#calisthenics woman

[calisthenicsgurl]

Front muscles!

[lucidlyliz]

[ebonyseuphoriatarot]

Determined to meet my fitness goal while really enjoying my body in every phase.

[emiliejolie]

ughh

Female rage is working your ass off to build strenght yet that little teenage boy is still stronger than you.

[zorosangell]

⛥ﾟ・。 vice admiral

synopsis: after receiving some terrible news by news coo, you're left completely devastated. the crew does their best to console you, to no avail... and zoro realizes that, for once, his actions won't speak louder than his words... and makes a promise he's willing to die to keep.

cw: fluff with a decent dash of angst, parental death if that's triggering for you, reader calls her dad papa, comfort, zoro is once again down bad for reader, their relationship is super cute, zoro hates romance books.

a/n: listened to a lot of sad music for this

"They clashed, blades sparking and bodies twirling in an epic dance of death," you read aloud, completely enraptured by the book. "Their love was strong, but the hatred that kept them apart was stronger... It seemed that violence would once again be the driving force of their separation... as well as their rejuvenation."

Zoro gagged, keeping up the cadence of his push-ups as he rolled his eyes, glancing at you on his back with a raised brow.

Seriously...?

"You told me this book was about swordsmanship..." he grunted out, turning his gaze back to the grassy deck. "For the past three chapters... they haven't shut up about their rival families... or their... love for each other."

You let out a small snicker at his annoyed tone, a cheeky grin stretching across your lips as you turned the page.

"Well, if I told you about the romance part, you wouldn't have let me read it," you stated, simply.

"Gee, I wonder why..." he scoffed, voice dripping with sarcasm.

"Hey!"

You flicked him in the back of the head, donning a small pout as he sighed, grumbling to himself something along the lines of:

"Always with the pout... she knows I hate the damn pout..."

It was Calisthenics Day, and with such beautiful weather, Zoro had decided to take his training outside, which meant dragging you out of your room to join him.

Even though he always deflected when asked about it, everyone knew that incorporating you into his workouts was one of his many guilty pleasures.

Wearing you like backpack during his pull-ups...

Having you take a nap on his barbell as he bench-pressed...

Plopping you down on his back for push-ups as you read...

He loved it.

He loved being in your presence because, to him, it felt oddly intimate—having you so close as he worked hard to get stronger, honing his body with the goal of protecting you in mind.

Not to mention it fluffed up his ego, being able to lift up and toss around his woman with such ease.

He was only a man... and couldn't help the renewed confidence he gained after every workout.

"Well, I didn't completely lie. The book's got sword-fights in it," you defended, flipping back through the last few chapters.

"Yeah, one every fifty pages," he scoffed once again. "And they're not even good. Who the hell dances in the middle of a fight?"

Your brows flattened, incredulously.

'Jeez...'

"Zo', it's figurative language. They're not actually dancing."

"Figurative... what?"

"Figurative language. Writers use it to make descriptions more interesting."

"Why don't they just say what they mean and be done with it?"

"'Cause that's boring."

"It would make this crap less confusing. Too many blinding smiles and sparkling eyes. Just say the girl looks nice and move on."

You sighed, not at all surprised by his response.

'He's so backwards...'

Zoro was a man who found it hard to say I love you, yet had no problem throwing himself in front of a bullet for you.

Really.

Most girls got bouquets and chocolates from their lovers after their one month anniversary, but you got to patch him up after he was hit in the chest by a fucking cannonball, all because you were in its line of fire.

A rather heart-warming yet terrifying problem to have.

The memory brought a small smile to your face, your lips letting out tiny chuckle as you recalled the scene.

"Gods, Zoro, why the hell did you do that?!" you sniffled, a few tears rolling down your cheeks as he coughed up another round of blood. "I could've dodged!"

He chuckled, painfully, wiping the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand.

"With your reaction time?" he weakly teased, raising a brow as he sat up, "I don't think so."

Clutching his side, he let out a wince, pulling away his hand to see his blood was soaking through the bandages you'd applied.

"This is serious! Stop moving or you're gonna tear it open again!" you scolded, glassy eyed and wobbly lipped as you pressed your hand against his chest, forcing him to lay back down. "Gods, you're so stupid... why did you do that?"

After working tirelessly for a whole hour, Chopper was able to stabilize him, the cannonball having nearly tore off the whole of his side, and the organs along with it.

