#i know i used this this morning but who cares

[eccentricwritingbaby]

baby finn series, babysitting and date nights

series list - house divided - bedtime stories - sneaking onto stream

lando norris x mom!wife!reader

summary - uncle carlos comes over to babysit finn as you and your husband enjoy a night out. 

masterlist

-

when lando had finally turned the latch of the lock to your shared home, he let out an exhausted sigh. he had been in the sim all day with a long road ahead of him in order to secure a win. he was drained. he had been there the entire day, missing dinner and almost missing bedtime. all he wanted was to hug his young son, kiss his beautiful wife, and take a long hot shower. the universe, however, had other plans. 

opening the door, lando was met with baby finn running circles around you in nothing but his diaper. you locked eyes with your husband and he could feel the exhaustion that you were exhibiting, too. finn wasn’t being bad, he was just being a kid. he had loads of energy that you and lando could usually keep up with in high spirits, but, work had been kicking both of your asses. you were both burning out.

“finn, honey, please it’s time for your bath,” you let out a sigh, bringing your hand up to brush the hair out of your face. lando walks over to assess the situation fully, bringing your tired body into his arms for a hug. you slump against him as he kisses your forehead and locks eyes with his son.

“finn. bath. now,” your husband puts his foot down and your son happily runs towards the bathroom, not grasping the exhaustion or irritation of his parents - thankfully. one thing neither of you ever did was push your problems onto your son, and you never wanted to. 

“thank you, i’ll head in there in a min-” you begin but your husband cuts you off with a kiss. 

“no, we agreed you’d take the morning, i’ll take bedtime. i’ve got this,” lando replies with a swipe to your bum. 

“but you look tired, love-”

“so do you. it’s alright, who knows? maybe finn’s innocent energy will rub off on me, eh?” you chuckle at his question and wordlessly nod before he continues, “go get ready for bed, i’ll call you right in,” one more smack to your bum and lando is heading into the bathroom to start his son’s nightly routine as you follow his polite orders to take care of yourself. 

around a half hour later, lando is calling you into finn’s room for a cuddle and a tuck into bed. as you arrive, you can see finn slowly losing his energy cuddled into your husband’s arms, letting out a yawn. 

“is my sweet boy tired?” you question towards your son, seeing lando nod his head yes as finn lets go of a quiet ‘so much mommy’. 

“i think he had a case of the late night zoomies,” lando lets out a laugh as he gently sets his son into bed, proceeding to get him comfortable under the blankets. you both then lean down, kissing his forehead, wishing him a good night's sleep, and reminding him you’d see him in the morning. after the lights are off and the door cracked a bit open, lando leads you down the hall towards your bedroom with a firm hand on your lower back. 

you collapse onto the bed in a huff once you enter, leading your husband to quietly laugh at you - still cautious of the sleepy boy down the hall. 

“i’m heading to shower, love. care to join?” lando offers with eyes wide and smile even larger. you grant him a feverish nod and begin to follow behind him eagerly as he giggles. 

once you were both stripped and into the steamy shower, lando’s body slumped against yours, his back being attacked by the hot water and his head resting on your shoulder. you run your hand gently through his wet curls as he lets out a deep sigh. 

“wanna talk about it?” you whisper into his hair. lando shakes his head and mumbles into your shoulder, “could you repeat that, love?” you giggle, shaking your shoulder a bit to move lando’s face out of your neck and into your view. his hands grip your waist as yours are guided to rest on either side of his face.

“i just want to relax, we haven’t had a day just us to relax, i miss my wife,”

“i miss you too but that’s the life of parents, lan. maybe if you had pulled out three year-”

“alright, alright,” he exclaims, “you don’t need to harp on my pullout game for me to get the picture” he laughs while reaching behind you to grab some body wash. 

“i do agree we need a small break, though,” you sigh, “work has been draining me, i don’t want it to affect finn,”

“ya know who’s in town next week, love?” lando’s eyes sparkle as he asks, prompting you to laugh and let out a shake of your head, urging him to continue, “carlos,”

-

“okay, bud. uncle los will be here very soon, do you remember what we talked about?” lando is on one knee, bent at your son’s level and looking oh so fine. his black button up with most of the top buttons loose, the dark pants to go with it and the chains dangling from his neck already had you worked up, but the adorable nature of his fatherhood? now that’s hot. 

“yes, daddy,” your son replies, you can tell he’s attempting to hold in his excitement as much as he can as he is almost vibrating due to his little bursts of energy. 

“can you tell me again, bubs?” lando holds onto his son’s hands, searching his eyes at an attempt to really have finn understand the importance. 

“um, say pwease and tank you!”

“very good, what else?”

“be nice,”

“good, bubs, anything else?”

“do what uncle los say?” finn adds his last answer with an unsure smile as he eyes his dad with a tilted head. lando chuckles at his son’s cuteness and kisses his head, nodding in confirmation for your son to listen to his babysitter for the night. 

“and help him out, baby. if he needs anything, okay?” you add on, making your entrance in the room known. lando looks over to you and it seems as if his heart stopped, but it hadn’t. if anything it was beating so fast it could've flown out of his chest. standing up from his position on the ground, he makes his way over to you, mouth agape, eyes raking your figure, and head slowly shaking left to right. 

“you look…” your husband drinks in your appearance again, eyes scanning you from head to toe, “absolutely breathtaking,” he finishes off, his right hand coming over to hold his heart. 

“thank you, my love,” you giggle a bit, stepping to him in order to plant a kiss to his cheek, “you clean up pretty nice, too,” you shoot him a wink, walking past him and towards your son. 

“thanks for walking away, dear. this view is much better,” lando lets out a chuckle, eyes not daring to drift from your ass, until your head swivels - and he catches your smile.

“anytime, baby,” you laugh at his antics, leading him on as you bend over to grab your son, slower than usual. you hear a deep groan come from lando but before anymore comments were made, the doorbell rang throughout the home. finn drops from your arms, beginning his race to the door. 

“finn! wait until i open the door!” lando shouts, jogging over to where your toddler was attempting to reach the handle. 

“i big like you dada! i do it!” finn jumps again, trying with all his little might to reach the handle. lando comes behind him, scooping him up from behind and holding him near the handle and lock. 

“alright, go ahead big boy,” lando urges his son to open the door, and when he does, his excited shrieks are all that fill the house. 

“UNCLE LOS!” finn has wiggled out of his fathers’ grasp and already launched himself into carlos’ arms. 

“hola, pequeño,” the ferrari driver lets out with a chuckle. 

“i so excited you here!” finn is squirming up and down in carlos’ arms as the adults all just laugh at the adorable kid. lando pulls him out of carlos’ arms for one more brief chat about his behavior as you hand carlos the important babysitting list. 

“basically, it's all the numbers you don’t already have, like fewtrell and i think my mom, and then his schedule is here,” you continue briefing carlos as lando begins to stand and make his way back to you, “you don’t have to be too strict about this, just have fun,” you assure carlos at the end of the run through. 

“i’ve got it, you guys have fun. finn and i sure will,” carlos begins to usher you two out the door, a hyper-active three year old seemingly glued to his leg.

“call if you need anything, and i mean anything,” lando emphasizes to his friend.

“lando. it will be fine, you muppet. go enjoy your night with your wife, i’m going to catch up with mi amigo, finn, here,” at this point he is pushing you and your husband out the door and you both laugh at the door shutting in your faces. lando extends his arm for you to hold with a ‘m’lady’, and you both make your way to the restaurant. 

-

at the restaurant, the maître d' guides you to your table and lando proceeds to pull out the chair for you to take your seat. both now seated, he begin to ask what drinks to begin with, lando responding with his and you responding with ‘just a water, please’. walking away to fulfill your orders, lando spares you an odd glance.

“it’s our night off, love. you didn’t want to get a drink?” 

“no, just a water will do it for me,” you respond quick, your husband still eyeing you with oddity, “im glad we’re doing this,” you continue, reaching across the table to hold his hand in yours. 

“me too, a night just to ourselves was very needed,” he lets out with a smile. 

“i just hope our boy isn’t causing too much chaos at home,” you sigh, the waiter coming over to take your orders and drop off your drinks. lando just mumbles a ‘they’ll be fine’ almost to assure himself before placing his order. 

-

“vroom! vroom!” finn squeaks out on the floor, rolling his red ferrari cars around the living room. carlos joins in with a laugh, proceeding to hold his own decorated sainz55 car - finn’s most prized possession - and run it around their make-shift track. he quickly pulls out his phone to capture the moment and ease the parents minds.

“finn, look here! it’s for mommy and daddy, smile!” carlos instructs the little boy. finn looks up, letting out a huge smile and giggle, before crawling into the ferrari drivers lap. one more picture - a selfie this time - of finn clinging onto carlos’ neck, and carlos hits a quick send to his friends. 

-

“here, honey,” lando pulls his phone out and sends it your way in order for you to also see the adorable array of photos your babysitter had sent. 

“well aren’t they having fun?” you place a hand over your heart as you speak, too in awe of the little chubby cheeked smile staring back at you. 

“this was a grand idea,” your husband reiterates, putting his phone away into his pocket after typing a response back. you both share a look and a smile, before continuing your previous conversation and finishing your food. 

-

making it home a little past finn’s bedtime, you both didn’t know what you would walk into. bedtime was finn’s only struggle, therefore him being awake when you arrived home wouldn’t be out of the ordinary for what both you and your husband expect. 

except, when you walk in, your house is clean, quiet, and calm. carlos stands from the couch in order to greet the both of you, while you’re both scrambling to pick your jaws off the floor. 

“i’m assuming it went well?” you ask with a laugh while carlos brings you into a light hug.

“si, finn was a gentlemen. he passed out on the couch by seven and i just carried him into his room after that,” you and lando share a look of disbelief before carlos continues, “we played with some cars, ate some dinner, watched a movie, and he went down really easily,”

“can you move in?” lando pops the question into the conversation as carlos laughs off the request, “i’m serious, sainz,” your husband pushes again.

“did you two enjoy your night?” the ferrari driver ignores his friends jokes, directing his attention to you.

“we did, thank you so much for this, carlos,” you respond with a smile, “we really appreciate it,”

carlos gives you another hug goodbye and you begin to make your way towards finn’s room to check on him as lando walks carlos out, continuing his pestering of ‘how did you do it, mate?’ and ‘you don’t understand he hates bedtime’. 

you stand in the doorway of your son’s room for some time, admiring the sleepy boy all cozy under his racecar blankets. feeling a hand on your waist, you turn and catch your husband in a kiss. 

“let’s go to bed, love,” he offers once you break apart. you give him a silent nod, and you both make your way into your bedroom - lando stealing one last glance at your son. 

walking into your bedroom, you discard your heels and begin to unzip your dress.

“ah, ah,” lando stops your movements, replacing your hands on the zipper with his own, “allow me,” you giggle a bit as he continues to unzip your dress, letting it pool onto the floor. he pulls your back into him and begins to pepper your skin with sweet and sensual kisses as you blush in his hold, “we still need to make baby number two,” he mumbles into your skin while continuing his kisses. your body stiffens, lando feeling and understanding the tension releases your body and turns you to face him.

“what is it, y/n? do you not want another baby anymore?” he asks quietly, as if he’s scared of your answer.

“no, no. it’s not that,” you reply, head hanging down to stare at your feet.

“then what is it?” lando cups your chin in his hands with his question, forcing you to meet his eyes.

“it’s just that,” you sigh, searching lando’s eyes, “we don’t need to keep trying, if there’s already a baby on the way,”

#babyfinnseries #baby finn #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #carlos sainz jr x reader #ln4 #lando norris x reader #carlos sainz jr fanfic #lando norris imagine #lando norris #charles leclerc imagine #lando norris fanfic #mclaren #formula 1 #mclaren f1 #lando norris x you #lando norris x y/n #lando norris icons #lando norris x oc #lando norris x wife!reader #dad!lando norris x reader #dad!lando norris #lando x reader #max fewtrell #lando imagine #landonorris #ln4 smut #ln4 x reader #ln4 imagine

[mingtinys]

what dating seventeen feels like

pairing : seventeen x gn!reader

headcanons , fluff , misc

warnings : none

word count : 1.1 k

requested ? no

a/n: just a small collection of the things i love in life that i associate with seventeen

choi seungcheol

falling asleep on the couch and waking up in bed. chocolate-covered strawberries. the kind of love found in romcoms. expensive dinner dates and champagne.

cologne that lingers on your clothes and bed sheets. tight, bone-crushing, hugs. his hand almost always under the hem of your shirt, skin to skin (it grounds him). him letting you win when you play wrestle. cute aggression victim.

having a rock to hold on to amidst a raging current.

yoon jeonghan

diving under a crashing wave to find calm, gentle, water. rollercoasters with big drops. feathers. lavender fields. leaving the theater and realizing night has fallen.

always saying the same thing at the same time (it scares seokmin). naps on the couch. sending each other pictures of weird-looking animals with the caption "you" or "us." partners in crime. braiding his hair.

having not only a boyfriend but a best friend in jeonghan.

joshua hong

warm blankets, fresh from the dryer. pancakes and orange juice in the morning. raw honey. the scent of freshly baked bread. scented candles and wax melts.

lives up to the gentleman title. opens doors, bides by the sidewalk rule, lends you his jacket, etc. acts! of! service!! fighting over who pays the bill (he's actually ambushed your waiter to pay before you can even see the check). domestic, mundane, slice-of-life type of love.

a honeymoon phase that never ends.

wen junhui

walking down empty streets without a care in the world. morning cartoons. clingy cats. ice cream for dinner. frozen pizza with red wine. airport liminal space hours.

taking pictures of sunsets to send to each other. doodling on his hand. staying up until 3am accidentally. back hugs galore. resting his chin atop your head. him getting as close as possible when showing him something on your phone (i'm talking cheek smooshed up against yours). sleepy jun asking for kisses every morning.

living life in the moment because you know the future can wait for you two.

kwon soonyoung

energetic snow days. sledding, snowball fights, building snowmen. energy drinks and all-nighters. watermelon sugar. summer bonfires. the ambiance of muffled music through club bathrooms.

zoo dates. always wins you the biggest prizes at carnivals. his favorite place to nap is your lap. sweaty post-dance practice hugs. he gets pouty if you start a tv show without him. baking brownies at 3am. talks about you non-stop to anyone who will (or won't) listen.

excitement that isn't momentary or overwhelming. excitement that makes life meaningful.

jeon wonwoo

tulips blooming in the spring. waxing gibbous moons. amethyst. resting after a long, busy day. the scent of old, yellowed books. rhythmic clicking of a keyboard. warm, smooth, riverbank stones.

re-adjusting his glasses for him after every kiss. let's you design his character's outfits in video games. tells you about the book he's reading like it's gossip. he's always taking candid photos of you. quiet mornings. elderly couples who see you two are reminded of how they fell in love.

defining love not by how much it's said, but by how it's felt.

lee jihoon

thunderstorms that lull you to sleep. shiny, red guitars coming to life with smooth melodies. the crackle of a fire. rosemary. empty highways at night. lightning that strikes twice.

morning coffee dates at home. napping on his studio sofa while he works. quality! time! absolutely spoils you every chance he gets. pretends to act all cool when you catch him staring. writing songs for you. his hand routinely finds your knee when he's anxious. he prefers intimate and private acts of affection to the alternative.

cherishing all the little things that make your relationship important.

lee seokmin

wishing on dandelions. blue skies. morning dew on grass. golden hour. that burning sensation you get in your lungs when laughing too hard. iced lattes.

always asking permission to kiss you. so, so attentive. falling asleep on facetime. pillow forts. lots, and lots, and lots of nose kisses. him never wanting to leave you in the morning. "five more minutes" type of guy. his favorite feeling in the world is making you laugh.

finally knowing what it means to love someone so much you'd give the world for them.

kim mingyu

sleeping by a window with the sun warming your skin. hearing your favorite song on the radio. silky white sheets. first date jitters. first love. receiving a bouquet of roses.

admires you so, so, much. talks about you 24/7, much to his members' annoyance. (jk, they love you, they just like to tease him about it). literally a sponge the way he starts picking up your habits and slang. he's physically incapable of rejecting your puppy-dog eyes. likes to lay sprawled out on top of you. he'll often seek you out if he needs a little extra support.

the feeling that comes with knowing you've found "the one."

xu minghao

the autumn leaves changing. winter constellations. a solar eclipse. the quiet of a house before everyone wakes. those cozy granny-square blankets. white wine. laughing at scary movies.

wine and painting nights. him always making two cups of tea. art museum dates. swaying together to music in the kitchen. him secretly being a sucker for your doting. has your mannerisms memorized and prides himself on it. somehow always knows what to say when you're feeling down.

growing, learning, and experiencing life alongside each other.

boo seungkwan

warm, summer air. mystery flavored lollipops that somehow taste like every flavor all at once. rosy red cheeks.

teasing each other and inside jokes. nicknames like loser, stupid-head, idiot etc. (affectionate). hours long gossip sessions. kisses that taste of coffee and tangerine chapstick. stars in his eyes whenever you're doing literally anything. having his undivided attention.

resident happy pill and mood-maker seungkwan knowing he can let his mask fall around you without judgement.

hansol vernon chwe

watching city lights blur past in the passenger seat of a car at night. cereal at 1am. falling asleep while watching tv. poorly handmade, yet meaningful gifts. assorted candies. buying road trip snacks.

communicating with a single look. ice cream dates in the middle of winter. speaking purely in movie and tiktok references. late-night conversations that take a weird turn. (you've once debated if aliens would like pineapple on pizza). pretending not to notice how shy he gets when initiating physical affection.

loving the strange, bad, and hidden parts of each other as much as the good.

lee chan

the comforting buzz and motion of a subway at night. toothy smiles. watching reruns of your favorite childhood show. surprise parties. the first snow of the new year. concert lights.

driving at 2am, singing at the top of your lungs. random dance parties in the living room. getting noise complaints and giggling about it. pillow fights and board games, competitive, yet both trying to let the other win cause it'll make them happy. asking him to open jars. him getting exceptionally giddy to open said jars. (you're completely capable, but know he likes to feel needed).

making each other's inner child feel safe.

#seventeen #seventeen headcanons #seventeen x reader #seventeen fanfic #seventeen x you #choi seungcheol x reader #yoon jeonghan x reader #seungcheol x reader #jeonghan x reader #joshua hong x reader #joshua x reader #wen junhui x reader #jun x reader #hoshi x reader #kwon soonyoung x reader #jeon wonwoo x reader #wonwoo x reader #lee jihoon x reader #woozi x reader #lee seokmin x reader #dokyeom x reader #mingyu x reader #kim mingyu x reader #xu minghao x reader #minghao x reader #boo seungkwan x reader #seungkwan x reader #vernon x reader #hansol chwe x reader #dino x reader

[salsasvault]

okay i know for a fact you have drafts your hiding something for us pretty please 🙏🏼

okay fine was debating posting this but

Babysitting

“Shh shh, okay, okay honey I got you.” You sway side to side rocking an almost 5-month-old in your arms. Trying to soothe her proved to be a harder task than you anticipated.

Your sister recently had a baby, and with the recovery and almost no alone time with her husband she all but begged for you to babysit.

You were somewhat reluctant, but with Simon on leave, and a soft spot for your niece, you thought it wouldn’t hurt to take care of her for a couple nights.

So here you were, at four in the morning, a lightly fussing baby in your arms as you heat a bottle in the kitchen. The city surrounding you provides just enough light to illuminate your apartment.

The gentle hum of the microwave proved to help both of you.

Busy with your task you didn’t hear the sound of the door clicking open, or the footsteps that followed.

All Simon saw upon entering was the sight of you with a tiny baby in your arms.

His heart stopped in his chest, he’d only been gone 3 months, sure longer than normal but not long enough to produce-this.

Flabbergasted he did the math, retried it, and thought of every possibility but it all came to a grinding halt at the sound of your voice cooing to an almost smaller version of you.

You looked so perfect, rocking her just right, grabbing the bottle, testing the warmth, so incredibly attentive to her needs.

With you busy it seemed the baby had noticed him.

Wide eyes, the same color as yours looking back at him. Her fussing stopped for a second, entirely enamored with the strange man standing almost in the shadows.

The lack of babbling or crying caught your attention, turning your head toward whatever had encapsulated her-

“Simon! You didn’t tell me you’d be home early.”

Setting the bottle down, baby still in your arms, you made your way over, half hugging him.

It took him a second before he was wrapping his alarms around you and the 5-month-old.

“Didn’t know myself-who…who’s this lovie?” Thumb going to touch her cheek, you turn, looking at him, realization coming to you.

“My sister Si, remember she had a baby a few months ago, this is her.” Your voice slightly goes up in pitch toward the end, directed toward the baby.

“Gave me a scare.” The baby grappled onto his finger.

“I bet.” You snort in laughter.

“Strong grip on this one.” He laughed lightly.

“Oh yeah, you're a strong girl aren’t you.” You redirect your attention, and Simon can’t help but stare.

“Yeah, you are.” You kiss her face and look back toward Simon. “You like Uncle Simon don’t you, yeah you do look at that smile.”

His heart warmed, he hadn’t been referred to as uncle in a long time. He couldn’t help but think, think about what this would be like. 

He’d never given it much thought, always assumed he’d be a shit father, but the way you were so in your element.

He’d give everything to see you happy, and your niece already resembled so much of you, what would your baby look like? A baby made from the two of you.

His mouth opened before his rational could catch up.

“You want o’ these?” He almost facepalms right there.

“One of these?” You immediately burst into laughter.

“You know what I mean.”

