You never hurt me, Darlin thought. Did they say that out loud? No. Definitely not.
His hands were on them. I wish he’d touch me when I wasn’t dying, they thought and then grinned, eyes closing. I would die for that.
 -
 Sam’s hands froze against their ribs. Their skin was so cold. He could tell how drained they were. It was hard to replenish blood, but he’d had to force some to steady their heart when he got there. They’d almost died. They weren’t in that danger anymore, but they needed a lot of rest. He was healing those broken ribs when they whispered, “I wish he’d touch me when I wasn’t dying.”
His gaze cut from their torso to their face just as their eyelid shut. A smirk pulled at the corner of their mouth. “I would die for that.”
“Holy shit…” Asher exhaled somewhere behind him.
David didn’t say a thing, but he was definitely looking at Sam now.
He finished healing their ribs, checking their abdomen for any internal injuries. They were okay and dragging easier breaths now. He pulled their shirt back down.
Darlin nodded off and started to fall forward. He caught them easily, but so did David. Sam had to clamp his teeth to keep from snarling at the other man to back up, reminding himself again and again that David Shaw was Darlin’s alpha.
Darlin’s eyes opened, brow pinching in confusion before they seemed to remember where they were. They looked at David. “Is he dead?”
Sam knew who they were talking about. Quinn. He also knew the answer.
“Yes. You did enough damage to keep him where the car went off the road. We found you and he didn’t stand a chance,” David reminded.
Darlin nodded slowly, sluggish from blood loss and now all the healing magic in their system. They saw Sam and smiled like he’d just gotten there. He couldn’t help but smile back. He tried to keep a serious face, but it was impossible. They reached out to him and he caught their hand. “Are you taking me home, pretty boy?”
Sam was instantly grateful he was dead, because he couldn’t blush.
“We should probably let Sam get back to his clan,” David reminded gently, obviously trying to give Sam a smooth out. David moved, scooping Darlin’s legs under the knees. He lifted and turned them into the car, tucking them in so that the door could be closed. “Thanks, Sam,” David said.
Darlin pouted, sleepy. “Thanks, Sam,” they mumbled.
But he didn’t let go of their hand. “Wait. I can take them home. I should keep an eye on them until they’re feeling better anyway.”
David looked at him and Sam couldn’t tell if he was surprised or skeptical. He wasn’t always an easy man to read. Sam realized David might not let him take Darlin home—might not trust him with them when they were vulnerable. He was deciding if they were a threat.
“Do I get a vote?” Darlin asked, voice sleepy but still sharp with offense.
David rolled his eyes and looked at them. Sam realized for the first time how much like siblings they seemed. “What do you want to do?”
Darlin smirked and Sam felt their hand squeeze his.
David grunted and looked at Sam. “You have my number. When you’re leaving their place, give me a call.” He waited another second before standing and taking a step back from the car and Darlin. He held out his hand to the side and Asher tossed him a set of keys. The alpha held them out to him. “We’ll stop by to check on them,” he said, and something about the look in his eye was clearly a warning not to misuse the trust that was being put in him.
“Jesus, David, chill,” Darlin mumbled, words slurring like they were drunk. “It’s not like he’s going to drain me. I’ve barely got a sip left in me.”
David glowered but didn’t say anything either way.
Sam was certain that biting wasn’t the sort of advantage David was worried about Sam taking.
The vampire took the keys, not the least bit worried. If anything, he liked the idea that someone other than himself was looking out for Darlin.
He closed the passenger door and rounded the car.
Asher had a funny smirk but Sam didn’t linger to hear what he thought of the things Darlin was saying. They obviously didn’t mean to say them out loud. He got in the car and started the engine. He reached over and buckled Darlin in before he pulled away from the scene and found the road.
“Is he dead?” Darlin asked again, voice quiet like a whisper.
He glanced at them. They were barely awake, blinking out the window at the passing trees.
“Quinn’s dead, Darlin.”
Darlin sighed, eyes closing. “I should have died too,” they mumbled before falling asleep.
Sam squeezed the steering wheel, listening to their breathing. They’d said it so casually. Another thought they hadn’t realized they were saying out loud? Like earlier when they’d said, I wish he’d touch me when I wasn’t dying. I’d die for that.
He wasn’t sure he’d ever get those words out of his head. Did they mean that? Did they want more from him? Of course, he’d thought about it, more than he should have probably, definitely more than was friendly or appropriate. But getting to hear Darlin’s inner thoughts while they were more-or-less drunk on blood loss was a far cry from consent and a real conversation about their relationship.
He'd considered taking them back to his place. He wanted them at his place, where he knew they would be safe—surrounded by his clan. But he knew that was not what David Shaw had agreed to. In fact, taking them to his place now could be an act of war. Still…it was tempting.
He parked on the street close to the front door of the building. They were still a few hours off from sunrise. He got out and rounded the car, opening the passenger door and crouched down to them. “Darlin,” he called gently. They smelled like blood, their own as well as a couple vampires. “I’m going to get you upstairs, okay? I have to pick you up.”
Darlin’s lip curled and they tried to wake up, eyelids lifting a little but body not moving much. He unbuckled them. They looked up at him, first surprised and then slowly smiling. “Why are you here?” they asked, sounding more than a little happy about it.
He smiled back. “I’m taking you home.”
Darlin frowned. “Oh yeah. I almost died again.” They twisted like they meant to get out of the car but forgot to move their legs.
Sam scooped them up, lifting them out of the car and against him. The glow of the street lights glinted off the puddle of blood on the car seat. It was soaked. He could feel a tear in their jeans on the back of their thigh, wet and cold. Shit. He’d been distracted by everyone else there. He’d been distracted by the blood scents all over the place. And maybe most of all, he’d been distracted by what they were accidentally admitting.
“I fucked up your car…” Darlin mumbled.
“Not my car,” he said, going inside and zipping up the stairs.
Darlin clung to his shoulders, not prepared for that speed.
“I’m sorry,” Sam said, reaching their door and realizing he didn’t have the keys. He tried the knob even though it wouldn’t—it opened. He growled low. Of course, they hadn’t locked it.
He walked inside and kicked it shut behind him.
“Why are you mad?” Darlin rattled out. They sounded scared but that wasn’t right. They wouldn’t be. They shook in his arms. Oh fuck. They were cold.
“I’m not mad, Darlin,” he lied. “Okay, I am, but not at you.” He put them on the couch and rolled them onto their side so he could get a look at the back of their leg. Something had punctured it. Maybe something metal in the crash? He tore the rip in their jeans more to get a better look at it. It was deep. No wonder they hadn’t moved their leg on their own. He poured more magic into them, focused on healing that wound.
Darlin sighed pleasantly when it was done.
His head throbbed.
Darlin rolled onto their back and look up at him. “Why do you waste it?” they asked quietly, more like they were musing to themselves than really having a conversation. “Did you take some sort of oath? Are you obligated to waste your energy patching me up every time I call?” They looked more hurt now than they had when he first got to the scene—when they’d been close to death. Tears swam in their hazy eyes. “I wish I was a better person. Someone that wouldn’t do this to you.”
Sam cupped their face, shocked. “It’s not an oath to heal that keeps me running to you, Darlin. And it’s never any trouble. If I’ve managed to save you, then it’s the most impressive thing I’ve ever done.”
Darlin dragged a breath and sighed, blood loss and magic making them so visibly tired.
Sam stroked their cheek, resisting the urge to brush his lips against their skin. “I know you’re going to fall asleep soon.”
“M’not…” Darlin tried to say.
Sam smiled a little, thumb brushing away a stray tear on their cheek. “I’m going to get these trashed clothes off you and make sure you don’t have any other wounds, okay?”
Darlin’s eyes closed but they smiled. “Sam Collins wants to take my clothes off?”
Sam sighed. “Yes, Sam Collins does,” he admitted, in all its various meanings.
Darlin laughed a little. “Funny.”
Sam pulled them into a sitting position. “It’s really not funny…” He lifted their shirt up and off. They had a couple more bites on their shoulder and arm. They hadn’t been made in feeding, but in a fight. “I’ll get you cleaned up and to bed,” he explained.
Darlin snorted. “You’re taking me to bed?”
Sam laid them back on the couch and pulled off their boots before working on the front of their pants. He stripped them down and checked their skin, cataloguing cuts, bites, and bruises. He didn’t let his gaze linger. He refused to take advantage in any way. He healed every open wound and then picked them up and took them to the shower. They were in and out of consciousness the whole way, getting cleaned up, and then dried off, and then finally in clean underwear and a shirt. He sat down on the bed with them still in his arms.
“Are you leaving?” Darlin asked, eyes closed.
Sam looked down at them, his back to the headboard. He should put them down and tuck them in. And then what? Leave? No. He couldn’t, not until they were out of this daze and able to defend themselves. “Do you want me to?”
Darlin smiled, cheek against his chest, pressing into his shirt. “No. I never want you to leave.”
Sam watched them, looking so tired and peaceful against his chest, curled up in his lap. “Do you want me to put you down?”
Darlin shook their head a little.
He was so lost to them. He knew it now more than ever.
Darlin sighed. “I think the pain of your teeth would be worth feeling your lips against my skin…”
Sam’s stared at them, his heart lodged in his throat. Their eyes were still closed. Their breathing was deep. They were dancing on the edge of sleep.
Their words rolled over and over in his head. They didn’t mean to say them out loud. Maybe they didn’t even mean them… but he suspected they did. He stroked fingers through the back of their damp hair, to the back of their neck, following their spine down their back. “Darlin, I would never bite you if you didn’t want me to, and I would never use my bite to hurt you.” For a split second he thought about asking if Quinn had done that, but he swallowed the words. If he ever asked that, ever asked about their relationship with Quinn and what had happened, he would do it when they were able to decide whether or not they wanted to tell him. Right now, Darlin might tell him anything, and that wasn’t fair. He would never take things from them—not even their secrets.
“What? How did you…Oh fuck. Are you a telepath?” they mumbled, trying to wake up.
Sam laughed. “You are such a fucking mess right now. You’re talkin, Darlin. You’re not thinking in your head…And just to be really clear, I could kiss you without biting you.”
Darlin’s mouth pressed tightly. Were they trying to keep their words in their head now?
“I’ll be here when you wake up,” he promised.
Darlin relaxed again, drifting close to sleep. “I think I love you,” they whispered. “And I think it’s going to hurt worse than anything I’ve ever felt before.”
His heart ached, because he thought he understood. It was scary to love someone when everyone else had hurt them before. But he knew Darlin wouldn’t hurt him and he knew he would never hurt Darlin. They would figure it out.
He sighed and leaned his face down, resting against the top of their head, arms around them. “I love you too, Darlin,” he whispered, even though he doubted they would remember any of this conversation clearly tomorrow. But that was okay. They would have another conversation.
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roosterbruiser · 9 months
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𝐋𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐂𝐨𝐰𝐛𝐨𝐲
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A piercing cry slices through the dark--your eyelids are too heavy to wrench open, especially when you’re cocooned under the heavy duvet like you are right now. 
From behind you, molded against your body like he always is when you sleep, Jake’s muscles tense. Rigidly, he sighs into the warm curve of your throat and blinks through the dark. And, yes, there on the baby monitor is your six-month-old baby boy in his silly-looking sleep sack. He’s about to wail, Jake can tell. His little bottom lip’s wobbling and his eyes are shut tight and even though Jake can’t see his hands, he knows his fists are clenched.
“Your son is so dramatic,” you whisper, muffled from the pillow. 
“I thought we decided on theatrical,” Jake whispers back, his voice thin and worn. He peppers a few sloppy kisses to your throat and starts to sit up. “I’ve got ‘im.” 
“You’re my hero,” you mutter, yawning. 
He stretches and then swings his legs over the bed. 
“Kinda my thing,” he says as he stands.
“I love you so much,” you reply. Any other time, with more sleep, you would’ve scoffed at him and given him your best eye roll. But you’re too tired to feel anything but grateful for your husband right now. “Like, so much.” 
Jake laughs lightly, tiredly. 
“I know,” he says cockily, teasingly. 
You don’t respond, already drifting off to sleep again. You’re so tired that you can feel it in your bones--a deep, deep ache that is only exacerbated by frequent diaper changes and excessive feedings and tumultuous tummy times and gas and formula and binkies and board books and burp cloths and baths. 
And even though the baby is definitely about to start screaming, Jake can’t help but pause for a moment in repose as he stands in the doorway in his slouchy sweatpants. You’re sprawled across the bed already--you always say it’s to keep his spot warm but he knows that it’s because you’d sleep in star-formation if you had the choice--and breathing deeply. Your hair is a mess on the pillow and your cheek is smushed. Anyone with eyes can see that you’re exhausted from parenting a very particular, theatrical Seresin baby boy.  
He wants to cross the room again and tuck your hair back from your forehead. He wants to kiss your aching temples and your heavy eyelids. He wants to pull you in his arms, gather all those limbs, and hold you close. 
But he doesn’t want to wake you up.
So, he just smiles gently. 
“I love you so much,” he responds finally. “So, so, so stupid much.” 
And then he’s padding down the hallway, yawning again, but with a smile tugging on his lips. He can hear his son’s whimpers from outside the door and honestly, he’s shocked the screaming hasn’t started yet. 
The sound of artificial rain floods Jake’s ears when he comes into the room, the little sound machine in the corner lulling your son to sleep each day and night. He doesn’t bother turning it off or turning the light on--Jake’s fairly certain he’s adapted to the dark by now anyway. 
There in his crib, the one Jake had to finally ask Javy to help build, is a wriggling and fussy baby boy. His gummy mouth on display as he thrashes his head back and forth and his cheeks ruddy from upset. 
Jake’s heart swells as he strokes his cheek. Sometimes he still can't believe that this sweet little creature--the one with your eyes and his nose and your cheeks and his chin--is all his and all yours. You made him, every bit of him, and he is the most precious thing to ever grace this earth. Jake's sure of it.
“Hey there, cowboy,” he says softly. His son doesn’t let up yet, kicking his legs as Jake unzips the sleep sack. “S’alright, darlin’, daddy’s here.” 
All the tired floods his body and slips out under the door when Jake’s not looking. He holds his son against his bare chest, his body still so small and so soft. But then Jake is kissing the feathery hair on his head and bouncing lightly in his spot, heels digging into the rug. 
“What’s got you so upset?” Jake whispers, lips pressed against his son’s forehead. “Bad dream, baby?” 
Your son doesn’t respond. He just burrows into his fathers neck, his breaths stuttering and his mouth open and drooling. Jake pats his back a few times, kissing his cheek. He inhales his sweet, sweet scent and sighs.  
He loves the way your son smells--he just smells warm. He isn’t sure if it’s the body wash or the lotion or the sheets that does it. But he somehow just always smells good, like home, like you. 
“Let’s take a seat, huh? A little rock and roll never hurt nobody, huh?” He asks quietly as he sits in the rocking chair. 
If you were awake to hear his pun, you would’ve never let him hear the end of it. Jake makes a mental note to tell it to you over breakfast. 
Your son’s whimpers are fading fast, especially when Jake starts to softly rock him, tucking his chin on his head and patting his back softly. 
“Mama thinks you’re theatrical,” he tells your son, eyes fluttering shut. “And you definitely are. Mama also thinks you get it from me--and you absolutely do. Apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, cowboy. You gonna be a little actor? Or a little lawyer?” 
Your son babbles quietly, fingers tangled in Jake’s hair as a form of self-soothing. Jake kisses his face a few more times. 
“Or you could just stay here with me and mama forever,” he whispers. 
And he knows that having a son has made him soft--like crying at that one Honda commercial kind of soft--because his eyes grow wet when he thinks of your son getting any bigger than he is now. He never wants a day to come where he can’t pull his son to his chest, sit down in the rocking chair, and make the tears stop. 
"I love you," he whispers. "Me and mama love you so, so much. More love than can fit in this whole world."
When you pad down the hallway, eyes full of sand and sleep from your very few hours slumbering, you don’t even have to touch the walls anymore to orient yourself. You know where you’re going even in the pitch-black hallway. 
Jake’s sleeping when you come into the nursery, the sound machine quiet in the corner of the room. Your son is still in his arms, sleeping against his chest. And God do they look alike right now in the light of the moon--both of them sleeping with their heads resting on each other’s, their mouths open, their fists clenched. 
You came in here to bring Jake back to the bedroom. But watching him hold your son, your sweet boy, in that rocking chair that he built in this room he put together--you decide that a few more hours of comfortable sleep isn’t worth it. Tempurpedic mattress be damned. 
So, you just carefully cross the floor. The rug is soft beneath your bare feet when you lean forward and stroke your son’s head, careful to have a soft touch that will not wake him. And then you’re kissing Jake’s warm cheeks, stroking his blonde locks, too. 
Jake stirs slightly, eyes twitching. Your heart swells. 
You sink onto the floor before the rocking chair, leaning against Jake’s legs. The rain is lulling you already and you yawn as you rest your cheek on his thighs. The rug is comfortable--you’re glad you went for this one. Your son is happy and sleeping and your husband is holding him and everything is right in the world. 
And just as you’re about to fall asleep again, Jake’s thighs cushioning you, Jake’s hand falls into your hair. He strokes a few times in welcome--hi, baby. 
 “Missed you,” you mutter. 
“Missed you,” he returns. His hand glides through your hair. “All’s right in the world now, huh?” 
“Yeah,” you whisper. “It is.”
happy Father's Day to those who celebrate <3
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wileys-russo · 5 months
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i saw this clip and i thought it would be a perfect reader x player (katie either dating or just friends) you can decide ofc https://vm.tiktok.com/ZGJwaJ74L/ its so precious
start a family II k.mccabe
finishing your lap thanking the fans you made an immediate beeline to where you could see your family waiting for you on the sidelines.
growing up in a big household of six kids you adored how many of your siblings still made sure to come to as many of your national matches as they could.
today however only your best friend, mum and two of your sisters made the trip given the game wasn't actually in ireland, but you were still grateful for the flood of messages from the rest of your family and friends and never felt unsupported.
you also knew a large part of your fiances family had made the trip, and though they weren't seated with your family you'd all be going out for dinner and drinks tonight which you were sure would end up with at least half of you kicked out of whatever poor venue you all descended on.
greeting your family you rushed through their hugs, immediately scooping up your eight month old niece, cooing at her affectionately. bouncing her in your arms you spent some time chatting with them, waving to a few fans who called out your name as well as some of the girls loved ones who you knew quite well.
"can i go take her to see the girls?" you asked your older sister who nodded without an issues, knowing you'd never ever let any harm befall the bundle of blankets and chubby cheeks in your arms.
"it would be the one who gets in for free without a ticket that gets to go on the pitch!" your younger sister shook her head with a roll of her eyes as your best friend shoved her head playfully on your behalf, making you grin as they messed about.
turning away you kissed your neices forehead and made your way over to where a few of your team mates and friends were gathered in the middle of the field. your fiance spotted you the moment you turned around, sprinting over with a beaming smile on her face.
"well hello little darlin." katie cooed, hugging you from behind as the two of you pulled faces at the newborn in your arms. "she laughed at me!" katie cheered as the girl let out a few giggles. "dream on baby, that was at me!" you argued with a shake of your head.
"no it was at her auntie katie, her favourite auntie!" katie quickly scooped the baby from your grasp, holding her up and pulling faces as again your neice giggled making your fiance send you a smug smile, resting the baby on her hip.
you couldn't even find it in yourself to be mad at her, the sight of her with a baby in her arms sending your hormones into a spin as you imagined how good a ma she would be to your own kids.
"i know that look too well gorgeous." katie smiled knowingly as she swaddled your neice back up in the bright green ireland blanket in your arms, kissing her forehead tenderly.
"soon." katies hand came to rest on your cheek, bending down to sweetly kiss your lips, mumbling about how she couldn't wait to start a family with you.
the two of you had been together about four years now and knew this was the next step, you were engaged and had been for around six months now but had both decided you'd rather invest in a family than a big flashy wedding. you'd already been to a few appointments and you were due for your first round of IVF next month.
you hadn't yet told anyone, it was your own little secret joy and as much as you were incredibly nervous for a potential failure, the thought of being pregnant and soon enough holding your own baby in your arms drowned that out.
"hey, get the hell out of that pretty little head of yours." katie recognized you were beginning to overthink, flicking your ear playfully before stealing a kiss as your sister called out your name gesturing for you to return to them.
"oi your bum looks great in those shorts!" your fiance yelled after you with a wolf whistle as you sent her a wink over your shoulder making her cheeky grin widen.
you couldn't wait to start a family with her.
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2feng2cry · 6 months
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MUNCH GHOST 2⁉️
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hehehehe i finally got to write the continuation. anw this i realised is very toji coded so like sorry for that but not rlly lmao it was so fun to write. ALSO i accidentally made it gender neutral (no gender specific nicknames) AFAB reader tho.
part 1 ♿️
‼️cw : throatfucking, spit, too big dick ghost, messy eater ghost, kind of choking? but not with his hands 🫥, youre like upside down kind of, smut, cum play? not rlly but wtv
MDNI 😀🫵⛔️
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“this pussy’s fuckin’ tight f’me hun, did ya touch yourself when i was gone?” he questions while he’s still under the duvet. two of his thick fingers dancing around your entrance.
your thighs were pinned down by his unrelenting grip “stop squirmin so damn much can’t ya see im tryna eat” he spat on your twitchin pussy.
a glob of his spit running down your folds, “so nasty f’me.” he pushes it inside your hole, juices mixing on your entrance.
“no si please i didn’t i swear.” “you’ve been good yea? proud of ya hun.” he kisses your nub, feeling it swollen on his lips. lips fighting with his fingers for space, he goes back to lick your folds, writing his name.
“wanna see you si… please—“ pleading, your hands run through his hair, trying to pull him up.
“hmm.. do you now? well pretty, gotta have ya creamin’ on my tongue first if ya wanna see my face”. two of his long callused digits looking for your g spot, with every push getting you closer to the edge. him unrelenting, you let go and grab the sheets underneath, your body sweltering with him being between your legs, head heavy with his fingers plunging into you, hitting the walls underneath your stomach, being the only thing you can think of. your breathy whine and moans fueling him to keep going.
“tell me what you want sweets, can’t understand you if you don’t speak.”
“more si.. please omg i need it.. i need you.” you mewl as his fingers slows to torment you, his tongue not showing any signs of stopping. wanting more.