The doctor said it was a miracle, and medically improbable, that the man was still alive.

Zoro paused a moment, breathing slightly shallow as his eyes bore intensely into yours.

He knew exactly why...

"'Cause it was you..."

"Guys! News Coo's here!" Nami called, exiting her office and snapping you out of your thoughts.

Instantly, your mind pushed away the doom and gloom, making room for the wide grin that broke out on your face.

"Yes!" you cheered, jumping off Zoro's back, the man cracking a small smile at your excitement.

'Must be her dad...'

"Ooo, I wanna see!" Luffy exclaimed, swinging over from the figurehead. "I hope my bounty went up!"

"Me, too!" Chopper agreed, bursting from the med bay.

"Wait for me~!" Brook sang, jumping down from the balcony of the crow's nest.

"I call dibs on the funny papers!" Usopp perked up from his spot on the higher deck, tinkering with a new gadget of his.

"Let's see what's new in the world today," Robin mused with a smile, crossing her arms as she walked over to join the rest.

"It's been so long! I wonder how my father's doing!" you squealed, brimming with joy. "I bet he's captured a ton of other pirates!"

"Wait, (y/n), isn't your dad a marine?" Chopper asked, tugging at your arm.

"Yup!" you nodded, proudly. "One of the best there is! Back when he was in his prime, he was one of the strongest in the Navy! He even fought Gold Roger!"

"GOLD ROGER?!" Chopper and Brook exclaimed, shocked.

With a grin, Luffy threw a stretchy arm over your shoulder, literally pulling himself into the conversation.

"Yuh-huh! He and my grandpa are good friends!" your captain confirmed. "They go way back!"

Like Garp, your father was less than pleased to find out that you'd run away from home to become a pirate, much less a pirate with his best friend's grandson.

But, after some time, he learned to accept your decision, and even went as far as saying so in person, reuniting with you on Dressrosa and assuring that he still loved you with all his heart—you had feared he hated you for your decision.

He promised you both would meet again someday, and probably have to fight, given your luck.

So you promised to get even stronger, that way you'd be able to kick his ass back to the Red Line.

Let's just say your head got a good bonking for that one...

"Here, (y/n)," Nami smiled, tossing you the rolled up newspaper. "Take first look."

Giddily, you caught it, giving her a quick nod of thanks before flipping through the pages, searching for your father's name.

Until you found it.

"I found him!" you grinned, skimming through the article. "It is with a heavy heart that the Navy mourns the loss of one of its finest. Vice Admiral (d/n)..."

Your voice trailed off at the end, nearly dying completely as the words rang in the air, sounding foreign, despite it being you that said them.

Zoro froze mid-push up, eyes wide.

'Oh, no...'

Nami quietly gasped, hands rising to cover her mouth in shock, the others sharing similar expressions.

"After failing to return from a routine patrol of the sea surrounding Dunga, the vice admiral was reported missing. Naturally, the Navy sent out a search party, and discovered his ship floating aimlessly a few miles away from the island, battered beyond repair," you continued, frantically searching for some sort of catch. "According to Vice Admiral Momonga's report, upon boarding, the party found his body, along with the bodies of his entire squadron, on deck, each of them dead by varying causes."

No...

It wasn't true...

It couldn't be...

'Papa...'

You chest felt like it was going to cave in on itself, but you couldn't keep yourself from reading, still hoping for a twist.

"Of course, given the ship's close proximity to Pirate Island, it is safe to assume that the Blackbeard Pirates were the perpetrators of this deed. But, nonetheless, we are still left to grieve over this monumental loss..."

Shaking, your legs finally gave out, dropping you to your knees and your hands tightly gripped the newspaper, crumpling the pages.

"Oh, (y/n)..." Nami dropped to join you, a sorry expression on her face as she rested a comforting hand on your shoulder. "I'm so sorry."

You stayed stiff as a board, still in a state of shock.

Your father loved you with every bone in his body.

He was the man that taught you how to fight after finding out you were being picked on.

The man that kissed away your boo-boos after your daily adventures in the woods.

The man that held you during a thunderstorm after finding you hiding under his covers.

The man that paraded you around the house whenever you were sad, just to see you smile.

And despite the fact you ran away from home, despite the fact you joined the side he'd been fighting for over half his life... that reality never changed.

You were still the same, old (n/n) to him, and he was still your papa.

The papa... that you would never see again.