“I know.” You look back down at the baby in your arms and smile wide.

“I-“ You pause, “I think so.” It sounds unsure, and as you hold her in your arms you can’t help but warm to the idea more.

“You know what, I think I want one of these.” You beam up at him.

“Then let’s go make one of these ‘eh.” He looks at you, and you look right back at him.

“Simon! Not in front of the baby!” You jokingly cover her ears, both of you retreating toward the kitchen.

“Wha’ s’not like she knows what I mean.” You smack him, just for good measure, and your niece laughs in response.

#simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #simon riley #simon riley x you #ghost cod #cod x reader #call of duty x reader #fluff #simon riley fluff #selias drables #selias asks

[haoboutyou]

Hi! (^3^)/ I really liked the way you wrote "Mornings With You" and I wanted to request if you can make a version with Seungcheol if you want to. Thankies in advance (●•^-^•●) 💜💜💜

fren u r in luck :D

lucky in love | choi seungcheol

fluff | 730 words | no warnings

an: tbh that wonu fic was actually a cheol fic but then i realised… i have way too many… (i need help)

Choi Seungcheol knows that he’s loved. He’s loved by his fans, who greet him with resounding cheers every time he comes on stage. He’s loved by his members, whom he has gone through multiple trials and tribulations by each others’ sides. He’s loved by his family, who have given and will continue to give their unwavering support for everything he wishes to pursue. Most of all, he knows that he’s loved by you.

It’s evident in the way you know his coffee order by heart. In the way your pinkies stay connected even while you’re talking to someone else. He sees it when you unknowingly lean into him in crowded spaces. How you nag at him to take better care of himself and eat his meals on time. How your eyes seem to sparkle a billion times more when you see him walking into the room.

He knows just how much he’s loved by you when he arrives home and spots you knocked out on the living room couch. Seungcheol smiles quietly to himself, removing his shoes aside before carefully walking up to you. The television in front of you is still running, but you’re cross-legged with Kkuma snoozing away in your lap. No doubt you were doing some work before Kkuma deemed herself more important – your laptop is tossed to the other side of the couch, screen dark.

He sinks into the couch next to you, hand outstretched as he leans over to tuck a stray hair behind your ear when Kkuma stirs awake in your lap. The little white dog yaps when she realises her father has returned, bounding over to him instead. He giggles as she attempts to lick his face all over. The sudden noise and movement wake you, sleepily turning over only to be greeted by the sight of your lover doused in dog saliva.

“Hey,” a sleepy smile graces your features, greeted by Seungcheol trying to calm the excited puppy down. He turns to you, a fond smile and an eyebrow raised. Understanding his silent question, you stretch your arms up, leaning into his shoulder as you scrunch your nose. “I wanted to wait for you to come home,” a cheeky grin appears. “Welcome home!”

Oh, he feels his heartstrings being pulled, and suddenly he’s overcome with a wave of love and adoration so strong that his eyes start to water. Kkuma jumps off, her little paws padding off elsewhere as Seungcheol pulls you into his arms.

“I’m home,” he murmurs into your hair. His hand engulfs your own, grip tightening with the sudden proclamation. His brows furrow deeper as he inhales deeply, taking in your familiar comforting scent. “Practice was so hard today – missed you a bit more than usual.”

“Aww, my big baby…” You can’t help but coo. Using your free hand, you smooth the wrinkles between his brows with your thumb. “You did well today, do you wanna talk about it?”

He shakes his head, choosing instead to bury his slumping figure in the crook of your neck.

“Have you eaten?” He nods, fluffy hair tickling you. “Do you want to take a shower first then? I’ll make some chamomile tea for you.”

You gently guide Seungcheol into the bathroom, leaving him to clean himself up while you prepare his promised tea.

Fresh out of the shower and nighttime routine completed, Seungcheol finds you already tucked into bed and follows suit. He wraps himself around you, arms and legs tangling under the sheets. Seungcheol can feel his entire body relax under your soothing touch as you card gentle fingers through his hair.

He’s fighting sleep, especially with you patting his head like a child, when he remembers something he’d been meaning to say.

“I don’t have to go to the company tomorrow.”

“Hmm?” You squint through the darkness, barely making out the twinkle hidden behind his tired eyes.

He smiles, pressing soft kisses by your collarbone. “I’m all yours tomorrow, do you want to do anything?”

“Anything?”

“Anything.”

You ponder a little bit more before resting your head back down on his chest. “Eh, it’s tomorrow’s problem. ‘m sleepy now.”

Seungcheol lets out a light chuckle. He pulls the covers higher over your bodies, pressing you impossibly closer to him. He knows he’ll spoil you senseless tomorrow anyway.

“Sounds good. Good night, baby.”

“Good night, Cheollie.”

He hopes you know how much he loves you too.

#scoups fluff #seventeen fluff #seungcheol fluff #svt fluff #scoups #seungcheol #choi seungcheol #seventeen #svt #seventeen scenarios #˙✧˖° aiyu writes ༘ ⋆｡˚ #✩₊˚. mailbox! ⋆☾⋆⁺

[bisexualiteaa]

Mornings Like These

Cooper Howard x Fem Reader

CW: slightly NSFW, established relationship, mentions of sex, sexual daydream, OOC Cooper, Cooper in a frilly apron cooking, cursing, slight deviance from the canon, more domestic Cooper because 🥹❤️

AN: Had the most wonderful request to do something a little different than what I’m used to! I know it’s out of character for our cowboy ghoul but I just loved the concept. This is a continuation of my last work, so it is set in the same Fallout TV series and Fallout 4 tense. Breakfast is served my lovely Cooper simps, hope I did your ask justice @morrrrow !! Hope y’all enjoy!

“God damn this fuckin’ thing” spoke the ever recognizable southern twang of Cooper from the kitchen. You woke up to hearing a few pots and pans clank together as he removed them from the cabinet, and his not so quiet curses in frustration that he was a man who failed at being quiet. Outside of bounty hunting of course. You were still in bed, having just barely woken up as the sun poured in through the windows, making you rub the sleep from your eyes. You padded into the kitchen to see what all the noise was about, seeing him trying to work the stove that you both bought off of someone that was supposed to be repaired and in working order. “What a fuckin’ rip off” he said angrily as he threw the towel down on the floor that was resting on his shoulder, then leaned over the sink to breathe, doing his best to try to control his anger before he started breaking things. “Stove givin’ ya trouble, hun?” You asked, your voice carrying a sleepy rasp to it as a small playful smile stretched to your lips, making him look over at you. In that moment, it was as if all the anger inside of him had just melted away upon seeing you, clad in just a tank top and underwear, hair slightly messy from sleep. You were truly a sight to behold at all hours of the day in his eyes. “Shit, I’m sorry darlin’. I wanted t’ surprise you with breakfast but this damn thing won’t work. Shoulda known it was a fat load a shit when he said it was workin’” he replied, defeat and agitation still evident in his tone, making you walk closer to him and grab his hand. “Hey, it’s okay, Coop. I think it’s mighty sweet you wanted t’ do that. Can I take a look? Maybe a fresh set’a eyes can help?” You asked, watching as his shoulders dropped a little bit as the tension left him at your touch, a small smile reaching his thin, marred lips as he looked down at his girl. “Go ‘head” he replied, starting to follow you and what you were trying to do but you stopped him before he could do anything. “*You* have a seat and relax, I’ll take a look, ‘kay?” you said, your hands resting on his shoulders to make sure he listened to you, knowing well and good his stubbornness was his biggest attribute. He gave a grunt before giving in, recognizing that you just wanted him to relax after being all worked up. “I’ll take care of it, promise. I’m a big girl, but if I need anythin’ I’ll holler for ya” you said, smiling up at him sweetly once more as you rubbed his shoulders a little before kissing him softly. His hands rested on your hips for a moment as you kissed, and in that moment, everything felt at peace in the world. As you parted from the kiss, you turned and moved out of his way before coming to take a look at the new appliance. Well, maybe not *new* but new for post war standards. You took a look at the wiring, noticing that it looked pretty good for a shit box that survived a nuclear bomb or two. No rust, no corrosion, hell even the paint didn’t look half bad. Cooper knew he had to get it for you the moment your pretty eyes lit up with excitement upon seeing it, going on about how much you missed making homemade pies, casseroles, and bread. He knew you were one hell of a cook with the passion you put into making some iguana, or even your famous stew he’d grown to love that was made from just about anything you could get your hands on. He swore you put some kind of drugs in your food with the way he craved it all the time, he’d joke that you could put cyanide in it and still manage to make it taste delicious. And that was just over a fire, he could only imagine the creations you’d put out if given the right materials. Seeing you working a stove, in a house that was starting to get pretty settled into, would be one step closer to the dream of having a domestic life with you when the rest of the world had gone to shit. He wanted to see you happy, because when you were happy, everything was alright in the world in his book.

You opened the door to the stove, bent over and examining the inside for any reason as to why it wasn’t working. The broiler seemed good, all the coils were there, nothing was rusted or corroded so you weren’t quite sure what the issue was. Cooper however, was in a whole other world looking at you. Had he been the man he was before meeting you, he’d have had half the mind to fuck you right then and there while your body was half way in the oven. He gave a groan at his own daydream, watching you with your ass in the air, clad in just the panties you were wearing, making him shift in the small, dining room chair he was sitting on as his pants began to grown uncomfortably tight. You always had a way of getting to him, whether you meant to or not, that man stayed feral for you all hours of the day. He wondered if your moans would be muffled or amplified with your head stuck in the oven, how you’d squeeze him tight with the slight sensory depravation. What he really wanted was the memory to play in your mind each time you’d use it, for you to bend down and remember the way he used you in that same position as you’d slide a casserole in the oven. He was broken from his daydream when you called his name, finding that you were no longer in the kitchen but outside checking the power source. He stood up and walked towards the front door, leaning in the open doorway as you stood outside, looking to him with a relieved smile as you found the solution. “Was wonderin’ why it was so hot in there” you thought out loud, explaining that it was a problem with the power source, not the stove itself before flipping a few switches and connecting a few wires then hearing your electricity hum back to life. “‘s ‘cause you’re here” he joked flirtatiously, sending a wink and a smirk your way, making you giggle. “Wasn’t the stove, was the power. Radstorm must’ve knocked it out last night” you said as you both came back inside, plugging the stove back in and sure as shit, it turned on. You dusted your hands off, standing there proudly in front of your new, working oven. He was thoroughly impressed. “Well I’ll be damned, when’d you get so handy?” Cooper asked with a teasing grin, making you smile as he looped an arm around your waist proud that his little lady was able to fix the problem. “Since I had to start fixin’ things ‘fore you break ‘em” you teased, coming up to kiss his cheek as he swatted your ass affectionately in retaliation.

“Ya know, before you start cookin’ I have the perfect thing for you to wear” you said, slipping from his grasp for only a moment, making him raise a brow at you as you giggled and treaded into the closet of what you called your bedroom. You opened it, finding a frilly white apron you used to own back in the day when you would bake and cook everything by hand at home. You smiled as you grabbed it, knowing full and well you’d have hell to pay for this little stunt, but when has that ever stopped you before? So you snatched it up, leaving it folded before coming back into the kitchen and handing it to him. “A good cook needs a good apron, and I just know this one would look damn good on you” you said, handing it to him with the most mischievous glint in your eyes and grin stretched to your lips, leaving him to unfold it and look it over. Now this was where you were expecting to get in some serious shit. To hear a chide comment or a “never in a million years, sugar” but no, this man looked at you like you’d handed him a challenge, and he was going to take it in stride. So with a smirk, he set it aside and started to shake his duster off from his frame. “I’ll do ya one better there, little lady” he said, that look in his eyes told you he was up to no good and it had you curious. He started working his shirt off and you’d be damned if you weren’t enjoying the sight of him shirtless and just in his pants, the decorative buckle on his belt helping him maintain that rugged cowboy look. He noticed your stares, giving a dry chuckle. “Like whatchya see, sweetheart?” He asked, his voice dipping a little lower but he didn’t need you to say anything, he already knew the answer. “Always” you replied, a half lidded expression on your face as your tone dripped with something a little less pure. What you really hadn’t been expecting was when you saw him take his pants and briefs off before you, a slack jawed grin coming to your mouth as he tied the apron around his frame. Completely naked underneath. You gave a laugh as you watched him wear it with pride. “You sir, never fail to surprise me” you said, making him chuckle but you spotted the tent that started to poke at the apron where he was getting hard underneath. “Think you’re right, it’s a pretty good look” he said, turning to face away from you and you gave that same crude whistle he’d always give you when he liked something you wore or did, because you had an eye full of ass standing right in front of you. You walked up and stood behind him, wrapping your arms around his torso and laying kisses to his shoulder and back. “On second thought, who needs breakfast when you look this good? Hell, I think you pull it off better than I ever did” you said through a giggle, feeling him swat at your grabby hands the way you do when he gets handsy with you. “Can’t disturb a chef when he’s cookin’, sugar” he said coyly, making you chuckle as he started frying a few slices of Cram in the skillet. “Oh but you can disturb me when I’m doin’ laundry? I see how it is” You said playfully as you took a seat down at the dinner table you two found, it wasn’t much, but it was nice all things considered. Gave that homey touch that was missing from the house when you two first put together the settlement. You watched as he romped around the kitchen, going out of his way to put on a show for you and get you as worked up as you make him. “You are such a tease” you said, making him grin as he had his back turned to you, fully focused on making a good breakfast for the two of you to enjoy. “Welcome to my world, sweetheart” he said, making you laugh. You could certainly get used to this.

#fallout #fallout x reader #the ghoul smut #the ghoul x reader #the ghoul #cooper howard smut #cooper howard x reader #cooper howard #fallout smut

[sayruq]

Six months ago, on the weekend of 7 October, I planned to go to the beach and swim with my friends in the sea. I lived by the beach and would go for a walk there most days to get fresh air. I also used to go to the gym every morning. Regardless of the 17 years of Israel’s blockade, I still felt some kind of security: I had my job, my home, my family, and I took care of my food and my health. Instead, that weekend in October, I woke up to the sounds of bombs. I went straight to the market to get food and basic essentials – I knew a war would be starting soon. I was only thinking about the coming days. For 200 days in Gaza, I’ve never felt safe or secure. When I go to sleep, I know that I might not wake up the next morning. My entire life has changed since October, and it will never be the same. Today, I don’t do a single thing I used to. Now, the only thing I have is my work. I constantly worry about those around me and try to take care of them. As a parent of two children, the worst feeling was knowing I cannot protect them. They can be killed at any time, and there is nothing I can do it about it. Before the war, I felt that I was the provider and protector of my family. Now, I just feel so powerless.I cannot secure the basic needs for me and family, like food, or gas for cooking. For the longest time in my life, I haven’t been able to eat any meat. I have lost around 13kg, I look like a completely different person. Any food that is available here is now too expensive. Finding transport in Gaza is impossible and there is no fuel available, so people can’t reach their families. I’ve lost so many loved ones. My best friend was killed. Another of my close friends was killed, along with his whole family. My friends who I used to see every day are all gone.

#yemen #jerusalem #tel aviv #current events #palestine #free palestine #gaza #free gaza #news on gaza #palestine news #news update #war news #war on gaza #gaza genocide #genocide #famine #testimonials

[fungal-rot]

Save A Horse, Yadda Yadda…

pairing: Joel Miller x reader

summary: you find yourself getting distracted by the man next to you. his thick fucking thighs always grabbed your attention

warnings: 18+, smut, thigh riding, slight degradation, bit of dirty talk, reader gets called a good girl, oral (f receiving) but literally for a second, use of pet names (honey, baby, sweetheart)- lemme know if i forgot anything

w.c.: 2k

⁺˚°｡⋆♱✮˖☽𓋼𓍊◯𓍊𓋼☾˖✮♱⋆｡°˚⁺

It was a relatively slow, easy day in Jackson. You had got caught up on house chores, which albeit, there wasn't much to do anyhow. Joel did patrol early in the morning and had the rest the day to wind down, and Ellie was hanging out with Dina.

Flipping through a book, only paying half-attention while you skimmed the pages, you caught yourself stealing glances at Joel who sat beside you on the floral printed couch. He whittled away at a block of wood, working on a new little side project with careful focus. The sound of a sharp blade gliding across the surface of each corner was the only thing that could be heard.

Perhaps that's what was distracting you.

Slow.

Or perhaps it was the way his biceps flexed under that shirt of his, or the way his veins seemed to protrude from the top of his hands and up his forearm with each thought out stroke.

Maybe it was also the way he was sitting with his legs spread, letting the wood shavings and chips fall to the floor that he always promises to 'clean up after.' How his thighs appeared thicker, meatier when he's sat like this in that pair of denim that you innocently, accidentally, shrank just a tad bit when you last did laundry.

Your own thighs clenched together.

Easy.

"Don't hurt yourself now." Joel's low voice brought you out of your stupor with a snap of your head, uttering a small noise of confusion.

"You're thinkin' too hard." Joel clarified, flicking his gaze to you briefly as he swiped another stray chip from his lap.

'Smartass.' You thought before letting out a soft hum in reply and lean back against the couch, closing your book and tossing it onto the coffee table.

There was a beat of silence. Your eyes trailed over Joel's body again, breath hitching with the image of his large, broad frame.

He seemed to have noticed the way you eyed him so hungrily while lost in your thoughts, his gaze following yours to his lap. With a smirk, Joel took the opportunity to spread his legs a bit wider, knee pressing against yours subtly.

You watched and squeeze your thighs together once more.

Gotcha.

"Hey," he murmured before setting his project down on the end table next to him. "What's goin' on in that pretty li'l head'a yours?"

“Nothing,” You answered, the side of your face turning up somewhat with a wince at how quickly you responded.

Joel scoffed and folded his arms over his chest and sat back, head tilting disbelievingly with a cock of his brow, “Yeah? So y’ain’t starin’ at me like some piece’a meat?”

You rubbed at your nose as you felt the all-too-familiar warmth of embarrassment kiss at your face, but you couldn’t deny it. Joel had meat for days under all that clothing. So thick, and big, and-

“Lookit ya! You’re still doin’ it.” Joel gestured a hand towards you, brows drawing together with a shake of his head.

“Am not!”

“Bullshit!”

He turned his head and scratched at his chin, nails scraping the graying facial hair before he looked over at you again. His eyes trailed you up and down, and with a sigh he grabbed at your hips, eliciting a surprised yelp from you, and settled you onto his lap.

“What’re you doing?” You asked, instinctively placing your hands on his shoulders for stability.

“It’s not what I’m doin’,” he muttered and hooked a hand in the bend of your knee, gently making you spread a bit wider, “It’s what you’re doin’.”

Your brows furrowed this time, nose scrunching with confusion. You part your lips to speak, to ask what the hell he’s talking about, but that all quickly went down the drain the moment he had you roll forward.

A soft moan replaced all words instead, your eyes fluttering shut as you ground against him.

“Mhm,” Joel noised, watching you with a stoic mask. “ ‘S’what I thought.”

He kept force-rocking your body, arms flexing and grip tightening.

Back and forth, back and forth.

“Joel,” You panted, eyes screwing shut with a fall of your head.

“Hm? That feel good, baby?” He cooed, voice mockingly sweet. You nod and he watched with a smug look plastered on his face. “Yeah, poor thing jus’ wanted some attention, huh?”

Joel’s cock began to twitch inside his already-too-tight pants- which, by the way, he knew for a fact was your doing- and he unclasped his belt skillfully with one hand, undoing the button and lowered the fly.

“You’re gonna ride my thigh,” He instructed, pulling out his half-hard length from his briefs, “an’ I’ll think about lettin’ ya cum.” His other hand slid down from your hip and to your knee, giving a light squeeze.

Your eyes snapped open. What the fuck does he mean, ‘I’ll think about it’?

“Aht!” He could see the disapproval etched on your features, the way your brain was racking up some counter argument. “Don’t wanna hear it. Y’already lied twice t’me now; so excuse me for not playin’ nice.”

Joel swiped a tongue over his bottom lip before giving his cock a tug, “An’ I think I’m bein’ awfully fuckin’ generous lettin’ you hump my leg like a damn bitch in heat.” His voice was low, almost inaudible as he narrowed his eyes.

With a huff of air, you continue rolling your hips, forward and down. Then you tried moving side-to-side, chasing after a high that wasn’t there. Your body slowed before stilling completely and take in a sharp, frustrated breath.

“I didn’t say stop,” Joel gruffly spoke, eyes piercing into your skull.

“I’m not getting anywhere, Joel,” You complained before letting your head slump into the crook of his neck. What was once a pleasurable feeling, dry-humping his thigh, got uncomfortable fairly quickly with the way the seam from your jeans dug into you.

“Kinda the point, ain’t it?” The man retorted and tilt his head down to take a look at the pitiful frown on your lips. He chewed at the inside of his cheek for a moment, feeling his heart soften. Joel was mean, sure, but he wasn’t evil.

Finally, Joel conceded and tapped at your leg, “Alright, get up.”

He held your hands to spot you as you slid off his lap, back to your feet. Then his large fingers worked to get your pants off, helping you shimmy out of the denim. Joel gazed at your lower figure fondly, a faint smile creeping on his face as he hooked his finger into your panties, swiftly tugging them down. The man let out a low whistle at the sight of your slick-coated folds, then leaned in, tongue seeking out your entrance briefly before swiping back up to your clit. Your breathing hitched, legs twitching at the new pleasure making your stomach burn hot, then he pulled away again, not before leaving a delicate kiss under your navel.