“fuckin greedy aren’tcha… patience.” slapping the side of your ass as he ravages you. hands running through his hair, pull and push, wanting more but everything feels too much at the same time. a stupid little bimbo like you don’t need to think too much, leave that to him. he holds you down with his body weight, fingers aiming at that one spot making you writhe, your thighs shaking now pushed to the edge, can’t hold it in anymore.
“FUCK..! i’m comin- si ii- i’m coming!!”
“fuckin cream on my tongue baby, missed ya somuch.”
your hole twitching and creaming under him, a sight he won’t forget, the reason he goes on the field, his precious darling, the love of his life, making a fucking mess on him. now whining from his tongue swirling and collecting as much juice and cum as he can.
you lift the duvet, to see him, a madman, your lover, having the time of his life.
“hey darlin, missed me that much huh?” his face drenched, crawling up the bed revealing his naked figure. his hands coming up to your face — his rough wet hands holding your jaw then bringing your face to his, lips to lips — melting into your touch, hands holding your body, sitting you up. your hands go to his neck, rubbing his back, his tense broad shoulders finally relaxing.
“missed you too love… now would ya be so kind to help a guy out” facing down to see his angry red hard throbbing cock.
taking it in your hands, sure it’s been a while but you don’t remember it being THIS big. “what did they feed you there simon jeez how the fuck did you get bigger”, palming his balls in your hand and pumping him with the other. “f-fuck heh.. it didn’t get bigger hun, just excited to see you again is all…”
all of a sudden, your head now dangling off the end of the bed, the head of his cock hitting the back of your throat. his hips pounding into you, your nose smacked by his heavy balls
“what a beaut, so good for me” running up your tongue on his dick when he settles his cock in your mouth. “your tight fuckin throat grippin on my dick like a vice, only thing your good for huh, takin’ it like a slut baby.” the constant pounding choking you, likely leaving a bruise in your throat. airway almost closing up from the sheer size of him, his relentless pace not helping, his fat dick leaving an imprint in your putty brain at this point. throat acting as a cocksleeve for him. your hands reach out to your clit and rub circles, insistent on cumming with him. after three weeks on the mission, he's become more talkative, louder, and rougher than usual. his scent and the twitch of your clit serve as the only reminders of your humanity.
“come on baby, I know you can do it, stay with me, cum with me, let’s cum together hm? that sounds good, yeah?” your face getting hit by his heavy balls in every thrust, and him being balls deep in your throat doesn’t mean you don’t notice his grunts and moans, “fuck come on baby come on yeah ughhh so fuckin fuck- nice f’me”. you’re reaching your high when you feel simon’s hips stutter, holding your jaw in place, so he can pour his warm cum in your throat. “that’s itt….- fuck baby”, he grunts while you fall over the edge and finally burst with him, the feeling of his cum seeping down your throat, or rather up really. his jaws stay put for a while before pulling out his too big cock, patting your head and combing through the knots in your hair..
“that was a nice welcome home gift sweets”.
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joelsmochi · 19 hours
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indulge - joel miller
summary: part 2 to every man gets his wish
warnings: not proofread, porn no plot it just some self indulgent cunnilingus ;)
wc: 850
a/n: couldn’t sleep so i wrote this in 30 minutes to tire my brain >_<. enjoy <3
The camera was in the way.
Your hips hanging off of the bed was prompted by Joel happily getting on his knees. He had a dream of what the angle might look like: camera on the floor, watching him destroy you with his tongue from below.
You couldn’t help but say sure when he asked, although it wouldn’t have taken you much convincing to begin with.
The camera was angled perfectly, showing off how sweetly your cunt glistened from the filthy mixture of your juices and Joel’s spit. His tongue was seen doing every trick in the fucking book, God it was fucking amazing.
But it didn’t feel quite right. Joel’s body wasn’t pressed against yours like usual when he ate you out; his arms weren’t wrapped around your thighs while he brutally suffocated your pussy with the intensity of his mouth. He was holding back, and you hated feeling teased.
The camera was in the fucking way.
Joel sensed it when you moaned but let out a slight huff at the end of it (for the thousandth time).
“What, baby? What’s got you irritated?” He sighed after pulling away.
You sat up slightly, shooting a pout at his puppy eyes.
“You’re holding back, you’re not on me,” you explained. “The camera’s in the way.”
He chuckled, “Well, yeah, darlin’. I gotta keep the camera steady.”
“Fuck the camera!”
You tugged his hair to shove his face back into your sopping wet skin, then shifted your body deeper into his.
With hands melting into your thighs and pressure from his shoulders you felt that lick of intimacy that your body required. His warm tongue lacing the letter of his name into your precious little clit while his stubble scraped tickles into your flesh set your body on fire.
The pitch of your moans grew higher every time your core took another daring step closer to the edge. Your knuckles were pale from your grip on his greying hair, thighs pushing the remaining air out of his lungs.
This was Joel’s favorite part of it all. The torture. The pain.
Fucking you so good you could only tighten your grip or your squeeze or scream into his ear — whatever it was — it was a high Joel’s would never fucking live down.
He figured from the last twenty minutes of teasing he’d wanna see this orgasm over and over and over again, so he slowed down just long enough to put the camera back on the tripod and angle it to see both of your bodies.
Then his eyes peered up and found your sweaty beet red face. Your ponytail was a mess and your baby hairs were stuck to your forehead.
Good God, he’d never seen you so pent up.
You were tired, worn out, and Joel was going to take care of everything for you.
Moaning into your clit, you shuddered, grieving the constant waves of your climax coming and going. He was working you up to the very last moment you could hold onto, knowing how much you needed this orgasm to break you even if you didn’t know it yourself.
The moment you began softly grinding against his face he knew it was time; he traded licking for sucking because it drove you fucking insane. Not just the motion, but the constant tug of your sensitive bud between his lips that made it so puffy and red kept you wanting more.
And when it broke you, Joel held you steady, watching you arch off of the bed and into his hold without making a sound. Your throat and chest filling with unheard sounds, eyes watering and flooding your cheeks with tears, until your body finally let you exhale.
“Fuck! Ah! Holy fuckfuckfuck—yes, Joel! Oh my fucking God—“
Loud, praising babbles emptied from you and flooded his ears.
He couldn’t stop now, could he? No fucking way you want him to let up. You were shaking and shivering and screaming for him like your life depended on it.
You looked so perfect to him as you died from pure bliss, not tapping out if it meant your orgasm would prevail forever.
And he held out as long as his body could live without air. His lips parted lazily, allowing him to take a deep breath.
“Fuck,” he exhaled, tasting the remnants of you that coated his puffy lips.
You laid back, body still shaking, allowing Joel to give you a few kisses down your thigh and one last lick between your swollen folds. He smoothed a hand over your stomach to help relax you, soothing you into a lightweight slumber.
He took care of the camera and the mess between your legs before carefully moving you up the bed to lay next to him. He pulled his navy blue covers over you and kissed your forehead, watching the smile the appeared on your face afterwards.
“Told you the camera was in the way,” you said cockily despite your sleepy tone, making him snicker.
“How ‘bout you keep that pretty little mouth shut ‘fore I find somethin’ to shove in it?”
[yourusername] has uploaded a new video!
⤷ DILF Neighbor Eats Me To Sleep
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taglist: @theoraekenslover
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lettersfrompanem · 10 days
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thg + walking in on you while showering
because why not!
contains: thg og trilogy and tbosas characters; pure domestic fluff, to be honest; suggestive (?) content; fem!reader; light-hearted teasing; certainly not proofread, this is just something that popped in my head lmao;
coriolanus: if it's academy!coryo, he'd be a blushing mess, no doubt. if it's peacekeeper!coryo, he'd be a bit bolder, and he'd even tease you a little. "so you expect me to just ignore the fact that you're so prettily naked? no can do, darlin'." if it's young president!coryo, he'd straight up get in. he'd also probably tease you, and it'd end up in something else, requiring another round of showering.
sejanus: same as peeta, tbh. he'd be like, "oh my god! I'm sorry, I'll just go—" because he's easily embarrassed! but you reassure him that it's okay, that he can come in. he'd grin and nod. "you're just so pretty, baby. I just can't ignore you."
lucy gray: she'd also tease you. "you thought you'd get rid of me that easily, huh? better luck next time, precious." then she'd strip and get in with you.
tigris: she'd ask if you're okay with her being there. of course you tell her you are. "you need me to bring you anything?" once you answer no, she'd smile and get in to do whatever she needs to do.
katniss: if you've dated for a while, she'd shrug and easily dispose of her clothes and get in with you. if you've gone out for a few times, however, she'd blush and walk away immediately.
peeta: he'd be sooo shy!! even if you've been going out for quite some time, he'd mumble an apology and leave, even though you tell him it's okay.
johanna: she just doesn't care. like honestly. she'd just say, "eh. we got the same things. not like I'm gonna be surprised. 'sides, I gotta pee and we ain't got another bathroom, sorry about that," (she's obviously not sorry at all) then shrug and get in anyway.
remember you can send requests!☺
finnick: he'd smirk and tease you. "without me?" he wouldn't give you a chance to respond, he'd be already in the shower with you.
haymitch: "fucking close the door next time! jesus christ." then he'd leave.
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Text
close to home | chapter forty one
close to home | chapter forty one
plot: the reader gets taken by the saviors
series masterlist
Pairing: Eventual Daryl Dixon x f!reader Word Count: 1,489 Warnings: violence, blood, typical twd A/N: thank you for reading!!! Hope you guys are liking the longer chapters! This one isn't lol updated twice today not to brag but look at me go
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The room was so dark you thought you were still asleep when you woke up. You thought you were in a bad dream. It took you a few seconds to realize the light was shining underneath a doorway, but it barely lit up the room. The back of your head was aching, and you were nearly positive you had a concussion. Slowly, you started to sit up. 
The room was small, like a closet. That was the only thing that you knew. Other than the fact that the saviors had you. Your hands were shaking as you dropped your head in them. You were with the saviors. And you were most likely going to die here. 
Tears burned your eyes as you thought about home and how you’d never see it again. You wouldn’t jog the streets of the community or read comics with Carl ever again. You wouldn’t laugh with Michonne or see Maggie and Glenn’s baby be born. You’d never see Daryl again. And you would never, ever see your precious Tora. 
The image of the cat’s face made you lose it, and you couldn’t stop crying. Your heart was beating erratically, and you felt on the verge of throwing up. “No, no, no,” You mumbled to yourself. 
You weren’t sure how long you sat in that room for. It wasn’t until your tears had dried and you were lying on the floor, defeated, that you heard voices. 
“I got the message she was up,” You heard someone say. 
“Yes, sir, about an hour or so ago.”
“Alright, well let’s get this done then, shall we?”
You heard keys jingling, and then the door opened. Your eyes shut at the bright light, and you raised your hand to shield them as you squinted. 
Two men were standing before you. One held the door open, and the other stood in the doorway. You couldn’t see his face as your eyes hadn’t adjusted, but you should see the figure of a lean man with a bat over his shoulder. 
“Well, well, well, if you ain’t a sight for sore eyes.” The man said. “I sure am glad Dwighty boy brought you to me. Must be my birthday or something!” 
Your vision was finally restored, and you saw an older man with a dark beard. He was smiling down at you, but it made your skin crawl. 
“If you’re going to kill me, just get it over with,” You said. 
The man smiled and rubbed his jaw, “Huh. If I wanted that, you would be chained up outside already. Now come on, let’s get you off the floor,” He said, stretching his hand out to you. 
You ignored it and stayed where you were. “Who are you?”
“Oh, darlin’, I’m so glad you asked me that. I’m Negan. Now, don’t make me ask again.” He said, with his arm still outstretched. 
Your stomach tightened in a wave of anxiety and you grabbed his hand, letting him pull you to your feet. You glanced at the bat that was on his shoulder and caught him smiling at you. 
“This here is Lucille; she’s my partner in crime,” He gave you a playful wink. “But she doesn’t like messing with a face as pretty as yours. Well, at least not much.”
You nearly scowled at the threat but had the sense to keep your face neutral. 
“Come on, let’s go for a walk; we have some talking to do,” 
***
The ‘walk’ with Negan led you to a private room in the maze of hallways. You couldn’t tell where you were or even what this building was supposed to be. He walked before you, swinging the bat, and any person passing you knelt for him. 
You were left alone with him, and he pointed towards the table. “I had a meal prepared for us. I thought it’d be nice to talk over dinner. Nobody does that anymore, you know.” He said. 
The table was set up with two plates. As you sat down, you noticed there wasn’t a knife. Not that you would be stupid enough to try anything in this place anyway. You knew how many people were here. 
A few people came into the room and brought in food. You watched them in silence, and when they were gone, you looked at what food they gave you. It was some sort of chicken with actual vegetables. Fresh vegetables. The Hilltop. 
“Gosh, I’m just starved after a day like today,” Negan said, “Don’t worry about anything in the food. I don’t want to kill you.”
“I find that hard to believe,” You said. 
Negan smiled as he chewed and he leaned back against the chair. “They told me you had quite a mouth on you when they dropped you off here. It’s been a long time since someone talked to me like that. I forgot how much I liked it…”
You made a face at the lude comment and grabbed your fork, examining the food. “Why don’t you want to kill me then? At least for right now.”
“I believe people are a resource, and I believe you could be quite resourceful.”
“I believe it would be better for you to stop staying shit like that,” You said, stabbing a piece of chicken.
“Oh, darlin’, I just can’t seem to stop myself.” Negan chuckled. “I want you to tell me about the community.”
“I-.”
“And don’t tell me you’re not from there. I know it. You know it. And I think you’re smarter than trying to lie about it.”
“There’s nothing to tell.” You said, “It’s a community. Probably similar to this one.” 
Negan laughed and said, “I don’t think that’s true.”
“What even is this place?” You asked. 
“Why don’t you tell me your name, first?”
You looked at Negan as you chewed. “(Y/N),”
“The name as beautiful as the holder,” He chucked. 
You frowned. “Sweet-talking me isn’t going to get what you want, Negan. I will die before I tell you or any pig in this place anything. But it doesn’t matter. We’ll kill you all if you don’t back down.”
Negan looked at you for a long moment before he spoke. “But of course, you won’t be around for that then, would you?”
You dropped your fork and leaned against the seat. You knew his game now. “I don’t intend on it.”
“Well, I don’t think I can let that happen, now, can I?”
***
You weren’t sure how long you were in the dark room after that. Telling time was next to impossible, and you feared you would be left here to rot. But it was favorable to torture, and you considered yourself lucky. 
You’d been in there for hours before someone came to collect you. You were delivered directly to Negan--who you hadn’t seen since the dinner you shared with him. He smiled widely as you were forced towards him. 
“You ready to see your family, darlin’?”
You weren’t given a chance to respond. A bag went over your head, and you were roughly thrown into the back of some sort of van due to all the space you had. It started up immediately, and you fell over as it drove. With the bag over your head and the dark inside of the van, time moved slowly. You could tell it was for a while and thought you were headed towards Alexandria. They’d somehow found the community and would most likely beat you to death in front of everyone. 
The dark closet was preferable. But you didn’t want to wait any longer for death. Everyone lived on borrowed time since the world went to shit, and your number was being called. You could live with it if it meant your family would live. 
When the van stopped moving, it was parked for a long time. You couldn’t see what was happening outside, but you could vaguely hear voices. You heard the door roll up, and someone grabbed you. 
Your body hit the ground, and you groaned as you were pulled back up to your feet and forced forward. You struggled with every step, trying to fight back, but whoever pushed you forward was strong. 
It was quiet, just crickets chirruping when you heard someone’s voice getting louder as you approached. “It’s gonna be pee-pee pants city here real soon.” Negan.
“Oh shit, looks like you forgot someone, Simon!” Negan laughed; you could tell this was just a part of his games.
You struggled against the person holding you for another few steps before you were pushed to the ground. The bag from your head was pulled off, and you squinted in the light momentarily before you took in the scene around you.
Your family. All lined up.
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morallyinept · 14 days
Note
Hey Jett!!
I had a random thought the other day about what all of the Pedro boys would do if they were out with me at a bar (or any social gathering really) and another guy hit on me and possibly wanted to fight them. Since you have such amazing insight on the boys, I wanted to hear your thoughts on how you think they would react.
Thanks!! 💜💜
P.S. I know you must be loving all this Lucien content as much as I am!!! 🫠
Hey Lovely Jenn! 🖤
Oh gosh, I'm wading knee deep through the Lucien content and am happily drowning. 🫠 Don't save me, I'm fine... The thots, Jenn. THE THOTS! 🥵
Ooh, what a fun Ask! It's been a while since I did a Pedro Boys Ramble, so here goes! 🖤
Marked NSFW🌶 Brief mentions of unwanted attention.
Ding! Ding! Ding! Round one... 🥊
JOEL MILLER:
I would challenge anyone to pick a fight with Joel. Dare them. I dare ya! And then I'll sit back laughing as they pick their bloodied teeth up off the floor. 🍿 We all remember Episode 1 QZ Joel. This Joel right here, who would break your lookin'-for-the-light fuckin' jaw, right?
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Yeah. Ain't no-one messing with ya, darlin' whilst this stacked mofo is by your side at the bar, let me tell ya. Joel's a pitbull waiting to attack, just give him one good reason to snap. I don't think anyone would be stupid enough. And that's what is so appealing about him, isn't it? They can look, but if they dare touch you, Joel'll kill 'em.
FRANKIE MORALES:
Frankie's hermosa is not for touching. No touchy, hijo de puta. Unless it's part of some flirty game where you do it deliberately, and with his agreement, to get a, uh, rise *ahem* out of him. Get that pilot flying, if you catch my drift... 😏 You're stunning, it kinda turns Frankie on a little bit to know that other guys are checking you out. But make no mistake, any unwelcome attention and Frankie will be right there, flanked by the TF boys as he steps in and warns the guy to back off in that low, calm, gravelly tone. And with four, (we don't count Tom, he's rightfully dead) burly, ex-veterans giving the dude the stank eye, you can bet your touchy-feely offender will scarper away with his limp dick between his legs. And then Frankie will take you home and tell you how fuckin' hot it was, hermosa, with that guy drooling over you as Frankie proceeds to drool all over you in turn. Standard Heating Oil cap remains on.
EZRA:
DIETER BRAVO:
Let's face it, your would-be chancer wouldn't even get a word in edge wise, let alone close enough to wrangle you away from Ezra. But even with one arm, this chatty dude is lethal. And Ezra is pretty protective of the things that he cares most about. And you are his most precious, shiniest gem he's prospected in a long time. And if someone else wants to take that gem from him with their grubby, greedy mitts? Well, he'll be packing them off to Kevva in a pretty sorry state. "Notwithstanding the fact you pertain your stance of seeking what is mine, I'd reason with you to consider that sloppy course of action. Lest you want your appendages to remain intact, friend." The warning will be more than enough for the guy to retreat, mostly because he can't handle the amount of words fired at him, but this is Ezra. We know he likes to play a little dirty, that scoundrel, so of course he'll excuse himself for a moment to indulge as he so frequently does without regret, and seek the man out to ensure that his warning has permanently left a mark.
So, this could go two ways. Either D is so far off his face with booze and drugs that he doesn't notice, dancing on the dancefloor and really feelin' the beat and his shirt, because man that feels super silky on his fingertips right now, and dude, the colours! "You should totally feel it. Feels amazing, babe." As you watch him feel himself up over his shirt. And then when you tell him some skeezey guy tried to cop a feel, at first he giggles, because, you know, he's high as a fucking kite. But then when he sees your face, Dieter charges off in the direction of the bar wanting to throttle the guy, and does. But it's the wrong guy unfortunately, and he gets thrown out of the club where he falls face first into a puddle of his own vomit. Or, he's sober and has his arm round your shoulder and is totally getting off on the fact that some guy is giving you the eye. "What do you think, babe. Shall we invite him back home with us...?"
JAVIER PEÑA:
I think that Javi, after a long day at work, sinking back his third drink at the bar rubbing the stress away in his temple, would probably be the guy to hit on you... Throwing you a sultry glance over his shoulder with those deep, brown eyes and come hither stare. It'd be enough to see you stare back; mutually pining signals growing between you that you both want each other. Javi'll end up back at your place whilst your boyfriend is out of town. He'll note the photos of you both together scattered about the place, but won't say anything. He knows what this is and so do you. A night of passion under the hot humidity of Colombia between two strangers, a release of all that tension from trying to catch Escobar. He'll fuck you so good, have you sobbing into the mattress as he pulls you back onto his cock again and again. He'll stay the night, taking you again in the early hours before dawn. However, he makes sure he's gone in the morning, just in case your boyfriend comes home. Whilst Javi isn't one for shying away from confrontation, he'd prefer not to engage unless he has to. He's far happier knowing that your boyfriend will come home to find you dripping full of him instead.
DAVE YORK:
Missing person: guy who tried it on with you in a bar. Nuff' said, right? Dave strikes me as incredibly protective and ruthless about it. I mean, he did everything possible to protect himself from being found out about Susan, so by that logic we have to assume this guy means business. And boy does he. He won't stand for that shit, some guy putting his eyes, let alone his hands, on HIS partner? Run. Run very fast and very far because when Dave finds him, he won't ever be found again.
MARCUS PIKE:
Marcus is in the FBI so can handle confrontation well, it's his job. However, he won't actively seek out a fight. I imagine his conflict handling skills are pretty robust and can talk a heated situation down comfortably and confidently. I believe Marcus would be incredibly protective of you. He's the type of boyfriend who will dance with you at a gig, but also let you dance by yourself too whilst he gets you another beer, you free spirit you. He'll watch you from the bar, smiling with a big heart at how beautiful you are with your hands in the air, hips swaying low and feeling the beat, and how lucky he is that you're here with him in DC. (Fuck you very much, Teresa.) But then he spots a couple of guys leering over you, and Marcus grows at least six more feet in height. He'll march confidently over there, teeth grinding, hands moulding into fists and blood boiling, thinking of all the ways he wants to end those shit stains. But he'll simply take you in his arms and kiss you so passionately and wrap himself around you as you dance, feeling you grind against him, and you note how fucking hard he is right now. He throws warning daggers at the creeps that he's onto them, and they most certainly won't come near you at all.