Your throat let out a wail of sorrow as you crumpled into Nami, clutching the paper tightly in your hands.

Everyone froze, hearts breaking at your sadness, expressions falling at the sight.

Your shoulders rocked with sobs, tears rolling down your hot cheeks like rivulets, your brows cinched in a look nothing short of agony.

You couldn't breathe, your chest heaving with effort as it attempted to retain the air you pushed out with your bawling.

"It can't—! I won't—!" you sputtered, coughing and gasping in an attempt to form the words. "He promised me! H-He promised me I'd see him again!"

"Don't start slackin' on me, kiddo. The next time we meet, it won't be as friendly," your dad smiled, ruffling your hair. "You may be tough now, but you better be a hell of a lot tougher if you wanna stand a chance."

"Psh! The next time we meet I'll be a hell of a lot stronger than you," you scoffed, proudly. "And then I'll kick your ass all the way back to the Red Line!"

"Like hell you will!" he exclaimed, hitting you upside the head with a haki-coated fist.

"OW! Papa, that hurt!" you loudly winced, rubbing the spot

"I love ya, (n/n)!"

"Love you, too, you old jerk!"

A new wave of tears erupted, your sobs becoming even more uncontrollable.

Your mind was completely gone with grief, only one word sticking out among the chaos.

"PAPA!"

Setting himself down on one of the mats in the crow's nest, Zoro's chest tightened, the sound of your wails on a permanent loop within his head.

After hours of consoling, Nami and Robin had finally calmed you to sleep, your body utterly exhausted from all the crying.

Sanji had made a banquet of your favorite foods for dinner, but you didn't eat a single bite.

Brook tried to serenade you with happy songs, but they all seemed to go in one ear and out the other.

Even Luffy tried to make you laugh, but it only made you even sadder, reminded of the times your father tried to cheer you up.

Safe to say, the entire crew was worried sick.

But, in a last ditch attempt to lift your spirits, Usopp and Franky banded together to build an altar in the crow's nest, using one of your father's old newspaper clippings as a photo.

It was beautifully ornate, yet simple, clearly demonstrating the skill and care it took to make it.

They hoped to surprise you with it when you woke up.

But before that... Zoro had to do something.

Using a match, he lit the incense that sat in front of your father's image—the picture of him standing at attention, arms crossed over his chest and expression pulled taut.

He looked strong, like a hero in a comic book, and twice as mean.

Though, if your stories were anything to go off of, he was apparently nothing but a big, old teddy bear.

Clapping his hands together, Zoro shut his eyes, paying his respects.

Without this man, he would've never met you.

Never seen your smile...

Never heard your laughter...

Never held your hand in his...

You were among the most important people in his life, and you wouldn't be the strong, kind, and compassionate woman he knew without your father.

That alone made him deserving of thanks.

But that wasn't the only thing the swordsman was there for...

Opening his eyes, Zoro's hand moved to grab the handle of his Wado Ichimonji, pulling the blade out of its sheath and holding it upright.

"Vice Admiral (d/n)... my name is Roronoa Zoro, and I am the man who will be the World's Greatest Swordsman," he started, deadly serious, looking straight into the eyes of your father's picture. "You don't know me, and I've never had the privilege of meeting you in person. But if there's one thing we have in common... it's (y/n)."

He tensed slightly, as if bracing himself for some harsh attack, letting out a smooth, deep stream of breath to calm his nerves.

"I love her... a lot."

He paused a little awkwardly, but cleared his throat to cover it up, pressing forward.

"Okay... maybe more than a lot," he corrected, glancing down at himself. "But it's because of that I put my life on the line for her every day... and it's because of that I'm worried about her safety."

His gaze sharpened, grip tightening on his sword.

'Bastards...'

"The newspaper revealed (y/n) as your daughter," he stated, jaw set tight. "She told me you tried to hide that, in case any of the pirates you put away managed to escape and seek revenge... but now that the secret's out... and you're dead... it's open season on her head."

He felt anger claw at the back of his throat, threatening to spring loose.

The Navy was fucking useless...

In their lousy attempt to honor the vice admiral's memory, they had inadvertently outed you to the world, completely destroying the years upon years of secrecy your father had worked so hard to protect.

Did they forget about his notoriety?

Forget about the thousands of pirates he'd jailed?

Forget about the countless enemies he'd made?

Forget about the hundreds of dangerous Impel Down escapees?