“Come on back, honey,” Joel’s voice eased from his stern tone, now more gentle and loving. He guided you back over his thigh and closed a fist around the head of his dick once more. A shudder ran up your spine as your lips came in contact with the fabric of his pants, your arousal already soaking the denim. Before you could start moving again, he gripped your chin in his free hand, lightly squeezing to make your lips part and directed them over his length. “Spit.”

Complying willingly, you let saliva gather in your mouth and drooled all over the head and top of his fingers.

“Good girl,” Joel praised lowly and began stroking himself. “Go ‘head, sweetheart.”

Once you got the green light, your hips shifted tentatively before falling into an easy rhythm. An airy sigh pushed past your lips in content as your head fell back into place on Joel’s shoulder. A hand came up to hold it in place, fingers carding through your hair.

“That’s it, baby, jus’ like that.” He murmured, fist tightening around his dick as he watched you greedily get yourself off. Moans and grunts and breathy exhales sounded through the room, along with the wet smacking of Joel’s cock gliding through his hand.

“Actin’ like such a needy slut,” Joel commented, lip curling into a snarl before a low chuckle rumbled in his chest. “Can’t go two seconds without makin’ a mess’a yourself.” The way Joel went back and forth from degrading to loving then back damn near gave you whiplash.

You mewl into his shirt and clench around air, hips picking up speed while you gripped his bicep. Joel’s thigh was damp with your arousal, the warmth seeping into the fabric and vaguely hitting his skin.

“Or a mess’a me,” He added with a pleased glint in his eyes. You felt his body shake with each passing stroke of his fist. The fact he was getting off to you getting off on him made you shiver with delight. Heat began to build up in your core, stomach fluttering and tightening while goosebumps erupted across your body. You lift your head from his shoulder and crash your lips against his messily; teeth closing, tongues swirling.

You retreat, just enough to speak, “Joel,” the pitch of your voice raised in warning, hips stuttering as your forehead rest against his.

“No,” He denied flatly.

“Joel,” You repeated. Pathetically, Joel thought.

“Gotta learn your lesson somehow,” he countered with an unbothered face, tone lacking sympathy. “If ya wanted some lovin’ y’know ta ask. I’ll take care’a ya.” His own breathing hitched as his thumb swiped over his slit, wiping precum down the underside of his shaft as that close feeling creeped up on him as well.

“But ya didn’t do that, didja? Then you lied-“

“I didn’t wan- fuck- didn’t wanna bother you,” You explained in a hurried slur of your words, throwing your head back while desperately trying to hold off on your orgasm.

Joel’s face softened, but just barely. His tongue clicked, gaze trailing down your neck and to your breasts that subtly bounced with each move of your lower body, then to your pussy gliding back and forth across his denim clad thigh.

Fuck it.

“Okay,” he breathed out with a curt nod and grasped your chin once more, leading you back to face him, “You’re gonna cum- but you’re gonna look at me when ya do, got it?”

You nod against his palm, brows curving inward as your eyelids flutter; the coil on the verge of releasing.

“Repeat it.”

A heavy sigh escaped your lungs, “I look at you wh-when I c- oh, fuck-“ Your eyes widened, cunt clenching as your body convulsed and writhed over top of him.

He smirked proudly when you couldn’t even finish your reply. Your slick spread further over his leg and he relished the feeling. “Good fuckin’ girl, that’s it.”

You continue to ride your high out, eyes never leaving Joel’s. His lips press against yours once more, tongue flicking over your bottom lip before pushing it in. Your hands came up to cradle his face while you swallowed down every single moan and grunt leaving Joel’s throat just as he spilled himself into his fist.

Breaths labored, chests heaving, and legs trembling. You break the kiss and smile down at him before planting a quick peck to the bridge of his nose, making him smile.

“I love you,” Joel whispered, wiping the mess off his fingers onto his pants. Eh, they needed to be cleaned anyways.

“I love you,” You say back. He lies down, pulling you on top as he catches his breath. “I’ll wash your jeans for you next time I do laundry.”

He hums softly, closing his eyes and slips his hand under your shirt, soothingly running his nails up and down your back, “Sounds good,” There was a beat, then, “Jus’ don’t shrink them any further.”

⁺˚°｡⋆♱✮˖☽𓋼𓍊◯𓍊𓋼☾˖✮♱⋆｡°˚⁺

thank you for reading <3 and thank you for all the love on my previous fics. for the longest time i never posted any of my stories to tumblr because i felt they weren’t “good enough” haha. it’s genuinely keeping me motivated to keep writing and hone my skill, so please feel free to keep reblogging and/or leaving a comment <3

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel tlou #joel miller tlou #the last of us hbo #tlou #joel miller x you #pedro pascal #the last of us #joel miller the last of us #joel miller imagine #joel miller fanfic #joel miller smut #joel x reader #joel the last of us #tlou hbo #tlou fanfiction #the last of us fanfiction

[hellcat8908]

Let Her Go Poly Bat Boys x Female Reader

Warnings: pure angst with no happiness, language, little bit of suggestiveness

You knew you had messed up, but you were beyond the point of caring. For months, you have put up with the whispers of your relationship with your 3 mates. You were fed up with being smiled at by various fae only to have them call you a whore the second they thought you couldn't hear them. You had tolerated it for the sake of your mates and for your court. Tonight was the breaking point for your patience as you heard the ear grating voice of Tamlin's mate.

You couldn't help but hear her opening commenting on your relationship. Her comments had you seeing red before she openly called you a whore. Before you could realize what you were doing you grabbed her by the hair and slammed her face into the table. "How dare you disrespect my relationships! You have no room to talk on things you know nothing about. Not that your opinion matters, you're just a hole for Tamlin's cock!" You manage to shout before Cassian pulls you away from her and starts flying you home.

Upon entering the house, Cassian informs you that Rhys is doing damage control, and then him and Azriel will be home. You roll your eyes as your anger simmers just beneath your skin. "Of course he is." You mutter under your breath. "Do you have something you wish to say?" Cassian asks. You don't miss the warning in his tone. "No." You answer before turning to change. After taking a step towards the bedroom, you decide enough is enough. You turn back to Cassian, "Actually, I do have something to say, but I'll wait for Rhysand and Azriel. That way, I don't have to repeat myself."

You storm off towards the bedroom and change into sleep pants and a shirt. Leaving your dress on the floor, not caring if it gets wrinkled. You rejoin Cassian in the living room. Neither of you is talking as you wait for the others. How much ass kissing does he have to do, you think to yourself as you grow impatient. You sit in the chair with your arms crossed, staring at the clock as you watch the minutes pass. Moments later, Rhys walks in, followed by Azriel.

Rhys pours himself a drink while Azriel joins Cassian on the couch. "Go to bed, we'll discuss this in the morning." Rhys says, not bothering to look at you. "No! We're going to discuss this now because this is long overdue." You say as you stand up. Rhys turns towards you, "Go. To. Bed." He says. You notice the tension in his body and how stormy his eyes are. "No. If you don't want to talk, then fine, but you'll listen." You say, growing more angry at his dismissal of you.

"I have had it with pretending not to hear the vile comments about the four of us being mates. I have tolerated it long enough, but not anymore. I know I'm not the only one who hears what they whisper when they think we can't hear them or when they think we're too busy with other conversations." You state, hoping for some sort of acknowledgment from one of your mates. "Do you even realize what your little outburst could've costed us?! We could've lost valuable allies tonight! Every mission and meeting that we've had with other courts could've been wasted because of a few whispers!" Rhys says as his grip tightens on his glass.

You stand in stunned silence at his words. You can't believe he'd invalidate your feelings, but he just did. In a moment, everything changes, and he seems none the wiser. Cassian and Azriel notice the change in your mood and share concerned looks. You take off your shirt and pants, leaving you in your bra and panties. You cross over to Rhys and kneel in front of him. "What are you doing?!" He asks. "Just taking my place as your whore, isn't this what you wanted?" You say in a calm tone, even though you're anything but.

"You're being ridiculous. This isn't the time for your games." Rhys says before watching you crawl to Cassian and Azriel, kneeling between them. "Well, if my High Lord is tired of me, maybe it's time the lord of bloodshed gets a reward or maybe the great spymaster. Whoever you feel deserves a little treat for doing such a good job lately." You practically purr. "Stop! You don't get to cheapen our relationship!" Rhys shouts. You quickly stand. "If only I were the one who cheapened it. You did that the moment you disregarded my feelings and confirmed it was okay for others to say whatever they want as long as it helps build alliances. I never once felt ashamed about our relationship until now, until you made me feel like a whore. I hope it was worth it." You say before picking up your clothes and walking out of the room.

You heard Rhys's glass break against the wall before you locked the door to the guest room. You could hear the three of them arguing, but it didn't matter now. The damage was already done. You couldn't even bring yourself to cry, let alone feel anything but numb. After a while, the house grew quiet, and you assumed they'd gone to bed. The fact that none of them had tried to comfort you or talk to you only added to the sting of tonight's events and realizations. You knew you wouldn't be able to sleep, so you tried to read. It became obvious you couldn't focus after reading the same page for the fifth time, unable to remember any of it.

Sitting at your desk, you pull out a pen and paper. You decide to write a note to your mates:

Azriel, Cassian, and Rhys;

If you're reading this then I have left. It wasn't an easy decision but a necessary one. These last few months have taken more of a toll on me than I had realized. Our relationship has turned from something beautiful and special into something ugly and spiteful.

Azriel, you taught me so much about myself and I am grateful for that. You're love is deeper than the seas and full of wonder. I'm glad I was one of the few who got to swim in its depths.

Cassian, you made me stronger both physically and mentally. You love with a passion that rivals any other. I am grateful you saw the potential in me and helped me become a better version of myself

Rhys, you believed in me when I didn't believe in myself. You allowed me to make mistakes and never judged me or criticized me for it, until now.

I love you all but in your own ways you've destroyed what we had built and I sat idly by and allowed it to happen. Take care of each other like you always have.

You let out a frustrated sigh as you grab a blanket and step out onto the balcony. You curl on one of the loungers before covering up with the blanket. "Can't sleep?" Azriel asks from the shadows, causing you to jump. "What do you want?" You question after composing yourself. "To check on you." He says, stepping out of the shadows and leaning against the railing. "You've checked on me, now leave." You say annoyed. "I wanted to apologize for not defending you against the rumors and gossip." He says softly. "Apology not accepted." You respond coldly.

"I know I've let you down and hurt you and have no right to ask anything from you, but please don't leave us. I'm asking you to give us a chance to fix this." He says, his eyes pleading with you. "You're right. You have no right to ask anything of me. You've had countless times to step up and fix this, but instead, you let it reach this point. You've all let this fester into something so deeply wrong in my mind that I'm not sure it will ever heal. Rhys's words tonight spoke louder than any actions you could hope to have repaired this. He very well might have placed the final nail in the coffin." You say solomnly.

"Don't say that, love. There has to be a way for us to fix this or at least me to fix this." Azriel pleads, though his words don't reach your heart. "Good night, Azriel," is all you say before retreating inside. Azriel stands on your balcony, his heart breaking as he feels you shield the bond. Once inside, you sit back down in bed. Burying your face in your hands as you relive the last 8 hours. With determination, you place the note on your nightstand and pull out your suitcase, and start packing the basics. Numbly grabbing your simple clothes, leaving the various dresses they had bought you along with your training leathers. A series of heavy knocks interrupts you. "Go away." You call through the door.

"Please, let me in." Cassian says, his voice strained with emotions. "I want to be alone." You say. "You don't mean that." He says as he tries the door handle. "I do." You answer as you close your suitcase. Surprisingly, there's no reply from Cassian. Moments later, you learn why. He walks in from your balcony. "Seriously?!" You ask with annoyance. "You left me no choice," he says. "You could've respected my wishes." You reply. His eyes land on your suitcase, "No, you're not leaving!" He says, his voice full of panic. "Cassian," you start to say, but he cuts you off. "You're not leaving! I need to fix this with you!" He says as he opens your suitcase and starts unpacking.

You repack whatever he takes out, creating an endless cycle. "Please," he says as tears line his eyes. "I need you. I need to come home to you after long missions, I need you to keep me grounded and remind me I'm more than my job. I need you to be here and let me love you." He says as his emotions spiral. "Cassian, I need you to let me go." You say softly, watching his heart break in front of you. "No! I can't lose you, I will do whatever you ask, just stay, please." He says as he drops to his knees in front of you and holds your waist. "Cassian, let her go." This time, it's Rhys saying it from the balcony archway.

"No! We need to fix this!" Cassian says. "If she wants to go, then let her go." Rhys orders. You grab your suitcase as Cassian reluctantly releases his hold on you. They watch in silence as you unlock your bedroon door and walk out. You only hesitate for a split second at the front door. You take one last look as the fond memories with your mates replay. You step outside and pull the door shut on your past before taking the first step towards your new life.

#poly batboys #batboys x reader #acotar fanfic #acotar angst #acotar #azriel #cassian #rhys #rhys acotar #cassian acotar #azriel acotar

[lightwise]

“Remain calm. Cooperate. And you might survive.”

A character study on Dr. Emerie Karr

I’ve had a post about Emerie wandering around the back of my mind all season, but haven’t really been able to pull anything together yet that I felt would do her character justice. In addition, I believe there are other people who can speak to some of her position and experiences in a cult-like environment where she has been raised with bounded choices and lack of agency better than I can, but I will still touch on those things here a bit.

Many people have been frustrated at Emerie’s character, even going so far as to say they hate her for not acting in ways we wish she would and for working in the Empire, conducting horrific experiments, and going along with Hemlock’s plans. While I understand the frustrations, there is nothing that Emerie has done that truly exceeds anything that Crosshair or Cody or Wolffe ever did under the Empire, especially when considering that her actions and choices are all very firmly rooted in a very chaotic, traumatizing, and lacking environment that she was raised in. She may not have had a chip (we don’t know), but regardless, she has not been given the amount of free will and expansive thinking that her clone brothers and Omega experienced during the war and after. Even still, her Jango Fett genes are showing through, with a natural affinity and compassion for children tugging on her latent moral compass the more and more she is around them. 

“Remain calm. Cooperate. And you might survive.” We first meet Emerie in season 2, when Crosshair is transferred to Tantiss after killing Lt. Nolan. She notably uses his name immediately, and seems to have a slightly more caring nature to her than any of the other medical assistants (like Dr. Scalder) that we have seen on Tantiss. She is focused and seems content and dedicated to her work, but wants Crosshair to survive and not be harmed more than is necessary. She seems to have traces of both Tech and Dr. Hemlock in her, with a dedication to science and the tasks assigned to her, and a mind that is obviously adept and capable of accomplishing various procedures. While she follows all of Dr. Hemlock’s orders completely, she shows traces of compassion to Crosshair along the way, and begs him not to try and escape. At this point, her own access card doesn’t even allow her to get outside, and we’ve never seen her on any of the landing platforms. She seems to have an intimate knowledge of how impossible it is to escape the facility (has she tried to herself?)

“She is a clone. And therefore Imperial property.”  Hemlock is talking about Omega here, but the camera pans to include Emerie standing beside him, looking at him. This cinematography choice will occur several times, where dialogue from Hemlock or Omega is overlaid with a shot of Emerie’s face to show that comments about freedom and clones and specimens and choice all have double meanings that include Emerie, even if she has the supposed station and respect of a doctor’s position. At this point it is unclear whether she fully understands how she is just as much a prisoner inside these walls as Crosshair and the other clones are. 

“A prisoner? You are no such thing. It is far safer in here than it is out there.” This is but one of many times that Emerie uses the word “safe” in regard to being on Mt. Tantiss, following the rules, and doing what is expected. She comes to retrieve Omega every morning, mostly chipper and focused on including her in her tasks for the day. She shows care for Omega but is fully absorbed in her duties and what to her is normal daily life. An empty room that locks from the outside is probably the norm for her. For Omega, it is decidedly not, and Omega’s curious but justice-oriented nature begins to tilt the axis of Emerie’s perceptions. When first meeting her, Emerie acknowledges her as her sister and wants her to trust her. It’s clear that she maybe knew of Omega at some point, even though Omega had never heard of her until now. We get a slight glimpse of why that would be, when Emerie tells Omega that she was on Kamino initially but was “sent elsewhere until Dr. Hemlock took me under his wing.” There is a LOT embedded in that sentence. Sent away by Nala Se? Why? What was her initial purpose in being created? Why was she discarded? Was Omega a “better” version of her? Where did she go, and how and why did Hemlock find her and bring her up as his medical assistant, seeing “potential” in her. It’s obvious Emerie’s sense of self-worth, while relatively strong, also hinges on following Hemlock’s orders. All of this screams abandonment and grooming even if not of a sexual nature, and Emerie certainly seems to show the submissive, trusting, and yet fearful disposition one might expect from someone whose life has been defined by those circumstances. 

 “You don’t know she won’t survive. She deserves a chance.”  A conversation about letting a domesticated Lurca hound out into the wild to fend for herself is clearly paralleled with Emerie’s fate. Emerie tries to act as a mediator between Hemlock and Omega, hoping that the girl won’t be hurt or punished. Hemlock scoffs at Omega’s decision to let Batcher go, and her impassioned statement above. He sneers “the flawed logic of an idealistic child. Emotion and sentiment have no place within these walls. You would do well to remember that.” Emotion and sentiment have seemingly been lacking in Emerie’s upbringing, yet they continue to have an influence on her impulses and actions more and more. A testament to this is the fact that she keeps Omega’s straw Lula doll after it is found during a midnight room inspection, and eventually gives it back to her even though it breaks protocol. She will later keep this doll hidden after Omega escapes, and give it to one of the Vault “specimens”, Eva, in an attempt to comfort her. In that initial confrontation with Omega, Hemlock had added a final warning: “Actions always have consequences. Sometimes not in the ways we imagine.” What will this mean in the future for both him and Emerie? Their choices until recently have seemed in line and coherent, but they are diverging more and more.  

“It’s best not to ask questions.”  Emerie once again demonstrates the dichotomy of her perspectives as she affirms the authority and deference that she believes she owes Dr. Hemlock, while also being attentive to Omega’s shift in mood after being told by Nala Se that she must escape. Emerie tells Omega to get some rest, thinking she isn’t feeling well. There is no reason for her to do this other than the fact that she cares about Omega, as against protocol as those feelings are.  

“You’re not thinking clearly. Escape is not possible. This is for your own good.”  After finding Crosshair and Omega ready to escape through the Lurca hound tunnels, she begs both of them to see what to her is reason and sense. She doesn’t want either of them to get in trouble or be hurt, and would have covered for them if they would simply surrender and return to their cells. She affirms again that escape is not possible, from her perspective, and that what is best is quiet acquiescence. We see this continued struggle between her own budding moral compass, her sense of duty, her fear, her belief that it is safer to stay and to be quiet and to stay small. After they escape the facility, she finds out that Omega’s blood is the binder they have been looking for all along, and partly out of scientific duty, and partly knowing that this knowledge is the only thing that will save Crosshair and Omega’s escaping ship from being shot down, she informs Dr. Hemlock. 

“Do you trust me? I’ve spent years working by your side. I could be more useful.”  Before Omega is recaptured, we get an entire episode from Emerie’s POV (which also establishes her as a very important character for the remainder of the season). Here we begin to see more of her conflicted moral compass, and also her budding sense of self esteem. “You wish to be the new chief scientist Dr. Karr?” “I believe I’ve earned it.” This fully encapsulates the dynamic that these two “doctors” have shared over the years. Emerie knows that Hemlock only values things that are useful, and probably only sees her own value in the light of what she can contribute, due to how she was raised and the circumstances she has been trapped in. Hemlock’s tone of voice implies that he has never considered her as being the new chief scientist, and yet he acquiesces quite quickly, almost as though he’s just too busy to think about it and if it means things are brought back up to production standard then he’s fine with her taking Nala Se’s place. His utter disregard for Emerie as an actual human and someone with merit is disgusting, but to Emerie it comes across as respectful benevolence (as long as she follows the rules). It is good to see her start to stand up for herself, although she has no idea what she is getting herself into.  

“You’re safe SP-32.”  Emerie’s experiences watching over the children in the vault begin to chip away HARD at the beliefs she has grown up with and the perspectives she has kept herself sheltered behind. She initially tries to connect with one of the children, Eva, but Hemlock quickly stops her and tries to force his perspective that these are simply “scientific assets. Specimens.” The children defy this characterization at every turn. Eva compliments Emerie’s glasses, shares her name. Jax reiterates that his number is not his name when he tries to escape, and Emerie spends the entire sequence of him trying to escape torn, worried for him, and disgruntled at how violently Scorch and the other commandos treat him. Her conflict continues to grow as Eva asks how Jax is after the escape attempt, and she has to face her duplicity in telling Eva everything would be fine, when it is not. 

“They’re children. Like I was. Was your plan to discard them too?” Finally, Emerie confronts Nala Se, and we get more of a glimpse into the circumstances of her childhood. Emerie obviously carries enormous bitterness and resentment for however Nala Se treated her and the choice to abandon her in favor of Omega, and she throws this back in Nala Se’s face asking why the rest of the children in the Vault haven’t been protected either. “The Empire will keep them in order to control them” — once again a layered statement that includes Emerie’s own position. “They don’t belong in here” — Omega’s hopeful and determined perspective has gotten through to her on some level, just as it did with Crosshair. However, despite her growing sense of guilt and remorse, Emerie still feels powerless and at the mercy of her environment. “I don’t have that kind of power.” But Nala Se challenges her that she does, and that her choices going forward will need to be hers and hers alone. 