DIN DJARIN:
MARCUS MORENO:
Ain't no-one gonna mess with this bounty hunter, mesh'la. We've all seen how hushed the local drinking hole gets when the man of Beskar steel strides in. All he's missing is the theme tune to The Good, The Bad And The Ugly, right? And Din orders up a Spotchka, and some eats for The Kid, and you dutifully bring it over and coo over the lil' green cutie, and Din likes you already. If you like his kid, then he likes you. He watches as you serve patrons and one of them gets a little too handsy. And before either of you know it, a leather gloved hand is there, uncoiling the leech's hand away from the direction of your butt, and politely warning in a softly spoken, modulated tone, that if they want to keep that hand, then they should apologise to you. And they do, with everyone watching as Din applies more and more pressure on the joint until it pops and the guy moans in pain. As thanks, you ensure The Kid has an extra free serving and your mysterious Mandalorian hero has another free drink on the house. Din makes sure to come back again, and not just for the service.
MAX PHILLIPS:
A big softie, even though he's our resident superhero, (even when Reed Richards shows up, Marcus is still our number one hero!) Marcus I suspect, much like Marcus Pike, doesn't actively seek out confrontation or a fight for fight's sake. He spends all day fighting for the world, the last thing he wants to do is clock a guy in the jaw for trying it on with his partner. But he will. You bet your bottom dollar Marcus will break a jaw, an arm, a leg on anyone who dares to disrespect his partner.
TIM ROCKFORD:
Tim's rarely at a bar. He works late into the night swamped at his desk trying to solve mysteries. But one evening you text him while you're out with a girlfriend having some food and drinks. You've also texted him throughout the night to show him your outfit, or pieces of it as you reveal cleavage and thigh making him sweat and groan at his desk. But this time the text isn't you teasing him, it's to say there's a man there making you both feel very uncomfortable and won't get the hint, and you're a little scared of what he might do. And Tim is there. Fuck the paperwork. Screw the case. His missus doesn't feel safe, so Tim is coming for you, baby. He pulls up and sweeps you into his trench coat, the familiar scent of the leather holsters making you feel instantly safe. He leaves you both in the car whilst he goes inside the bar to seek out this fellow. You can only watch as the man stumbles out of the bar, landing on his back after Tim knocks him out with a single punch. You watch as Tim strides back to the car, flexing his fist, trench coat billowing in the wind. After he drops your friend home, you just have to thank your man for coming to your rescue. So you do. Right there in the driver's seat in his lap, pulling on his holsters as you ride your handsome detective.
SILVA:
Sharing a bottle of red wine and heart-eyes with this handsome, greying rancher, you and Silva have your own little cosy corner in the saloon, tucked away where you can be touchy-feely. But as he leaves for a moment to relieve himself, your table is soon filled with three lotharios seeking a good time and mistaking you for the saloon's entertainment. Pawing at you and wanting to mark their territory, Silva comes back to find you yelping for help, and lots of bawdy laughter at your plight. His six-shooter is out as he scoops you up under his arm and warns them all to back off as he protects you, and he means fucking business. They reach for their guns and lose their fingers as they try when he shoots and doesn't miss any of them. Outside, he lifts you up onto his horse and rides off with you into the sunset.
PERO TOVAR:
If you can pry Pero's attention away from the food and ale he's working his way through, then Pero would be a man certainly not to shy away from any opportunity to fight. "You want to touch my woman, hermano?" He'll seethe at the bastardo who's trying to take advantage. His dagger will be at their throat and he's hissing spittle and Spanish expletives in their ear about how he's going to gut them open whilst you watch. He throws the pendejo out with an extra kick to the ass, and settles back to his meal. He taps his lap for you to come and take your seat on it as he eats, and you wind your fingers through his dirty, oiled hair and offer to run him a bath - and get in it with him - when he's done. Lord knows this mercenary needs one.
OBERYN MARTELL:
Max will just eat 'em. He'll also be the type to use it as an excuse too. "That guy over there? I don't like the way he's looking at you." "He's not looking at me, Max." "Yeah he is. Wait here." He comes back licking his lips and sucking at his fingers after a short while. "Better?" You ask, with a knowing smirk. "Much." He winks at you. The bar staff find a body a week later in the dumpster out back.
MAXWELL LORD:
Maxwell would be pretty protective of you, I think. He'd want to keep you safe and close to him, like a precious exhibit for him to admire and fawn over. But I get the sense that Maxwell doesn't handle confrontation that well. Pre-dream stone, he was a bit of smooth talker, but when it comes to a physical altercation I imagine he wouldn't fare very well. He'd have noble intentions, of course he will stand up for you and warn the guy to back off, but he's likely to be puched and get a split lip for defending your honour. But you don't see it as a weakness. A guy who tries is a guy who is worth it. Instead, you take him home and dab at his lip until it stops bleeding and tell him you love him. And he shows you in return how much he loves you too. However, if the same scenario were to happen with the power of the dream stone, Max would tear the guy to shreds, no questions asked.
JAVI GUTIERREZ:
Oberyn wouldn't have much of a problem at all with other guys staring at you or wanting a piece of your sweet ass. In fact, he'd very much encourage it, with your permission, of course. As his paramour you're both open and love to fuck anyone together. But it has to be invited and what you're comfortable with. Although Oberyn loves watching you devour guys as they fill you up, he won't stand for inappropriate touching when it's not welcome. You are his, first and foremost and he is yours. An understanding and acceptance that you both enjoy. And if Oberyn sees someone try to take advantage of that, you can bet a dagger through the hand will be the very least harm this Red Viper will inflict.
LUCIEN FLORES:
Whilst I don't know much about him as of yet, I sense Lucien is more of a lover than a fighter. And he's sober, so being in a bar probably isn't wise. However, he's taken you out for dinner and you can't help but stare lustfully at that golden collarbone glittering with those chains on display as his shirt collar is flapped open all night, clearly allergic to buttons. You excuse yourself to the bathroom, but on your way back, a man stops you, and Lucien watches carefully as the man tries to flirt with you. He sees you shake your head and come back to him. He asks if you want another drink and he goes up to the bar and stands beside the man who tried it on with you, clearly unperturbed by the fact you're there with Lucien. And Lucien can only admire this douchebag's gall. But he simply warns the guy that if he tries it again he'll ensure the the drink the guy has in his hand will be his last, and judging from how casually Lucien says it whilst tipping the barman, the guy senses he means it. Lucien watches as the man approaches you to apologise and then leaves before Lucien heads back to the table with your drink, smirking.
A happy Javi in love wants the whole world to know you're his. He'll proudly show you off on his tan, muscled bicep. He'll want to kiss you in public, playfully grope your butt when you each slide your hands in one another's back pockets. These public displays of affection from you both would make others sick. But happy, cute-as-a-button Javi harbours a dark side. And a shotgun. Woe betide anyone who tries to touch his cariño.
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elvisabutler · 11 months
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spark ( chapter two: prayer )
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fandom: elvis presley | elvis ( 2022 ) rating: m pairing: elvis presley ( fameless big daddy electrician/handyman ) x female original character word count: 10570ish so just shy of 11k this time. warnings: talk of children. a bit of negative self talk. infidelity in some form. elvis in glasses. religion playing an at least faintly important part. use of a washcloth in inventive ways. faint naivety regarding come and precome and pleasurable parts of sex, i suppose. fingering. implied/referenced masturbation ( m and f ). pining. talk of female reproductive issues. author’s note: so before you read anything involving this. i need you all to either go into this chapter blind other than my note about female reproductive issues or i need you to scroll all the way down to the bottom of this past the tag list for a bit of an explanation for that warning. i'm fine either way but i didn't want to spoil it in the warnings considering i left what happened fairly nebulous. all that being said hi y'all, welcome to the second chapter of spark! there is not a lot i can say other than telling you all i am so very thankful for every single one of you who read it and especially those of you who left comments in the notes or reblogged because hearing what feelings i invoked or what i did to y'all was a highlight and truly makes me want to interact with all of you more and makes me just want to hear more from all of you. this chapter and the next are a doozy but this one specifically has the nearly 6k bath scene as i've called it so you're in for a treat. special thank you to my southern gothic/southern sticky romance soulmate @precious-little-scoundrel because y'all know this wouldn't exist without her little whispers. additional thanks to my discord wives @ab4eva and @butlersxbirdy, my princess and my peach y'all know how much hearing y'all scream about my snippets made me know i was heading in the right direction. @blurredcolour thank you for also reassuring me that the one bit i showed you worked and wasn't just completely a mess. and last but not least @powerofelvis and @prompted-wordsmith thank you both for the edit job and smitty specifically for a few choice lines. i still am never gonna not laugh about you trying to sneak weepy in there though. and now before this author's not gets much longer, i present the second chapter of spark, titled prayer.
It's so quiet in the room. It's too quiet in the kitchen. It's too quiet even as Lilly hears Elvis's deep breaths against her back, hears her own softer breaths mixed with something that sounds almost like a whimper—a soft cry of elation with every other breath and shift of her body against his. Her vagina—her pussy—oh, she doesn't know what to call it now—aches in a way she's never felt before, not even when her husband took her for the first time in their bed. It aches but it doesn't hurt, it burns but in the way her legs burned after she would go running with Melly or how her arms burned after lifting up a basket of Nathan's clothes. Her—what had Elvis called it?—her clit, her button throbs as she feels his soft cock brush up against it as he moves forward just a bit, causing a noise that sounds so obscene Lilly can't help the way her cheeks darken even as another noise leaves her. Another whimper, this time lower in pitch, a keen leaves her mouth as Elvis stills his attempt to separate them.
"Lilly, darlin' I gotta—you gotta let me let ya down. Ya leg's startin' to hurt, ain't it?" Elvis murmurs, his hand moving down her flank, watching how her body starts to shiver, their shared sweat starting to cool on her body as the fan–the fan he just fixed whirrs above them. "Don't… it's gonna start hurtin' the more we stay here, darlin'. Let—" His hand moves to her thigh, feels how it's so sticky and slick with God knows what fluid, his or hers or both, and he's not sure how he's going to take his hand off of her if it starts to stick. Her shivers are starting to strengthen, be it from nervousness or the cool air or a combination and Elvis can't help the way a singular one flows through him, causing him to tighten his hold on her thigh and bury his face against her shoulder, a groan leaving his lips as he feels her clench at it. "It's—come on, Lilly, I gotcha, let me help ya."
It's those words, that mild parroting of words he had just whispered against the shell of her ear not even 15 minutes ago that has her head falling forward just a little, has her body going lax completely, a rag doll for him to maneuver how he sees fit. She doesn't trust herself to help him, doesn't trust the thoughts in her head that tell her to make him keep her this way, to keep him inside of her and keep her filled and aching all at once. Doesn't trust the traitorous thought that tells her Nathan would have never done this, would never be this gentle and calming with her. She'd already be standing on shaky legs with him tucking himself in his pants before telling her that was good. Elvis's arm catches her, holds her tight against him still as he helps her pull her leg down off the counter even as she hears that noise again that—squelch of her arousal and the sheer amount of come he had released in her. If this is how he sounded inside of her, what would happen when he pulled out of her? What would happen as he left her stretched and satisfied? Would—perhaps some would take. Perhaps, perhaps, perhaps. 
"Lil." His whisper is gentle, almost as if he's scared she'll bolt. "You hold onto me. Gonna get outta ya now. Gonna pull out of ya."
Her arm and her hand grip his own tightly, her shivers increasing as she feels Elvis start to pull out. The more he inches out bit by bit the more empty she feels, the more she feels as if there's a wound there that won't heal caused by him leaving. It's never felt like this with Nathan and she knows, she knows so deep in her bones and soul that should worry her. But her mind, her body, her everything has narrowed down to her and Elvis as he finally breaks free of her vagina and she feels a wetness like she's never felt before slide down her legs. Unbidden and unrestrained, a sob is wrenched from her throat as she's set down, her feet finally touching the floor once more. A sudden shift back to reality she wasn't prepared for.
Elvis's arm tightens around her even as her shivers worsen and as he feels and hears the sob that comes from her. He doesn't think he hurt her—not physically, at least—but he can't… he can't check her like this. Not when he looks down at her legs and sees his release sliding down her leg.
A realization hits him in that exact moment as his arm tightens around where—where a child would grow if any of his release caught. Where their child would grow if it caught. He hadn't worn protection. He allowed himself to enter her bare and come not once, but twice. Right in this very moment he could be sealing both of their fates. Her to have the child of a man who is not her husband and him—him, to see another man raise his child. To see his child grow up through pictures instead of being there for every waking moment. His thoughts are interrupted by another of Lilly's sobs and he shakes his head. She–she needs a bath, he can't let Nathan come home and see her like this. Even if he had been neglecting her, leaving her to wilt and leaving her to be watered and in the worst of cases fertilized by another man, Elvis couldn't be sure of his reaction to seeing the proof leaking out of his wife.
The fan creaks as it spins, unused to spinning after the break it had been given from being broken. Elvis's brain settles on the noise even as the air circulating causes even his body to let out a shiver. His own natural heat feels like it isn't enough in this one moment, as if it's too busy trying to keep Lilly warm to remember to keep him fully warm and yet he thinks he can handle it. It's nothing compared to winter in France. Nothing compared to the bite of the cold against his skin then. And yet—and yet it cuts far more to the bone, through his muscles and fat and everything that should protect him. Straight to the heart of him.
His arm finally falls from around Lilly’s waist as she moves to stand on her own, her legs a little shaky like a newborn deer. He hastily tucks himself back into his jumpsuit—she can't see what he put inside her, can't see his uncut cock even if it brought her pleasure he wonders if she's never had before. When she finally looks at him he has to stop himself from pulling her into his arms to kiss her. She looks… she looks like an angel and he's corrupted her like a devil. He's touched something that might not have been pure and innocent but was as close as he’s seen in such a long time and sullied it. Touched it with hands that have seen war and have seen death and threatened to cause death even in peacetime. What sort of person did that, what sort of man who believes in God with all his being now would do this to another man’s wife? Breaking not one, but two sins, and for what? To try and fix something that it isn’t his place to fix, that will never be his place to fix? To try and fix something only to potentially cause more things to break inside and out. He hopes she doesn’t see how his hand clenches into a fist, hopes she doesn’t see how he can’t look her in the eye right at this moment. He hopes—he hopes—he hopes she can forgive him, he hopes God can forgive him. 
Lilly can’t help the way her legs shake slightly and how her body trembles just a little bit. She’s not cold, not in a way that would cause this much shivering and yet here she was acting as if she had been dunked in a bath filled with cold water and shoved into a Yankee winter. Elvis was—is warm in a way she knows would help. Or at least she feels as if it would help because it would just be an extension of taking care of her, wouldn’t it? It would be him continuing the duty he’s given himself despite not… not being the man who promised to love and to hold and to take care of her in every conceivable way. He is just a man. He is just a man who she has grown quite fond of but a man nonetheless. A man who is not her husband and yet—no, this was just both of them being tempted and falling for temptation. In her mind, she thinks of never having Elvis speak to her again, thinks of a world where this act has ruined their relationship. No, their friendship, and she bites her lip to keep from crying out in anguish. He had been such good company. He is such good company and to lose that would have her all alone once again with nothing to show for it except… perhaps. Perhaps his release could catch inside her. Perhaps it could catch and form a child, their child and she would have someone to be with. She would have the child she longed for to spend her days doting on and mothering. She would have her company and she could be so much less angry—despondent over her friends and she could enjoy Melly’s pregnancy and any other ones that would come after because she’d at least have her own child. Too preoccupied with her thoughts, she nearly misses Elvis speaking to her and grabbing ahold of her hand. 
“Lil darlin’, ya shakin’ like a leaf. Ya got a robe or somethin’ in that bedroom of yourn?” He asks all while walking them ever so slowly to the bathroom near the other bedroom. It has a bathtub, that much he knows from using it but he knows it’s likely not anything compared to the one in the main bathroom adjacent to her bedroom. Lilly can only nod as an answer. “Ya good to go grab it? Don’t wanna—it’s not my place to see ya bedroom.”
He’s right and she knows he is but a part of her, the part of her that’s clinging onto his hand for dear life and doesn’t trust her legs to carry her into the bedroom and back to him shakes her head. “I’m—I don’t—walk me to it?”
“Lilly,” he starts before he looks up and sees her face pleading with him, begging silently in almost the same way it was up against the sink and he stops himself before nodding. “Just keep holdin’ my hand. I’ll walk wit’ ya.”
Between the walls and Elvis’s hand, Lilly’s steps are a little more certain by the time she makes it to the doorway of her bedroom where just on the inside there’s a hook that has her robe. She creaks the door open just slightly to grab it before pulling it on. It smells faintly of Nathan’s cologne and she can’t help but crinkle her nose in distaste, wishing it smelt different. The walk over to the other bathroom is just as slow and just as measured but the moment they reach it, Elvis moves to set her on the toilet after shutting the lid. His knees crack audibly as he gets down on the floor with a groan. Lilly winces as she hears the water turn on. “Warmer than you think I should have it.” 
He hadn’t asked what temperature she wanted the water but she figured it was best to tell him ahead of time, just in case he thought she needed it only lukewarm. His response is a chuckle before he turns the hot knob just a bit more. 
Her mind wanders as she sits there feeling more of his release sticking to her leg. Her mind wanders as she looks at Elvis in his jumpsuit still half open but done up so she can’t see what was between his legs, what had given her such pleasure that her vagina clenches 
involuntarily at the memory. Clenches at the memory of how full it felt, how it felt like it was catching, how it felt different than Nathan’s penis. Surely—oh surely with how full she feels even now with his release inside her it would take. It would catch and take and her belly would swell with new life. Her child would grow inside her and kick and roll and make her so happy even as she pushed them out, painful as everyone had told her it was. Her child would look like her if it was a daughter or perhaps a healthy mix of her and Elvis if it was a boy. Her breath catches at the image and she finds herself leaning against the toilet and clutching her hands to her stomach with her eyes shut. Her eyes shut so that the lord could hear her prayer because she’s only focusing on Him and the words she was praying up into the heavens. Please, Lord, please let it catch. Bless me with just this one baby.
Elvis looks over at Lilly over the rims of his glasses and is struck by how she looks so serene in the moment. How her robe covers her and how her head is tilted up as if she’s praying for something. His eyes drift down and notice her hands on her belly. Her hands that seem small compared to his on her belly and briefly, in a flash he berates himself for later, he pictures her growing round with his baby after the release he's just left in her has taken root. Pictures her blossoming and blooming right before his eyes as she thanks him with his favorite dinner with their child rolling inside of her under an apron. The word please leaves her lips, though, and it shatters that image quicker than anything else. She is married to an idiotic child, yes, but he is still her husband and is still a strapping young man. Perhaps still more suited for her than him. More suited to give her those children to help her bloom. He has to shut his eyes and pray for forgiveness and for God to dissolve his come before it reaches those parts of her that can bear fruit. She’s pleading with God that it doesn’t take—that they aren’t caught with their indiscretion and his mind is being selfish with the desires it has for her.
It doesn’t take long for the tub to fill and Elvis turns off the water before it gets to be too much. He can’t look at Lilly, hasn’t looked at her since he heard the word please fall from her lips and yet he knows he has to. He knows to help her into the bathtub he has to but he stares at the water, watching it ripple just a little until he hears Lilly’s voice. 
“Are you—? You can… can you stay?” Her skin flushes at her own question, as if it’s the worst possible thing for her to say, as if it’s mortifying to have it leave her lips. He is not her husband. He is, at best, a new friend—and she wants him to see her completely bare. “You don’t—”
Elvis cuts off her words with a shake of his head. “I’ll stay for ya. Since ya want me to.” He pauses, his eyes finally looking at her: specifically looking at her legs where his release is still sliding down onto the floor of the bathroom. Had he honestly come that much? “Ya—e need to—I came in ya, Mrs. H—Lilly. It’s gonna need to be washed outta ya,” his hand twitches as his eyes drift to her stomach and he has to stop himself from placing his hand on it with his next words. “Don’t want ya bein’... Don’t wanna cause ya any issues.”
Don’t want to have my child growin’ inside of ya, is what he means, Lilly thinks. Her traitorous mind wants to be that mean woman Nathan’s accused of her of being and spit that she wants to swell with his baby. She wants to grow round with his baby because she wants a baby and Nathan won’t give her one. She wants a child to love and dote on and to cherish. She bites her tongue though, because it’s not right to say it, it’s not proper to admit she might do anything for a baby. Instead she nods and moves to take off the robe, motioning for Elvis to help her with the rest of her clothes as she stands up. Ever the gentleman, he obliges, and Lilly can’t help the goosebumps and shivers that dot her in his hands’ wake as his fingertips glide across her skin. Her body hunches over just slightly to protect her modesty as if he hadn’t just had her against her kitchen sink not once, but twice. Elvis frowns slightly when he sees this, the frown only deepening as she moves to step into the tub on her own. It doesn’t take him but a second to scoop her into his arms.
Lilly squeaks slightly at the unexpected touch before she leans against him, her hand moving to play with his chest hair until he sets her down softly into the tub. A whine escapes her lips as her vagina hits the water, the temperature difference reminding her of their actions. A moment passes before Elvis opens his mouth to ask something and Lilly tilts her head to the cabinet above the toilet. “Middle shelf.”
A nod is his only response to her direction until she hears the crack of his knees signaling how he’s back down on the ground. Her eyes haven’t left the water, watching how there’s little bits of white, stringy and almost clear swirling around the water. It was all going to waste. It was all going to be going down the drain and she was going to remain barren, a woman with no fruit of her loins to call her own when there should be no reason for that. Elvis eyes her before setting the washcloth in the water and humming, his hand moving to touch her shoulder, a strangely domestic touch that she doesn’t shy away from.
“There’s so much of it.” Lilly whispers absentmindedly, her head tilting just so as Elvis hums and chuckles slightly because she’s not wrong. 
“It’s just—that’s my—that’s what I produce before I actually release inside ya. Hell, I think most of it might be that ‘cause I ain’t ever produced this much.” A truth if he’s honest with himself, even in his younger days he doesn’t remember this much being in a condom and yet he had filled her with so much it’s just leaking out of her. He had filled her like he was her husband and they were trying for a child. He had done the unthinkable and yet there’s a small part of him that wonders how much of his release is inside of her. That small part has his cock twitching just slightly against his leg, ready to give her more if she asks, to fill her up and replace what’s being lost in the water. He shakes his head to clear it, to direct the blood flow back to his thinking self and not the desirous snake in his pants.
“This ain’t the part we gotta worry ‘bout anyway. It’s the thicker stuff,” he points to a small bit that’s floating from her vagina as he speaks, “like that right there that we gotta worry ‘bout. But the rest? Ya see how it's slidin’ right out? We don't gotta worry bout those parts.”