In your state of mourning, you were incredibly vulnerable, and if a blood-thirsty, revenge-seeking pirate came around wanting to settle a score, he wouldn't give two shits about how you were feeling.

Intentional or not, the Navy had thrown you into the proverbial lion's den.

But it would be a cold day in hell before Zoro let anything happen.

"While she's strong as hell on her own, with you gone, someone's gotta step up to support... be a figure or a name attached to her... strong enough to ward off any unwanted attention..."

He tensed, glancing back up at the picture.

"Which is why I'm here."

Taking another deep breath, he turned his gaze to his sword, now more prepared than ever.

"Vice Admiral (d/n)... I am in love with your daughter. And I solemnly swear from this moment forward... that I will never let her know pain."

His brows furrowed, expression cinched tight in earnest.

"That any weapon, plan, or plot made against her will fall at my blade... that any who come with the intent to harm her will be struck down without a second thought."

What Zoro saw that day scarred his heart for the rest of his life.

To see you so distraught... so crushed... broke a piece of him as well, and it was clear based off the others that gestures would not be able to break through to you.

So, for once, he would have to let his words speak louder than his actions.

"That I will stay by her side until she no longer needs me... that I will protect her with my every breath... that I will be a friend, a guard, a partner, or none at all at if she wants me to be..."

He paused, taking a second to make sure he was ready for the next part.

"But most importantly... that I will love and care for her just the same," he finished, before firmly tucking his sword back in its sheath. "She'll be protected... so don't worry."

A smirk rose to his lips, his eyes finding their way back to the man's picture.

"Soon enough, she'll have the World's Greatest Swordsman as her bodyguard."

[cvt2dvm]

Primal Chic: The Princess Saves Herself & The Planet in this It Girl meets Survivalist Lifestyle

If you think it girl, you may think of high maintenance, high consumption, pampered, luxe living. I want you to take a step back from that idea with me and introduce a new mindset, Primal Chic. Borrowing from the Clean Girl, GORP Girl, It Girl, Stoic, Survivalist, and Prepper, Primal Chic is all about minimizing your impact on the planet, maximizing your self-sufficiency, and building meaningful sisterhood.

Primal Chic in 3 Words is: Sustainability, Self-Sufficiency, & Sisterhood.

Body: Fuel, Movement, & Beauty

Fuel: Our bodies and minds need high-quality fuel, and that's offered by a whole-food, paleo diet. Many of the foods on the market are heavily processed and loaded with low-quality fillers that drive calories and macros up without meeting our micronutrient needs. On top of this, a huge segment of the market is imported from outside of our local communities, adding heavily to the carbon footprint of our foods. Choosing locally grown, non-GMO, organic produce and proteins from fair trade, regenerative, or woman-owned agri-businesses is a fantastic stepping stone if you can't generate your own food due to time, space, or monetary constraints. I love shopping locally owned health food stores, farmers markets, and farm stands. The price of organics also goes down if you shop store-brand organics. There are also Facebook groups and Pinterest boards dedicated to Paleo recipe swaps. You also want to make sure you're honoring your body's needs in all of it's areas, rest, relaxation, movement, and nutrition.

Movement: Functional, outdoor movement benefits body, mind, and soul. A good hike, a lake swim, or even just a good jog with your pets are all great ways to get your cardio in. Outdoor yoga, rucks, rock climbing, and calisthenics are low-cost, high-reward strength and conditioning exercises that help you to keep toned and ready for action in your day-to-day life. Don't forget ROM either, active recovery walks, daily yoga, and deep stretches ensure you remain flexible and reduce pain from tight, stiff muscles and joints. Adding in a few friends allows you to build sisterhood and meet your social needs too, and being outdoors helps with the chronic vitamin D deficiencies most modern women face.

Beauty: Choosing clean, sustainable beauty and reducing the number of products used is good for your body due to fewer toxins, your mind with lower body and facial dysmorphia from high glam makeup looks, and the planet with less harsh manufacturing processes. Consider switching to multi-use products, reducing the number of products in your skincare & makeup routines, and swapping to washable/reusable body, skin, and feminine hygiene products to care for yourself and our planet. I'll be going into more detail on the swaps I made personally in a blog post next week.

Side Note: Planning a girl's weekend yoga retreat or having a buddy to do the Whole30 (a great intro to Paleo eating) with you is a great way to build up your sisterhoods and your own resolve for this new lifestyle.