“And where did this child come from?”  Emerie starts to take small steps towards more independent choices when she insists on accompanying Scorch to pick up the next force sensitive child. Whether her plan was to try and fudge the results so he could be returned to his home, or just find out more information about how these children are procured and how many are being kidnapped, she can’t change the outcome of Bayrn being brought in. But her dismay at how young he is and how much worse this situation keeps getting is evident. Just as telling is Hemlock’s misinterpretation of her hesitation of taking in another “specimen.” He thinks she’s afraid of them harming her in an escape attempt. He doesn’t see that her personal convictions have started to become louder in her mind and heart than his commands and manipulation. She continues to take steps toward autonomy by comforting Eva, using the girl’s name, and bringing her Omega’s straw toy, that she had kept against orders. The situation is wearing on her more and more. But there’s hope for her yet.

“Emerie, you don’t have to do this.” Once Omega is back on Tantiss, Emerie retreats back into her shell a bit as Hemlock orders her to test Omega’s blood again. She knows what will happen and where Omega will be taken when the sample comes through, and she looks utterly defeated and cornered, sighing, her shoulders slumped like Crosshair’s when he was still imprisoned. Yet even as far as she’s come, she can’t see a way around completing this task. “I’m sorry, but I do.” She tries to soften the blow with “for what it’s worth, I’m glad you’re safe.” But Omega is not having it. “Am I??” Emerie knows she’s not, sighing in fear and resignation again as Hemlock takes Omega away to the vault. She tries to console herself by giving the children better games to keep their minds engaged, and pointedly asserts her rank and decision to keep Omega in contact with the other children even when Dr. Scalder disagrees with her choice. Her confidence is still growing. Her sense of right and wrong is slowly becoming more and more defined. She is now starting to show a split front between her attempts to placate Omega vs. the questions and doubts that have been festering inside her. Will she finally be able to push through her fears and use her influence and position to help the children, the clones, Omega, and the Batch escape by the end? Or will she remain trapped in a life that she didn’t choose but that she has long since begun to question and pull away from?

Just like the rotating dial of test vials that she oversees every day, Emerie’s moral compass continues to inch closer and closer toward a resolution, until hopefully it will click fully into place. And when it does, Hemlock will (hopefully) regret every ounce of trust he’s ever placed in her. And Omega will hopefully be fully justified in the trust, pleas, and examples that she has been giving Emerie, her big sister, this whole time. Emerie’s sense of identity, justice, and conviction hang in the balance. She can be an agent of change for everyone’s fates, if she chooses to step into her own.  

✨ Tag List ✨

@drafthorsemath @freesia-writes @sunshinesdaydream @ladyzirkonia @jedizhi @the-little-moment @the-bad-batch-baroness @heyclickadee @burningfieldof-clover @dreamless-daydreamer

#the bad batch #tbb #tbb spoilers #star wars #the bad batch spoilers #tbb emerie #dr hemlock #omega #tbb omega #tbb hemlock #emerie karr #dr emerie karr #tbb emerie karr #bad batch emerie

[katemartinismywife]

all mine - n.m

☺︎ nika muhl ☺︎

"Soo, what exactly are you and Nika?" Chasity asks Chloe continuing to drink the rest of her drink. Chloe shrugs keeping her and her girlfriend's secret. "You guys flirt and go to each other's houses just to be nothing?" Chasity lightly laughs.

"We are friends.. why did you bring up Nika?" Chloe looks at her strangely wondering why she was thinking about her girlfriend. "Because if looks could kill I would be dead right now" Chloe looks at the girl confused turning and seeing Nika sitting on the arm of the couch.

"I'll be back" Chloe leaves her drink on the kitchen counter and walks over to her girlfriend. "I thought you weren't coming?"

"Who is that?"

"She's a friend from one of my classes Nika" Chloe kept her distance from Nika since they were in a pretty public space. "Nika?"

"That's your name isn't it?" Chloe responds confused. "Come here" Nika pulls Chloe in between her legs, rubbing up and down her arms. "I thought you didn't want to be touchy in public Nik"

"That was last week. I don't care anymore. I want everyone to know I am yours and you're all mine" Nika wrapped her arms around Chloe's neck placing pecks on her lips.

"You're going to regret this in the morning baby" Chloe sighed placing her hands on Nika's waist. Nika shakes her head moving over, so the two can sit on the couch cushion.

Chloe sits in the corner leaning her head back and looking at her girlfriend who began to straddle her. "What is up with you baby?" Chloe states hiding her smile. Chloe has been waiting for Nika to be ready to come out, so they could be able to do stuff like this.

"Hi my love" Nika smiles staring into Chloe's eyes. "Hi, pretty girl" Chloe smirks connecting their lips. "I don't want us to be a secret anymore," Nika says between kisses. "I think it is too late for that baby" Chloe smiles gripping Nika's ass.

"It's time to go home love" Nika states kissing on Chloe's neck. "I think I like it right here" Chloe chokes out suppressing a moan. "You know I don't take no for an answer my love"

#wcbb #oc #wlw #uconn wbb #uconn #fluff #nika muhl #nika muhl x reader #nika mühl

[ooihcnoiwlerh]

Hello! I'm back with another chapter of my Feyd-Rautha/Reader arranged marriage series.

AO3 link here for full fic: And I Don't Want Your Heart - Chapter 5 - ooihcnoiwlerh - Dune (2021) [Archive of Our Own]

Side post that has some of my headcanons for how I interpret Feyd-Rautha's own relationship to his sexuality: Hello, Friend - So I've been working on a Feyd-Rautha/Reader... (tumblr.com)

This fic and this chapter are 18+ up only. Tags, content warning, and full chapter below the cut

Tags/CW list: rape/noncon; graphic depictions of violence; dubious consent; arranged marriage; forced pregnancy; nature versus nurture; implied/referenced child abuse; implied/referenced sexual assault; implied/referenced incest; first time; rough sex; oral sex; vaginal sex; vaginal fingering; blood kink; pain kink; sadomasochism; period sex; problematic smut; inappropriate misuse of BDSM; slow burn emotionally but the exact opposite of a slow burn phyiscally

CHAPTER FOUR: A BLOODY GASH

You're fertile.  You’ve never had any reason to believe otherwise.  This union is contingent on giving him children–at least one son, and as many attempts as necessary to get there ( and you desperately hope that you’ll only need that first one.  You don’t want to raise a daughter in this place, amongst these people .)

So you’re horrified when you wake up the following morning to blood smeared between your legs, staining your chemise that rode up to your hips when you were sleeping, and leaving a smear on the sheets below when you move.

No.  No.  You pull up the hem of your chemise and stare at your inner thighs as if just looking will change the outcome.  Feyd-Rautha came inside of you four times in two days for nothing .  He’ll be furious.  He’ll question your very biology.  He’ll have you examined as thoroughly and cruelly as possible.

You scramble, trying to cover yourself, wondering what you can even do next when Idrisa comes in with fresh water and coffee.

To her credit, she doesn't drop the tray when her eye line goes directly to your bleeding crotch for the few seconds it’s still visible.

“I knew my time for it was coming up, I just didn't think it would,” you say to yourself as much as her and come to meet her gaze.

She glances back down out of respect, but the awkward tension hangs between the two of you for a moment.

“Do you…” you start, embarrassment flushing your face and neck, “do you have anything for it?”  You have no idea how menstrual care even works on Geidi Prime.  You’d just assumed that it wouldn’t be an issue for another ten months.

She composes herself again immediately.  “Why yes, of course, Na-Baroness.  I apologize for my negligence.”  Before you can tell her there's nothing to apologize for, she adds, “I'll help you get cleaned up first.”

“That’s alright, I can do it,” you tell her as you wonder for a moment who she served before that she’d assume you want her to clean between your legs when you’re perfectly capable of doing it yourself.

She inclines her head further.  “Thank you, Na-Baroness.  I’ll be back in just a moment.”  

As soon as she’s out the door you’re up and walking briskly to the bathroom. 

You’ll need to have the sheets changed.

It’s only been two days, you think, washing between your legs.  This doesn’t mean anything bad .  When he asks for you, you can just explain the situation and try again in a few days.  Until then…until then…   For a moment you draw a blank, before remembering a conversation you had a few years ago with a slightly older friend when you asked her if husbands still desired their wives when their wives were bleeding.

“ They honestly just want something warm, soft, and wet to bury themselves in, ” she’d told you matter-of-factly.  “ So most men just use their wife’s mouths .”

“ What do you mean? ” you’d asked, fairly certain you had an idea what she was talking about but still more willing to briefly embarrass yourself by asking than remain ignorant.

“ You know what goes on between a man’s legs, right? ” she’d asked in turn.

“ Of course ,” you’d said, a little offended that she’d think you so naive. 

“ When you’re bleeding and he still wants you to please him, put your mouth there instead, ” she’d told you.  “ Like he’s burying himself inside your mouth instead of your canal.  You can’t make babies that way, of course, but they often don’t care about that .   You can’t really make babies during your monthly courses anyway. ”

You wonder how she reacted when she found out who you’d be marrying.  You never got the chance to ask and assume, like many young women and their parents, that she was relieved that she wasn’t the one hand-picked for him. 

You also haven’t done that to him yet, nor any other man, for that matter, and you’re sure your lack of skill will show.  How are you meant to take the entire thing in your mouth when you can barely fit it where it’s meant to go?  What are you supposed to do with your teeth?  It also just seems somehow more daunting and personal than just having inside of you in the traditional manner.  

He’ll be aggressive with it, like he is in everything else. 

You can’t stop thinking about it as you brush your teeth and hair and try to ignore the discomfort in your lower belly before you hear a click and the door to your quarters opening.

Idrisa’s back with a basket made of some kind of black synthetic material; it’s covered to protect its contents from passing view.  You could kiss her for that, you think, and she starts unpacking.

She pulls out what look like thick handkerchiefs, going to your bathroom to stack them neatly on the countertop.  She also hands you a canister that you open to find a handful of circular tablets.

“They’re not as strong as what I left for your wedding night,” she says, “and they won’t put you to sleep, but they should suffice if you need them.”

You’d chalked up your cramps to nerves but now that you have your answer the symptoms couldn’t have been more obvious.  “Thank you, I think I will,” you tell her as you think about how you’ll likely be expected to join your new family, if one could call them that, for breakfast again.  The thought makes you want to crawl back under the covers.

“Can you also please tell Feyd-Rautha that I apologize for missing breakfast but that I'm feeling unwell this morning and wouldn't want to be poor company in my condition?” you ask.

Idrisa hesitates, nervous.  You realize that she's thinking, You know that your husband finds me far more disposable than he finds you, right?  He could easily kill and replace me and no one would care.  You also realize that she can’t and won’t say no to you.  But just that look reminds you that as frightening as this fortress is to you, it’s much worse for her.  You haven’t seen Feyd-Rautha kill outside of the arena yet, but you also barely know him; killing people who displease him over minor inconveniences, especially if they’re low-born and low-ranking, could be a common occurrence for him.  The Harkonnens didn’t earn their reputation for nothing.

“Unless you think they won't notice if I’m even there,” you add, thinking.  The Baron couldn't care less if he never has a conversation with you again, and outside of the marriage bed, Feyd-Rautha doesn't appear to have any real plans for you.  “I could just…stay here and if Feyd-Rautha has any questions he can ask them.”

Idrisa’s shoulders had been locked and tense but appear to relax just a little at your words.  “I can make a plate for you and bring it back here,” she says, already knowing your preference.  Given Geidi Prime’s incredible wealth and lack of natural resources other than fuels and metals there are imported fruits that you’d never had before coming here that you’re certain you’ll never get sick of.

“Sounds perfect, thank you,” you tell her, and take advantage of the new medication when she leaves.

When she returns with another tray for you, she’s accompanied by two other girls holding a fresh arrangement of sheets; the hems and necklines of their garb are cut a little different from hers and they look younger, perhaps the same age as your little sister.  You wonder if the difference in the way they’re dressed suggests rank?  They keep their heads down and don’t acknowledge you other than a silent curtsy before stripping your old sheets and setting down a new spread.  You look at them for a moment, wondering if it’s at the Baron’s insistence that no staff ever look a Harkonnen royal in the eye or if this rule’s been going on for generations when Idrisa snaps you out of your thoughts.

“I have a tea prepared for you as well, Na-Baroness,” she says, gesturing towards the tray that she’s set on your end-table and removing the cloche covering your plate.  “It’s not medicine strictly speaking but it has soothing properties.”

You turn and look at her.  She doesn’t look much older than you, but the same can be said of most of the female slaves.  Are they banished to where they won’t be easily seen when they reach a certain age?  What’s the life expectancy?  It feels more than a little insensitive to ask right now, so you just let them work as you take a seat at your end-table and take a sip of your tea.

After breakfast is over and you’ve found a comfortable position sitting up in bed, propped up by the pillows and headboards, you read a bit more on the Harkonnen lineage.  The more you read, the more you understand why Father always insisted that Geidi Prime is no place for a woman.  Women in high places, you find, have in history been assassinated more often than the men, or kidnapped to use as collateral and tortured.  You wonder if that’s why you saw so few at the wedding and reception, why they seemed so hidden out of view even while accompanying their high-ranking husbands.

You’re reasonably certain that your new husband’s concerned enough with his image as heir to the Harkonnen throne not to tarnish the alliance your marriage has created, that even if he doesn’t really know you and may never love you–you’re reasonably certain that he’s incapable of feeling such an emotion–he’ll still make sure to protect what he sees as his.  His uncle will likely be another story.  

The door opens unannounced and you look up, expecting Idrisa only to find Feyd-Rautha letting himself in without a word and closing the door behind him.  He doesn’t speak at first, but everything in his demeanor tells you that he did in fact notice your absence and wants an explanation.

You compose yourself.  There’s no need to panic.  “Good afternoon, husband.  To what do I owe the pleasure?” you ask, tone as light and cool as the weather would be on your home planet right now. 

He leans against the door as he folds his arms across his chest and looks you over.  “I missed you at breakfast,” he says.

“Yes, my apologies.  I’m not feeling well,” you tell him.  

He clearly doesn’t believe you.  You don’t seem feverish , he seems to think with his unimpressed gaze.  You seem fine .  “Still getting adjusted to the atmosphere on Geidi Prime?” he asks, and for a foolish moment you hope that he’s giving you an excuse.  Maybe he thinks you’re avoiding him because of last night, and you’re content to let him think that.

“Yes, husband,” you tell him.  

“That’s a shame,” he says, crossing over to your bed and sitting at the edge of it.  “It occurred to me last night that whoever taught you close-range maneuvers didn’t do their job right.  You should’ve been able to evade me.”

You wrinkle your brow and don’t have it in you to hide your insulted glare; your House’s military is considered a force to be reckoned with and a slight against your training is a slight against your House and your father himself.  “Did you want me to evade you?” you ask.

He seems amused by your sudden sharpness, and you realize that he’d wanted to hit a nerve.  He knew what he was implying and got the precise reaction he’d been hoping for.  “That’s not the point, wife.  You said yourself that you were out of practice and as soon as you’re feeling better I intend to rectify that.  Your cute little boot-dagger won’t serve you any good if you can’t correctly use it.”  

He places his hand on your leg, trailing it along your thigh and stopping just shy of your apex, his thumb brushing against it through the fabric of your skirt.  You give a sharp inhale that makes him smile.  You start to close your legs but his hand, now cupping your inner thigh, holds one open enough for him to continue to fondle as he pleases.

His hand stays there for a moment, stays over the light material of your skirt even as you're sure the soft flesh of your inner thigh heats his palm, as flushed as you feel under his touch.  He leans in, inhales as he leans over you and sniffs your hair.  It’s not even the first time he’s done it.  You wonder if he finds your hair to be a sort of forbidden fruit; something he can’t say he likes because to do so would disrespect Harkonnen hairlessness, but still something he finds fascinating or even enviable.  You’re not sure yet whether his lack of it is down to genetics or grooming but you assume the former, if it affects everyone including those who wouldn’t have such prime access to constant shaving.

But then he fully brings his hand between your legs, fingertips rubbing up against you and you flinch.  

Now?  Is he going to try and fuck me right here and now?   You shift, trying to hide what you’re sure is a look of panic on your face, trying to scramble for an excuse as Feyd-Rautha rubs a whimper out of you.

In the moments he does and you freeze, he watches your face a moment longer and then something shifts in his eyes, and he pulls back.

“I’ll call on you soon,” he says.  There’s something satisfied, almost smug in his tone.  He doesn’t wait for a response from you before he gets up and leaves, and you wonder what caused his departure.

Idrisa comes in a minute later with more tea for you.  “The Na-Baron seems mollified,” she says.  “He’s taken the news well.”

“I didn’t tell him.”

You catch Idrisa furrowing her brow-line, incredulous even with her head bowed before she can smooth over her expression into one of polite indifference.

“He doesn’t need to know yet,” you tell her.  “He said he’d call on me later.”

“My apologies for speaking boldly, Na-Baroness,” she says, “but the Na-Baron will still take you to bed tonight or whenever he decides is convenient.  Harkonnen men expect their wives to always be available to them, no matter how they’re feeling.”

You suppose you already knew this.  It certainly doesn’t help the gnawing feeling in your stomach even as the medicine Idrisa gave you has soothed the cramps for now.  

“It appears I can hold him off until after dinner, at least,” you finally say.  There’s that; you also appreciate having another meal without the Baron’s presence.

You wish you had someone you could talk to about this in which it wouldn’t feel weird to ask.  You look over at Idrisa.  She’s the only friend you’ve managed to make so far and while you don’t see that changing anytime soon, you haven’t forgotten that she keeps you company out of obligation.  You can’t be certain as to whether or not she actually likes you, or if she only tolerates you due to her heightened position within the Harkonnen Fortress as your personal attendant.  Still, she’s certainly better than no one to ask.  She takes your old mug and heads for the door.

“Idrisa,” you start.  She turns.  “You’ve…have you been with men before?”

She inclines her head in a polite nod.  “When it’s required of me,” she says.

Your second question dies in your mouth.  Oh.  Right .  Yet again you’re disgusted but can’t say you’re all that surprised.

And instead of asking for advice you’re struck by another thought.  “Has the Na-Baron ever…?” you start and she immediately shakes her head.

“Never, Na-Baroness,” she assures you.  “He has never been known to satiate himself that way with slaves.”

Are you being honest or telling me what I want to hear? you almost ask but spare her the indignity.  You’re reasonably certain that if Feyd-Rautha had taken advantage of her, he’d have gloated to you about it.  “Thank you,” you tell her.  You don’t want to know how men on Geidi Prime have abused her mouth.  “I was just curious.”

“Not at all, Na-Baroness,” she says.

As the hours tick by you wish you'd just told Feyd-Rautha your situation and gotten whatever awkward ensuing conversation over with.

In the evening Idrisa brings you dinner, more tea, and a glass of wine.  “The Na-Baron has given you two hours before expecting you in his bedchambers.”

You sigh.  “Thank you, Idrisa,” you tell her, not quite willing to add, you were right .  You eat, you have your tea, you bathe and clean your hair.  And in the remaining time that you have before you need to leave, you sip your wine. You’d be foolish to assume that it will truly settle your nerves, but it tastes nice. 

“I guess it’s time,” you say finally, looking at the timepiece on your nightstand.  “How angry do you think he’ll be?”

“I’m afraid I don’t know, Na-Baroness,” Idrisa says as she opens the door to lead you to your husband.  “He’s never been married nor been instructed to sire an heir before.”

When you get to his bedroom he’s already standing in the middle of it, wearing only black pants with a relaxed fit that suggests leisure, maybe sleep.  And here you hadn’t taken him as the kind of man to own pajamas.

He looks over your shoulder at Idrisa, who seems just as surprised to see him as you are even as she immediately lowers her head in deference.

“Dismissed,” he tells her, and she curtsies and scurries out of the room, closing the door behind her, leaving the two of you alone and rather more dressed than you’ve been in this room.

You stand, awkwardly, playing with the sash to your robe as the two of you look at each other in silence.  Or rather, he stares at you and you look down, knowing what you’d rehearsed and still needing to force the words out.

“My apologies, husband, but it’s my time of month,” you finally manage.

“I know,” he says.  “I could smell it on you.  I could feel your rag in between your legs.”

Was that what he was doing?  You look up at his face and find nothing that you can really parse and pause, unsure what you could say to that, before you move on.

“I know it’s not ideal, but we can try again in a few days, and in the meantime,” you try to sound like you’re not as nervous as you are, fully aware that seduction was never something you learned, “I know that there are…other ways to satisfy you.”  A few days and we can resume trying to secure your firstborn .  

He gives a small smirk at the second part of your statement but comments only on the first.  “A few days?” he repeats, as if you’ve just said either the funniest or dumbest thing he’s heard all week.  “What makes you think I care to wait a few days?”

You’re not sure you heard him right.  “The blood,” you say slowly.  “I can’t control it.”

“You think a Harkonnen would be scared of a little blood?” he says.

You’re not sure what to say to that.  In hindsight, you’re not sure why you’d assumed that this man of all men would be too squeamish to fuck a bleeding woman.

“Strip down,” he says, after the seconds of silence that follow.  He sounds so casual as he says it, as if he just told you to have a seat.  You hesitate, still unsure if he’s being serious.

“Did you not understand me?” he prompts when seconds tick by and you haven’t moved.

“I do, husband,” say.  “But still, I have to warn you that it’ll make a mess.”

“Y/N,” he says, his tone somehow light.  There’s an element of danger to it.  “You’re not the one who’ll have to clean up afterwards.”

Nor you , you think.  “So you want me in this state.”  You don’t phrase it as a question but he can hear the confusion in your voice.