Lilly has to stop herself from perking up at that knowledge. That there’s more where this came from and that this? She can lose as much of this as she is right now while still perhaps having his seed catch. This was just the initial bit, the majority of it is still inside of her and she clenches, tightens her vagina even as it feels to be an insurmountable task as it throbs and pulses from the effort. She can't tilt her hips up like her mother had told her but later, perhaps, later she could lay in bed and tilt her hips to help whatever is left behind reach where it needs to be. 
Elvis can't put it off any longer as he stares at rippling water, he needs to help this along, other than those small bits not much of his release is coloring the water. If too much stayed within her—her body would change soon, her body would change and it would be all his fault. He would be responsible for her blooming and blossoming but with a child that wouldn't be, couldn't be taken care of the way he'd want them to. He leans closer to Lilly and finds his hand holding the washcloth sliding up her leg. 
"Don't—I gotcha Lilly. Gonna help clean ya out, alright? Gonna be as gentle as I can." He waits to see her acknowledgement of a nod before he finally moves his hand up to between her legs, the heel of his hand against her mound and his hand covering everything else.
Her body—her vagina feels as if he's shocked her, as if there's a live wire from his hand to her. A gasp leaves her lips even as she inadvertently grinds down on his hand, chasing a feeling she can't quite put her finger on. It’s almost instinctual the way she reacts, the way her eyes shut as she hisses, the pressure too much while at the same time too little. At her hiss Elvis pulls back his hand as if it’s been burned. It’s not his job to take care of her, it’s not his job to make sure she’s alright after their intercourse against the sink and yet he doesn’t think he could live with himself if he hurt her. He knows how to take care of a woman after sex and he’d be damned if he didn’t treat Lilly with all the respect—and love, his mind traitorously whispers—she deserves.
“Lil, ya alright? Did I…” he starts before his words are cut off with a violent shake of her head. Words are failing her and his eyes search her face for a clue as if that will explain her actions and finds it in the way she shifts in the bath slightly. “Ya sensitive down there?” 
Lilly nods and breathes slowly through her nose. “I think so? It’s—It feels like it’s throbbing, Mr. Pre—Elvis.” 
In the back of his mind he knows that means she took him well and that he pleasured her thoroughly. It means that her body is overwhelmed with the sensation. It means that it’ll be like that for days to come. A small, sick bit of joy shoots through him at the thought of her aching for him and his stomach roils as soon as the thought comes to him. He would be no better than her husband who ignores her if he took pleasure in the idea. If he took pleasure in knowing he left her aching for him while she is married to her husband. 
His words are measured when he speaks, a low murmur as he leans closer, taking the washcloth back in his hands. “Ya ain’t—I’m a lil bigger than most, should have prepped ya better. Jus’. We both got a lil’ overwhelmed, didn’t we? ‘S’alright, ‘m gonna make it better, darlin’. Gonna be gentle as I can. Gonna help ya get all this out of ya. Keep ya from having my baby.”
Lilly’s face falls at his words even though he doesn’t notice, too preoccupied with shifting his focus downward to her vagina. Her breath is slow and measured as she watches him, trying to give this a clinical air, trying to make her body realize there’s nothing arousing about this. This is him just trying to clean his release out of her to keep from being tied to her in some way permanent. Her hand drifts to her belly as she curls into him, her head leaning onto his shoulder. He’s methodical with the outside of her and using the cloth he tries to reach between her folds, tries to open her up only to feel as she tenses just that little bit harder. Forcing her open isn’t an option, not one he wants to seriously consider, at least, and he pauses. His fingers through the rough washcloth threaten to ignite another fire low in her belly as they rub slightly against her skin—at least, if the way she whimpers softly is any indication. Perhaps if he brushed against her clit, perhaps that could open her up. It’s helped in other times when he’s wanted to pleasure another woman. His thumb is already near it and without dwelling on his thought his thumb swipes against it, the wash cloth adding friction that has her unclenching faster than he thought was possible, the shock of it ricocheting through her system. A gasp escapes her lips. A gasp that sounds like his name. He refuses to dwell on what that means as he brushes his thumb against her clit once more. 
“Elvis,” she whimpers his name as his thumb swipes a third and a fourth time and she can feel her vagina clenching and unclenching at the feeling, at the sensation as finally she relaxes fully, allowing his fingers to enter her without a question. “Sensitive.” 
Her mind is narrowing to single words, the swirl of arousal curling tighter and tighter in her abdomen with each brush of his thumb and each press of his fingers inside of her. The washcloth shouldn’t help the feeling, it shouldn’t make her eyes want to roll in the back of her head from the friction and the slight roughness. The splashes of his arm and hand hitting the water as his fingers move in and out of her ground her and yet have her floating away. Her brain registers him speaking through her whimpers of pleasure. Pleasure that she doesn’t know what to—to do with, having been denied it for so long. 
“I know it’s a lot but gotta be thorough, Lilly. Gotta make sure it's all out,” he whispers softly to her, his fingers never stopping their task. “That's it, unclench for me, Lil darlin. Let—ya gotta help me, we gotta make sure there isn't anything left up there."
Faintly she can hear him and feel herself nodding, too busy trying not to rock against his fingers. That’s not what he’s doing this for, he’s trying to prevent—he’s trying to prevent a child. He’s trying to protect her marriage and yet her body wants to move on instinct. She wants to be beholden to her instincts just this once. Just this once she wants to have pleasure and happiness she doesn’t have to beg and plead for. It’s nice, this haze that overwhelms her senses, and she can’t truly recall the cold, distant figure of her husband leaving each and every day for work without so much as a kiss on the cheek as it has been recently. Instead she is nestled into the crook of Mr. Presley’s neck, lips tasting of the salt of his sweat. She wants to feel like he made her feel against the sink. Her body cants itself just so in order to earn another swipe of his thumb and she feels herself dangling on the precipice of something—of her orgasm, maybe? Was she about to find release on his fingers as he cleaned her body out with a washcloth? As he cleaned his release so a child didn’t form inside her, giving away their actions from tonight? A miniscule part of her feels as if she ought to be mortified but it doesn’t drown out her sighs and whines as she feels his fingers curl just so—trying to make sure she’s clean. It doesn’t drown out how her hips move once in another attempt to grind before he puts his hand on the back of her neck. A comforting gesture, yes, but when paired with his next words seals her fate.
“Take what ya need right now. Jus' takin’ care of ya. It’ll help get more outta ya. That’s it, Lil darlin, Elvis’s gotcha.”
A keen, high pitched and pained, leaves her mouth as she feels herself fluttering around—no, clenching around—his fingers before becoming practically boneless against him, the aftershocks from the orgasm causing a new round of shivers and goosebumps to happen. Her face burrows into his shoulder as he works her through them gently before her hand moves to grab his wrist, the sensitivity finally becoming too much. 
“Elvis it’s, o-oh—” Lily struggles to articulate her words and breathe and exist in this moment, the sensation drowning out any thoughts other than the pulse of her own heartbeat she feels between her legs. “It—”
Elvis shushes her, trying his hand on her neck, rubbing it and tightening over and over as he finishes cleaning her out, knowing that whatever is left is too high up for him to reach. He’d have to just pray to god for that to be done away with. "Shhhh, Lilly… Darlin', I'm sorry, bein' as gentle as I can.”
Lilly should object to how his hand at her neck feels almost as if she's a kitten being dragged along by their mother but she can't find it in her to do such a thing. She can't find it in her to since objecting would mean he'd remove something that truthfully is keeping her tenuous grip on reality and the Earth there. She figures she'd float away without it. There's a part of her that doesn't think she'd mind in that moment, that she'd understand floating away after what's happened because it almost doesn't feel real, especially as he takes care to wash her body despite her being fully capable of doing it herself. His grip loosens for the last time as she watches him lean over and unplug the drain. The water swirls slowly at first, gaining speed the longer she stares at it and the more of his release slides down the drain. She hears the crack of Elvis's knees as he stands up and winces for him even as his shadow towers over her. She should get up out of the tub, she knows this and yet her legs feel just shaky enough that she finds the task impossible until she feels his arms underneath hers.
Getting out with his support allows her to fully catch her bearings as he hands her a towel that she wraps around her body, drying herself off as he grabs another and assists with her legs, his knees cracking once again at him getting back down. She makes the mistake of looking down at him and seeing him look up at her with a surprising sense of worship she only ever usually associates with church and God. A shiver makes its way through her at the realization. 
Her voice sounds like it's going through a tunnel as she says something about how she's fine from here. She swears she hears herself say Mr. Presley and hears him say Mrs. Harris like he hadn't seen her naked and like he hadn't just helped her to clean out his release. Their formalities would make her laugh in any other situation, especially if she thinks of his seed catching inside of her. It wouldn't do to call her that when she was carrying his child, now would it? Wouldn't do for her to call him that as her belly rounded out with his baby, would it? Would it?
He leaves and she waits until she hears a goodbye burst forth loud enough to break through the tunnel her ears are in to finish drying off and getting ready.
She barely finishes making dinner as Nathan walks through the door.
Elvis… Elvis finds himself under his shower cursing his actions even as he remembers her face and her pleasure. He dreams of a life. He dreams of a life with her. He dreams of their life together. It feels worse than any nightmare.
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Charlie notices something is up the moment he walks in the diner and sees Elvis already sitting down at their table, a plate with just bacon in front of him in addition to eggs and what looks like toast, or at least he hopes it’s toast. It looks like a plate for him and Elvis and yet he sees the man he's willing to call one of his truest friends eating it all as if it's just for him. He ought to be gentle about the whole thing, ask Elvis a question calmly and innocently. 
Instead, as any sensible friend who’s seen you naked and bleeding and cryin’ for your mama does, he steals two pieces of bacon and sits down in the chair across from his best friend and chomps on said bacon before asking one, singular question: "What are you doing?"
Elvis's hand darts out with a speed that betrays his army training to grab the other piece of bacon only to be rebuffed with a frown. "Eating bacon, Charlie. Ya suddenly blind now? Short and blind, what a catch for ya wife."
Charlie visibly recoils and waits for Elvis to apologize or give him some clue that the statement was just his normal, playful ribbing. The crunch of the bacon disabuses him of that notion as the minutes tick by. "We got a family so she must've seen something in me. Just thankful she didn't see you first."
"Ain't that everyone's damn thanks. Thankful I didn't see their wives back then but if I see 'em now they ain't gotta worry. Women don't go for this body like they did back in the day." Elvis stabs at his eggs and Charlie—Charlie thinks he knows what's going on and he can't help but roll his eyes internally. 
"Did some woman turn you down and now you're moping? Over a plate of bacon after church?" He tries to keep the judgment out of his voice but there's still a hint there that he can't do away with. 
If looks could kill as well as every gun both he and Elvis have ever used, Charlie's certain in this moment he would be preparing to go to sleep in his eternal resting place. As it stands he once again realizes that perhaps he ought to not poke his absolute bear of a best friend. Elvis's next words punctuated by another crunch of bacon and a laugh so bitter Charlie's never heard it come from him seals that idea.
"Oh. Charlie, my boy, my boy, that would have been better. I would have handled that like a champ," he shakes his head, "ya 'member Mrs. Harris? The—the woman I told ya 'bout?"
“Yeah, the one with the niece and the husband who can’t work his way ‘round a wrench. What about—?” Charlie stops mid sentence and stares long and hard at Elvis trying to school his face into something normal and something less like he looks about ready to murder him before realizing it’s impossible and saying the first words that come to mind in the most hushed tone he can manage. “Wasn’t one of your rules you wouldn’t sleep with a married woman?”
Elvis can’t help but curse the fact that Charlie has seen him through some of, if not the worst, parts of his life and can regrettably read him like an open book sometimes. He doesn’t answer with words. Instead he allows himself to eat a piece of toast that is both soggy and crispy all at once. His silence is practically deafening before Charlie exhales. 
“You—ou got me thinking your daddy died or something and all this is because you slept with another man’s wife? A man who’s practically ignoring her despite how she looks like a—” Elvis swallows and holds up his pointer finger before practically growling. 
“Not other fuckin’ word, Hodge. Not a single fuckin’ word. Lilly ain’t some fuckin’ European floozy we forgot ‘bout the next day. Don’t ya say ‘nother fuckin’ word.”
A chuckle leaves Charlie’s mouth despite his best efforts to stop it. Elvis is moping about a woman alright, just not the way Charlie thought he was. He wouldn’t have—He loves Elvis, he does but he would have never predicted him managing to charm a woman like that if she didn’t know who he was beforehand. If she didn’t know him as he was when they both came back from the war, both struggling with things they had seen yet pared down to a lean type of beauty: the scraggly pines that grew on Italian mountaintops. Yet maybe, just maybe, there was hope. Very stupid and unwise hope, but hope nonetheless that Elvis might be able to enjoy the same sort of life he has. 
"Cursing on the Lord's day. At me. She's got you—pass me your whole pig's worth of bacon and tell me what happened, E."
Elvis stares at the plate and lets out a heavy sigh as he scoots the plate over. “It ain’t a whole pig’s worth of bacon.”
“It’s as big as my head.” Charlie states, motioning to get the attention of one of the waitresses in an attempt to get a plate and different food even as he eats a piece of bacon.
“Ya have a tiny head, Hodge. Like a damn lil hedgehog.” 
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Meanwhile across town Lilly finds herself in her sister’s kitchen, sitting at her dining room table with the light of the sun shining on her through the window. Her sister Melly busies herself with the finishing touches of a lunch for the two of them and Jerry. Lilly had tried to help only to be waved off with an ease that had her sitting down in the chair watching, her hands settling on her stomach as they had been since that fateful afternoon. It’s too soon to know, she reasons, too soon to know if Elvis’s seed took and has filled her empty womb with a child she’s craved for years. Yet her hands gravitate there anyway, almost trying to provide a cradle as if to tell the child she hopes is forming inside her that it’s okay to stay, it’s alright and that she’ll be their mother. She’ll take such good care of them and they’ll get to meet their cousins. They’ll get to meet their cousins and grow up with the one swelling underneath Melly’s apron. 
Melly notices this, of course, notices how her sister is cradling her belly and yet she doesn’t dare ask. She doesn’t dare ask if Nathan’s finally done right by her sister and given her the baby she so desperately wants. Her chest hasn’t changed and she hasn’t felt a firmness when she’s brushed against her but perhaps it’s just too early.
“You’re looking happier,” Melly comments as she sets down the plates of food. She leaves Jerry’s on the counter, knowing her husband will grab it when he comes back inside from dealing with the yard.
Lilly can’t help the way she smiles slightly and practically preens at the acknowledgment that she seems happier. Elvis might not be—Elvis might not have been by since that afternoon but there was something so beautiful about his actions, so gentle and nourishing about him that it stuck with her. The throbbing in her vagina’s finally stopped after days of her cupping it and playing with it next to Nathan’s snoring body, wishing her fingers were thicker and longer and wishing it was Elvis’s cock sliding in and out of her. That he was keeping her full and telling her he’s got her, he’s always got her while filling her with so much of his release that there’d be no other choice but to swell with his child. 
She doesn’t dwell on the fact that it’s taken another man to make her feel a way she hasn't for years. She can’t dwell on that because it’s improper and she’d like to just bask in the glow of everything for now. She’d like to bask in the glow of things before a different glow would overtake her. 
“I feel happier.” Lilly answers, still continuing to grin as she digs into the food. There’s a hint of nausea at some of it but she chalks it up to being hungry. “I feel different.”
Melly’s eyebrows both move upward as she settles into her chair and takes a bite of her toast first, knowing how her stomach reacts to food without a bland base to start off with. “Different. Does that have anything to do with Nathan and you? Anything you want to tell me?”
Lilly’s hand stills in its subconscious rubbing as her eyes widen. “No. Not—not yet.”
There’s something that shifts in Melly, a brightness that shines through as she looks at Lilly. If she is pregnant it's too soon to tell but the idea that she'd be carrying her second while Lilly is finally carrying her first delights her in ways she can't put into words. It's perhaps a secret dream she's always had. The scrape of her chair against the linoleum is harsh to both their ears and yet it’s a small price to pay for the feel of Melly’s hand against her stomach. 
“You’ll tell me as soon as you know?” Melly’s voice comes out as a whisper, as if she’s scared to speak it any louder. “You’ll tell me I’ll have a niece or nephew on the way?”
Lilly nods quickly as she hears the door open and hears Jerry’s voice carry into the kitchen. Melly’s hand moves off of her stomach as quick as can be before Jerry pops his head in and smiles. “Won’t ask what you two were doing before I got here.”
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Life doesn't stop that Sunday and instead continues on and on with one week passing by and then another and another until Lilly knows she's due for her cycle and yet it doesn't appear. Her underwear remains pristine and white with not a drop of blood in sight. She doesn't dare tell Melly or anyone yet, knowing it could be a fluke, a stress induced issue but she swears she feels her womb hardening. She swears she feels it bloating in a way that feels different than what comes before her cycle. Perhaps, perhaps Elvis had done it. Perhaps Elvis had filled her and their child was forming unbeknownst to either of them. It occurs to her that she should try and reach out to him and see if he can come by her home. There's nothing that's broken for him to be fixed and yet he deserves to know what's happening inside her. That soon her stomach will round outward and their child will kick and roll and grow inside of her. That she is still married but it would be cruel to deprive him of ever knowing of their child. 
It's too soon for him to know, she'll tell him when she's sure, when there's no mistaking what has happened to her because of their actions that afternoon. She'll tell him then, she'll convince him to come by and press his hand against her stomach so he can feel what he's—what she wished and prayed to have happen even as he washed himself out of her. He ought to be able to be in their life somehow because he's their father and he'd make such a brilliant one. He'd make such a brilliant one and her mind traitorously tells her it's a shame she wouldn't be raising the child with him. 
Six weeks is a long time for him to be avoiding Lilly and he knows that. He knows that she didn't deserve to be left out in the cold like that—to be left without company and companionship like that but he can't help it. He can't help how his mind drifts when his exhaustion sets in remembering how her body felt against his when they danced and when she sagged against him. It’s a sin to covet a man’s wife as much as he covets Lilly. It’s a sin to want to be in another man’s home taking care of his wife in any way she’ll let him. It’s a sin and yet it feels so right, it feels like he’d be doing what he’s meant to be doing. Elvis is not her husband and yet his mind—his traitorous mind and soul tells him he should be and tells him she needs him in some way. She’s been happier, he thinks, since that afternoon—and his mind tells him that he had something to do with that. There’s a glow about her and it draws him in like a moth to a flame before he pulls himself away every Sunday when she passes off her niece. A nagging thought crosses his mind as the weeks go by and he swears that glow is stronger every time he sees her, that perhaps it wasn’t just happiness and joy causing her to glow that way. He ought to ask her and yet the idea feels invasive in a way that makes him think he has to find the right time for it. If his suspicions prove to be correct, he figures they both will need time to process it. 
Six weeks is a long time for him to avoid her and it makes it so that when he gets a call that sounds like Lilly crying there isn’t a moment of hesitation before he finds himself jumping into his truck and driving to her house she shares with her husband. Her door is unlocked and he wants to admonish her for it, tell her that she shouldn’t leave the door unlocked because you never know who might come in but then he sees her. He sees her tear stained face and her rumpled dress and fears the worst. A flash of pure anger courses through his veins as his mind swirls with possibilities of why she’s crying. Why her face and body betray such anguish that it twists his gut and has his mouth opening to speak before her voice sounding so small in a way he’s never heard interrupts him. 
“I was waiting. I was being careful!” Her words don’t make sense to Elvis even as his eyes trace over her form and around the house where they’re standing as if either thing holds the clue for what’s going on. As if some part of the way she’s carrying herself—hunched over—or the way things seem out of place—her lunch was sitting on the table only half eaten—would explain what’s happening, why she had called him crying, muttering about needing to fix things. 
His tone is soft and comforting as he moves to touch her shoulder, to pull her into some form of a hug. “Darlin’—” The word slips out before he can stop himself but he continues. “What’s… what’s wrong?”
Her eyes look up at him and he’s struck by how bloodshot they look. How long had she been crying? How long had her body been wracked by sobs that no one was there to comfort her from? Elvis watches as her mouth opens and closes several times before she shakes her head. “I—the oven is broke again.”
“Lil—Mrs. Harris, things I fix don’t break like that. Not this quick.” He tries to defend his work, knowing there’s no Earthly way that it was broken already. He had made sure to fix it, he had made sure that her oven wouldn’t need his touch for quite a long time after he was inside of it that day. In the back of his mind he thinks he’s missing something.
“It’s broken, Mr. Presley. It’s broken and can’t keep heat and bake anything and I’ll call someone else over if you won’t fix it. Just please take a look at it. Just make it work like I thought it was.” Lilly’s voice shakes but doesn’t waver when she speaks. If anything it seems to get stronger the longer she speaks. It seems she’s more insistent with every word that comes from her mouth. Something is broken—the oven he was supposed to fix is broken and she wants him to check it again. That nagging feeling grows as he looks at her in confusion. He prides himself on being a smart enough man, but… maybe it’s because she clouds his judgment. He can’t tell what she’s talking about.
“Lil—Lilly, why did you call me here?” He manages to almost stutter out the words, wincing he hears it. She has to answer him when he asks point blank, doesn’t she? 
Lilly is silent for the longest while and Elvis thinks he pushed too hard, thinks that he’s overstepped for once—twice—in their friendship and opens his mouth to apologize before she grabs his hand and places it on her stomach. In a rush everything clicks into place for Elvis and swears his heart stops. He should move his hand and yet he can’t, it’s almost as if there’s a magnet keeping his hand attached to her stomach. The oven is broken, her oven is broken and empty and can’t keep heat. 
The night before, when his body gave out and had him sleep he tossed and turned over images of him and Lilly together. Images of her swollen with a child and laughing next to him. He remembers being on his knees kissing her still-flat stomach and laughing with her hand over his and telling her how she’s made him the happiest man alive. He could still hear her giggles ringing in his ears when he woke up. That was fantasy, a dream dreamed up by an old man who shouldn’t be dreaming of a life with a woman he isn’t married to and who is married to another. They’re brilliant company for each other but—but she is not his wife and he is not her husband. 
“I’m sorry.” Elvis whispers the words and they feel so insubstantial, so insignificant to what he feels in this moment. The sorrow he feels for her being fed by her tears and the way her silence just drags on and on. Perhaps this was his doing, perhaps there was something there and he had broken it. Perhaps—perhaps he should have been selfish and not cleaned his release from her. Or perhaps—he can’t dwell on it. It threatens to drive him mad if he does. 