Mind: Clarity, Wisdom, and Continuous Growth

Stoicism: The serenity prayer is a fantastic example of the basis of stoicism, letting go of the things you can't control or change, courageously sticking to your values and virtues and changing or controlling the things you can, living in harmony with nature, practice emotional mindfulness and emotional chastity, and practice resilience, learning to bounce back from failures and misfortune. With all things in life there is a learning curve, and allowing yourself to be ruled by algorithms, propaganda, and impulses reduces your own personal power.

Minimalism: Cut out overconsumption to help save the planet, save your wallet, and save your space. Choosing quality, durable, practical, and multi-purpose items allows you to spend less time organizing and cleaning and more time with friends and family, and doing the things that truly feed your soul. You don't have to have a spartan, sterile, white living space to embrace minimalism either, you can still inject your own personal style and personality into your choices, but be more mindful about where and how you're spending your hard-earned money.

Dedication to Continuous Growth: Instead of doom-scrolling or watching brain-rotting television, try switching out social media for micro-learning, soaps for documentaries, and limiting screen time to 1-3 hours per day. Try switching out happy hour for a self-defense or first aid class. Get involved with book swaps and information databases or group PDF sharing.

Heart: Love Thyself, Love Thy Neighbor, Love Thy Planet

Self-Love: Forming a sisterhood and meaningful community starts with loving yourself. You can't draw from an empty well, so being honest and vulnerable with yourself and taking care of yourself is the first step in being able to be there for others at your most authentic. Reminding yourself of your inherent value is important.

Earth: The frequencies of the earth are often interfered with by our man-made surroundings, taking time to ground yourself and connect with the world around you, either on your own, or in a group, is good for the heart. Try and take an hour or two per day and spend it outdoors, really soaking in the beauty you may have been numbed to by having it become mundane.

Connection & Community: Not everyone you meet deserves your whole heart and mind, however, they do deserve basic human dignity and respect, for those closer to you, they do deserve having a reliable friend who they can turn to in times of need and times of victory. Forming meaningful connections across generational divides makes us stronger as women and enriches our lives.

Soul: Mindfulness, Purpose, & Resilience

Mindfulness: Meditation, nature walks, situational awareness, and group activities keep the mind and soul well-fed and the senses sharp should the need arise for defense. Live in the moment as much as you can, rather than drift aimlessly through life without a plan of attack. Spontaneity can still exist here, as you should have a balance of routine and flexibility.

Purpose: What drives you? Who drives you? What values are at your core? Answering these questions allows you to live a purposeful life where you are true to yourself and your community. If your values don't align with the life you're living what changes do you need to have them align?

Resilience: You don't have to make your life harder, but preparing for life's rough times through mental, spiritual, physical, financial and material preparedness is still important. Building a solid community will help with this, but ensuring you yourself have the tools and skills necessary for survival will help even more so.

Planet: Stewardship, Sustainability, and Conscious Consumption

Stewardship: Bring a bag with you on walks and hikes to collect trash and follow the old Girl Scout principle of leaving things better than you found them. Encourage sustainable practices with where you shop and invest your time and resources, and take advantage of your local parks and wild spaces.

Sustainability: Opt for natural materials in clothing, decor, & home goods. Choose materials like wood, cotton, real fur, leather, and linen rather than plastics and petroleum-derived products or "natural" materials with harsh production processes like viscose or bamboo fiber. Reduce your consumption of new products, and shop thrift or vintage where you can, and go as ecologically friendly and durable as you can afford when buying new.

Conscious Consumption: Shop local, woman-owned, small business, and fair trade products wherever you can, skip out on mega polluters like Amazon or Shien, and avoid sweatshop and slave labor wherever you can. Before making purchases, ask yourself if you truly need an item or if you're just looking for a quick dopamine hit. Mend your things if possible rather than trashing them, and opt for donation of things in good condition that no longer fit with who you are.

All in all, the Primal Chic lifestyle is attainable for everyone, and about making conscious, cognizant steps toward a more meaningful, impactful, and mindful life where you live sustainably, & self sufficiently while building meaningful community and sisterhood.

[drgnflyteabox]

postcards from the coast [2]

previous || part two -> linens || part three -> tbd

series masterlist

pairing: kyle 'gaz' garrick / single mom!reader summary: kyle looks for you, then finds you tags/warnings: grief, less angst but still there, depression, non-creepy stalking, judgmental people, anxiety, previous injuries, insomnia, don't accept rides from strange men ladies and theydies, unless it's gaz then feel free<3 w.c: 1.2k

"Can I get a red-eye?"