The smirk never quite left his face but returns in full as he crosses the few steps over to you that leaves you close enough that you can feel his breath.  He takes your wrist and presses your hand to his groin–it’s rapidly filling out.

“What do you think?” he says.

You gasp, almost giving an incredulous laugh as you glance between his face and back down to his groin.  Harkonnen men are built differently, you suppose.  

You pull away enough to unravel your robe and step out of your slippers.  He doesn’t object to your garments being left on his floor instead of neatly tucked on his dresser, so you keep going, pulling your chemise over your shoulders, pulling down your undergarment and letting it slide down your legs, until you’re bared entirely for him.

He looks down at the blood that gathered in the kerchief lining the gusset of your undergarment as it hits the floor and you step out of it, and then he looks back at you.

“Hold your arms out like this, wrists together,” he says, extending his own to demonstrate.

He still doesn’t seem angry, his tone suggesting patience that you know he doesn’t have, but you hesitate before mimicking him.

“Very nice,” he says, and you bristle at his condescension as he half-circles you before heading for his armoire.  You turn around to watch him open it, and your jaw drops when you see what’s inside.

It’s lined with whips, rope, chains, knives, scalpels, collars, and other items you’ve never seen before but if this is in his bedroom then it must serve one particular purpose, either on himself whoever has the misfortune of being with him when he wants to use any of these devices.  

He glances over his shoulder and looks if anything delighted by your stunned reaction, the growing sense of dread.  “I didn’t say you could drop your arms,” he says, and turns back to pick out a length of black rope.

You suppose you ought to be grateful that he didn’t pick out any chains.

You watch as he loops an intricate tie binding your wrists.  He does it with such practiced ease he looks directly into your eyes as he does it.  You manage to hold his gaze in defiance even as your heart hammers in your chest and you’re scared of what’s going to happen next.  You know that, like a true Harkonnen, he likes your fear, but it hasn’t occurred to either of you yet that he also appreciates your fire.

“Get on all fours on the bed, pet,” he says, tone light and playful as much as his gravely timbre can make it.

You try to keep your eyes on him as much as possible, making sure he’s never fully out of your sightline as you get on the bed, squirming but managing to maneuver the position he wants while your wrists are bound.  He knows that you don’t trust him, and if anything that seems to elevate his excitement.  

Good girl, he seems to be thinking.  He looks you over, turning and sauntering so he can take a moment to gaze first at your naked profile, then at your backside.

You have to keep reminding yourself that he won’t do anything that will risk you being able to give him children as he turns away and pads over to his armoire.  For a moment you’re not sure if he’s trying to decide what he’d like to use, or if he’s purposefully biding his time to make you more nervous.  His fingertips seem to dance over the whips, then the chains.  He briefly touches the handle to one of his knives.

Not the scalpel.  Please not the scalpel.

You see it–corded leather.  A black whip with multiple knotted tails.  He takes it down from his display but leaves the armoire doors open–undoubtedly to keep reminding you of what else he could be and very likely will be doing to you in the future.

You think about the Bene Gesserit Litany and try to repeat it in your head as you consider the tool? the weapon? clutched in his fist.  At first glance the whip looks like the cat-of-nine-tails your brother-in-law seems so fond of.  However, when you shut your eyes, take a breath, and think of the words– fear is the mind-killer –you realize when you open your eyes again that what Feyd-Rautha’s holding is a lot smaller than a proper cat-of-nine-tails and the tails thicker.  You have no doubt that this is going to hurt, but it doesn’t look like it will rip you apart.

“What, what is this?  A punishment for bleeding? ” you finally ask, unable to handle the silence anymore and because that’s the only explanation you can imagine.

And yet Feyd-Rautha looks amused that you’d suggest it.  “It’s because I want to use it on you,” he says, as if any further explanation would be silly.  “Ever since I first saw you, I wondered what that pretty ass of yours would look like after I’d taken this to it.”  He holds up the device for emphasis.  “I wondered what noises you’d make.  I wanted to know what you’d look like with your wrists bound, naked and helpless in my bed.  What you’d look like squirming and bleeding.

“ Yesterday was a punishment,” he adds.  “This is just fun.”

For you, perhaps, you think.  It’s no matter; you’ll just have to prove that you can take whatever he dishes out.  You just have to decide whether it’s better or worse that he’s not doing this out of anger. 

“Are you scared, pet?” he asks.

“ No, ” you lie in the most adamant and dignified tone you can muster, and once again he acts like what you’ve said is cute.  He clicks his tongue.

“You mustn’t lie to me in bed, pet,” he says, approaching the bed again, his free hand skimming over your ribcage, your side, your hip, as he finally stands beside the bed, and ever-so-slowly draws the corded whip up and down the backs of your thighs.  The tassels brush gently against your skin and it feels perverse, the anticipation he’s building within you.  On his second pass you inhale sharply, shutting your eyes, hips twitching away from the device, and Feyd-Rautha chuckles at that.

“Relax,” he says.

Fuck you.  You know I can’t.  Just do it and get it over with , you want to tell him with your sharp exhale, and one second later he draws his hand back and brings the whip down.

You cry out, rocking forward, your entire body clenching up as much from shock as pain.  Nothing could really prepare you for this; his hand from the first night had been easier, more personal.  The individual cords spread out like a fractal tree, like cracks in a block of ice fanning out. 

The second time is less sharp, more of a thud that reverberates through your body, the impact reverberating in your pulse.  Tears prick up at the corners of your eyes and for a moment you can’t breathe.  It would figure that this man has used this device often enough that he knows how to inflict different flavors of pain depending on whether he’s putting the movement in his wrist or his forearm.  You clench your fists, waiting for the next lash, and then the next.

Your nerves are on fire.  You can barely think, barely focus on anything but the exquisite pain on impact, the sharp sting of the air against your impacted flesh, the sweet moments you adjust, finding your breath, before he comes down again.  You don’t scream, not after the first blow, but the tears forming at the corners of your eyes start trickling down your face and then drop directly onto your forearms the covers below you when you bow your head.  

You don’t know how long he keeps going, don’t keep count.  The pain starts to dull but the intensity becomes overwhelming as he compounds on every lash.  Your ears are ringing.  You taste iron at the back of your throat.  The worst part is that you find, to your horror, your nipples feel stiff.  You start to feel wet.

It has to be a fear response.  This isn’t enjoyable .  It’s intense, it’s painful, and you can’t help but feel shame lance through you that your body would react this way.

Please.  I can’t take any more , you want to tell him, but opt instead to whimper through your clenched teeth.

At that moment the whip comes down and it sends you toppling forward, finally collapsing.  The covers are soft against your tear-stained cheek.  You shut your eyes, panting, waiting for him to haul you back up and continue the process.

But nothing happens.  You don’t try to look behind you and hope that he’s done.  You just take a rattling breath and listen for the sound of the whip and its tendrils slicing through air, and it doesn’t come.  

“You lasted longer than I thought you would,” Feyd-Rautha says, the first time he’s spoken in minutes, and you open your eyes and  turn your head to see him twist the coils of his whip and head over to the armoire.

“Come on,” he says over his shoulder.  “Back into position, pet.”  

You grit your teeth and force yourself back up on your hands and elbows.  “Good,” he adds softly, and it’s embarrassing how one single word of praise makes you flush, sends a pleasant tingle down your spine.  This shouldn’t have the effect on you that it does–maybe it’s because now that it’s over, you feel lighter, almost dazed.  All of your muscles had tightened into coils, but now you feel pliant to the point that your limbs feel rubbery.  You’re exhausted.  You’re hurt.  You don’t know what else he has on the agenda for you tonight but you just hope it doesn’t involve another one of his whips or ropes.

He sets the device back in the armoire and turns to face you.  He looks at your flushed, tear-stained face and smiles, mouth-closed before approaching the bed, his cock hard in his pants, and even though part of you wants nothing more than to melt into the bed and to get some relief for your stinging backside, you know he’s still going to chase his own pleasure.

‘He’ll want your mouth,’ you remember.  

You won’t wait for him to force it or grind your face into his privates.  If that’s what he wants, you’ll get there first, and so you drop your head and fumble as you reach with bound wrists for the fly of his pants.

You’re focused on what’s directly in your eyeline, so you don’t see his brief look of surprise, but you hear his voice, sounding pleased.  “Let me help you with that, pet,” he says, pulling away long enough to pull his pants down, stepping out of them.

It’s even more daunting when it’s this close to your face, but he steps back in, cradling your jaw, and you lean in and lick the tip of him.

For a few seconds that’s all you know to do, to lick around him, feeling the ridges and veins under your tongue.  It’s all the verification he could possibly need that you’ve never done this before, and that spurs him on, cradling your head in one large hand as the other guides himself past your lips and into your mouth.

It confirms what you suspected; he’s too big to take all the way and thankfully, doesn’t try to make you.  

Not yet, a part of you thinks.  You try to breathe, try not to get your teeth on him, try to relax and close your eyes as he controls the pace.  It’s easy enough at first; far from the rutting of the past couple of nights.  It doesn’t occur to you that, by his standards anyway, he’s being gentle with you.  Doesn’t occur to you to wonder why.  You just try to keep up as your backside and the backs of your thighs sting like hell and you hope Idrisa will have some sort of lotion for it when you get back to your quarters.

Feyd-Rautha appears to have yet another reason to like your hair, it seems, as he threads his fingers through it, guiding you onto him in slowly greater increments until he’s suddenly over halfway in and you freeze, nearly gagging, forgetting how to breathe.

He holds you in place for a moment, just long enough for your eyes to widen as you glance up at him and his heavy-lidded eyes and chest heaving with arousal.  He waits until you’re about to struggle and tear away from him before he relinquishes your hair and steps away, pulling out.  You take a deep breath, gulping the air down.  

“Stay right there,” he says, and settles in behind you, stroking your hindquarters like you’re a horse that he’s trying to calm down.  Will he put a saddle on you next?  You exhale hard through your nose, mouth pursing, waiting for what he’ll do next.  Will he mark up the stinging raw skin he’s already flogged with his hand?

Fine.  Fuck you again.  I can take whatever you’ve got.  I can handle it , you want to tell him out of spite.   You sense him shift, dipping his head, and despite your steeled nerves can’t help but gasp and feel something flutter in your core when you feel his breath against your lower back.

What exactly is he–? is all you have time to think before he dives in.

You jolt and wriggle in shock as he licks over one of your growing welts; you can’t quite tell but wouldn’t be surprised if he broke skin.  However, it’s how his tongue glides over your backside before shifting his weight to your folds that sends waves of shock, revulsion, and excitement as you cry out, stunned.

He’s licking my wounds .

You’re trying to wrap your head around how salacious it is that his lips and tongue alternate between licking the impacted skin on your buttocks and the backs of your thighs and dipping his tongue inside of you.  He has your hips firmly in place, which serves him well given that you’re torn between recoiling away from the heat of his mouth and wanting to press back against it.  You can feel him smirk at the sounds of your shocked moans.

He pulls away long enough to turn you on your back and you wince at the impact before you see him slide down along the bed and continue the onslaught.  You can hardly believe it as he grabs your still-stinging buttocks and buries his face against your bleeding pussy.

This is disgusting , part of you thinks.  Another part of you can hardly understand what’s happening.  In all your years you’ve never met a man who didn’t recoil hearing about monthly courses.  You’ve never heard of anyone wanting to taste a…a bloody gash .

Your wrists are still bound, and you grip onto the pillows above your head as he lifts your thighs to rest over his shoulders and dives back in, tongue pressing inside of you.  

It feels incredible.   You’d prefer it if it didn’t.  More than anything else, you don’t want to be enjoying this, wish the continuous whines and moans he’s drawing out of you were insincere, but he can feel as well as you do that you mean every sound.  You, Lady Y/N of the powerful and dignified house of Y/H, are getting your bloody pussy licked by the ruthless barbarian Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen and Great Mother and every forgotten old god, you’re enjoying every visceral and shocking moment of it.

He knows it, too, the smug bastard.  He probably feels even more powerful like this, on his belly and with his face between your legs, than he did when he was tanning your hide.

He raises one hand from your hip to your breast, giving one of your nipples a cruel pinch, smirking against your slit as you whimper in protest, and continues.  His nose presses and rubs against your bud in the onslaught and you finally admit to yourself that any last vestiges of resistance you might have had has caved when you squirm, rocking your hips upwards and desperately wishing that your wrists were free so you could press his face closer into you.

He keeps up his pace, bringing you as close to the edge as possible without reaching it until finally, mercifully, he shifts his mouth to your bud, his fingers replacing his tongue inside of you.  Your unrestrained cries fill the room, spurring him on, and then the force of it hits you as he brings you over the precipice for the first time.  It feels like it comes in shockwaves, especially as he keeps going through it all.

You’re still pulsing and squirming against his tongue when he stops, raising himself up and leaning over you.  Inky, sticky blood coats the lower part of his face, from his chin to his nostrils, and you’re a little surprised at how the sight doesn’t alarm you as much as it probably should, especially since that’s your blood covering his face.

There are far worse ways he could be smeared with your blood .  You gasp, still, at the striking color against the pallor of his face, reminded of seeing him in the arena. 

He presses damp, open-mouthed kisses against your stomach, your ribcage, your breasts and collarbone, as if to mark you with it.  Finally he sits up, bringing your legs over his as he guides himself into you with his bloodied fingers.

He stays upright as he pulls you onto him, and you watch his face as he looks down where you’re joined, his groan like a rumble in his chest as he sees himself pumping in and out of your bleeding pussy.  He won’t last long, you realize.  He’s been holding himself back from fucking you into the mattress since he visited you in your chambers hours ago. 

He curves in then, bracing one hand above your head to grip your still-bound wrists as his other hand grabs your hip to keep you stable.  You realize what he’s about to do a split second before it can happen.

He’s going to kiss you with that bloody mouth .

You tamp down on the revulsion of it and the coppery smell, again refusing to let him shock you or give you anything you can’t take and move in first, leaning up and capturing his mouth in a kiss.  

He groans into it, hips pumping, tongue invading your mouth as he speeds up, going hard, hips snapping into you.  He’s relentless; this would be agonizing if he hadn’t worked you open and pliant with his lips and tongue and even still, it veers on the edge of being overwhelming.  Your whimpers and cries only encourage him.

And then he finally comes, burying his face in the crux of your neck and biting down, not hard enough to draw blood but enough that it will leave a bruise later.

For a moment the two of you stay that way, then he releases your wrists and sinks down onto you, dropping his forehead onto your shoulder as he pulls out and takes a moment to catch his breath.  After a moment he raises himself back up on his forearms, pauses, and takes in the sight of your face and your lips stained red before reaching for your wrists again and untying the rope; once freed you notice that your skin’s been chafed rosy but still fully intact.  

He gets up, and you watch the lines of his legs, the slope and curve of his buttocks, the taper from his shoulders to his waist as he gets up and sets the rope back in the armoire before finally closing it shut.

Guess he’s done for the night .

But is he going to send me back right away? you wonder, turning to your side to watch the way he moves.  It takes some effort.  You feel as depleted as a rung-out damp rag.

He approaches the bed and wordlessly holds out his hand, and once you take it guides you to your feet and leads you into this bathroom.

Like his bedroom, it’s larger than yours.

He doesn’t let you wash your blood off your body; he wants it to remain on you until it dries and peels off on its own.  Instead he wipes his face, rinses and cleans out his mouth, and gives you a cup of water to do the same.  He wipes off in between his legs and then yours, quiet and strangely peaceful.  He takes another cloth and wets it, and then grabs a small bottle out of a drawer.  “Turn around, hands on the counter,” he says.

Fairly certain you know what he’s about to do, you acquiesce.  “Did you draw blood?” you ask over your shoulder.

He shakes his head.  “Not this time,” he says.  “Wasn’t trying to.”  And then he surprises you by getting down on one knee.

You give a small gasp.  It just seems…lewd?  Subservient?  And tired and sore as you are, you can’t help the twinge you feel in between your legs as he gingerly presses the cloth against your reddened skin.  You grip the countertop tighter as he opens the bottle of what you can only assume is ointment because after a moment his fingertips are smeared in a cool balm that offers such sweet relief you drop your head, trying to hold yourself together when your legs feel like they’re about to give out and you can feel Feyd-Rautha’s breath so close to the sensitive skin of your backside.

He seems to be applying the ointment to the worst of the welts, starting in silence and then adding, “You’re sensitive, but you have a decent pain tolerance.  I like that.”

You huff a laugh.  I bet you say that to all the girls, you almost tell him, and immediately think that that’s probably not true.  If it weren’t for the fact that he’s tending to your wounds you’d assume that he’d never do anything like this.  Something tells you that this small act of kindness isn’t to be taken lightly or for granted.

Once he seems satisfied with his work he gets back up, sneaking a glance of your face in the mirror.

Is he thinking about how much you’ve already changed since you’ve met? Since you’ve married?  When you see your reflection you don’t see the same person you did a week ago.  Of course he didn’t know you a week ago.  He barely knows you now.  Still, when your eyes meet in the mirror, he looks at you with something almost close to affection before he leaves the bathroom.

“Stay the night,” he says when you walk over to your abandoned clothes so you can gather them up, get dressed, and return to your chambers.

You look over at him.

“I’ll want to sample you again first thing in the morning,” he explains, “so it’s more convenient if you remain here.”

You huff, torn between incredulity and amusement.  “Taking advantage of the situation while we still can, are we?” you ask.

“I doubt it’ll come again for another ten months,” he says, and then strides, still naked, for the door.  He opens it, and a few words of battle-language later he shuts again.  He sees your confused expression and explains, “Your slave was still waiting for you.  I told her to go.”  He tilts his head in the direction of his bed, and after a moment you follow.  It appears that he doesn’t even want you to pull your undergarment back on.

As soon as you’re under the covers with him he tugs down your end of it to get one last look at your marked chest.  And after he’s looked his fill, he reaches for a switch that turns off the lights and even as the two of you can’t quite see each other, you still find yourselves on your sides facing one another.

“I wake up earlier than you’re probably used to and I’m a light sleeper.  Your slave assured me that you don’t snore,” he says.

“Not that I’m aware of,” you tell him.

“Once you stop bleeding I’m going to start having you train in my Halls,” he adds.  “I was serious earlier.”

“But for the next few days I’m chained to this bed.”

“That could be arranged,” he says.  “In any case you weren’t complaining when I was licking your cunt earlier.”

He won’t see your flush, but he must know that it’s there.  “So… is it safe to assume that none of this is…” you try to find the right words, “typical?  For a man, I mean.” And in quite possibly the biggest understatement you’ve ever made, “You’re not a normal man.”

You’ve adjusted enough to the dark to see his smirk.  “I think you've known that since before we met, Y/N,” he says.  And after a moment he lays his head, settling in and getting comfortable.  He doesn’t say another word to you that night, just closes his eyes and within a couple of minutes his breath slows.

It’s hard to imagine being able to let your guard down enough with this man to sleep beside him, even if he falls asleep first.  Like sleeping beside a wild animal.  

Sleep does come to you, though, after long minutes watching him sleep, waiting for him to wake up and scare you, lunge for you, and it doesn’t happen.

You turn to your other side, facing away from him then, and the only signal you get that he’s not entirely asleep is that as you start to drift off yourself, he reaches one arm to pull you in closer to him.

Tag list: @wo-ming-bai @blazeflays @richardslady121

Let me know if you'd also like to be tagged!

#feyd x reader #feyd rautha #feyd rautha harkonnen #feyd-rautha harkonnen #feyd rautha x reader #feyd rautha smut #dune part 2 #dune part two #feyd x you #dune fanfiction

[angel-kyo]

Pay it no mind

Part XVIII

In which reader confesses their feelings to Gojo, but it seems these are not returned (maybe?).

Warnings: reader is on the receiving end of rejection (kinda), and the fact that I'm obsessed with unrequited love is a warning itself, and... idk, I didn't mean to put anything warning worthy here, but if you think of something I guess let me know. <3

Previous: Part I, Part II, Part III, Part IV, Part V, Part VI, Part VII, Part VIII, Part IX, Part X, Part XI, Part XII, Part XIII, Part IV, Part XV, Part XVI, Part XVII

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The days that followed after Satoru told you he liked you, it seemed that everything had gone back to normal and you two were slowly falling back into your usual routine: meeting up early in the mornings, bantering in between classes and missions, and eating lunch with Shoko when all of you were at the school. It was comforting to have things return to how they used to be, or that was what you thought.

“What’s up with him?” Shoko asked across from you.

Satoru had business to attend so he had just left you and Shoko at the table in the cafeteria.

“What do you mean?” you looked in the direction he had gone but could no longer see him.

From your perspective, Satoru had not changed much since that day he walked through the school holding your hand; he had not pressed the subject of whether you liked him back still any further either, and since he appeared to be okay in this grey zone where you two were sitting, you had not brought it up either. However, Shoko, as perceptive as ever, had noticed how Gojo, who always seemed to like your personal space, was moving into it almost permanently these days; how he was not even bothering to be discreet with the way he looked at you or remained by your side when you were in the same room, and how, if he was not careful, it would be evident to everyone pretty soon.

At first, Shoko had believed it was all in her head; since that day, years ago, when she first considered that Gojo could have some kind of crush on you, the notion had prevailed. In fact, she had thought she was looking into her friends’ relationship too much, maybe because none of them seem to pay any mind to how they were perceived, so it was not entirely impossible her eyes were just making her believe what she had accepted as true for so long was finally materializing.