And yet his mind can't shake another time and place where his hand is there for another reason, with her hand over his, a smile on her face instead of tears rolling down her cheeks and onto his suit as she curls into a hug he offers. She looks so young and yet like she's been crushed by the world all at once. A flower run over on the side of the road, soaked in the gutter. The attempt he finally makes to move his hand is thwarted by her own grasping his wrist, forcing him to press down to feel that she's bloated but still very empty.
It was supposed to be different. Things were supposed to go well, she had prayed and begged and cradled her womb and for what? For her cycle to be off and there to be blood mocking her in her underwear? For there to be cramping that feels like it might threaten to tear her in two. No one she’s known has lost a baby, there’s no one she can ask to see if that’s what’s happening. If the child she swore was growing from the moment Elvis released inside of her not once but twice was gone. Or if there just wasn’t one at all and she had been deluding herself. Either option feels almost unbearable and feels like a lead weight in her stomach.
Elvis doesn’t speak and Lilly’s thankful for it. Her dream of telling him and them figuring out how he would be involved has been flushed down the toilet multiple times today and is currently flowing between her legs. Her hand finally loosens its grip on his wrist and her chest tightens as she looks into his eyes. Those blue eyes shouldn’t be so caring, they shouldn’t look so caring when looking at her. There shouldn’t be sympathy in those eyes directed toward her or her empty womb. Yet there is and Lilly is struck not for the first time at how different Elvis is from Nathan. She’s struck by how she’s been in this sort of position before with her husband and she doesn’t recall there being nearly as much care and—dare she even pretend?—-anguish in his gaze. She remembers frustration at himself or, or her? She doesn’t know. She can’t recall just now.
“I—I was late,” She starts, and shakes her head, sniffling. “I was late for my cycle and I didn’t—I don’t know why I called you.”
Elvis doesn’t dare say the first thoughts that come to mind. Doesn’t dare tell her that he thinks she knows exactly why she called him because the mere idea shouldn’t be put into words. He’s already damned himself and her anguish, her pain is perhaps a consequence of it. Had he not given in to his baser urges perhaps Nathan would have given her a child that she could tell him she was growing inside of her. If he hadn’t given into his baser urges she wouldn’t have thought his child was growing inside of her. He shuts his eyes, trying to not think of the image of her swollen with his child once again. 
“Comfort?” The word as an answer feels safe and from the look on Lilly’s face, how it relaxes just a little bit and how her hunched over position straightens out even as she grimaces in pain he was right. However, that urge to fix that had caused so many problems rears its ugly head again and Elvis knows he should ignore it but the grimace on her face reminds him that she’s in pain and to leave her in pain without attempting to help her feels cruel. It feels cruel to just allow her to deal with this on her own. Perhaps that’s why she had called him, taken the chance that he wouldn’t want her to be alone in this situation. Taken the chance to assume he missed her and just wants what he's craved from her more than anything else: her company. 
A nod is the only thing she manages before her body is wracked with another flare of pain as Elvis watches. He’s never—he’s never been here when she’s on her cycle so he doesn’t know if this is normal or not but he remembers June and remembers the other girls and knows, in this moment, he can’t leave her like this. Especially after she had called him. His mind tries to think back on what other women would do before he remembers how some would curl up in bed and ask for heat and any number of other things. The flash of memory at her in the bath after their activities and a flash of a fantasy of her in the bath with him runs through his thoughts until he shakes his head to clear it. 
“Missus—Lilly. Darlin’, I—wouldn’t it be better to be laying down? For your pain?” His words are chosen as carefully as he can and yet he still feels like he might have said the wrong thing until he sees her move to lean and sag against him as if he’s the only thing that’s going to keep her standing in this exact moment. 
“My—oh, just help me to my bedroom, you don’t—” The words are lost as Elvis picks her up, earning a bit of a shocked gasp from her. “You don’t have to pick me up, I can w-walk.”
Elvis stays silent for a moment or so as he walks, ignoring the ache in his knees that tell him he should have prepared more for this. That he should have known better than to pick Lilly up like this and yet he finds that it’s easy to ignore the ache as her protest grows a little quieter and she practically burrows into his hold. He is not her husband and yet he wonders if her husband’s ever done this for her. Ever treated her with care when she’s like this. 
Nathan had noticed her pain that morning and brushed it off, much to Lilly’s frustration. It’s not that she wanted him to know she had engaged in a transgression but she was his wife and she was in pain. Jerry had made sure Melly was taken care of after Lizzie and Nathan couldn’t even be bothered to call her sister or anyone. The neglect is what feels like an even worse knife than the one she swears she feels in her lower stomach. The neglect is why she called Mr—Elvis. Even in the short time she’s at least partially known him—the actual him, not the image she had of the man who taught her niece’s Sunday school—has taken care of her and hasn’t left her to rot and wallow in her pain and loneliness. He’s kept her company and fixed so many things around her house that at this point she’s thinking she’s going to have to break things just to have an excuse to get him to visit under the guise of working. 
She knows she shouldn’t relax in his hold, she shouldn’t burrow into his arms like he’s her husband and he’s just carrying her to their bed but she can’t help it, the sheer joy and calmness that settles over her from the care he shows overwhelming her. His arms allow her to feel safe in the moment, help her to forget how much pain she’s in physically and mentally. They are a balm to her aches even as she potentially causes some for him. It doesn’t take too long for him to reach her bedroom, using his body to open the door the entire way from its cracked open position. Lilly hears him sigh and feels his head move to try and avoid looking around before she feels him shift her in his arms.There’s a difference, she thinks, in knowing that he would have to eventually set her down on her bed and him actually doing it. 
A shiver runs through her body that has Elvis’s grip tightening as he moves his hands away. It’s not cold and yet here she was shivering like she was that fateful night.
“You alright?” he murmurs, low and questioning in a way that he shouldn’t be.
“You’re warm,” she whispers back at him, looking into his eyes and trying to pretend that answers everything. Pretend that telling him he’s warm will get him to stay and comfort her until it’s time for Nathan, cold, icily indifferent Nathan to be home. “I feel—it felt good.”
Elvis opens his mouth to speak before his breath catches in his throat at the sheer intensity of the look she’s giving him. He can’t put a name to what he sees in her eyes, only that it threatens to overwhelm him if he stares at her for too much longer. He has to leave, he needs to go back to work or home or just somewhere where her eyes aren’t burning holes into his soul. He finally starts to step away only for Lilly’s arm to find its way in front of him, stopping him in his tracks. Her hand moves to grab his and grasps it so tightly he can’t wrench it from her. 
“Can you—can you stay?” She asks, quiet as a church mouse and looking as if she expects him to say no. As if she expects to be left alone to deal with things once again. It makes his stomach roil and twist and he feels almost like throwing up before he moves to sit down on the bed. 
“Not for too long, Lilly,” he answers, as he watches her move to the other side of the bed, letting go of his hand as she does. He sits down, groaning slightly as he does at the feel of her bed underneath him. It dips more than it did when she was occupying the same spot, his weight causing the springs to creak just a bit more. Lilly waits until he gets comfortable to move closer to him. He stays sitting, his body leaning against the headboard, not even daring to try and lay down in her marriage bed. It makes trying to cuddle with him harder than it should be but after a moment of a deliberation she settles on laying her head in his lap. The warmth of his belly seeps into her head, soothing any headache she’s gained from crying and the vantage point allows her to feel encased in what feels like a protective shell. Elvis tries to keep his hands to himself but as he feels Lilly settle against him and sees every wince and shift his hands move to her hair, running his fingers through it. Scratching ever so softly against her scalp. Lilly’s sigh tells him it was the right thing to do and emboldens him to sing, breathe out into the world the first song that comes to mind when he thinks of her. 
Lilly hears Elvis’s voice singing Jo Stafford to her, a song she’s only heard once or twice before but it feels so romantic that something inside her chest feels warm and feels almost like it’s blossoming the more she hears his voice singing in that low tone, his hands flowing through her hair. 
“But just remember, darling, all the while, you belong to me,” he sings, watching as Lilly’s eyes start to flutter shut, the pain and the emotions of today getting the best of her. The more he sings the more he realizes he wishes those words were true. The more he wishes he wouldn’t have to leave in a few hours. But she is not his wife and he is not her husband and he’ll leave in a few hours as he should. He’ll leave after he shakes her awake lightly, grimacing as she winces in pain and as her eyes practically beg him to stay once again. He'll leave watching her curl back into her sheets but won't see her head move to where he had been sitting or see her hands grab at the pillow that had been behind his back.
She will wake up alone right before Nathan comes home. She will wake up to a simple dinner made with two plates on the table. 
She calls him back over the next day.
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taglist: @ab4eva, @blurredcolour, @butlersxbirdy, @precious-little-scoundrel, @eliseinmemphis, @prompted-wordsmith, @missmaywemeetagain, @lookingforrainbows, @thatbanditqueen, @ellie-24, @be-my-ally,  @austinbutlersgirl67, @heartbrake-hotel, @ccab, @18lkpeters, @slutforsomegoodlettuce, @dkayfixates, @kendralavon7, @chasingwildflowers, @notstefaniepresley, @wanderingelvis, @kxnnxy, @powerofelvis, @stylespresleyhearted, @marriedtopresley, @memphis-menace, @steph-speaks, @coolgirl462, @vintageshanny, @memphisflash1935-1977, @j-v-9-2, @sexystarfish, @duhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh, @jessicarcates, @chirssycrumble9456789, @shantellescrivener, @yomammalolha, @honey6578, @urmom11111111111119, @myradiaz, @elvispresleyxoxo, @tryingtogettoelvis, @joegramoe, @rainblue-art, @fav-fanficssss, @moodyblueriver, @misspresley, @fallinlovewithurlove, @ash-omalley, @yynneessmons good heavens, i think that's everyone. those of you who didn't get the tag, know i'm gonna head to the messages within the day. also i including those of you who reblogged the first chapter. i would have done likes as well but there- there was a hefty chunk and i didn't know for sure if you all wanted to be tagged.
additional explanation: so if you haven't just read the fic instead of just scrolling down to the bottom to see what's up, hello. but even if you did just read the fic, let the record show that i myself did write this with the idea that lilly had a very early miscarriage. and it's why i added a tag just in case for it since i know some people avoid the subject matter for their own mental health. however i purposefully left it nebulous because she herself wouldn't know for sure and it's- the same result occurs either way, she is not pregnant and that wrecks her emotionally because she had put so much stock in the possibility that she would be. no matter what if she wasn't pregnant she was going to be sad and depressed and generally in a state of anguish. so, you can read this whichever way you want, it does not really change the intent/what happens afterward in this. but i didn't want to directly spoil all of you in the warnings especially since it causes a turning point of sorts, but i also don't want anyone to be in duress because of me. also i promise honestly these two have a happy ending, just trust me like y'all trusted me with professor presley, okay?
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flxwerydreams · 6 days
Text
I think I like you (I hope you do too)
Lily Evans x Fem!Reader
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a/n: first fic!!! pls be kind :) the title is from your text by sundial.
c/w: die joke, swearing. (lmk if i missed something)
You stared at the man with undisguised incredulity. “800 pounds? Are you kidding me? I thought we agreed on 500?” Trevor - or perhaps Troy rolled his eyes at you derisively. He probably thought he was being subtle - that stupid prick.
“It's just how it is, Miss. Moving stuff inside the 'ouse? Well, that's gonna cost you a bit extra, innit? Wouldn't want you gettin' in over your 'ead now, would we?" he jeered at you. His twin, Trevor, you identified from his tag, snickered stupidly at that. The universe was really testing your patience today. 
"Seriously? It would've been decent to tell me upfront that moving stuff indoors meant extra charges. This is ridiculous." Trevor turned to you then, all six feet of him tensed and towering over you. "Miss, it ain't on us. You got a problem with it, you take it up with the higher ups. Give us our dosh, we've got other bits to be getting on with." With a sigh you handed over the cash, regretting the choice of passing on your friends’ offers to help you with the move. 
With another sigh, you turned back to the big mess in front of you, your hands resting on your hips, visibly expressing the exhaustion you were already feeling. This had seemed like such an exciting idea at first, having your own space all to yourself. The independence and freedom that you had anticipated was certainly there and you were definitely feeling it now. Having to arrange all this furniture by yourself …… very exciting. 
You let out a third sigh and felt the weariness seep into your bones. This was going to be a very long day. You took a step toward the covered couch - ready to begin settling into this new place, which would hopefully become your home. 
Suddenly, you were ambushed by a lasso which was thrown at your legs with murderous intent. The lasso then purred and you died ….. due to the lasso’s cuteness. “Hello, kitty! Oh, you’re so precious”, you cooed. The cat (not lasso) meowed up at you, rubbing against your shins. “What’s your name, buddy?” you murmured softly, picking it up and settling it in your arms. The only response you received was another meow, and a curious paw on your face. Noticing your open door, you walked towards it, all the while, gently scratching the cat behind its ears. “You seem like such a distinguished member of the society. Oh, is that where you came from?” you wondered to yourself, noticing another open door down the hallway. “And you’re my new neighbour too, it’s so sweet of you to welcome me like that, kitty.” you giggled, shutting your door carefully.  “Let's get you back to your owner, shall we?” You walked up to the threshold of your neighbour’s house and knocked on the open door. 
Just then, ‘Kitty’, as you had begun to call the cat in your head, jumped down from your arms and ran inside — towards the kitchen, you assumed. Standing on your neighbour’s doorstep awkwardly with no apparent reason was definitely not on your agenda for the day but before you could say or do anything, a figure emerged from said kitchen, you assumed again. Following that, your heart skipped around five or at least two beats. 
Standing in front of you was probably the most gorgeous woman you had ever seen. Her red curls were tied up in a top bun and there was a smudge of flour across her left cheek. And she was saying something — to you. “— hall?” She asked, with a curious gaze fixed on you. 
“Huh? Sorry — I didn’t hear that, I was - I was thinking something else, sorry” you felt heat rise to your cheeks.
 At this, a teasing smile spread on her lips. She replied with a playful lilt to her tone "I said, I hope Crookshanks didn't give you any grief, darlin', and I was wonderin' if you're the new neighbour down the hall." 
“Oh yes, I am.’’ you replied hurriedly. “I’m in 403. Which you probably already know, cus' of all the noise.” Then you registered her previous statement. “Oh, wait — his name is Crookshanks? That’s such a cute name! How old is he?” 
“He’s four!” she replied eagerly. “He’s Himalayan. And I’m Lily Evans. What’s your name, love?” she asked, walking up to you. 
It was so hard not to stare at her — she was radiant, and you realised with a start that your palms were sweaty as hell. Quickly wiping them on the back of your thighs, you extended your right hand forward as you told her your name — mostly so that you would have something to do with them, but also because she was just so pretty. Although you didn’t want to be a creep, her hands looked so soft. You realised too late that they also looked dusty. The apologetic smile on her face just made you want to cringe even more. 
"I'm terribly sorry. I was actually just whipping up some cookie dough for your welcome biscuits. Seems I've spoiled the surprise, haven't I? But I do hope you're rather fond of chocolate chip! It's one of my specialties, you know." she winked. 
In your opinion, if you fainted, at that moment, it would be completely valid. The little nicknames, the supposed flirting (you hoped), and that wink? It was a surprise you were still standing straight. It took you a few seconds to find your voice again. “Oh, you didn’t have to, you know? But also thanks a lot. Crookshanks and his owner both definitely know how to give a warm welcome.” That was brave. And also slightly lame, in your opinion. But it seemed to have its desired effect or so you thought, judging by the slight twinkle in Lily’s eyes. Her body language shifted. She leaned in a bit closer and hummed playfully. "Looks like I owe thanks to my mate for leaving the door ajar as he left. Annoying as bloody hell, but it seems to have finally come in handy." 
You quirked a smile at that, hoping her close proximity didn’t mean she could feel the heat emanating off of your face. “Looks like you do, I guess. Anyway, I should get going. I’ve still got a shit ton of stuff to do and not enough time. I’ll see you — and Crookshanks, later though?” Judging by the way her smile seemed to soften around the edges, she definitely caught the hopeful tone at the end of your sentence. “Yes, you will. Fancy joining me for dinner tonight? I'm not exactly a master chef, but I reckon the gas ain't sorted yet at your place, love.” this time, her tone was quieter and she was looking directly into your eyes with a small smile. You shifted your weight to the other leg and looked to the floor, considering it. Was this a date? You desperately wanted it to be, but what if something went wrong? Then you would have to live next to her with that and it would be awkward as hell. Looking back up at her, you saw that she was waiting patiently for you to respond, and you decided to give it a shot. What will happen, will happen, right? 
“Sure.” you replied, hoping your voice didn’t betray the conflict you had felt. “I’d love that.” She smiled brightly and clapped her hands together, leading to a small cloud of flour enveloping the both of you. At that she grinned sheepishly and whispered “Sorry.” Guess you weren’t the only nervous one, after all."I'll see you after you're done with work, love. Just give me a shout, yeah? I’ll be waitin’." 
And with that, you left for your own flat, and the big mess that awaited you. You knew the nerves of the date — was it? — would power you to get through a majority of the work. A giddy smile on your face, you began with the Herculean tasks.
And if the exhaustion of the day seemed like a good excuse to sit a bit too close to each other on Lily’s couch while watching Brooklyn Nine-Nine after eating slightly overcooked pasta, who were you to object to that?
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i hope you enjoyed it! leave a comment :) special thanks to @mxssingmemories for being an absolute angel 💖
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tangerinesgf · 1 year
Text
Missed you
Tangerine x GN!reader
Summary: you're having a though day, Tangerine helps you through it.
Tags/Warnings: Hurt/Comfort, Mentions of Depression, some fluff, Tangerine is the best bf (think that's about it)
Disclaimer: English is not my first language and its not proofread so sorry for any mistakes.
A/N: You ever have those moments where you can't stop thinking about Tangerine? Well I guess that's how this thing came to exist. Also I needed to vent.
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Before you and Tangerine started dating, you'd told him about your depression. Clinical depression to be more specific.
In the time you and Tangerine spend together you had fallen head over heals for him. His looks were partially the reason for that, obviously, but what really drew you in was everything else about him. The way he acted, talked, moved. They way he looked at you like you were the most precious thing he had ever laid eyes on.
The fact that beneath that ruthless contract killer was this soft guy who loved cuddling and head rubs. Although he'd never admit that out loud.
Being with Tangerine was the happiest you had been in a long time.
You felt the dread building up in your stomach when you had to tell him, expecting him to leave afterwards. Most people found a partner with depression too much work and not worth the trouble.
Not Tangerine though.
He'd been on your side the minute you told him, telling you he could never leave you.
"There's nothin' you could say that would make me leave you, darlin'"
A wave of relief had rushed over you, tears starting to well up in your eyes resulting into Tangerine pulling you into his arms.
Ever since that moment you'd been there for every up and down, never once leaving each others side.
This week had been harder for you than others. Not for any specific reason that you could explain unfortunatly. That was the part you hated the most. The 'being sad or angry for no particular reason'.
Your therapist had said that it was normal in your situation, that it wasn't just you being lazy or dramatic.
You hadn't really come out of bed the entire week except for food or to use the bathroom.
Normally Tangerine would have quite literally dragged you out of your bed even if it was to the living room just for a change of scenery. He'd cook your favorite food, while you sat and watched him.
Unfortunately Tangerine was on a job this week, so there's was none of that. He'd told you repeatedly that you could always call him even if he was on a job, but you still felt like you would be disturbing him.
You were watching some show you lost track of hours ago when you heard the front door opening, followed by a pair of footsteps entering the apartment.
You heard him walk around for a while before there was a nock on your door.
"Luv? It's me, are you in there?" Tangerine's soft voice spoke from the other side of the door. Gosh, you had missed him so much.
"Yeah, you can come in" you answered, just loud enough for him to hear.
Tangerine opened the door leaning into the doorframe.
"Hey" he said softly.
You could see his eyes darting around the room taking it in. Not having had the energy to clean this week ut had become quite the mess.
"Hi" you gave him a soft smile.
A comfortable silence fell between the two of you in which Tangerine came to understand that it had been on of those weeks and he hadn't been there for you.
He pushed himself from the doorframe and slowly walked over to where you were sitting on your bed.
"You know you could've called me, right?" He almost whispered as he moved a strand of hair out of face and placed it behind you ear. Your eyes never losing contact with one another.
"I know." Was all you said.
Another beat of silence before Tangerine spoke up again.
"You wanna talk 'bout it?"
"Not really."
All you wanted to do right now was just being with him.
"Want me to leave you alone?"
He figured getting you out of bed could wait until tomorrow, after all he didn't really have the energy for it right now either.
"No!" You said almost immediately, the slight raise of your voice taking both of you by surprise.
"I mean.. please stay."
Tangerine's eyes softened and he pulled you into his lap to hold you in that same way he had done almost a year ago now. Your head rested on his shoulder as he stared to draw soothing circles on your lower back.
You drew back from his embrace so you could meet his eyes.
"I missed you"
Tangerine leaned forward to place a kiss on your forehead after which he pulled you into his chest again.
"Missed you too, darlin'" he said just above a whisper. "You're gonna be alright."
His hand started to caress through your hair as you drew him impossibly closer to you.
"You're gonna be alright."
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A/N: this is my first time finishing/ posting any sort of reader fanfic and I wrote this in like an hour so any feedback is always appreciated. &lt;3
Taglist: @avocado-writing @venusthepirate @bratdoll666 @assmaster37 @waiting4ff (just tagged sm people I thought would be interested)
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dominimoonbeam · 2 years
Text
Bad Dog
I got an ask for a fic where Darlin kills Quinn and David takes the fall for it, and this is what I made! I hope you liked it! 
tags: trauma, post-violence, injury, blood, panic, dead Quinn, mention of Darlin’s abusive childhood. 
I really need to do a count on how many times I’ve killed this vamp now...
Posted here and over on ao3!
Darlin & David.
BAD DOG
Darlin stood over his body, waiting for him to get up. Waiting. Waiting.
It was raining so hard that they couldn’t hear their own heart beat let alone his. They could check. They had to check. But their whole body still shook on adrenaline and fear—fear that if they lowered their guard and came too close, he would grab them again. He would break more bones, pin them down, run tongue and teeth over skin. They were so cold inside, even when their blood felt hot rolling down their neck and side.
Something burst from the trees and bushes to their right and Darlin jerked toward it so fast their legs finally gave out, dropping them onto their ass. The huge wolf shifted without losing step, coming right at Darlin.
Their arms came up to guard their face, a swear heaving from their already struggling lungs.
But he didn’t hit them, didn’t even grab and pull their arm down.