Sleep has been difficult lately. Evasive. He sometimes goes through insomniac phases, where no amount of jogging or calisthenics practice or mental exercise helps. It's pure, restless energy.

Before, he might've taken himself to a bar, found a pretty girl to fuck and ease the buzzing under his skin. Now it's too painful - too much of a reminder of post-mission decompressing with the team. Sat in a circle booth, slapping each other on the back as they left, the smell of cigar-smoke and perfume.

Not that he'd be able to here, anyway. The town is too small, too isolated. There's hardly a main street, just a strip with bare necessities vaguely at the center of rolling hill country pock-marked with bleached white cottages and surrounded by cold ocean on all sides.

Peaceful, sometimes. Unbearable, mostly.

"Sure, any milk or sugar?"

"No, that's alright, thank you." He's been here every day, mixing a caffeine fix with his ongoing search for you. Curiosity and boredom, he tells himself. The product of so many sudden life changes - the end of their last mission, Johnny's passing. He just needs something else to focus on, something soft and wide-eyed.

At least the coffee is good.

The next time he sees you, it's in passing. Driving out of town to the post office to pick up a gift from his sister.

You're holding a toddler by both arms, their feet on yours, walking them up the steps toward the local library. Another long skirt, wimpling softly in the breeze. There's a smile on your face as you watch the child walk with you.

It almost feels like a missed opportunity - like he should turn back. But the post office closes in a couple hours and it takes nearly that long to get there, so Kyle elects to be patient.

You're there every evening. From five o'clock until closing at eight, you sit at the same window and alternate reading a massive tome and babbling back at your baby, who's sitting on a wooden high-chair.

The librarian makes rounds just to say hello to the two of you, pinching cheeks and ooing and aweing.

"And how old is she again?" She whispers mindfully. Her nametag says Nettie and she's a kindly-looking old woman, bent a little from years of work but sturdy as a mast in a storm.

"Turning two soon," you whisper back. Neither of you have any idea he's there yet, browsing the books as a cover to peek through the shelf at you. "She's a taurus."

"Just about to hit the terrible twos!" Nettie laughs.

"Yep," you laugh with her, but there's something there. A sheepishness. Embarrassment? Your expression is almost a grimace, from what he doesn't know. He wants to, though. Looks through the peephole and lets his chest fill with something other than grief for just a moment.

"And the father? Not a fan of reading?" She probably means well, but your face goes from vaguely uncomfortable to something like a deer in the headlights.

"Oh, um," you're floundering, but Nettie is too busy stroking a wrinkled hand over your girls head. "He's not in the picture."

Not in the picture? If Kyle had felt any kind of guilt for eavesdropping, it's overshadowed by that information. Best stake-out of his career to-date.

You shrink a little when Nettie yanks her hand back, frowning. He can tell judgement and prejudice when he sees it - experience and a keen eye. Must be hard being a single mom.

Resigned - that's the look. Pained and embarrassed and resigned.

"Right. Well," Nettie's sensible leather shoes clack against the floor. You don't watch her go, your hand is reaching into your bag for a tiny knit hat.

Fuck, you're leaving.

As you gather your things - book, coat, bags, baby - he tucks himself into the shelf, positioned still as a sniper, to-

"Ouch!" Your voice cuts through the quiet of the library. Kyle flounders, caught off guard for once. He'd only gently bumped into you to make it look like an accident, like something out of a rom-com. Girls liked that, usually.

But instead of looking up at him with surprise, you close your eyes and shy away from him, shoulders coming up defensively - you can't reach your arm, not with a baby on your hip, but it's obvious you're in pain.

"Are you okay?" You look to him, wincing still. You're asking him if he's okay? Heat creeps into his cheeks, warming him with regret.

"I'm good, I'm good," he says quickly. "Sorry about that, love, didn't see you there."

"That's okay," you readjust, arm limp at your side. Your heavy bags hang off of it, but there's nothing you can do with the baby on your hip.

"Let me get those," there's no time for you to reject his offer; he's too quick. The bags are heavy - no doubt there are more books and a baby go-bag. This close, you smell powdery soft like linen sheets and laundry dried outside.

"It's the least I can do," he's trying to be casual about it, lest he scare you off. Holds the door open, notices while you step out that your daughter looks just like you.