Gojo’s laid-back attitude had been one of the reasons why Shoko doubted he cared seriously about whatever feelings he could have for you. Other than that rocky season in high school and a few other occurrences through the years that followed, Satoru had never taken any steps towards an actual relationship with you. Hence, Shoko thought it's a harmless crush.

But as of lately, he looked more... intent. Or maybe...

He’s losing his grip.

“You’ve never found him annoying, have you?” Your friend looked at her almost empty plate and it somehow reminded you of a similar talk you had had months ago.

“A bunch of times, but I guess I don’t find him too annoying,” you answered.

“Isn’t that all love is about?” Ieiri’s eyes connected with yours.

Her comment caught you off guard, and she might have noticed the way your smile froze because her gaze did not leave yours.

You did the only thing that could think of: laugh it off. “Yeah, I guess, if love is annoying, that is.”

Are you finally annoyed by it, Gojo?

“You tell me.” Shoko smiled and put the last bite of her food in her mouth.

***

“Why won’t she just admit she likes him?” Satoru asked while looking at the movie playing in front of him.

Maybe it was a rhetorical question, but you did not look at him before replying “Because there would have been no movie if they were that direct.”

It was a Friday night and Satoru had made an impromptu proposal to you to have a movie marathon at his place. You had accepted but now, into your first movie of the night, you were having trouble to stay focused on the story, which was supposed to be some sort of romantic comedy, not half as bad as many, but the romantic scenes were making you self-conscious.

You watched the scene where the protagonists had gone from arguing to making out and you felt the need to look somewhere else.

From the corner of your eye, Satoru seemed unimpressed.

He’s unfazed, of course he is.

Actually, Satoru was only calm on the surface. Unbeknownst to you, he had also perceived the change in the air between the two of you when the more intimate scenes started playing. He thought he should have chosen a different film, but suggesting changing it now would only make the unsaid more obvious, so he was sticking it up with the most unexpressive face he could manage as the actors on the screen seemed to melt into each other.

Satoru had not meant anything suggestive by choosing that movie; he had just played the first thing he found as he always did when you had not planned in advance, and under normal circumstances, that would have been fine. You had watched all kinds of films together, including romantic ones, the good and the bad ones, but now…

Satoru was already looking at you when you were about to steal another glance in his direction.

His gaze revealed a question he dared not ask, or rather, a question he had promised himself he would not ask until you were ready.

He was trying to be a good friend, even if he wanted to be more than that. It had took him a while to figure out his feelings, so he had resolved to give you as much time as you needed. Yes, Satoru was convinced he could wait patiently, but…

Is he leaning forward?

At times… His resolve weakened.

“[name]…”

The look he was giving you was that of a kid who wanted to ask for something but did not know how. In his clear eyes, there was need but also fear of being denied.

What is your answer? his eyes were asking.

The winter had also frozen time in your friendship, in this safe spot in Satoru’s place, where you could still be friends and pretend nothing needed to change as it never changed in the years before, not in his apartment nor in your friendship. But time must go on, does it not?

“Satoru...”

His phone rang.

Both of you looked at the phone that was screen-down on the coffee table in front of you, and it seemed to take Satoru a couple of seconds to decide if he wanted to pick it up, but he finally did.

“I’ll be right back.” You got up and went to the kitchen.

Giving him some privacy to take the call was an excuse; part of you just wanted to escape of it all, ask Satoru to take it back, let everything remain as it was, stay in the known, but the other part, the part that had been falling for him all this time wanted to see it through.

Are you in love with him?

For a second, you were back in your living room with Haruki, his question and your answer resonating in your head as you watched the cup of tea travel steady from the table to his lips.

“Some people think knowledge that doesn’t change behavior is worthless,” his eyes did not meet yours, and you did not reply immediately.

“If you knew he liked you, would you act on it?” He had almost finished his cup.

"I don't know," you replied.

Months ago, you had been convinced you wanted to act on your feelings, but now, the idea of change was scary, the idea of trying to later find out it was not what you wanted, was scarier; the idea that you and Satoru would never recover if that happened, was terrifying.

“To change something, you first need to accept the possibility of change, and of course you need to know that those possibilities exist. I guess in that way, that knowledge is not worthless, even if nothing actually comes out of it. We should accept the possibilities.”

His feelings were sudden but if there is a possibility...

“Okay, I can accept that,” you said lowly to yourself.

“You can accept what?” Satoru was looking at you and taking the sodas you had just mindlessly pulled from the fridge from your hands.

The room felt a few degrees warmer with his proximity.

“Nothing, I was just...” Your gaze drifted to the door leading to a small terrace where Satoru had installed a couple chairs to sit on when the weather was nice. He almost never did it though, and you could use some fresh air. “Do you want to go outside?”

A smile played on Satoru’s lips. “Isn’t it cold?”

“Just for a bit.”

That was how you and him needed up outside looking at the city lights. You looked up but it was impossible to see the stars. Satoru mirrored your gesture and then directed his gaze back to the city.

“Do you ever regret it?” he asked.

“Regret what?”

He shrugged. “Staying here, doing what we do, not going somewhere quieter or… somewhere where you could see the stars.” He looked up again and you kept your gaze on him.

Why was he asking that now you did not know, but you answered him honestly.

“I do not regret it.” It was true. Even when you did have the opportunity to do something else or be somewhere else, you chose not to leave. “This is pretty too.”

The lights of a city that never seem to sleep were probably not as fascinating and mystical as the stars that burned millions of light years away, but they had some beauty of their own.

“I guess so,” Satoru agreed, and he wrapped an arm around you, and after some silence he spoke again.

“Aren't you cold?”

You nodded your head. “But can we stay here a little longer?”

And maybe what you really wanted to ask was can we stay like this a little longer?

In any case, Satoru would have given you the same response as he held you tighter.

“Of course.”

----------------------

Note: I'll try to proofread... Oh, and sorry about basically disappearing. Thank you a bunch for the kind messages during my silence. <3

Thank you for reading!

@mavs-stuff @witchbybirth @crookedlyaddictedone-blog @tqd4455 @maybe-a-bi-witch @mo0nforme @maliakealoha @zacatecanaaaa @blushhpeachh @astriarose @missesgojosatoru @ba-ks @sukunasleftkneecap @songbirdlully @cole-silas @heijihattorisgf @chokesonspit @hersheyzzz @smolbeanzzz @luciledreamz @avidreadee123 @moonmalice @ratscandaler @sadmonke @allie-jay @username23345 @spin-garden @ashehateaccount @kayzens @blehtotheblehtothebleh @stellasloth @bloopsstuff @cheesemachine44 @tetsuski

#gojo satoru #jjk #gojo x you #jjk fanfic #gojo x y/n #jujutsu kaisen #jjk gojo #gojo fanfic #gojo x reader #gojo fluff #gojou satoru x reader #satoru x reader #pay it no mind

[bluishfrog]

HAPPY 1-YEAR OF DRAWING ANNIVERSARY TO ME!

(Warning: slightly longer post incoming cause sometimes I gotta be a sentimental bitch ok? So let's go on a little trip down memory lane.)

This day, a year ago, I made my very first fanart. It was dnf (if that surprises you, then welcome to being on my blog for the very first time). I drew a little frog face too so I could use it as a watermark (fun fact: I still use that very same first one).

I immediately put my drawing up on twt because I told myself that I wasn't gonna be afraid of having people see that I was at the very beginning of this journey and had no clue what I was doing. That instead of being bad at art, I was gonna be awesome at being a beginner who doesn't know shit.

I started with little doodles and silly comics and then I laughed way too long when the first drawing of mine that gained some attention was a dnf butt joke. At the time I was trying to balance shipping and non-shipping art so I didn't even draw dnf that much but in hindsight it's probably the only possible way this could have gone.

At the very end of August I woke up to @honelle56 caps-locking at me in my messages - I was very confused and tired (I am no morning person and I will never be, fuck off with your mornings) because Dranart liked my drawing of singing Dream. Dranart was my 17th follower on twt which is a useless yet extremely funny fact about my time on that hellsite.

I also drew human!patches because a) patches was and will always be my favorite dteam member and b) it was a really cute trend and while I do love drawing dream, george and sapnap, I was also quite happy to try drawing anything but a white man for once. And I really liked how the drawing turned out.

Much, much later, I tried to draw my first slightly more realistic looking drawing. I was extremely confused on how to draw anything like this. Especially their hair gave me tons of trouble but given my experience, I think it's not a bad attempt.

When hijacked smp started I obviously wanted to participate, and I drew c!blu who doesn't associate with any side in particular but instead serves soup to everyone who visits her tavern 'The Soup House'. She also wants to be paid in stories from all around the map.

One of the events I was most excited about was dnf week. I even collaborated with two talented writers and I drew the corresponding art for two fics.

(Fun or not so fun fact: when twt had like three hundred collaborative aneurysms about the situation at that moment, that was when I created this tumblr account. I didn't use it super actively (I guess I needed another situation to fully make the switch) but I at least started the account that now developed quite a bit since then.)

I didn't really draw at all through January and February and I actually kinda thought I would move on from that hobby and fandom (not because of negative feelings, just because I didn't really have the urge to create anything within this fandom) and then situations happened and now I am here; and for some reason that is beyond any logic and my understanding I am now even more insane about dteam.

Wild to me but we are rolling with it now, I guess.

Since I got here, I drew more than ever (I actually think I might have made more drawings in the month since I got here than I made the whole rest of the year). There's just such an active and funny community here that cares about fan works for the sake of creating and not just because a CC might see it.

Unfortunately, Tumblr won't let me add more than 10 images in one post (maybe fortunately for everyone who has this monstrosity of a post on their dash). So if you want to see all the progress I made since I got here, you can look at everything in my art tag. For now, I will close this post with one of the art works from the past month that I like the most:

Can't wait to see what the next year might bring :)

Love, blu

#blu rambles #like a LOT #but if you made it to the end of this post you get a hug <3 #bluishfrog art

[memphisflash]

𝑇𝑟𝑜𝑝𝑖𝑐𝑎𝑙 𝑇𝑒𝑚𝑝𝑡𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛𝑠

Pairing: Elvis Presley x reader

Word count: 8,9K

Summary: Visiting your sister and her boyfriend in Hawaii, you find yourself falling harder and deeper for your brother-in-law. And it seems like Elvis can't resist you either...

Warnings: club singer!elvis, mentions of/infidelity, arguing, lil bit of angst, strong language, alcohol consumption, reader pining over Elvis, reader being in love with her sister's boyfriend, mention of reader being slim, smut; unprotected sex, penetration, oral (f. receiving), size kink-ish.

A/N: This used to be a piece of writing called "Little Sister" I wrote a long time ago on my old account, but I changed a few things (mostly in the smutty part) and wanted to share it again. Was inspired by a very nsfw gif I saw (seriously, don't look at the gif that's linked if there's people around you) and I couldn't stop thinking about it, so here we are. ;) There's more to it than the summary entails, and beware of the shitty written ending because y'all know I hate writing endings.

Masterlist

Your heart was racing as you were dragging your suitcase along through the airport of Honolulu.

Finally your parents had allowed you to visit your older sister who lived and worked in Hawaii during your four weeks of summer holidays and you were beyond excited.

Excited to leave the stress of deadlines and annoying frat boys behind and settle in a new environment for a few weeks.

The fact that you would be seeing Elvis Presley, your brother in law, again certainly had nothing to do with the excitement you felt tingling in your stomach. At least, that’s what you told yourself and the longer you’d deny your feelings toward him, the more you’d start to believe your own lies.

That was until you were face to face with him again─it was much easier to hide your feelings toward him from a different state.

And the fact that you and him kissed a year ago didn’t really help your nerves to see him again either.

It happened while you were both drunk and neither of you had spoken a word about it, but it did happen and after the hangover from hell you fought off that next morning, it was all you could think about.

Luckily for you, your sister and her boyfriend moved to Hawaii not even a week later and maybe if they wouldn’t have, you would’ve never kissed him. It’s not like you thought you’d never see him again, but you just figured that your sister was too busy with her new job as a tour guide and wouldn’t invite you and your parents over until Christmas time. Seemed like Tracy missed you more than you expected, as she had basically begged you to come live with her for those few weeks of your summer break─she even managed to convince your parents to come alone.

Despite you being 20, they were still overprotective over you. Your sister was only three years older, but she had always been a bit more of a rebel, not caring that your parents weren’t too happy with her moving all the way to Hawaii with a man she had only been dating for a few weeks at that time. Apparently things between Elvis and her were still well, seeing they had passed their one year anniversary a few weeks ago.

“Welcome to Hawaii, little one,” Elvis greeted you with a wide smile on his face as you stepped out of the airport, trying to ignore the heat surrounding you as if you just stepped into a sauna.

Your heart did about ten somersaults against your ribcage and you were pretty sure your cheeks were flushed. If Elvis noticed your state of slight shock, he didn’t comment on it and instead, placed a colorful lei around your neck before he took your suitcase from you.

“Where’s Tracy? I thought she was picking me up,” you questioned curiously as you watched him open the trunk of his car to put your luggage in it. Your sister failed to tell you that her boyfriend was picking you up and to any normal person, that would’ve been fine, but you just had to fall for a guy that was already taken.

By your own sister, for crying out loud.

You had no idea how long the drive from the airport to your sisters’ apartment would be, but you were pretty sure you wouldn’t survive even five minutes alone in a car with him.

The raven haired man shut the trunk and leaned his hands on it, feigning a shocked facial expression. “I thought you liked spending time with your brother,” he grinned, making sure you knew he was playing with you but it still made heat crawl up your neck and face.

You hated when he called himself your brother─the fantasies about him that plagued your mind at night certainly weren’t meant for a brother.

“She had to run some errands to get everything ready for you,” he then said, smiling at you as he opened the door of the passengers’ seat, looking at you. You inhaled some air, though it did nothing to loosen up the tightness you felt in your chest.

If the heat of the island wasn’t going to take you out, those stupid blue eyes of his definitely were.

“Alright,” you mumbled softly, flashing him a quick smile as you got in the car, making sure not to let the smell of his cologne make your mind go places it definitely shouldn’t be going.

“How is your work going? Do you like Hawaii?” you asked as he drove away from the airport and onto the high way.

You were nervous, but you were trying your best not to let it show and make him suspicious. You didn’t want him to think you accepted Tracy’s offer to come just for him, because even though that was one of the (main) reasons, you’d rather throw yourself out of the car than to have him know that.

He looked at you for a second with a little grin on his face before he turned back to the road, his arm casually leaning on the open window frame, fingertips tapping on the wheel.

“Hawaii is amazing, can’t even imagine myself going back anymore,” he laughed softly, which made you smile softly as you looked at the view ahead of you.

You’d missed the sound of his laugh.

You could understand why he didn’t wanted to go back. You had only seen the airport and some of the scenery from the high way, but it already felt like a place that was soothing for the soul. Beautiful weather, beautiful people and gorgeous nature all around─you couldn’t wait to see more of it.

“I’m sure you will love it just as much as we do,” he says and while you just smiled and nodded, but on the inside you were screaming.

We.

Elvis and Tracy─God, you could just bust your head through the window right there and then when the word rolled off of his tongue so casually.

So naturally.

You wanted to be part of that ‘we’, of that ‘us’.

Y/N and Elvis.

Elvis and Y/N.

You wanted it so bad.

“And work… is work,” he then adds, snapping you out of your thoughts, which honestly you were grateful for. You had to get rid off those feelings you carried toward him, but he was making it so damn hard.

Why did he have to look so good with that sunkissed skin, blue eyes and dark hair?

Before you were going to start to curse God for creating Elvis Presley, you snapped yourself out of it.

“You’re a singer in one of Honolulu’s most famous clubs, there’s gotta be more to it!” you laughed, slapping his arm playfully.

As he looked at you with a grin on his face and a hint of playfulness in his eyes, you immediately regretted what you had done.

He grabbed onto your knee and squeezed it, all-in good humor, but you felt as if electricity was shooting down your spine.

“Someone did her homework,” he laughed, lingering his fingertips on your knee for longer than necessary. Bare knee, might you add, seeing you were wearing shorts.

Oh, please Y/N.. control yourself.

“I was playin’. It’s fun, it’s real fun and it pays well. I’m definitely taking you there one of these days,” he smiles as he pulled his hand back nonchalantly, as if he hadn’t just almost made you moan out loud over a small touch.

You looked at his side profile, the thought of him taking you out to a club out of all places, got you making up all kinds of scenario’s in your mind.

You cleared your throat a little, tugging some hair behind your ear as casually as you could.

“Y-Yeah, that sounds fun. If Tracy hasn’t planned out all of my days here,” you said, half joking, half serious.

With her being a tour guide, you were sure she had made an entire itinerary for you. You hoped not─wanting to just go with the flow with and without her, enjoying yourself rather than feeling like you had to follow a schedule.

“She usually doesn’t come to the club because she has early shifts,” he told you, wiggling his eyebrows playfully at you before he looked back at the road and you chuckled softly, turning back to the gorgeous view to keep your thoughts about the gorgeous man next to you from going to very unholy places. “It’d be nice to have a familiar face cheering me on,” he said, shrugging his shoulders a little as he once again squeezed your knee.

He kept his hand there longer than before, making your skin feel like it was set on fire underneath his palm.

Once again, you just nodded and smiled.

 

When you finally stepped inside your sister and Elvis’, unfortunately, shared apartment you felt like you could breathe like a sane person again. Tracy ran out of the kitchen and into the living area Elvis took you in, engulfing you into a tight and warm embrace before you could even get out one word.

“My baby! I can’t believe you’re here!” she exclaimed in excitement and you laughed, hugging her back just as tight.

“You’re only three years older, shut up,” you rolled your eyes playfully as you pulled back from the embrace and she grabbed your face, squishing your cheeks softly.

“Ssssh, you’re still my little baby,” she shushed you, laughing when you swatted her hands away as she took you to the kitchen, handing you a drink. When she showed you the stocked up fridge and guest bedroom she cleaned spotless especially for you, you couldn’t help but feel guilt settle in your stomach.

You mind wandered back to a year ago when you and Elvis kissed at that stupid party, not even ten minutes after Tracy left it, and part of you just wanted to blurt it out and come clean. You had always been close to your sister and you wouldn’t know what to do with yourself if you would become between her and her boyfriend.

A week in Hawaii went by and Tracy nor Elvis had spend any time with you. You had dinner with both of them the day you arrived, but after that you were pretty much on your own─you didn’t mind that much, seeing you loved exploring on your own just as much.

But whenever Tracy and Elvis were home at the same time, you felt some kind of weird tension between them.

You weren’t an absolute idiot and could see when your sister was hiding something from you.

As Sunday evening rolled around, your peaceful sunny vacation was interrupted by a hurricane.

And it went by the name of Elvis.

“Don’t fuckin’ lie to me, Trace! I literally saw you yesterday,” you heard Elvis yell from the living room and you froze in your spot, watching the sunset on the windowsill seat in the guest bedroom.

“You always say you’re working, working, working,” he continued and you quickly tiptoed to the record player that was playing softly on top of the dresser, interrupting Aretha Franklin mid song. You walked over to the door and pressed your ear against it, holding your breath as you shamelessly eavesdropped on your sister and her boyfriend arguing.

“I didn’t know sticking your tongue down the throat of some wall street jerk was on the list of a tour guide’s job descriptions,” he spat at her and you heard her gasp, followed by a scoff and even though you couldn’t see her, you were absolutely sure she was crossing her arms like a child right now.

She kept her mouth shut though, and Elvis continued his little rant.

“I forgave you the first time, because it was only a week after we came to Hawaii. A week, Tracy! But you’re just never gonna change, are ya?”

You could hear his voice cracking at the end, desperation lingering on the back of his tongue and you felt your stomach tightening at his words, feeling bad for him.

Your sister was a free spirit, a soul that wasn’t meant to be bound down by one person─before Elvis, she dated someone new every month, sometimes every weekend, sometimes even multiple people at the same time.

Apparently, things between her and Elvis weren’t going so well as you had thought.

“You just like the attention too much and you’ll do anything to get it, no matter who you fuckin’ hurt in the process,” he sighed deeply and still Tracy didn’t say a word. He seemed to take her silence for an answer because you heard footsteps striding down the hall and their bedroom door slamming shut. A few minutes later, you heard the same door opening again and Elvis’s annoyed voice telling Tracy he was leaving.

As he passed by the guest bedroom, you ran over to the bed and jumped down onto it, grasping one of your magazines from the bedside table to pretend you were reading it.

You’d kinda been expecting the knock but it still made your heart thump wildly in your ears. You tried to sound as casually as you could when you granted Elvis access to the room, hoping he didn’t hear the slight tremble in your voice.

“Hey, little one,” he sighed softly, walking over to the bed as you turned around and slowly sat up. You gave him a weak smile which he returned, sitting down on the edge of your bed.

“Sorry that happened. Are you okay?” you asked in a whisper, feeling a little uneasy about the fact that he was in your room alone while Tracy was in the living room.

He didn’t share the same uneasiness though, dropping the bag he had in his hand next to his feet as he ran his hands down his face.

“I will be,” he mumbled, leaning his elbows on his knees as he kept his face cupped in his hands. “Guess I’ve just been.. blind. Last night wasn’t the first time I’ve caught her kissing some rich stuck up dude and now that I’m thinkin’ about it, I doubt that first week in Hawaii was the first time she did somethin’ like this,” he sighed deeply, shaking his head in his hands a little.

You just sat there for a few seconds, but you couldn’t bare to see him like this.

Mad at your sister and feeling bad for Elvis, you moved to sit next to him and wrapped your arm around his shoulder, ignoring how good he smelled and how his body heat felt so incredibly comforting.