David was on his knees in front of them, big hands hovering. “Are you okay?” he was asking, voice louder than the rain. He touched their arms, carefully searching them for breaks and cuts while guiding them down. He swore loudly and clamped a hand over the side of their neck.
Darlin jolted, feeling the pain then. Quinn’s teeth had dug so deep. He liked to bite but it wasn’t usually… He hadn’t been biting, he’d been ripping. For the first time, Darlin looked down at themself. They were still in their jogging clothes. They’d gone out for a run. He’d pulled them right off the trail. Usually when they crossed he wanted to talk, to build to an argument, to play with Darlin’s head as much as their physical safety.
But this had been different. The game was over. Quinn had realized they were blood bound and had enough of it. He was getting rid of a problem.
A problem.
Darlin.
Tears welled up in their eyes. They’d been hunting him, but they’d never really been prepare to…
“You’re going to be okay,” David said, voice gathering a note of panic when he saw them crying. His other hand stroked their hair back from their face. “I’ll get you…” He noticed it then. The fact that he hadn’t noticed Quinn until that moment was proof that he really was dead, because if there had been any life in him at all, David would have registered the enemy the moment he approached.
Darlin wanted to reach up and cover his eyes. They didn’t want him to see it. Quinn was… mangled. He had been so beautiful before, terrible but beautiful. Now? Now he was shredded meat. Mauled. And they had done that. They had killed someone. They could still taste his blood.
Bad dog.
They shuddered, almost a full convulsion and it dragged David’s focus back to them. His hand still holding the wound on the side of their neck.
Bad dog.
Darlin’s parents used to whisper it as something the Department would say. Something they would be branded if they got out of line—if the Department had cause to put them down.
 -
 David felt their pulse under his palm, hot and liquid, trying to escape.
He wouldn’t let it. He absolutely would not lose Darlin.
“Everyone knows I’ve been hunting him… They’ll think I… The Department… Oh god. Will they put me down? Will I be exiled?” Their breath was coming too fast, words tumbling out half-formed. They grabbed at David’s arms, eyes full of wild terror. He knew this distrust—this fear. Darlin’s family had always distrusted authority. They wanted to run free. He knew several of Darlin’s bloodline had crossed the Department. Some went away. Some disappeared. There were a million ways to explain it, but the stories Darlin’s parents had been nightmares. His heart lurched. Darlin was working up to running. Better to die running than be caged.
“It was self-defense. You know that. I know that. I won’t let anyone take you away.” He’d never seen them this scared or this exposed. They’d killed Quinn. Had they ever had to kill anyone before? No. He would know. Not that they would have told him—but that he would have seen the shadow of it in their eyes. Darlin was tough, brave, and fearless. But they were also kind, no matter how they tried to hide it. No matter how hard their parents had tried to beat it out of them. They were a scrapper, but not a killer.
“No one’s going to believe that. I’m a liar and a troublemaker.”
He winced, shaking his head.
A wolf howled on the other side of the park. Milo.
Darlin was supposed to meet up with them for a real run, one on all fours, but when they didn’t show up they’d split up to look for them.
Darlin jerked under him, almost pulling out of the hold he had one that ripped side of their neck. “I-I have to—”
“No,” David growled. “You are not running. You are not going anywhere.”
“D-David… I—”
“You are mine,” he reminded, voice hard. It came from someplace deep, in his core, in his instincts, in his blood. Darlin belongs to his pack, and no one was going to take them from him, not even Darlin’s own fear. The only way they could leave, was if they honestly wanted to, and even then—even if they went to the other side of the world—he would always have a place for them.
He could feel Milo getting closer.
He could feel Darlin breaking, their gaze glued to that body. What would this do to them? How long would Quinn be hurting them?
“David…Please…” Darlin begged, and his teeth ached in fury that they would ever have to beg him for anything, let alone beg him to let them go—let them bleed out while they ran for the woods—let them die alone and free.
David leaned in, hand still holding tight to that wound on their neck. He licked blood splatter from their chin, lips, jaw and cheek. He rubbed his face to theirs while he did, until his face and his teeth were red. Darlin stared at him, confused and dazed from shock and blood loss.
Milo burst from the trees, shifting human and taking in the scene. “What…What happened?”
David turned his head to look back at Milo, the blood on his mouth when he said, “Quinn attacked them. We need a healer.”
Milo took another step to see Darlin, his eyes growing and his hands digging into his pockets to find his phone. “Yeah. Yeah, sit tight.”
David looked down at Darlin, at the confusion in their eyes even as the slipped toward unconsciousness. “He attacked you. You fought. I killed him,” he said, just loud enough for them to hear. Milo might hear him too, but David wasn’t worried about that. When the Department asked Milo what he had seen, he could tell the truth. He arrived, he saw Quinn dead and Darlin bleeding out and David, bloody, holding Darlin together. He could say he saw the blood on David’s face. Milo was smart. He would realize what had really happened if he didn’t know immediately. But he was good pack, and he would also realize why the lie was being told.
No one would question David Shaw’s right to defend his pack, or his standing as a law-abiding wolf in his city. If he killed Quinn, then Quinn had it coming and there was no way around it. Darlin’s neck, Darlin’s whole body, was dressed in proof.
David said it again and again, his free hand thumbing away Darlin’s tears when they fell. He pressed his forehead to theirs when their eyes closed. “You are not a bad dog. You are my wolf.”
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southerngirl41 · 9 months
Text
Lead You On
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Emery (OC) x Jey Uso x Seth Rollins x Jimmy Uso x Roman Reigns *I'll be using their real names*
Warnings: 18+
Tag Squad: @mohawkmama @vebner37 @jeyusos-girl @dearlyheav @sunflower-leigh @harlem11680 @thesamoanqueen @jstarr86 @vibessonvibes @harmshake @christinabae @stardust181 @iluvthebloodline @alyyaanna @claymorexpunisher @mzv11 @reci24 @justduckie90 @pusiqw @romanreignkisser @siriuslyblackonback @cyberdejos2
Catch up Here
Part 18
Days passed and Emery couldn't bring herself to come out of her house. The headlines, tweets, and comments were relentless and ruthless, coming from every corner of the internet. The insults were devastating; she was called a whore and every other derogatory word in between. She knew she needed her Father’s help to fix this, he was a wizard at making things better than what they were. But she just couldn’t make that phone call. Depression crept in quickly, and as hard as she fought it, there were days when she just couldn’t cope. Jon’s mom had been her savior, picking Willia up and dropping off food.
“Have you talked to Jonathan yet?” she asked one afternoon after dropping Willa off.
“No. I wanna call him but I don't know what to say…”
“Just say what’s on your heart. He loves you and wants you to be happy.”
“It’s just a lot and it’s silly and I shouldn't be upset by it but- I’m not a bad person.”
The older woman pulled Emery into a tight hug, “No, you’re not. I know my boys love you more than anything. They’d both fight any battle for you. Lean on them.”
"I hope you know how much I love them. They are both the most important men in my life. I never wanted our lives to turn out this way." She says, looking at her feet, "I love Josh, he's my heart and soul. And Jon gave me the most precious gift that anyone could ever give me and I will forever be grateful for him."
"Jon has always had his demons; more than anyone but you and I know about. And Josh, he was always so fiercely loyal to his brother and to everyone that he loves. They'll come around.  Everything will work out in the end."
"I don't know…it's a mess."
"Call them. Start with an honest conversation."
As Emery settled into bed that night, phone in hand, her thumb hovering over Josh's contact, ready to hit the call button, she hesitated. He had always been her go-to but she knew that it wasn’t right to lean on him in this situation; especially now that he had a girlfriend. She swiped back up to Jon, letting out a long shaky breath as she stared at his contact picture. It was him standing in the ocean with Willa on his shoulders. She smiled, remembering that was the day Willa said 'Mama' for the first time. 
"I can't do this." She said to the empty room. 
So she took the easy way out, swiping up a little further in her contacts and called Joe. It rang three times before he answered. 
"Hey darlin'." He said, surprised to find her calling. 
"Hey. You busy?"
He chuckled, "Well- I'm standing in Gorilla and my music just started."
"Oh shit- It is Friday. I forgot, sorry! Call me later."
"Eh." He scoffed, "They'll wait for me. You okay?"
"Go to work. Bye."
"Bye beautiful."
Emery turned the TV on quickly, flipping it over to Smackdown,  smiling as all of her favorite faces filled the screen. Shaking her head as she realized that her Father, Baby daddy, ex-lover and ex-fiance were all in one shot. "My life is fucked up." She whispered to herself. "And it's all your fault." That little voice in the back of her head told her. 
The twins had a match against the current Tag Champs. Emery was surprised that the condition Hunter put on Jon's contract had him tagging with his brother again for the first time in almost two years. On screen you'd never know anything was going on behind the scenes, the twins were as cool as ice. They worked as if no time had passed, it was a sight to see. But Emery knew the men, maybe better than they knew themselves, and she saw the pain simmering underneath their smiles and faux bravado. 
As Joe and her father left the ring before the match, she watched as Joe jerked a sign from a fan at ring side that said, "I wanna date the Wiseman's Daughter too!" He then proceeded to rip the sign in two and yell at the crowd. Her heart sank. She had been hesitant at first, but in her heart she knew it was time to face this head on. Pulling out her tablet she wrote something that made her feel like she was reclaiming her narrative.
"Dear world,
I know the headlines have been rough and the rumors have been flying. But it's time I set the record straight. Yes, I went out to dinner with Joe, not Roman Reigns. Joe is a wonderful man whom I've known since childhood. As much as I admire him and cherish our friendship, that doesn't define me. I am a mother, a daughter, a friend. I am a person with my own story and my own struggles. I ask that you give me the same kindness and understanding that you would want for yourself. I am not perfect, I make mistakes, but I am also capable of learning and growing. So please, let's move forward with empathy and compassion. Thank you, Emery Heyman.”
Emery took a deep breath and posted that statement to her Instagram along with a picture of her and Willa on the beach in Samoa; one of her favorites.  She knew it wouldn't solve everything, but it was a step in the right direction. She had a long road ahead of her and that the world may keep on turning, but she was ready to keep on living.
As she turned the TV off after the show ended, she prayed that everyone would come around and realize that she wasn't just some drama-hungry woman trying to break up the Anoa'i/Fatu family, she was a human being with her own life and problems. Just as she drifted off to sleep her phone rang with a FaceTime call, she answered, turning her lamp on and saw Joe's smiling face, sitting in his locker room.  "Hey baby, did I wake you up?" 
"I just laid back down." She says, returning his smile, "I can't believe I forgot it was Friday!" 
"You got a lot going on right now. It's understandable." He says, leaning back in the black leather chair he was sitting in.  "Saw your post, you didn't have to do that. You don't owe anyone an explanation for what you do."
She shrugged and sighed, "You're right but… I'm sick of the constant name calling and people tagging me in memes about us. Or making fun of Jon. I wanted to put an end to it. Jon is struggling enough as it is."
Joe nods, "The tension is-  high. Wasn't sure they were gonna make it to the ring tonight."
Her face dropped, "That bad?"
"Josh brought some chick with him and I guess she was asking about you and Willa and it pissed Jon off and you can imagine how it went from there."
Emery rolled her eyes, that was the last thing she needed happening. "Sometimes I feel like I should have just stayed with Jon."
"No, you absolutely should not have stayed." Joe looked away from the screen and then back to Emery. "Everyone is ready to go,  so… I guess I gotta go too. Sweet dreams, I'll call you tomorrow."
"Goodnight."
Slowly but surely, Emery's life started to find a new normal. And even though she didn't ask; Joe was there every step of the way. He cooked for them, played with Willa, and even did laundry. Looking after them both from day to night, he showed Emery that he was willing to pick up all of the slack so she didn't have to. Something she wasn't accustomed to. The headlines didn't go away, but the three of them managed to make their own little bubble where the outside world couldn't touch them. Willa was thriving and Joe was a ray of sunshine in their lives. 
"You know Wrestlemania is next week…" Joe said one night as they sat down together for dinner. Emery stopped twirling the spaghetti on her fork and looked across the table at him.  "I'm aware." 
"Be a great place to celebrate babygirl's second birthday.  We'll be in New York this year. Close to Grandma and Grandpa…"
"Joe." She sighed.
He shrugged, handing Willa a few bites of his garlic bread. "What? Your family misses her. And I miss you both when I'm gone." She chewed her bottom lip, knowing it would be disastrous if they showed up together to Wrestlemania of all places. "I don't think it's a good idea."
Joe's face dropped as he picked up his fork and began to eat again. "If that's what you want. I respect that."
As Joe prepared to leave the next morning for the long Wrestlemania media week ahead, Willa climbed in and out of his suitcase. "She wants to go." He said pulling her out of the suitcase for at least the fifth time.  
"I wanna go." Willa says, grabbing his red glove and running with it. 
"You got her in on this now!" Emery says, hitting him lightly as she chases her daughter down the hall. 
They stood at the door together,  neither of them wanting to say goodbye. Joe had been a constant in her home for the past few months.  And although they hadn't taken that next step, Emery still hated to see him leave. They stared at one another for a moment before he leaned in,  "You gonna miss me?" He asks, burying his face in her hair as he whispers in her ear. She exhaled softly, "You know I will."  He kissed the spot just behind her ear, his heavy breath echoed through her mind. They'd shared kisses here and there since he came back into her life but nothing more. He promised her he would wait for her to decide when she was ready. 
"Can I kiss you?" He asks, kissing along her jawline. She smiled to herself and turned to capture his lips. Willa jumped up and down next to them yelling,  "Want kiss too!"
Joe pressed his forehead to Emery's before scooping Willa up in his arms. "You want a kiss too?" He asks, bouncing her up and down. He kissed her on her cheek a few times and hugged her tightly before passing her to her mother. 
"Gonna you miss you girls." He says over his shoulder, dragging his suitcase to the car. 
"We'll miss you too! Be safe."
The wheels of the suitcase clacked loudly as he walked away and something inside her said "Go with him." as his taillights disappeared. She held Willa close, inhaling her sweet smell; she didn't know what she'd do without that little girl in her life. As she came back into the house she saw his red glove laying on the steps where Willa had dropped it. Knowing It was too late for him to turn around, she decided that she would fly to New York and surprise him… as much as she knew it would probably cause some type of drama, she couldn’t hide forever.
The thought of surprising Joe at Wrestlemania had Emery absolutely giddy with excitement so before she knew it they were sitting on a plane heading towards New York City two days later. Once they arrived, they made their way to the hotel where he was staying during the event.  As they knocked on his door, Emery's heart raced with anticipation. Joe opened the door, and his face transformed into a look of pure happiness as he saw Emery and Willa standing there. "What are y'all doing here?" he asked, taking Willa into his arms.
"You forgot something," Emery said with a smile, walking into his hotel room. Joe pulled her into his arms, hugging her tightly. "I can't believe you're here," he breathed into her hair. Emery tilted her head up to meet his gaze, and they shared a look filled with unsaid emotions. The magnetic pull between them was tangible.
"Look!" Willa giggles, pulling his red glove out of her mother's purse.
"I forgot my glove!" He laughs, picking Willa up. "I can't wrestle without my red glove. I'm so happy you brought it to me, sweet girl." 
Emery watched as Joe played with Willa, laughing as he flipped her in the air. It was a beautiful sight to see them together, and Emery couldn't help but feel a sense of longing deep down in her heart. She wanted to be a part of that happiness
Joe put Willa to bed later that night in the small rollaway bed the Concierge had brought up for them and then turned his attention back to Emery. "I'm so glad you're here," he said, pulling her onto his lap. "I can't imagine Wrestlemania without you. Especially after we’ve spent so much time together.” Emery smiled and snuggled into him, feeling his warmth and the steady beat of his heart. She knew that this was dangerous territory, that she was risking her heart by being with him like this. But deep down, she couldn't help wanting more.
“Does your dad know you’re here?” Joe asked as they lay next to one another in bed. His fingers slowly raked through her hair as she lay in his arms.
“Not yet, I didn't want to cause a fuss. I’ll call him in the morning, I figured I would go by the house, see mom and all that fun stuff. Thought I would try to put Willa’s birthday party together maybe since everyone is here.”
“You’re such a good mom to her.”
"I want her to have everything that I didn't. Two present parents. Meals at the dinner table every night."
"Darlin', you can still have those things."
She wiped a tear from her eye, as she sniffled, "I know but she already knows something isn't right. She cries for Jon every night and asks for him every morning. She misses him… And it's like a knife to my fucking heart. I try so hard to keep it together for her but I struggle. I remember what it was like to miss my dad and I don't want that for her."
Joe turned onto his side, looking into her eyes, concern clouding his face. “Do you want to be with Jon? If that’s what you think you need to do for Willa, do it.”
“I can’t put myself through that again.”
He cupped her face with hands, "Look, I'm not going anywhere. We can just exist together.  We don't have to be a couple or go on dates, we can just be."
But Emery knew in her heart that  it would never be that simple.
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cherubfae · 3 months
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soft partner who is super strong || arcane x reader
with Vander, Silco, Viktor, Jayce, Caitlyn, Vi, & Jinx
tags: slight canon typical violence/explosions, alcohol consumption, cursing, established relationships, lots of fluff and silliness :3 gn!reader as usual! ;D
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Vander
He enjoyed teasing you, keeping things out of your reach so that you'd have to ask for his help. He adored being your big, strong man and coming to your aid. Need the jar opened? You've got it! Can't reach those cups at the top shelf? Hang on, darlin', your Vander's got it!
Remodeling The Last Drop had been a spur of the moment ordeal. Two patrons had destroyed half the booze display shelf in a drunken brawl, leaving Vander to clean up the mess and shell out some coin to order the replacements. He would've rebuilt it himself if he had any lumber, but carpentry wood had been scarce as of late.
"Hey, love, which side would you like this to go?"
Vander lifts his head at your words, his eyes damn near popping out of his skull as you casually stop carrying the shelf-- heavy wooden drawers and glass doors in and all-- with such ease. Like you were carrying a bin of trash to the edge of the street."How in the bloody fuck are you doing that, darlin'?" He baffles, watching as you easily squeeze the shelf along its matching partner.
"Oh, you know. You bend down-- it's very important to lift with your legs not your back-- and you grasp your hands on both sides and--"
"Very funny, smartass." Vander doesn't bother to hide his chuckle. He then realized you never needed his help to open those jars in the first place.
Silco
The last thing this kingpin expected was to be caught up in the crossfires between his own men and the Firelights especially not when he was out and about with you. Silco also wasn't expecting you to completely rip off an entire steel paneling of a scrapped boat beached near the murky water and use it as a bloody shield. The two of you were able to return to his office without harm, Silco immediately pouring himself a glass of whiskey. He slumps into his seat with a heavy sigh.
"Darling," he starts, already sounding exasperated. "Just when were you going to tell me you had such gorgeous strength?" Silco toys with the lip of his glass, his eyes flickering to you. You grin wide, unphased.
Quickly, you chirped, "You never asked!" With your signature beaming smile. Silco fights the urge to smack his face with his hand.
"...I hadn't ever considered it a possibility to even ask, but consider me intrigued, dearest. What more can you do? Show me."
Viktor
He's lethally smart and typically a man who doesn't bother asking anyone for help, let alone you, his precious partner. Viktor is often determined to do everything on his own, with a very destructive mindset of 'I'm not useful if I'm not being productive' . Even for Piltover's smartest man, sometimes he did require extra help.
His latest invention was one of stealth and mass. A creation not unlike a Firelight's hovercraft, but much more heavy-duty. It wasn't built for a rider but to be used as a drone-- it was controlled completely by a remote device. Built to shoulder more cargo with an automated turret on the back. Somewhere buried in his mathematics, Viktor miscalculated the dimensions of the clamps meant to hold the mammoth device as he sat in front of it.
Before a ton of weight could come tumbling down on top of him, you had stopped it with ease. Lifting it high over your head, Viktor was in awe. What a true ethereal beauty you are.
Jayce
"I was thinking about this new design for the Atlas gauntlents--... H-How are you lifting that? That's impossible!" Jayce gawks. The sheer amount of iron you carried was inhuman, yet you carried it with such ease that would have the toughest brawler crying to be done. Back and forth, you placed all of his ingots used for smelting off to the side of Jayce's barren new workshop.
You give him an easy grin, smile teasing. "Iron isn't that heavy, Jayce." Shooting him a playful wink, you set the last bulk of the iron aside to return to planning out the blueprint for the forge. Jayce could only blink in disbelief, speechless, and shook his head. Maybe next time he could hire you to help him versus paying others to do it.
Caitlyn
There wasn't much that seemed to surprise Caitlyn anymore. Much of the true nature and cruelty of the world already lived right under Piltover's noses. The existence of Shimmer alone was proof of that.
While working a festival, an explosion near the city square alerted Caitlyn and the other Enforcers to the location. No doubt one of Silco's goons. She looked towards the booth where you had been worked, panic erupting in her stomach when she realized you weren't there.
Upon entering the scene, she was more alarmed than surprised to see you there, helping recover civilians trapped beneath the rubble using such super strength she'd never known you could do before.
Immediately she's at your side, assessing the damage and calling for backup and medical attention for those affected. She'll ask you of this later, for now, the civilians are more important. It was a miracle that you were there to help--and she was relieved you were unharmed. You were the miracle.
Vi
She knew you were strong and capabke of many things. She wasn't aware of one of those things being you could send an Enforcer through several brick and mortar walls. Let alone with a single punch! You truly never cease to amaze her!!
Vi's heart skips a beat in her chest. You wipe your hands across your pants, blowing away the remaining dust collected across your knuckles.
You haven't even broken skin, no sign of blood or marring across your seemingly delicate hands. When you face her, she's got a wide dopey grin on her face and makes the first comment that comes to mind.
"Holy shit, babe. That was hot."
Jinx
She, like everyone else, was quite well-aware of your strength. You enjoyed carrying her around with ease-- she enjoyed it too! The exact magnitude of strength, however, was a mystery.
Until the day finally came where she would learn just how truly powerful her partner was. A foot chase broke out between you and a downed Firelight. The perpetrator in question towing a large rucksack of valuables meant for the Chem-Barons. Jinx had been following the chase along the rooftops of Zaun, doing her best to keep up.
With a snarl, Jinx watched as you hefted a sturdy steel pole that your arms barely wrapped around and slammed it in front of the Firelights, narrowly crushing them beneath its sheer weight.
"Got'cha." You snarked, picking up the rucksack and tossing it over your shoulder. "Let's leave this one for Silco to deal with, honey." You crouch down and grab the unconscious Firelight's shoulder.
Jinx grinned wide. She wasn't used to seeing you so, so feral! She loved it!! You were normally so composed and gentle. She liked this side of you.
"You got it, toots!"
Ekko
The poor boy is a bit lost and confused. The Firelight's hoverboard gear was far from light, it certainly wasn't the heaviest, but he certainly hadn't expected his sweet partner to use the modified tech to smack an entire cargo blimp across the sky and into the sea near the docks.
Shimmering purple water bubbled to the surface, surely infested the already bizarre and chemically unnatural sea life that lurked beneath the water's depths.
"Whoa, I didn't know you had that sorta strength in ya!" Ekko folds his arms across his chest. "Not ideal that that stuff's in the ocean, but Zaun's done worse..." He shakes his head and hops onto his board, offering his hand to you. You accept and he hauls you up behind him. "Let's ditch this scene, yeah, babe?" He snickers, his mask distorting the sound slightly. His board zips to life, leaving green streaks in its wake.
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|| I DON'T GIVE PERMISSION FOR MY WORKS TO BE REPOSTED, RESHARED, OR EDITED. TUMBLR IS MY ONLY ACCOUNT AND THE ONLY PLACE WHERE I POST MY WRITING. ALL CHARACTERS BELONG TO THEIR RIGHTFUL OWNERS, THE STORY BELONGS TO ME. || CHERUBFAE © 2023
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thatgoblin · 5 months
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Summary: Waking up in a strange place with no way out, what is a not yet a witch to do?
Warnings: LISTEN HERE! You are in for some fun, consensual depravity. We're talking, slight body horror of a person with multiple limbs fucking another person with those limbs. Anal, dick and toy. Bondage, cling wrap kind. Gags, an o-gag. Tentacles-ish oral, giving. Penis in vag. Oral, vag receiving. Smothering with tentacle and hand. DP and all holes are fucked on reader. Those are the ones that are the most outlandish.
Also, slight religious kink/trauma. Towels are on your right when you enter. Please tip the cleaning crew when you're done.
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It had to be a dream. That was it. It was all just a dream. I’d wake up back home in my new bed, safe and comfy, curled up with so many pillows and blankets.
Instead, I woke up groaning while laying on a very hard and very cold stone floor.
“Ow,” I grunted as I rolled to my back. Opening my eyes, I stared up at the ceiling of the room I was in. It was tall with pillars curving inward to meet in the middle to make a dome of dark gray stone. “Wha. . .'' Sitting up, I was greeted with what looked like a staged bedroom from Hamlet. Dark, rich colors of reds and golds and blacks in velvet poured down the walls and the very same bed frame from my room. A long, hand carved table held candelabras with dripping candles, but more importantly, a long line of food and drink. “Did I hit my head?” I mumbled, turning around to see the stained glass windows of rather lude scenes.
A few more turns confirmed that there was no door. That can’t be right. It had to be hidden. Checking every inch of the walls as well as the floor, there was no way to exit. But how did I get in there? Even the windows were sealed and couldn’t open. The ceiling was firm, leaving no exit for me.
“I gotta be dreaming. It’s all a dream or a coma dream or hallucination,” I said to myself. Picking up a candelabra, I put out the flames on it before hurling it at a window. The heavy iron decoration bounced off the glass, without leaving any sign that it was weakened or hurt. “What? No, no, no, no.” Picking it up, I took a baseball step forward to swing it into the window. The decoration flew out of my hands as I stumbled back, a force that was over the glass kept me from making a dent in it. “Okay," I said to myself, trying not to panic or hyperventilate.”I’m just tired. That’s it. I’m asleep. I’m just asleep and don’t have to worry about anything.”
“You sure about that, Darlin’?”
Grave’s voice cut any hope from the air that I would wake up in my new bed. Spinning towards his voice, I looked at him wide eyed.
“Because, last I checked, you are very much awake and this is very much real,” he said, standing by the bed. “Now, I know that you weren’t given any information about why you’re here. Your parents didn’t tell you anything, but that’s okay. You still found your way to this side of things,” he said, smiling at me.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about. If you drugged me or this is just a way to mess with me. . . Look, I just want to go home. I’ll tell everyone that it was a mistake. I’ll make sure no one follows you or tries to do anything. I just want to go home,” I pleaded.
“Well, that’s not going to happen. Not till you give me what I want at least,” Grave said, taking steps towards me. “I need you to give me something very precious and very powerful. Something you don’t even know you have. All you have to do is just will it to me. Think in your pretty, little head that you want to give it to me.”
“I don’t even know what you want,” I said, stepping backwards to keep space between us. “Whatever it is, just take it and go.”
“See, that won’t work. I need you to will it to me. Say to yourself ‘I freely give Phillip Graves my powers.’ That’s what you have to do. Otherwise, well, you’re going to be here a long time and I have nothing but that,” he said, closing in on me.
“Powers? What?” I said, my back hitting the wall. “Look, I don’t have any money, but my roommates might. You said you knew them! Ask them!”
“Money is not what I want, Little Witch,” he growled, narrowing his eyes. “I said give me your powers. I want you to give them to me, now stop wasting my time and just do it!” Reaching out, he grabbed my arm to drag me to him, keeping me in a tight grip.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about!” I screamed, struggling against his ironclad hold. “Let me go!”
A crack of thunder shook the room as bricks flew out from a wall, hitting us and knocking us down. On the ground, my ears were ringing and dust blinded me while I curled up to try to shield myself from more projectiles. As the deafening ring died down, I was able to make out the sounds of growling and snarling mixed with threatening words. Coughing, I looked up to see John with giant, leathery bat-like wings arching up from his back as huge ram horns curled around his head, coming from his forehead. Sharpened teen shined in his mouth as he jumped onto Graves to pound on him with clawed fists, all while a long, thin tail whipped around. It felt like it was in slow motion, the smoke billowing from Graves body as his eyes glowed bright red.
What the heck? What was going on?
Laying on the ground, I could only watch as John beat Graves back till he was shoved through the hole in the wall. When he went through, the bricks followed, closing up the space and our way out. Silence fell on us as John stood there panting and staring at the wall while I stared at him.
The man/bat/demon/whatever he was turned to me. His body didn’t look right. Any recognizable features were gone and in their place was something from a horror movie. When he took a step towards me, I scrambled back. I had no clue what was going on, but this was serious and monsters of the fairy tale and biblical kind were suddenly very real.
“No, please-” I whimpered, pushing myself up and away. John paused, hurt flashing across his face a moment. Staying where he was, the wings and horns and tail, all of it, faded from his body. All that was left was a shirtless man in jeans that I lived with.
“It’s okay,” he said softly, leaning down a bit, making himself smaller like someone would with a spooked animal. “I’m not going to hurt you. I promise.”
“What are you?” I asked, looking him in the eye, not trusting him. There was probably a good reason why he hadn’t told me, but this wasn’t something I could laugh off. It wasn’t a crazy hobby or weird interest. The man wasn’t a man. Everything I had thought was silly growing up in the bible belt of the US was suddenly seeming very real.
“I’m still me. I’m still John,” he said, keeping the space between us, at least giving me that. “But as for what I am? I’m a demon. An Incubus.”
“Wha-An-” I choked out, wondering if I was going to be used or abused or eaten alive. The only thing I knew about demons was that they were from hell and would try to seduce humans into sin. Being the kid of a Baptist Preacher, I had my fair share of bible studies. But I had left the church after moving out at 19 and never looked back. This whole situation just brought so much trauma and questions to the front of my mind that I felt sick with dizziness.
“An incubus,” John said with a nod. “I’m not evil or bad.”
“Yeah, says a literal demon,” I snapped, moving a chair between us. “Am I in hell? Is this hell? Are you going to get me to drop my guard then torture me, make me forget it happened then just keep doing it over and over, forever?”
“First of all, there really isn’t a hell like that. I think. I’m a bit fuzzy on the details myself as I don’t work for the Big Boss,” John said.
“Satan? You mean Satan?” I asked, already feeling my heart was about to tear itself apart from the stress.
“No, I mean Cernunnos. He is the god of fertility and prosperity from the British Isles, well before it was the British Isles,” John said. His tone shifted to a more familiar one as his body relaxed. I was still confused and terrified because I didn’t know what he was talking about. “I’m not a demon as in the ones from the bible that you know. There’s so much more to it and you’re giving me a look that I can’t quite read.”
“I have to be dead, that’s the only explanation,” I said, gripping the chair tightly to keep myself grounded and not pass out. “I’m dead and I’m in hell. You’re trying to make me think there’s no hell so that I’ll be seduced by sin. Oh gosh, my dad was right. I am going to burn in the fires of eternity for watching Fantasia.”
“Oh no,” John said. “Baptist?” I looked at him and nodded as he winced. “That explains a lot actually. You’re not dead, Love. I’m not trying to play tricks with your head either. Graves just had to make everything so much more complicated.”
“Is he a demon too?” I asked.
“No, he’s a revenant,” John said. “But let’s slow down and have a breather. You look pale and those bricks must have hit you hard.” There. That was the John I knew. The one that was going out of his way to help me, to make sure I was safe and okay after barely knowing me for a few days. The concern in his voice had me nodding as I moved to sit in the chair before my legs gave out. “Good, slow, deep breaths. Even and solid,” he said. Moving to a dresser I had missed before, he pulled it open to rummage a moment. Pulling out a shirt, he slid it on to give himself some coverage. While I would normally be blushing and/or drooling over a very attractive man/demon like him while he was shirtless, I was coming down from having a panic attack.
I watched him intently, almost waiting for some sudden movement or jump scare, but nothing came. He pulled another chair over, still giving me space, to patiently wait for me. A few minutes passed, turning into who knew how much time, but he didn’t push or rush me at all.
“Better?” He asked, giving me a smile from under his beard.
“Yeah, thanks,” I said, nodding. “Uh, my dad was a Baptist Preacher. The whole ‘Fire and Brimstone’ and ‘Everyone is going to hell.’ Yeah, that was kind of pounded into me growing up and even though I left when I could, it still lingers.”
“No worries. I understand,” he said. “Now, what do you know about Witches?”
“Nothing really. Just the green faced, hooked nose ladies that are actually kind of racist caricatures of Jewish people,” I said, earning a snort from him.
“Yeah, that sounds about par for the course,” John said with a nod. “Well, the thing is, you’re a witch.”
“No I’m not,” I said immediately. “Graves said that too and demanded I give him my powers. I’m not a witch and I don’t have powers.”
“Not yet, but you will and you are,” John said. “Most of the time, you’re born into a coven and know it from day one. Sometimes, someone leaves and doesn’t want it, so they lie and hide that part of themself. Then someday that someone has kids and doesn’t tell them. The line is still there, but the culture isn’t. That someone is in your family. A grandparent or great grandparent even. They left and hid their past.”
“That doesn’t make sense,” I said, shaking my head. “Everyone in my family is from America and we all came from the same region and all grew up Baptist. No one suddenly showed up with a mysterious past.”
“That means that the last witch in your family goes back even further. Sometimes witches did it for safety. Given the hunts and trials over the centuries they had to hide or they would be killed. There wouldn’t be any sign of it. It’s not like what that cunt wrote in her books about the boy wizard, the little shit. You don’t have magical things happen that you can’t explain, you’re just a normal person till your line is triggered,” John said.
“But how? I mean, Graves kept telling me to will it to him, but I don’t even know the first thing about any of this,” I sighed, rubbing my face. “I just want to go home and pretend none of this happened. It would be just a normal life with odd roommates.”
“I’m sorry I can’t give that to you,” he said gently. “I wish I could, but with Graves involved now, we can’t.”
“Why not? You got in here and threw him out, why not get us home and throw him back in?”
“That’s not how this works and I know it’s not what you want to hear, but that’s the truth,” he said. “I got in here by accident. He stopped paying attention long enough for me to find you and get in. Now that he’s gone, we’re not getting out till he’s ready to let us out. Graves made this small pocket room, so he can keep it shut as long as he wants. The only other way to get out would be to awaken your powers to get us out. You would be more powerful than him, if I’m right, which is probably why he went after you to begin with.”
“Okay, but how do I get these powers? Walk in a circle five times? Wiggle my nose? Find a goblin that has a magic wand and quest?” I asked. John chuckled, shaking his head.
“To trigger the powers you have to have sex three times with a preternatural being. Most of the time, witches are born into the community and often find another witch or being to have a ceremony with to get their powers, but it has to be consensual. If it was forced, it wouldn’t work. As for taking powers from witches, it’s more fuzzy.”
“Okay, first of all, I have to have sex three times to get my powers? I haven’t even had regular sex three times! And what do you mean taking powers is more fuzzy?”
“It’s not pretty, but you would have to will your powers to Graves and then he’d have to eat your heart,” he said with a small wince. “If your line is as long as it seems, to have no witches for several generations, it would be very powerful magic.”
“He said something at the store, about wanting what you had, what was that?” I asked.
“Well, the men and I thought we were guarding an ancient case of magic. Something from Merlin’s time, but it turns out it was a decoy. There wasn’t really anything in it,” John said. “We spoke with a contact and after some digging for a few days, we discovered that it wasn’t the case itself that was magic. It has a list of potential witches whose lines have large gaps carved into the bottom. Turns out that you didn’t accidentally find us.”
“What?” It felt like I was slowly losing my mind the more that he spoke. Everything that he was saying was insane and impossible. I really must have died or was drugged or something. But I had felt the bricks and the dust and pain from John busting in. There was no denying this, as much as I wanted to.
“See, you were cursed,” John said. “By your boss, specifically. The knick knacks she gave you were trinkets of misfortune. She had cursed you, we don’t know why, but it brought you to us. When undiscovered witches come around preternaturals and stay, they turn into a beacon of sorts. Anyone and everyone that would want your powers would be able to find you, especially if you were undiscovered and stayed that way.”
I needed a moment to absorb and process everything. Not to mention follow the stupid red string John had just handed me that was pinned to a giant board of maps and papers and names, nothing I knew or understood.
“Can Incubuseses make people sleep?” I asked, close to breaking down into tears. “I just need to sleep. Not even to try and wake up at home. Everything I’m being told is making my head ache more and more to the point that I’m too overwhelmed to understand anymore words.”
“I can’t make you sleep, but I can help you relax,” John said, standing up. Coming over to me, he held out his hand for me to take, that same smile that made worries leave my over crowded head was on his lips. Taking his hand, I let him lead me to the dresser to find clothes before taking me to another door I hadn’t seen before. Inside was the same clawed bathtub from Johnny’s room that I adored. “Take a nice, long, hot bath, and when you’re done, let’s get some food in you then sleep, mm?”
I nodded, unable to fight anymore as my body was aching more and more. Adrenaline from the fight and initial waking up was leaving me rapidly and all I had was pain behind it. Comfortable around the man/demon again, I stood in the small room as John started a hot shower. Steam quickly filled the room as he pulled a few items from under the sink cupboard. It looked like oils and soaps, which was good. At least we didn’t have to shower with just water.
More questions filled my brain, making my eyes throb as I began to wonder about him. How old was he? Did he always have his horns and wings or did they actually disappear from his body? If he was a demon, what were the others? What other creatures existed that I was told were make-believe?
“You’re quiet, but your head is very loud,” John snorted, setting towels on the sink.
“Can you read my mind?” I asked, looking up at him.
“No, but you look like you can’t stop thinking,” he said. “Here, strip and hop in. There’s some bath oils you can use to help relax.”
“Okay, thanks,” I said, standing there. There was a moment of silence between us as I waited for him to leave, but he wasn’t.
“Are you going to get in?” He asked with a chuckle.
“Yeah, but you’re still in here,” I pointed out. John stepped closer, tilting his head to look me in the eyes.
“Love, I don’t think you understand. We’re not getting out of here unless Graves lets us out or you get your powers. Right now, our best chance is for you to get that magic because the bastard isn’t one to let things go,” he said, his voice lowering in town and volume. “I don’t want to push this, but we need to get out of here.”
Despite the overload going on in my brain, I knew he was right.
“Okay, but after eating and a shower. Food first,” I said quickly, leaving before he could stop me.
Sex wasn’t a big thing in my world. I didn’t actively seek it out or necessarily want it, but if I had urges that I took care of myself. From the two partners I’d had, I wasn’t missing a lot. Missionary position while being uncomfortable as someone pushed something into me repeatedly for a minute or so, then pulling out was the only experience I had to go off of. Movies and books hyped it up as something so amazing and life changing, but I felt the two times I’d had it was enough for me to know that good sex was a myth.
Moving around the table, I picked at the food, finding that I was actually pretty hungry. There were all sorts of desserts and meats and cheeses, along with drinks. John soon joined me, having taken a shower himself instead of waiting on me.
“For being a creepy jerk, Graves has good food choices,” I said as I put some sort of meat onto my plate.
“Mmm,” John hummed as he picked up a group of grapes to pop into his mouth, one by one. I chanced a look at him and the man was in a small towel that barely wrapped around his already slim waist. Water was still rolling down from his hair as he took a seat. His muscles and body hair glistened as he moved even subtly. I couldn’t take my eyes off him as he plucked a grape from its stem with his teeth and lips. Were he laid out on a lounge chaise and surrounded by servants in robes, John would look at home in a renaissance painting. “Something you want to say?”
His words pulled me from my thoughts and the beginning of a very naughty daydream.
“Huh? Uh, no,” I said, tearing my eyes away from his grinning face. Chancing looks here and there, I kept catching him doing the most oddly arousing things. Like with the grapes, I’d catch licking his lips after having a drink and then would see him shifting to spread his legs, putting more strain on the poor towel that was already struggling to keep him covered. “I’m gonna go shower and then we can do the thing,” I said, setting my clean plate on the table to scurry away. With the door closed, I cranked the shower to as cold as I could stand it. What the heck was that!?
Since when did I stare at him like that? Since when did I get so horny so suddenly? It was out of left field that all these desires suddenly manifested, leaving me confused and dizzy and needy. Stripping, I tossed my clothes to the side. In the shower, the cool water helped clear my head so I could focus. I needed this. Soaking my body, I began my usual shower routine.
The water turned a light gray as all the dust from the stones was washed off, taking the gritty texture and oils with it. It didn’t take me long, but I didn’t want to get out. If I left the shower and the bathroom, then I would be faced with sex with John. On the surface it sounded like a blast, but I knew it would be mediocre. It was probably for the best, after all, I had said no rebounds with roommates.
Stuck in my thoughts, I didn’t hear the knocking or the door opening.
“Love?” John’s voice pulled me from my thoughts again, startling me and making me let out a very undignified noise.
“Wa-aaah!” I cried out, my feet slipping and arms flailing. “What the heck, John!?”
“Oh good, you’re still here. I came to check on you, but the noise made me wonder if you’d turned into a goat for a moment,” he said with a chuckle.
“Oh shut up,” I grumbled, picking up my wash cloth I dropped in my panic. Pulling back the curtain a bit, I peeked out to see him standing by the door. “I’m fine, as you can clearly hear.”
“Are you? Because, from the remark about having had sex less than three times, I’m inclined to believe that you’re nervous. It’s okay to be nervous, especially with something so intimate,” he said.
“It’s-” I cut myself off with sigh. Dang it, how did I explain this to him?
“It’s what?”
“I know stuff about sex, I watch porn and I have, well, alone time,” I said. “It’s that I don’t believe the hype around it.”
John was quiet a moment and I could only imagine what he was probably thinking.
“Please explain,” he said after a few more beats.
“I mean, the sex I did have was not that great and because I can pleasure myself just fine, I don’t believe sex is. . . Well, fun,” I said. John let out a bark of a laugh as I stood under the water wondering if I really was in hell after all.
“That’s it? You just don’t think sex is fun?” He asked, moving closer to me.
“Yes, that’s it,” I huffed.
“That is something I can change your mind on, Love,” he purred, standing right outside the curtain of the tub. “You really don’t know what an incubus is?”
“No,” I said with a frown.
“I’m a sex demon. I feed off of sexual energy. That’s how I live,” he said. “Sure, I can eat food and I’ll be fine, but I won’t be thriving. I’ll get depressed and aggressive. Take everything away from a lion and put it in a small cage, it’s still a lion, but it’s not living.”
“Sounds kind of sad,” I said, wincing as it came out. Good job, insult the demon.
“That’s my existence. I need, not just sex, but intimacy and pleasure. To hold someone as they see the universe as a whole as they have pleasure slam into them over and over, to touch someone in a way that has them melting against me without knowing why, to be that anchor as someone floats through pure bliss as well as catches them when they come back down to earth. That is what I need to survive and thrive. A quick roll in the sheets is fine, like fast food, but I need to dine on pearls and mussels.”
The more he spoke, the hotter it became in the room. Whether it was my body reacting to his voice and words or if it was that deep seated heat I got when I looked at him too closely, I couldn’t deny that John was someone I needed.
“This isn’t magic, is it?” I asked softly, needing and wanting this feeling to be real. To open myself and let someone see inside me, to bear my everything to him, I needed it to be real. “What I’m feeling right now.”
“I can’t make people want to have sex with me,” he said, his face right next to the small crack that I had made in the shower curtain. Our eyes connected, his crystal clear blue irises held my gaze, making me want to keep that eye contact when I usually shied away. “I can’t force feelings on you, of any kind. I can only enhance them. If you’re feeling something, it’s already there. I’m just making it harder to resist.”
It was impossible to say that I didn’t want him, that wave of heat I got from time to time around him only confirmed it. I just had to decide if I allowed him closer.
“I’ll make sure you see the beginning of life itself before we even finish the first time,” he promised, his hand covering mine that held the curtain. “You won’t even remember what human sex was like afterwards.”
The trail of breadcrumbs he left me was becoming harder and harder to resist. Did I need to resist? It was just sex and then we would be home like it never happened. I hoped at least.
“Okay,” I said, closing my eyes and pulling the curtain back to let him see me.
“Open your eyes,” he breathed into my ear. “I want you to see how badly I need you.” Looking away, I let my lids flutter open before slowly turning back to him.
“Holy shit,” I said, losing my breath at the sight of the towel being gone. John was already hard, his tip pressed to his hairy belly. He was thick and long, his balls hung under his impressive cock looking heavy and full. If I survived this, I may really never have sex again because it couldn’t compare.
“Thank you,” he chuckled. “Don’t worry, we’ll work up to it. First, I want to taste you.” Lips parted, he pressed them to mine gently, easing me into it. One hand took mine as the other rested on my hip. “Let’s get you to bed, hmm?” He let me nod before bending over a bit to put me over his shoulder to carry me off.