“Why.. did you stay with her when you knew?” you asked carefully, trying not to step on anyone’s toes here.

Rather than getting angry at you for being curious, after all he was the one who came into your room, he just shrugged and groaned deeply, letting himself fall back on your bed after you moved your arm to place a hand on his forearm.

“I don’t know,” he looked up at the ceiling, his hands resting on his chest. “I’m… I was in love,”

You swallowed thickly at his words, looking at the door that was wide open. You could hear Tracy moving around the living room and you quickly shot up from the bed as you heard the sound of her heels clicking down the hall way, giving her your most innocent smile as she appeared in the door opening.

You busied yourself with your record player that you’d placed atop of the dresser.

Rather than looking sad or distraught about the fight she had with her boyfriend, she looked angry.

Angry that she got caught, you thought bitterly to yourself.

She ignored Elvis’ presence and looked at you, smiling softly. “I’ll be staying at a friends’ house tonight, so he doesn’t have to leave. See you tomorrow, chick.”

Blowing you a hand kiss, she turned around and grabbed her purse, leaving the apartment and making sure she slammed the door extra loud for theatrics.

You sighed deeply as you rubbed your temples a little─even though it seemed Tracy brought this upon herself, you didn’t like to see your sister in the state she was in. You were sure the fight between her and Elvis hurt her, at least a little bit, and she wasn’t really helping the situation by going out to spend the night with God knows who. Or maybe you just didn’t know your sister as well as you thought.

You also weren’t happy with the fact that she left you alone with Elvis, even though that little voice in your head was telling you to take your chance now, heart jumping for joy. You wanted to jump his bones more than anything, but the rational part of your brain stopped you, reminding you that that would even be more terrible than what Tracy had been doing behind her boyfriends’ back.

“Maybe you two just need a night apart so you can talk things out. I’m sure everything will be fine tomorrow,” you told him, trying to sound hopeful, as you sat down on the edge of your bed.

You hated saying those words.

You didn’t want things to work out between them. And you were secretly hoping, no.. praying, that Tracy was on her way to one of her boy toys right now to fuck his brains out and forget all about Elvis.

The blue eyed man on your bed let out a small laugh, shaking his head as he put his arms under his head.

“Nah uh, I’m done talkin’. I’m not some random guy she can come home to after she’s done with her little play boys,” he scrunched up his nose at his choice of words, sighing deeply.

You stayed silent for a little bit, crawling up further on the bed so you were sitting next to his head now, looking down at him.

“To be fair,” you started, pulling your legs up to wrap your arms around them. “You kinda cheated on her too,” you blurted out, not knowing where you got the courage from to make out such a bold statement.

It was the truth, though.

He kissed you while he was dating Tracy─the fact that he was drunk while doing so and they hadn’t been together for very long wasn’t an excuse.

His eyes shot open, looking up at you as you looked down at him. A soft smile spread across his face as he noticed your eyes shifting down to his lips and you quickly looked away, which made him sit up immediately.

“I told her about that night,” he said casually and you widened your eyes, your jaw almost dropping to the damn floor.

“You WHAT?!” you exclaimed in shock and he bit his tongue to try not to laugh at the shocked face expression you were wearing.

“It slipped out, alright? I just made up some lame excuse and told her I thought you were her because I was so damn drunk and she believed it,” he said with a shrug of his shoulders and you gasped softly, getting up from the bed.

Rushing your hands through your hair, you paced back and forth in front of him as he sat down on the edge of the bed.

You shook your head, placing your hands on your hips as you came to a stop in front of him.

“You can say whatever you want, but I don’t regret that kiss, Y/N. She was still messin’ around with other guys at that time and I’m a jealous motherfucker,” he smirked as he leaned his hands on the bed behind him and you tried not to look down at his thighs as he manspread so shamelessly and so confidently.

“So, what? You only kissed me because you wanted revenge on my sister? Make her jealous?” you scoffed, crossing your arms tightly in front of your chest. Elvis couldn’t help but chuckle as he thought about how similar yet different you and Tracy were. “I mean, not that I care, because it didn’t mean anything.” you quickly added, looking away from him.

He raised an eyebrow and sat up a little again, reaching his hands out to place them on your hips, pulling you closer to him.

You had to bite your tongue to hold back a squeak, your body feeling like it was set aflame when you were standing in between his long legs, your knees hitting the bed.

“Now I know that’s not true, little one,” he whispered, looking up at you with that damned smirk, hands slowly moving down the fabric of the sleeping shorts you were wearing. “I think you care more than you like to admit,” he hummed and as you felt his fingertips coming into contact with your bare skin, you found the strength in yourself to swat his hands away and take a step back, inhaling a deep breath of air.

“You’re wrong, Elvis. We kissed because we were drunk and that’s it.”

“No,” he said, his voice dropping a few octaves as he was up and in front of you, looking down at you with a small smirk on his face.

No matter how many steps you took backwards, you couldn’t escape him─your hands flew to the edge of the dresser that met your lower back and dug your nails into the wood nervously, ignoring how your heart beat was thumping in your ears.

“We kissed because there was somethin’ there. I felt it and I know you did too,” he stated boldly and you clenched your jaw so hard you wouldn’t be surprised it would dislocate.

All your senses were on high alert when his eyes were drawn to your lips, leaning in closer to you.

You knew his words were true.

There was something, a pull that always drew you closer to him and him to you.

The day Tracy brought him back to the house for dinner with your parents you were already laughing and joking with him. At first, you thought it was just innocent, as did he. Until feelings started to grow, until that damned kiss.

He knew that he wasn’t any better than Tracy in this moment, but now that he was so close to you that he could smell the scent of your shampoo and feel the warmth radiating off of your body, he couldn’t hold back anymore.

A soft gasp left your mouth as he crashed his lips onto yours and he could feel you freeze for a second, until he slid his tongue across your lower lip. You were quick to grant him the access he wanted and deepened the kiss, your arms flying around his neck. He groaned softly as he wrapped his arms around your waist, hand pressed against your back to push you up against his chest.

Alarm bells were going off in your head, but the butterflies that had errupted aggressively in your stomach made you ignore them. You were getting lost in his kiss, touch, scent and could barely think straight as he moved his knee between your legs, lifting it up to press against you.

Even though you were wearing your panties and shorts, your body immediately responded to him─getting so lost in his kiss, your hips started moving slowly, arousal growing as you grinded yourself on his knee. His hands moved to your hips, holding you down onto him firmly as he helped your movements along, groaning deeply in your mouth. You gasped softly and pulled from the kiss, eyes slowly fluttering open.

As he looked at you with a soft grin tugging at his lips, blue eyes twinkling with a mixture of arousal and mischievous, you suddenly realised what you were doing, and with who, and quickly placed your hands against his shoulders, pushing him off of you.

“I can’t… W-we can’t do this, Elvis,” you breathed out in shock, rushing a hand through your hair as you pushed yourself to stand straight, not giving him a chance to speak as you ran out of the room.

You slipped into your shoes by the door, grasping your denim jacket before you left the apartment in a hurry─you had absolutely no idea where you were going, but you needed some time alone.

Time away from Elvis and his abilities to only make you fall for him harder than you should’ve in the first place.

 

Another week had passed and you hadn’t seen Elvis since that night.

He was gone by the time you came back to the apartment and every time he’d come by to pick up his things, you’d hide out on the balcony with some of Tracy’s friends that seemed to be coming over to hang out more and more, or you were out and about, exploring Honolulu.

You still had not told Tracy about what happened and you also hadn’t talked to her about the fact that she did know about you and Elvis kissing back at home. She also did not mention it and you couldn’t help but feel awkward whenever you were alone with her.

You felt like you were walking on egg shells 24/7.

Your sister either didn’t feel it herself or didn’t comment on it and continued as she always did─she didn’t seem as bothered by the break up as she should, filling up any voids with those ‘wall street jerks’ as Elvis had called them.

Rich, preppy guys that came from New York to Hawaii for business, but were too busy with pleasure instead.

Tracy seemed to have a thing for them, but you hated them. When Tracy arranged a date with one of them for you, you were livid at her but you knew she wouldn’t drop it until you’d say yes, so you eventually accepted just so you wouldn’t have to listen to her going on and on about how much of a great guy this one was.

The wall street guy, going by the name of David, took you to a nightclub named The Clouds. The most current famous one on the whole island, thanks to a certain dark haired blue eyed man you were definitely not ready to face any time soon.

None of your excuses worked on David and he barely listened to you, seeming adamant to get inside of the place. The whole time you were standing in line to get in you were praying to every God that was out there, that Elvis wouldn’t be working tonight.

Maybe it was his night off and he was hanging out with his friends somewhere else, or maybe he had a cold and was sick in bed.

As always, the universe didn’t listen to you and you didn’t even gave yourself a chance to look at the pretty and fancy interior of the place, your eyes glued to the man on the stage, drawing everyone’s attention to him.

His hair was perfectly slicked back, the all black suit he was wearing looking so goddamn gorgeous with that flawless sunkissed skin and bedroom eyes that had every lady in the place hanging on the edge of their seat.

You didn’t even stop your date as he slipped his hand into yours and guided you through a small crowd of dancing people, finding you two a table. While he spotted one and tugged you along, all you could do was stare at Elvis and let your knees grow weaker by the second. Tracy was nowhere on your mind and David sure as hell wasn’t either─until the blonde man snapped you out of it by pulling your chair out and releasing your hand. You looked at him with a confused look on your face, reality slowly creeping its way back in.

“He’s pretty good, isn’t he?” He yelled over the music as you both were seated, pointing a casual thumb Elvis’ way on the stage.

You flashed him a quick smile and nodded, thanking the Heavens when a waitress swung by your table to take your order.

You ordered the strongest cocktail on the menu and tried to engage in conversation with the man in front of you, but the fact that the man you actually loved was catching the attention of all those beautiful girls on the dance floor and David only talked about numbers and money didn’t help to make this evening at least somewhat eventful at all.

You were bored out of your mind, so you decided to seek comfort in your trusty new friend for the evening─your fourth martini.

The slight buzz helped you to forget David’s stories as soon as he finished telling them and even though the man could see you weren’t having a good time, he wasn’t going to give up.

His big ego wouldn’t allow himself to have a failed date.

He grabbed your hand from across the table and you looked at him, squinting your eyes as he rubbed the back of your hand sweetly. He was talking to you─you could see his mouth moving, but your tipsy mind couldn’t make out the words he was actually saying. You bursted out in laughter, thinking it was the most hilarious thing ever and when the waitress came by again, you immediately ordered another round, not caring about David’s protest.

Elvis’ performance was done and when you noticed him hopping off of the stage and making his way to the bar, you looked at David and grabbed your clutch from the table, pointing a finger at him – not even knowing the reason for doing so. He reached his hands out to you when you swayed on your feet, ready to catch you.

It looked as if you were going to say something, but then seemed to forget about it and just laughed before you stumbled away from the seat, giggling at your own antics.

“I’ll have my drink at the bar, pretty lady!” you told the waitress who was still standing by your table and she just laughed as you hooked your arm through hers, letting her guide you to the bar, leaving a flabbergasted David behind.

The waitress left you behind at the bar for one of the bartenders to deal with you and you smiled sweetly at the man as he placed the martini you wanted in front of you. You rumbled through your clutch for a little bit, though before you could pay for your drink, you heard the bartender thanking the person who took his place next to you.

You frowned sassily as you looked up and at the person, letting out a scoff, even adding an eye roll for show. “I can pay for my own drinks, thank you very much,” you told the delicious piece of a human being that just paid for your drink.

Elvis chuckled softly, taking a sip of his own drink as he leaned against the bar with his body turned into your direction.

“Doesn’t look like it,” he said teasingly, watching you messily shove your dollar bills back into your clutch. You blew a strand of hair out of your face and stole a cigarette out one of the small wooden boxes that stood on the bar for the people to take, lighting it with a match.

“Don’t you have to do your little dance up there to make aaall the girls swoon over you?” you mocked, throwing a sarcastic smile his way before you took a drag from the cigarette, leaving a lipstick print behind on the bud.

You were still extremely in love with him, but the amount of alcohol in your system made you mouthy─vodka had never been your best friend.

“If I saw right, you were enjoying it too, little one,” he hummed in your ear when he took a step closer to you, slipping his arm around your waist. You had to do your best not to leap into a coughing fit, quickly blowing out the smoke from between your lips. “What are you doin’ here with that greasy piggy bank?”

You ignored the way his fingertips were caressing your side through your dress and how deliciously his thumb was pressing at the side of your boob.

You looked at him, letting out a small scoff as you raised an eyebrow. “Jealous, are we?”

“I told ya I was,” he smirked, raising both his eyebrows once tauntingly and you looked over at David, whose eyes were glued on you and Elvis.

You quickly turned back to the man next to you and raised your hand, slapping his upper arm harshly.

“You could’ve called me, you know?!” you suddenly exclaimed, annoyance lacing your tongue, as you pushed him off of you. “Or even come to meet me somewhere. Am I so easy to toy with?”

Elvis put his drink down and moved back closer to you, pulling you flush against his chest as he had turned you to face him properly. You gasped softly, your cigarette nearly dropping from between your fingertips.

“You’re the one who keeps runnin’, beautiful,” he said with a small grin on his lips, staring you down. You didn’t look away, thanks to the liquid courage crawling through your veins, and placed your empty hand against his chest though didn’t push him away.

“What’re you gonna do when I kiss you again?” he whispered, though it was loud enough for you to hear him.

Your ears were ringing and your heart was beating so hard you were sure the bartender could hear it from where you were standing.

Your eyes traveled down to his lips and when his tongue swiped across his lower lip, you threw all caution to the wind and kissed him as if no one was watching. He took your cigarette out of your hand and placed it in one of the ash trays, wrapping his arms around you.

You had no idea what would happen if Tracy ever found out, but right now that was the last thing on your mind.

The vodka on your tongue was almost intoxicating to Elvis and he couldn’t stop himself from deepening the kiss, sucking on your lower lip as his hands moved down to your ass, squeezing the flesh through the fabric of your dress shamelessly.

The music playing at the club and the sound of people chatting faded far away to the background as your mind filled with only Elvis, his presence and his taste.

He was just as far gone as you, trapping you in between him and the bar, not giving a damn about how obscene you two were being in public.

A loud cough seemed to snap both of you back to reality and when Elvis pulled away from your lips, you turned your head to your left and squinted your eyes a little at David, the intoxication of Elvis and the martini’s still heavy on your mind.

“Sorry, my guy. She’s just not that into you.” Elvis told the blonde male who was looking at both of you with angry eyes, growing even more annoyed when Elvis shrugged casually at his own statement. You hid your mouth behind your fingertips as you tried to hold back a laugh and David just shook his head a little, throwing some money on the bar to pay for the drinks before he turned around and left the club.

You wouldn’t even care if he’d report back to Tracy. Those were worries for later.

“Let’s get out of here,” you said, not caring how you were slurring your words a little. Elvis moved off of you a little bit to give you more space to move around as you took your drink and took a big gulp from it, handing him the glass with the last sip. He downed it in one go and put the glass back on the bar, slipping his hand into yours.

As the bartender noticed you two leaving, he jogged over to the end of the bar, yelling at Elvis how he still had another set to perform but Elvis just ignored him and pulled you through the crowd, out of the club.

You tried to keep up with him as he was running down the street, tugging you along with him as he laughed happily.

His laugh was contagious and you loved the sound of it more than anything in the world─wanted to hear it every second of the damn day.

 

“Where are we going?” you laughed as he was still running, knowing exactly where to go.

Even if he didn’t, you wouldn’t be worried.

You felt more than comfortable around him and you knew that he’d never let anything bad happen to you.

Your eyes fell down to where your bodies were connected by your intertwined fingers, your heart swelling as he looked over his shoulder with a bright smile on his face. Right here, in this exact moment, you felt the happiest you had ever been in your twenty years of life.

“My place,” he grinned as he stopped running, coming to a halt in front of an apartment complex right across Waikiki beach. “Well, it’s my friends’ place. I’m stayin’ with him for the time being,” he said, giving you a knowing look and you giggled softly, biting your lip as you followed him inside of the building.

He was all over you in the elevator and you were more than happy to allow it, but as the doors opened and he pulled you outside, fumbling with his key at the front door a little bit, you clung onto his arm.

“Is your friend home?”

“Nah, baby, he works as a bartender. Won’t be home until the morning,” he grinned at you, finally managing to get the key in and twist it, opening the door.

The slight nerves you felt melted away again and you pushed him against the nearest wall, throwing the door closed behind you.

You captured his lips in a sloppy kiss as your hands moved to the jacket of the suit he was wearing, opening the buttons with quick fingers before you pushed the fabric off of his shoulders. Pulling back from the kiss, you looked at him as he shrugged the jacket off, admiring how freaking good he looked in the black button up he wore underneath that jacket.

You hooked your fingers behind the fabric of his shirt where he had left the bottons open of it, ripping the shirt open completely. He gasped as he looked at you with wide surprised eyes as his buttons went flying through the entrance of the apartment but you didn’t give him the chance to make a comment on it as you ran your hands down his warm chest, nails scraping softly against his nipples.

He bit his lower lip and wrapped his large hands underneath your thighs─you took the hint and jumped, hooking your legs around his waist as he caught you with ease.

You grabbed his face and kissed him hungrily.

The both of you were too intoxicated with each other to even care about him stumbling into some things before he reached the guest bedroom where he was staying.

Your kiss got interrupted as he threw you on the bed and you looked at him, lifting your torso up a little by leaning your elbows on the bed, biting your lip as he took his ripped shirt off, letting the fabric fall to the floor. He kicked off his shoes before he quickly pulled off your pumps and leaned forward, his hands sliding up your thighs and underneath your dress as you were already kissing him again─open mouthed, sloppy kisses that didn’t take long for you to trail down his jawline and neck.

You could taste his cologne on your tongue and moaned softly against his skin, hands running up through his hair, messing up the wax that he had styled it so perfectly with.

He moaned softly as you sucked on his skin while his fingers hooked underneath your panties, sliding them down and you eagerly allowed him to do so.

If this would’ve happened in your sober state, you would’ve been a lot more shy, but you had been waiting for this moment for so long.

You had been craving him for so long, you just didn’t give a damn anymore.

You spread your legs willingly, exposing yourself to him completely and he slicked back some of his hair with the palm of his hand, hungry eyes admiring your arousal that was glistening in the dim moon light that shone through the room.

The view from the bedroom was gorgeous, but right now he was only interested in the view right in front of his face.

He got on his knees in front of the bed, pulling you closer to him by wrapping his arms around your thighs, keeping your legs spread open. He licked his lips as he shot you a quick wink, sending butterflies throughout your entire body and making your heart leap pathetically in your chest, before he leaned in closer.

The kisses he planted on your inner thighs, moving closer to where you needed him most, felt as if someone was keeping a lit match against your delicate skin.

You didn’t even try for one second to hold back as he placed a soft, tiny kiss right on your clit, letting out a needy whimper. You ran your hands through your hair to get some strands out of your face, not caring at all that you were messing up the updo you had perfected a few hours ago and when Elvis ran his tongue up between your wet folds, flicking at your clit once, you moaned lewdly.

He licked his lips as he lifted his head a little, grinning at you.

‘’Can’t believe I’ve been missin’ out on this for so long- you taste fuckin’ delicious,’’ he whispered teasingly, kissing your thigh once more before he leaned down in between your legs once more.

You were expecting him to tease you until the point of you losing your mind, but he had been waiting just as long for this as you had.

He went in with confidence as he ate you out like a starved man─pretty much making out with your pussy as if he hadn’t had human contact for years.

You were trying to move your hips to his rhythm, arching your back off of the bed but he trapped you by pushing you down with his hand on your lower abdomen, lips wrapping around your clit to suck on it as he looked up at you. He released your left thigh and slipped in two of his digits, making you look down at him and moan desperately as your eyes met his.

He grinned tauntingly as he stuck out his tongue, flicking it against your clit at an unholy speed as his fingers didn’t go easy on you either, pumping inside of you.

One of your hands flew to his hair, tangling your fingers in the raven locks, your other hand squeezing the sheets desperately until your knuckles turned white. Your moans were starting to become soundless, coming out in nothing other than a high pitched gasp or whine. The martini’s you had in the span of an hour or so were making your head spin, along with the orgasm that was fastly approaching.

He could tell you were close with how your walls were clenching around his fingers repeatedly, your hips desperately wanting to move away but he still had you trapped, unable for you to escape the sense of euphoria that was so close.

So close you could taste it, but before it came, he pulled away from you completely.

You gasped as you looked at him with wide eyes, wanting to protest until you saw him stand up and pull down his pants and boxershorts.

“Impatient, little one?” he grinned and you couldn’t help but shamelessly sneak a peek at his cock hitting his lower abdomen when it was freed out of the confinements of his clothing, tip red and sensitive, glistening with precum.

You bit your lip as you looked at him.

“Stop calling me that,” you said, a challenging tone on your tongue and he raised an eyebrow, following you on the bed as you pulled yourself further on it.

“What should I call you then, hmm?” he questioned back just as challenging, grinning teasingly at you as he pulled your dress over your head, throwing it to the other side of the bed. He leaned in closer to kiss your lips softly, creeping one hand behind your back─you arched a little, making it easier for him to unclasp your bra and remove it from your body as he pulled back from your lips.

“Anything but that,” you rolled your eyes, a soft blush creeping on your cheeks despite the confidence you had been feeling tonight.

He slipped his hand in between your bodies, aligning himself at your entrance, a soft gasp leaving your lips.