“John!” I cried, scared that the water would make us slip. He laughed, giving my rear a swat as he carried me to the bed. Yelping, my face heated up at what it did to make me clench.
“Someone likes being spanked,” he purred, tossing me onto the bed. Crying out as I fell and bounced, I grabbed onto the bedding to keep myself on it. “I’ll keep that in mind for later.” Looking up at him, I wanted to make a smart remark, but the words caught in my throat. He looked massive as he stood over me. I knew he was tall and built, but from this angle, it was like a wolf staring down at a rabbit that didn’t know it was about to be eaten. “Now, spread those legs for me so that I can show you how good sex can be.”
I hesitated only a moment before doing as I was told. Leaning back on my elbows, I couldn’t help the shiver as I opened myself up to let him see the most intimate parts of me. Just having him stand there and drink in the image of me like that had me breathing heavier and starting to ache between my legs. He hadn’t even touched me yet.
“I am going to enjoy devouring you,” John groaned as he climbed into the bed, taking his time to kiss up one of my legs then the other. He pushed them apart further, making me gasp as cool air rushed to hit my spread apex. Chuckling, John blew softly on my wetness, making me squirm and whine.
“Don’t tease,” I groaned, looking down at him.
“Oh, Love, you have no idea how much I am going to wind you up,” he said, licking his lips. His big, calloused hands held my thighs open to give him the close up look that he wanted. He kept blowing cold air on me, earning more whines and moans before I finally felt his tongue slide up my slit gently. I whimpered, shaking as he did it again.
“John, please,” I begged as he gave me another slow swipe.
“Please what?” He asked between gentle licks to my sex.
“Please! I-I just, I need you!” I cried in frustration.
“What do you need me to do, Love?” He asked, not giving in to me that easily.
“I need you to eat me out!” I snapped. The shit eating grin on his face showed me I said the magic words. Immediately, John began to thrust his tongue past my wet folds and open me up. It was amazing and no toy could replicate the feeling of him burying his face into my sex. His nose teased that delicate nub at the top as his tongue was sliding in deeper than it should have. I was sure that his tongue was touching parts of me not even I had touched. My head fell back as I let out a long moan.
Usually, it would take some time to get me to a place where I felt I could orgasm, but John had me there in under a minute. Fingers replaced his mouth as they thrust into me and curled as his lips moved to suck on my clit.
“Fuck!” I cried out, falling back as my hands went to his hair. “Don’t-don’t stop!” I sobbed as he added a second finger. They were thick and stretched me past what I was used to. It wasn’t painful, only a bit of discomfort that quickly left as he sucked hard on that sensitive bundle of nerves. “John! John! I-I’m close! I-I-I-!” I tried to warn him as he let his pinky nudge at the tight ring of muscles of my ass, slick sliding down to make it easy to tease and push at without catching. That was what sent me over the edge. Crying out, I sobbed as I squeezed my thighs around his head and shook hard as I came. While I had a voice telling me that I should be worried for his safety as I was tensing hard, John didn’t let up even after my orgasm was dying down, quickly giving me a second one on the heels of the first.
Panting, I choked out a cry as I jerked and clenched hard. After the second one, he eased up, pushing my legs apart. Relaxing my muscles as there were still small jerks, my legs flopped open as I laid there feeling completely satisfied and buzzing. Pulling back, he looked down at me with a feral grin. His beard and chin were shiny with slick as he sucked on the fingers that had been inside me.
“Oh, you are a feast of repressed sex,” he moaned, his eyes starting to glow purple. “I am going to open up a world of pleasure for you and show you how much fun it can be. But first, we’re going to do the basics. I don’t want you to misinterpret how wonderful simplicity can be.” All I could do was nod. Pulling away, he grabbed a towel to wipe his face off as well as clean me up a bit. The fabric felt rough on my red and puffy sex, making me groan and squirm underneath it.
Tossing the towel aside, John moved to climb further onto the bed and over me. I looked up at him, still smelling my orgasm on him as he leaned in close. I was nervous at first, unsure of what it would taste like, but his slow kissing helped ease my anxiety. There was no way to really describe it other than it tasted like me. Instead of being frozen and awkward, I felt comfortable and even confident in my movements as I reached up to run my hands over his body. He slotted himself between my legs and fit perfectly and comfortably as we rocked our bodies together. The man was warm and firm, but his skin was so soft, even with the bumps of scars that I felt. Every part of him felt welcoming and even coaxing me to touch more. His back, which had held those giant wings earlier, had nothing to suggest that he had such appendages. John’s smell was even good despite the slight sweat we had broken in that first act.
Everything about him was disarming and perfect for me to have him. Which was a subtle reminder of what he was. But it didn’t matter anymore. He was making me feel so good and wanted and adored that I didn’t care. So when his cock head slid over my sex, I groaned and bucked, wanting to feel him fully without care of what could happen. Contraception wasn’t on my brain, just his cock buried deep inside me.
Pulling back a bit, he reached down to guide his cock to my wet, warm hole. Gently, he began to rock it into me, letting my body take him at its own speed. Just the head inside me had me moaning and panting.
“That’s it, that’s my good pet,” he mumbled as he began to sink deeper and deeper. “Take my cock like a good pet. Yeah. You were made to have this inside you. All that time you were waiting for the perfect fit and here we are.” His words had me mewling as the slight sting was fading. When he was balls deep, he stayed there, pushing in still as I felt like he would knock the wind out of me. Something inside me wanted him to stay there, let me sit in his lap and just enjoy his cock in my cunt. I could imagine myself in his office as he did paperwork, straddling him while napping peacefully. All the while I warmed him with my sex.
I moved my legs to press my feet into the mattress as they were still spread wide, giving me the leverage to buck up a bit as my lips couldn’t get enough of him. His tongue slid into my mouth, letting me taste more of myself. We were connected at so many points and still it wasn’t enough. Our bodies began to rock against one another, giving some much needed friction below the waist. The rhythm was slow and steady, both of us not ready to cum so quickly. Which made me appreciate him eating me out first. Who knew how long I would last otherwise.
It was a perfect concert of breathing and moaning as we worked together to enjoy the pleasure that was sex. John’s size didn’t matter anymore because he very much knew how to use his whole body as a tool for pleasing me. As the heat inside us was stoked, making us more needy, we began to paw at one another. His hand reached down to grab my thigh, pulling it up to rest over his waist. I thought he was deep already, but he slid further in, making my groan loudly.
“Oh fuck,” I panted, kissing and nipping at his neck and shoulder. Guttural groans and grunts came from me as he began to snap his hips harder. There were noises I had never made before that were coming out of me as he found the perfect angle and spot. “There!” I cried out, digging my nails into his back as he panted into my ear. His soft noises of moans and groans were driving me insane as he sped up. There was this spot that he had found in me that was forcing these obscene sounds from me. They weren’t delicate mewls or soft whimpers, they were deep and took the air from my lungs. When he found it, he didn’t deviate from it. John kept thrusting hard to hit that area over and over, making me claw at him to keep him in that position.
“Shi-it!” I choked out, as I felt my orgasm coming on. Digging my nails in, I was sure I was ripping into his back as he sped up. My sanity was being tested and all I could do was hold onto him. As I approached the edge, he snaked a hand between us, rubbing and circling my clit. Just a few touches and I was cumming hard enough to gush onto him. My body wanted to milk him, to keep him seated deep inside me and never let him go. Bucking my hips and burying my face into his neck, I held on like a koala bear to a tree as I rode out my orgasm.
When I was almost done, I was not prepared for the warmth of him cumming inside me or the words that came out of my mouth.
“That’s it. Fill me up. Make my belly big and swollen. Give me every last drop,” I babbled as I kissed his ear and nipped at it. That was from left field and all I could think of was him cumming so hard and so much that I was filled and plugged, ready to be used later. John snarled as he held me down tight, grinding against me to give me every last drop of his orgasm. The intensity lasted a few more moments before we were both spent. It was amazing and he truly had ruined me for anyone else if they weren’t the same way.
With a soft grunt, he pulled out of me to flop to the side. Immediately I felt myself leaking, which was a strange sensation to say the least.
“I made you curse,” John said after a moment, chuckling as he turned his head to look at me. “Never heard you curse before or sound so dirty.”
“Never was given a reason to,” I said with a giggle. “God, I’m making a mess,” I groaned as I sat up a bit to look down between my legs.
“You are. Such a dirty, messy cunt,” John hummed as he rolled over to grab the towel again. Biting my lip, I really shouldn’t have been ready for another round, but those words were an aphrodisiac to me. Just hearing him say something so crass had me clenching on nothing. John wiped up the mess I was leaving before turning the towel on me. I whined and tried to move away as he wiped me down rather roughly, but John had a hand on me to pin me to the bed to finish the job.
“It’s too sensitive,” I whimpered, but he didn’t stop.
“Oh, you think you’re sensitive now? You’ll be unable to close your legs or wear anything for a week by the time we’re done,” he said with a wink. Swallowing hard, I was actually hoping this wasn’t a threat, but a guarantee. Unable to stop the noises I was making, he ignored them till I was cleaned up to his satisfaction. Groaning at the reprieve, I pulled away to lay down and rest a moment.
Then I heard him opening something.
Turning over, I saw him at the foot of the bed opening a large, old looking trunk. Curious, I sat up to scoot closer to see what it was.
“I think we’re going to have lots of fun,” John said, looking up at me with a wicked gleam in his eye. Frowning, I was confused till he reached in to pull out what looked like a large roll of black plastic wrap as well as a thick, bulbous dildo.
“Uh, where is that going?” I asked, hoping he would say my mouth or sex.
“Oh, you know where it’s going. Don’t worry, I’ll make sure it fits,” John said, setting them aside before pulling out a few more items that I couldn’t see. “First things first, have some water.” Hiding his choices for the moment, he went to the table to bring back some water for me as well as a small slider of a sandwich. It wasn’t a lot, but I wouldn’t be starving. Doing as I was told, I drank and ate the snack he provided as he cuddled up behind me. It was a dangerous thought, but I wanted to get used to this. This was what had been sold to me as good sex. Actually, this was so much better than anything else I had seen or heard. His hands rubbed over my body, helping any stiffness that had started to settle in before letting me use the bathroom quickly.
Back at the bed, he was waiting for me with that mischievous smirk.
“Go ahead and get on the bed, Love. On your back as well,” he said. I didn’t argue, not knowing what he had planned, but also knowing it would be something worth the wait. “Good, now grab your ankles and hold them there.” Again, doing as I was told, I watched as he took the plastic wrap and began to wrap it tightly around my hands and ankles to hold them there. He moved it up my leg and arm to my calf before he was satisfied. “Give us a squirm to see if you can get out.”
Grunting, I pulled and twisted my body, but to no avail.
“Fantastic,” he purred. Picking up a spreader bar, he locked the shackles in place around my ankles before picking up an O-gag. Opening my mouth, he placed the rubber coated metal ring into my mouth to buckle it securely. “Is this your first time tied up like this?” He asked, running his hands over my body.
“Uh huh,” I grunted, nodding as he paused at my sex with his hand.
“So I’m guessing you’ve never had anything in your ass before, then,” he said, giving me a quick slap. I squealed and shook my head, pleasure shooting through me along with the pain. “I think I really won the lottery with you, Love,” he said, slapping my sex quickly over and over to listen to me squeal and struggle to close my legs. The spreader bar did its job, keeping me open and exposed to him. “Now, let’s play with that ass of yours.”
Flipping me over to my front, my bound position had me face down and ass up. Perfect him to experiment and toy with my tight hole. Humming to himself, I could only listen and feel as cold gel hit my pucker, making me squirm and whine. John ignored my noises of protest as he pushed and pulled at the hole he wanted to abuse. “Such a pretty little rose bud. Go on, open up for me,” he muttered as he pushed his finger against the tight resistance. “There we go,” he cooed, his finger tip breaking through as I moaned against the bedding. Adding more lube, he kept pushing and working his finger into med. All I could do was moan and get aroused.
“Someone is liking this a lot more than they thought,” John chuckled, teasing my wet folds with another finger tip. “Don’t worry, all three of your holes will be stuffed soon enough.” Adding more lube, he didn’t pause his work till I was taking four of his fingers with sobbing moans. “There we go. Now, let's get this hungry hole something to fill it up with.” Drooling and feeling light, I knew my slick was running over my sex and down my belly and thighs. Each pump into my ass had me leaking more and more. When I felt the first bump of the toy, I groaned softly, having settled into an almost drunk/euphoric state. Then came the next one, and the next, I lost count of how many ribs there were as a heaviness settled in my belly from the toy. Just as I got comfortable with it, John ripped it out.
I cried out and sobbed in desperation. It didn’t hurt, but I hated the empty feeling it left behind. Babbling around the gag, I sniffled and struggled to make him put it back only to get several hard spanks to my cunt. Choking out a scream, I tried to shake my head as he rubbed the tender flesh slowly to help take the heat.
“Shhhh, it’s okay. You’ll be full soon enough,” he hummed, rubbing over my sopping wet pussy to calm me down. When I stopped struggling and settled, he leaned over to give my ass cheek a kiss and a nip. “Good pet. Now, let’s keep going.”
The dildo was back, pushing into me, forcing grunts and groans from me as it was settled once again. This time he didn’t rip it out, instead he pushed and pulled on it, making it fuck me slowly. Panting, I couldn’t help but start to rock back and forth with the motions, enjoying myself while being at John’s mercy. Groaning softly, I followed the plug, whining when it was taken away again, but this time it wasn’t as dramatic. Keeping still, trusting John would make me feel good, I waited.
“That’s my pet,” he said, rubbing over my ass and sex, sliding a finger past my wet, puffy lips for a few pumps before pulling away. “You’re doing so good. I’m so proud of you. Learning quickly and understanding.” I gave him a soft noise of appreciation as he slowly finger fucked me. “Now, you seem to like a little pain with your pleasure. So, we’re going to add some more toys.” Sighing softly as he pulled again, I waited patiently as he moved things around. I felt him pull my lower lips apart and began to clip something to them. Groaning and whining softly, it didn’t hurt horribly, but it was more of a steady pressure all along my sex. “You’re doing amazing. Just relax,” he hummed, lining my lips with many of the clips. “There, all done and pretty.” He flicked a few of them, making me whimper and shake. John just chuckled as he went back to my ass.
The heavy plug was gone and something even heavier had replaced it. A thick, round head pushed at my hole, forcing its way into him. It was much longer than the other, the dildo being about 5”, while the new one felt like it had to be a foot long. Pushed till it was fully inside me, John moaned as he held it in place. “You look gorgeous like this. Tied up, ass stuffed, your cunt covered in clothespins, all while you’re a drooling, sticky mess,” he said. Letting me adjust to the new additions, I was nearly falling asleep till he began to move the toy in me. Using long, slow thrusts, John pulled it out till it was just the head then let it slide back in. He repeated the motions, letting me feel every single inch of it.
“Now, the only way you’re going to cum, is by me fucking your ass,” he said. “Either with my cock or this toy, understand? I’m not touching your mess again till you’re having an anal orgasm. Understand?” He asked, tapping my face to make sure I was paying attention. I grunted and nodded, whining softly as he picked up the pace with the toy. It didn’t take long till he was jack hammering it into me as I wailed and sobbed, my body contorting as my orgasm steadily got closer.
Babbling and drooling, making a mess, I tried to tell him I was close, but it was too late. Crying out, I clenched hard on the toy, shaking and sobbing as I came. I gushed on nothing, the clothespins barely hanging on as he kept slamming into my ass. Choked and garbled squeals filled the room as he whipped the toy out to toss to the side, quickly climbing up to mount me. His cock felt bigger than the toy as he began to fuck my ass without mercy. I could only groan as he thrust hard and fast. It wasn’t long before I was wound up again, cumming hard with a scream as he kept fucking me. I tried to buck and move, my body needing to get John as deep as possible, to no avail.
He grunted and muttered under his breath as he gripped my hair tight to force my head back. “Look at me,” he snarled. “Look at me and ask me to cum inside your ass.” I could only sob and look at him over my shoulder, unable to make more than incoherent grunts. Garbled sounds seemed to be enough as he snapped his hips hard before cumming. Tears ran down my face as he stayed buried, grinding against me and his warmth spread. Unlike last time, there was no break. He didn’t stop to untie me. Instead, when he pulled out, he took a moment before thrusting back in.
This time, he must have added another toy because something just as thick and long as his cock slipped into my sex as well. It was a strange feeling, but it also wasn’t bad. I was full of cock and just as I thought I couldn’t be stuffed further, something warm and wet wrapped around my neck before shoving itself into my mouth. Too out of it to care, I moaned around the phallus like object as he began to face fuck me. John began to move at a brutal pace, the thing in my mouth following his lead. The room was actually much quieter with my throat full, save for the wet noises of John fucking me.
It was almost too much as John began to grip and paw at my chest, pinching and pulling and slapping my nipples harshly as he kept fucking me. He was giving me so much all while I was forced to take it. Pleasure began to seem like a drug as he kept going. I didn’t pay attention to anything anymore, even when extra pairs of hands began to touch and grope me. One began to pinch and roll my clit as another swatted at my stuffed cunt to get the pins off, all the while one began to smother me as one other acted like acted as something to keep my eyes open.
The last one even forced me to look ahead of me and where the headboard should be, there was a mirror. I saw what was happening and while it would have sent anyone else insane, I was screaming and cumming again.
It was John. It was all John. The hands came from arms that were sprouted from his sides and the ‘toy’ in my mouth looked like it came from a tail that had a cock on the end. I didn’t need to see what he was fucking me with. They weren't toys. Taking it all in and cumming, my eyes rolled back into my head as I saw stars. Literal stars.
Everything went black for me before stars lit up the darkness and showed me constellations and stories, the history of everything on this planet and more. My body hummed as I felt the light of the stars come into my body, making me glow bright and warm. This was my power. It was given to me from the sky and there was no way I could give it away or let it be taken. Every bit of information that I was shown would have filled the world’s libraries and still need more space, but it was in seconds that I received it. It was placed behind a large wooden door that looked like my bedroom, but instead of the plain wood, there was a carving of the Orion constellation on it. I knew what to do and how to get us home.
I came back to myself as John came one last time. He filled my ass and womb full, as well as my throat that I greedily swallowed down. When he was done, the additional appendages pulled away to disappear. John cut me free before taking the gag out of my mouth. I was nothing but a pliable mess of cum and completely satisfied sexually.
“You still with me?” he hummed, holding me close as I slowly came back to him. I nodded, reaching up to wrap my arms around him, nuzzling close. “Are we going to go home soon?”
“After a nap,” I said, my voice hoarse. “Then home.”
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eashmo · 8 months
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7 minutes in hell, or is it heaven? Part 4
-Your Eyes Didn't Lie-
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Warnings: eventual smut, fluff, and lots of angst. Billy is extremely soft to y/n it's ugh.
Short chapter also I don't believe in forgiveness when it comes to any form of abuse friend/relationship. They would have to work very hard to regain any sort of trust back from me if they truly didn't mean it.
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*y/n pov*
Watching him cry before me was a bit shocking. I never thought to see the baddest boy in town be completely broken at my feet, gripping me like I was his lifeline to this universe.
"Hargrove, please get up." I say.
"Billy, please call me Billy for once." He pleaded as he hugged my thighs, practically suffocating himself into my stomach, blood and tears getting on my shirt. I grimaced a little.
Placing my hands on his head. "Billy, can you please get up and talk to me? Let me help you." I plead while threading my fingers through his sweaty blonde curls. If someone stumbled upon us, it would look like an affectionate position between two lovers.
He looked up with such guilt that it started to make me nauseous.
"I'm so sorry, darlin, I just hurt the most precious thing to me. You would be better off scared of me...... but please let me hold you for a bit before you completely push me away." His eyes red from tears.
For some reason, I refused to believe that he actually cares for me. But his eyes didn't lie.
If someone cared for someone, they wouldn't have hurt them in many ways. Right? So I must be insane because I really do love this boy no matter what he does to me.
Slowly, I got down on my knees and took him into a proper hug. His face in the crook of my neck. "Billy, please tell me what happened."
*Billy's POV*
She is suddenly down on the ground with me and holding me despite hurting her earlier. This makes cry again. She took my hand and placed it over her heart. She's tells me to follow her breathing. Slowly calming down, I notice her neck and shirt were covered in my blood.
Letting out a small "sorry for that." She shook her head and held my face. Her gorgeous e/c eyes are filled with concern and a bit of forgiveness. No, she can't forgive me.
I decide to tell her what had happened.
"My father tends to use me as a punching bag at times, more so since we moved here."
"So all those scars and bruises weren't all just from Steve or from other people at school?" She asks.
Shaking my head "no", I hear her take a sharp breath. "If I had known, I would have beaten his ass a year ago." She says angrily.
Laughing a little, I can imagine her beating the hell out of my father with her textbooks or something.
"You think it's funny Hargrove?, you don't think I can do it?" She got Angrier.
"No, no, sweetheart, I know you can handle your own now." I say as I point to my now throbbing nose.
"Sorry not sorry, if you ever lay your hands on me again, I will not hesitate to hurt little billy Hargrove again." She says as she pointed down to my crotch.
"Y-yes ma'am." I gulped.
We started to get up from the ground, she stuck out her hand "friends?" She asks.
Taking her hand in mine. "Friends," I say.
"Let's get you to the nurse, but first, let me clean up and change." She says as she points to her shirt. Grabbing my arm, we walk back into an empty gym.
*Y/N POV*
Taking home to the nurse was a fiasco in itself, with students gossiping in the hallways and him being a total big baby about how it hurt. Good, I thought, I'm glad it hurt because he won't pull that shit with you again.
"Finally, we are here. Oh, would you get over here and stop messing with it!" I snapped.
"Darlin, you wounded me, I'm trying to fix it myself."
"Well, don't forget who started that." I soon regretted saying when I saw him going through another guilty episode.
"Look, Hargrove, I'm sorry, but you scared me. I didn't know what else to do."
"No, it's okay, I'm glad you did. I never want to do that to you ever again, I'm just thankful I didn't actually leave bruises. You are the person in my life who keeps me grounded. Also, please just call me Billy, hearing my name from you has a nice sound to it." He blushs.
"Did Billy Hargrove just blush?!" I start to laugh.
"Oh, shut the hell up and go back to being timid and quiet nerd." He says with little bite to his words as he walks into the nurses office.
Laughing so hard, I had to wipe the tears away while I follow right behind him.
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