 “What would you like to be called, Y/N?” he hummed, pushing the tip in, keeping still inside of you.

Even though it was hard for him as well, because all he wanted to do was fill you up and fuck you into the mattress, he liked teasing you.

He liked seeing that cute little pout on your lips and those hazy eyes looking at him pleadingly, while your pussy seemed eager to suck him all the way in. And it was, you were, so desperate that it made you want to jump out of your skin.

You tried to push him in deeper by wrapping your legs around his waist, pushing your ankles against his lower back but he just clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth, raising a teasing eyebrow at you. “Use your words, little baby,”

The pet name he used to call you was cute, but you didn’t wanted him to see you like that anymore. You doubted he ever had though, but you hated it whenever it slipped past his lips now.

You huffed as you moved your hands up his shoulders, fingers playing with the hair on the nape of his neck.

 “Call me baby,” you whispered, trying to thrust your hips forward so you could surprise him, but it’s like he could predict every single one of your movements. He didn’t budge for one second, instead pulling out again, slipping the tip of his cock through your folds, circling against your clit. You moaned softly and looked up into his eyes, silently begging him to just fuck you already. “Call me yours,”

This seemed to send him over the edge and he lowered his cock to your entrance, pushing himself all the way in. You gasped and cursed softly at the, very much so delicious, intrusion. Your hands moved down to his shoulders again, holding onto him firmly as he gave you a few seconds to get used to him before he started thrusting into you, making you moan out in pleasure. He leaned his head down, kissing your neck sweetly.

“You’re mine, baby,” he grunted in your ear, hips picking up their pace more and more. You had your ankles hooked behind his back now, clinging onto him desperately as he was kissing your neck and whispering sweet nothings in your ear.

Maybe they were empty promises, you had no idea, but right now you were on cloud nine.

Finally in the arms of the man you had loved so dearly in silence for so long.

“You’re all mine,” he whispered, pulling his head back to look down at you. He kissed your lips sweetly and you whined a little as it ended way too soon when he pulled back after a minute and sat back, his knees pressed into the mattress.

It only took a second for him to sink back into you.

His thrusts slowed down as he gently grabbed your thighs and spread them, watching the way his cock disappeared inside of you with every thrust forward and took some of your slick with him with every trust back. You were so gorgeous laying there on his bed, little moans that sounded like the sweetest melody leaving your mouth.

The moment felt extremely intimate, especially with how deep he was reaching, softly hitting your g-spot.

“Fuck, that’s hot. Look at that, baby,” he groaned and you followed his line of sight, moaning at the sight of his cock head bulging in your tummy. He pushed forward and kept still for a little bit, cursing softly as you caressed your hands across your lower abdomen and over the bulge.

You hadn’t slept with many guys, but you’d never experienced this before. It was either because you were slim or because Elvis’ cock was a very good size – more likely, it was probably the cause of both those things.

Elvis was mesmerized, keeping his thrusts slow but firm, eager to see your tummy bulging over and over again.

You moaned as you move your hand on top of the bulge and Elvis grinned a little, gently placing his hand atop of yours so you’d keep it there. “Mmm, baby,” he grunted, his eyes staring into yours. “Feel that? You're so tiny I fill up your entire lil’ tummy- goddamnit, honey..”

His words, the sight of his cock rearranging your insides and the feeling of having him so deep – it was all so delicious that you could barely speak.

The love you felt for this man was completely consuming you and you had no intentions to fight off those feelings anymore. To hell with everyone, you needed him and only him.

“S-So deep...” you stuttered out a moan as you removed your hand, the both of you looking at the way he was filling you up completely.

The sight was sinful, yet so intimate at the same time too. Your bodies fit together like a piece of a puzzle that had been missing all your life and perhaps it was because of the alcohol in your system that you were thinking this man’s soul had a connection to yours, but you believed it.

It sure as hell felt like it.

Elvis continued his slow pace for a little bit until he felt your eager hands roam up his arms and over his shoulders, pleading eyes staring up at him, and your pussy clamping down on his cock.

Once more you could sense that feeling of bliss approaching and he quickly picked up the pace, growling deeply. He looked down into your eyes intensely as his eyebrows knitted together in concetration, hips skilfully thrusting as he moaned at the feeling of you clenching around him desperately, keeping him trapped inside of you.

‘’Oh, f-f-uck,’’ he cursed with a grunt, teeth sinking into his lower lip for a second. ‘’I’m g-gonna cum if you keep doin' that,’’ he warned and you just grinned, being drunk on him, letting your own orgasm rip through you.

He moaned as you were sucking him in even harder during your orgasm and he thrusted harder for a few more times, before he quickly pulled out of you and grabbed onto your thighs, spurts of warm cum landing on your stomach. You reached down to wrap your hand around him, squeezing out every last drop.

His eyes were rolling into the back of his head, head thrown back as his hips stuttered pathetically, moans rolling off of his tongue. You gasped softly at the sight, breathing heavily as he fell down on the bed next to you.

The both of you laid silently for a few minutes, staring up at the ceiling to catch your breath.

“Tracy is gonna kill me,” you whispered, placing a hand on your forehead.

You cringed at the thought of Tracy finding out about what happened between you and Elvis─you had no idea if you were even going to tell her, but you kind of felt like you had to.

Besides, they broke up, right?

He was a single man and she seemed to be having her own fun with the men on this island.

She’ll get over it.

Elvis turned his head into your direction and you did the same, meeting his eyes.

“What if you stay here?” he asked softly, moving a little closer to you to plant a soft kiss on your shoulder.

“Yeah, I can stay here tonight,”

“No, not tonight,” he said, and you frowned at him curiously. “I mean, yeah ofcourse you’re stayin’ tonight, but I’m talking about here. Hawaii. With me.”

The thought of you staying behind in Hawaii sounded exciting.

Way more than exciting.

Not even thinking about the fact that your sister would be on the same island, and you had college to go back to, you were sold on the idea as soon as he suggested it.

“I guess I can take a gap year?” you suggested, turning your head back to look up at the white boring ceiling.

Your parents were most definitely going to kill you, or get a heart attack upon hearing the news, but there was nothing else in the whole wide world you wanted more.

Except for maybe the dark haired man that was hovering above you again, smiling brightly as he attacked your face with kisses.

He didn’t even have to convince you further to take this leap of faith─tonight he made you his and you never ever wanted to hand that position to anyone else.

You were more than ready for whatever Hawaii would throw at you, as long as you had Elvis by your side.

taglist: @notstefaniepresley @peaceloveelvis @atleastpleasetelephone @ccab

#elvis x reader #elvis smut #elvis presley #elvis #elvis x you #elvis x y/n #elvis x oc #elvis presley smut #elvis presley x reader #elvis fans #elvis fanfiction #tamwrites

[lostloveletters]

I Left My Heart in San Francisco (John Brady x OC)

Summary: John's heart feels a thousand miles and just as many memories away in Stalag Luft III.

Note: Title comes from the song, of course (you don’t have to listen to it while reading, but I listened to it while writing this). Do not interact if you're under 18, terf or radfem, or post thinspo/ED content.

Word count: 1.7k

Warnings: Fluff and angst, mostly introspective. Somewhat non-linear narrative, I guess.

“I won’t get any good if I don’t practice,” John insisted. 

Woody smiled, her green eyes sparkling. “Alright, but you watch that pipe of yours. If I smell burning hair—“

He grinned, taking his pipe out of his mouth. “You won’t, sweetheart, I promise.”

Woody braided her hair first thing in the morning, after hastily raking her fingers through it, tugging out any knots that formed overnight. By the heat of the afternoon, enough hair would come loose and stick to her sweaty skin that she’d have to redo her handiwork, already knowing to anticipate the black streaks of grease she’d have to scrub out of it at the end of each day.

Sometimes Holly would be around to give her an intricate and sturdy French braid, able to withstand sweat and hard work. But John had never braided hair before he asked to do hers one evening, and then with increasing frequency as time went on, desperately needing something to lose himself in. 

She sat between his legs, still and patient as he ran his fingers through her wavy hair. He parted it in two sections, letting the waterfall of blonde flow down one of her shoulders while he gathered the rest of her hair, silken to the touch compared to the standard blankets and bedsheets they were issued.

A shiver ran down her spine when his fingers gently brushed the nape of her neck.

“Sorry,” he mumbled.

“You’re fine, honey.” Her voice was soft, almost a low purr that echoed in his ears. He couldn’t remember another time when she called him honey. Usually just Johnny, which sounded wrong coming from other people, even jokingly, since it became hers, but he wasn’t sure how to tell her he liked honey too. 

He carefully layered one thick strand of hair over the other until he finished a braid on one side. Looked good, but he knew at a glance he could do better. Woody braided her hair for utility, not just to look pretty, which was a bonus in his opinion, but not her priority.

He puffed on his pipe, shaking his head before setting it aside. “They’re not even. I’m gonna try again.”

“Go ahead, Johnny.”

John stroked her hair, thinking about how he wished they had met under different—better circumstances, where she wasn’t under constant threat of losing him. He used to figure that there was a proper way to get to a woman’s heart, the way god intended, or so he’d been told: meet a nice young lady, ask her father for permission to take her out on a date, get to know each other, bring her home on time. Rinse and repeat while trying not to get too handsy before getting a ring involved.

Then the war happened. 

Then Woody happened, who probably wouldn’t have described herself as a nice young lady in the first place. No father to ask permission to take her out on a date. He wasn’t quite sure they actually saved anything for marriage (besides the having kids part, thankfully). He figured god would be flexible, all things considered.

“Everything okay?” she asked.

“There’s a knot,” he mumbled, brows furrowed in concentration as he carefully pulled at strands of hair to free them from each other.

“When I was a kid, if I had a really bad knot I couldn’t get out myself, I’d just cut it with some kitchen scissors. My hair probably looked awful.”

He almost instinctively asked why she didn’t ask her mom to brush it out, but felt the slightest bit of rage burn in his chest when he caught himself and remembered. “I care enough about you to do this right.”

“You’re also pretty good with your hands.”

“I’m glad you think so.”

“I know so,” she said, “and thank you for always being attentive.”

“Are we still talking about your hair?” 

“Oh, of course.”

He snickered, working on braiding her hair again. “Of course.” 

Neither of them spoke of the future very much, but he knew he wanted one with her. Just wasn’t sure how to go about the discussion without scaring her off, if she’d even be open to settling down. Settling. The word weighed heavy in his mind. While Woody claimed no nostalgia for her native city, a sad fondness laced her voice when she spoke of it, of the excitement and freedom San Francisco had offered her when she needed those things most. Sometimes John wondered if Ithaca would be enough, if he would be enough when all was said and done.

He swallowed roughly. “Take a look and tell me what you think. Be as brutally honest as you need to be. I can take it.”

Woody half-turned to him, an amused smile spreading across her face. Made him feel like he was being let in on a secret the way her smile sometimes did. “You could make my hair look like a bird’s nest and I wouldn’t tell you.” She gave him a quick peck on the cheek before getting up. He followed, almost nervous as she inspected her appearance in the small mirror sitting nearby. She beamed at her reflection, turning excitedly to him. “Johnny, it’s perfect.”

She stood on her toes to kiss him, deep and real, the kind that made any lingering doubts dissolve. Her lips were soft, as if she put on lip balm before he got there. Everything about her was soft, except for her hands, always rough and calloused, but something would be wrong if he felt a smooth palm cradling his jaw, or gliding across the expanse of his shoulders, down his back to cling to him. But he was clothed. Or he thought he was. Lost himself for a moment before he found the sound of her voice again.

“Before I forget—” She slipped her hand into one of her pockets. “Here, I want you to have this. I don’t really have any other photos of me, but I wrote a little note on the back of it for you,” she said. Her cheeks flushed, eyes flicking away from him for a moment. “Just so, um, you know it’s yours.”

He smiled at being handed the photo, a little shadowy and out of focus, but her nevertheless. To Johnny, all my love and more, your sweetheart, Woody. She had drawn a little heart next to his name, Xs and Os after hers. “You look beautiful. Thank you, sweetheart.” He kissed her forehead, the tip of his nose brushing against her skin. “I’ll keep it with me.”

And he did. All the way to Stalag Luft III. Looked at the photo and tried to remember the feeling of her hair between his fingers.

He nearly tore Hambone a new one for taking the photo from his hands without asking, not that he would have let him touch it in the first place even if he had. While far from salacious, having other eyes besides his own on Woody’s photo felt almost sacrilegious. After all, he kept it in the same pocket as the St. Christopher card his mother had given him before he left for basic, its laminated corners curled from his incessant toying with it for reassurance. He hardly looked at it since they bailed. Patron saint of travelers. Some good St. Chris did him.

Buck stepped in and got John his photo back before the situation could escalate further. But the cat was out of the bag. As if it even mattered then, anyway. He did take some pride in everyone’s shock at him and Woody managing to keep their relationship under wraps for nearly four months.

He didn’t expect it to come up again, but he wasn’t exactly expecting Bucky to be alive either. In the midst of Bucky's bittersweet reunion with the other members of the 100th who’d been taken prisoner by the Germans, it was mentioned among the updates everyone was clamoring to give him after he relayed what he could muster of how he survived and ended up there.

Hardly relevant, but Bucky fixated on it after John let one small detail slip out.

“You and Woody? How the hell did I not know this?” Bucky asked. 

“No one knew, except for Holly,” he said.

“Holly knew?”

“It wasn’t my idea, but Woody tells her everything. Told her about us the night you two made the bet on that baseball game.”

“That was back in June!" Bucky exclaimed, a strange combination of disbelief and slight betrayal that felt almost out of place compared to everything else going on. "She’s known for four months and didn't tell me?”

“Woody swore her to secrecy or something.”

Bucky shook his head. “You sly dog. Under everyone’s noses…” Clapped him proudly on the shoulder. “Good on you, buddy.”

John smiled. “Thanks, Bucky.”

“Don’t expect any details,” Murph mumbled.

“I’m not telling any of you about my sex life.”

“But there was one?” Bucky asked.

He sighed, resisting the urge to glare at his friend, who up until a few hours prior, he wasn’t even sure was still alive. “We didn’t sneak around for four months just to hold hands.” 

Even if that was all they’d done, his relationship with Woody wouldn’t have been any less important to him. Still, it was nice to have actual experiences to pull from, build fantasies that could get him through some of the lonelier nights when he wished he were with her, just about anywhere in the world but Stalag Luft III. The four months that were all theirs became his lifeline.

Four months. Maybe that was long enough for him to ask her to marry him. After writing to his family, that’d be his first order of business. Woody already had his heart, so he’d promise her everything else on top of that he could think of. Let her point anywhere on a map and take her there on a month-long honeymoon. Move all the way out to San Francisco with her. If she said ‘no’ or sent the letter back unopened, at least he could say he tried.

He laid back on his bunk that night, doing his best to ignore the shouting outside. Like the night guards did it on purpose to keep them exhausted. Closed his eyes. Kept her photo pressed against his chest. Tried to remember what her hair felt like between his fingers. Silk compared to the threadbare blankets the Germans gave them for the rapidly approaching winter.

“I won’t get any good if I don’t practice,” he insisted.

She smiled, her green eyes sparkling. “Alright, but you watch that pipe of yours. If I smell burning hair—“

He grinned, taking his pipe out of his mouth. “You won’t, sweetheart, I promise.”

#john brady x oc #john brady #masters of the air x oc #masters of the air #mota x oc #mota #mota fanfic #hbo war #hbo war fanfic #hbo war x oc #ch: woody

[renlyslittlerose]

Today's drabble is 'First Kiss'. This is a quick little drabble set in the Moonlight Serenade universe. This is from Padmé's POV during a visit back home. Takes place summer 1952~

---

Padmé wondered if Anakin knew about all the subtle ways Obi-Wan cared for him.

She wondered if he knew that Obi-Wan always stood to his right, their shoulders brushing, only a few inches of space between them as they navigated through crowds and public spaces. That it was Obi-Wan who protected Anakin’s injured side, blocking it from view and from touch, always mindful of where he was in relation to Anakin’s arm, keeping it safe within the shadows of his form.

Or how when Anakin’s manufactured bravado and fake cheer would wear down, instead replaced with weariness and irritation, Obi-Wan would tilt his head upward just to hear Anakin’s soft voice grow ever softer, and to breath in the words Anakin spoke. Obi-Wan never asked Anakin to speak up, to put on a show, to smile and laugh and coddle those he normally might disappoint. Instead he changed his own demeanour to fit that of Anakin’s, bringing his energies down until they swayed together like reeds in a lake.

Or when Anakin’s smile became tight, his shoulder tense, his eyes glassy with pain, Obi-Wan would grip his residual arm and hold. A friendly gesture, to the unknowing gaze, but filled with so much love and care it sometimes hurt to see. Obi-Wan would replace Anakin’s pain with something else to focus on - the stern yet still tender touch of a lover. The ache in his arm and the stinging in his skin would be replaced with the heat of Obi-Wan’s palm and the strength in his hand, grounding and steady as Anakin trembled through the memories of an agony not yet finished.

She knew, of course, Anakin noticed the most obvious things. Like how Obi-Wan would hold his plate at dinner events and pile it high with foods, asking Anakin what he wanted as they went down the tables, making sure Anakin’s belly was sated before he’d see to his own needs. Or how he tied Anakin’s tie and helped with the laces of his shoes when asked; how he styled his hair in the morning, and ruined in the evening; how he shaved along the curve of Anakin’s jaw and down the stretches of his neck; or how he cut the meats and vegetables for their dinners while Anakin did what he did best in the kitchen - make a mess.

And other stills, that Obi-Wan didn’t know she knew. Things more intimate that Anakin would confess over the phone, his voice bright with cheer as he detailed the latest night of passion, Padmé curling the phone cord over her finger as she laughed and sneaked glances into the living room to make sure no one could overheard the detailed descriptions.

Padmé wondered if he knew. Because she did.

“Padmé?”

Padmé blinked and turned to her mother. They were stood on the back steps of her parents estate, summer sun shining down on the backyard party. Vancouver had rolled out the nice weather for her visit, the skies clear and the winds gentle, the smell of roses fresh in the air. She’d missed this.

“Sorry, mother,” she said, and kissed her cheek quickly before venturing down into the party, a tray of cocktails in her hand that she’d offered to take out to the party.

The grass was cool on her bare feet, and she greeted those she passed by with a smile and an offer of a drink. By the time she’d reached Anakin and Obi-Wan, the tray was empty save for two glasses of gin and tonic.

“Fancy a drink?” she asked.

Anakin’s hand was occupied by a plate with the leftovers of cake on it, so Obi-Wan - as was expected - took both glasses and raised one to her in appreciation.

“Lovely party,” Obi-Wan said. He glanced around the space, his aviators sitting on the bridge of his nose, hiding away his blue eyes that Anakin had described to Padmé more times than once all those years ago. “Thank you for inviting us.”

“You’re welcome, though I’m sorry I haven’t been able to chat much.”

“It’s been six years since your last visit,” Anakin said, the word ‘six’ sitting heavy in the air. “It’s natural people would want to spend time with you.”

His shrug brought Padmé’s attention to his shirt. It was a pretty green silk and short-sleeved, the lapels broad and the top few buttons opened. Padmé could see Anakin’s scars along his chest, and his residual arm poked out at the bottom of his sleeve, exposing it to the world.

“I like your shirt,” Padmé said.

Anakin smiled, though it seemed hesitant. “Obi-Wan bought it for me.”

Adoration filled Padmé then. Of course he had, because he knew Anakin wouldn’t buy it for himself. Because he still cared what others thought; still hid from the world despite it all; still faltered where confidence would be best.

But Obi-Wan knew how beautiful Anakin was, and made Anakin believe it. If only for a short while.

“Ani, I forgot my pocket mirror in my purse back inside. Could you go and grab it for me?” Anakin made move to leave, but Padmé stopped him to grab his plate, replacing it with the drink tray. “And take this back inside, will you? Give it to Samantha.”

Anakin rolled his eyes but did as instructed, his long legs carrying him quickly through the throngs of people. He still cut quite the image, broad shoulders and slim waist making him look more a model from one of the catalogs, than a mechanic with a penchant for hot-rod racing.

When she turned back to Obi-Wan, she didn’t have to see his eyes to know where he was looking.

“That shirt really does look lovely, doesn’t it,” Obi-Wan mused with a soft smile.

Padmé laughed and dragged him in for a kiss. It was quick and sweet, and when she pulled away the greys in Obi-Wan’s beard were painted in red lipstick.

“Padmé,” Obi-Wan mumbled, his cheeks a delightful pink that matched the ruby tones of her lips. He leaned a little in, voice low enough for her to hear. “Not that I’m not flattered, but I’m a married man.”

She giggled again, but when she gripped his arm and held she couldn’t help but squeeze down as she spoke, voice serious, her brows furrowed. “I just wanted to say thank you. For the things you do, the things you say. For who you are. Thank you.”

Obi-Wan’s smile softened, and he nodded quickly. “No need to thank me. But I cherish the sentiment all the same.”

When she pulled away she grabbed a napkin and passed it to Obi-Wan and took one of the gins from his grasp. By the time Anakin returned the lipstick had been wiped away, and Padmé watched as Obi-Wan quietly filled the empty space next to Anakin’s right side once more. She ended up keeping the gin and tonic, while Obi-Wan and Anakin subtly shared the one, lips placed over the spot where the other had drank, like a soft kiss shared between the pair, known only to the trio stood beneath the summer sun.

#star wars fanfiction #lemon fanfiction #obikin #moonlight serenade