"Thank you, you didn't have to," you look down. How'd you hurt your arm? He knows he didn't hurt you - not like that, at least. Not enough to warrant such a reaction.

"Of course I did, didn't mean to get'cha so hard," his head swivels. There are only two cars in the parking lot. "Can I get these in your car?"

"Oh, I walked, that's okay," you reach to take the bags back, but he pulls away.

"I can't let you walk home, please- let me be a gentleman and give you a ride," he knows it's a long shot. Neither of you have exchanged names, neither of you are locals. He's tried to make himself look as approachable as possible; head tilted down, brown eyes imploring, palms out even with your bags in one hand, but it's a gamble.

There's natural suspicion and hesitation, your eyes looking side-to-side, but you nod with a hesitant smile after a moment. It's hard to keep the grin down, but he manages it up until you're tucked in his passenger seat and he's putting your bags in the back of his car.

"My name is Kyle, by the way," he puts his keys in the ignition, turns them. Pretends not to notice how you sink into the seat, eyes drooping, holding your daughter on your lap. It's not safe, but it's a country road and he promised to drive slow on the way.

You tell him your name. It's pretty, fitting. He wonders again about you - who left you like this? Alone, hurt, tired, trusting a stranger to drive you home. If he were your man, he'd never let you be put in a position like that.

The cottage you're renting is tiny, a glorified shack, rented as a cottage for tourists.

"There you are," he murmurs, trying not to startle you. "Need help getting in?"

"Hm?" You've been staring out the window. "Sorry! No, I'm alright, thank you again for the ride. Josie and I appreciate it."

Josie. It fits her, fits you. His eyes crinkle at the corners.

There's not a chance he lets you get the bags out yourself, and once you're appropriately sent off to your door, he sits and waits for a moment. Makes sure you get inside. Feels something loosen in his chest.

[therealslimshakespeare]

Like Lightening

Summary: A Snapshot of Elvis and Elaine, newly married, hardly satiated, very in love

Warnings: 18+ entirely made up of fluff and smut and fluffy smut, sorry to the sweet ask -this got a bit off track. We don’t have them going at it like bunnies herein so much as alluding to that having been happening and determined to continue. What we do have is a lotta smutty thoughts, breeding kink, innocence kink, oral sex fem receiving, unkosher usage of baby oil, the very beginning of penetrative sex, some begging and dirty talk…most importantly we’ve got a bit of body consciousness, Elaine is slightly embarrassed by her new stretch marks and her pretty husband sets out to show her they’re incredibly cool

Word count: 5k

Hope you enjoy sweet anon, so sorry your original ask got eaten by tumblr, I hope this notification finds you!

Elaine had taken to water calisthenics classes at the Elders Club in Killeen Texas out of sheer need to move without dying of heatstroke. Swelling each day into a fluffy little matron, Elaine made house for Elvis on base one month after the next as May and then June and then July ticked on by in a sweltering dust cloud. And, whenever she wouldn’t be missed, the new Mrs Presley dashed to the pool and swam with the grandmas.

It drew a bit of a crowd, this swimming of hers, and Elvis, sympathetic and prouder than anything, took it upon himself to order from the catalogs the very best and loveliest and most advantageous swimsuits to accommodate his wife’s growing belly and plush breasts to their best advantage. He also threatened crushed jugulars and broken spines if any of his army buddies so much as drove by the dinky place for a peek at his ripe little woman.

Truth be told the larger she grew, the more evident her condition, the fruit of his loins obvious to the world, the more Elvis’ excitement for her grew. If breaking her innocence had proven more tantalizing in theory than practice and if her submission had been a versatile thing he found himself often teetering under the sway of, this, her ripening form, was one fantasy that matched his dreams.

In the early morning her plush body wrapped beside his was the only thing dragging him out of bed for basic and to watch her clip clop about in heels and a ever stretched apron while serving him breakfast was a sorta dream state of things he hadn’t dared hope would be as perfect as it was in reality. All that sickly pallor and nausea of the early months had vanished in its place he had a freckle-nosed bride shimmying into dresses increasingly too fitted. Zippers groaned and buttons popped in their little house on base and Elvis gloried in it, sat on the edge of his bed and watched her dressing struggles with splayed thighs and appreciative groans. He reveled in putting his hands on her to aid her and glutted at what he’d done to her fresh little self. He liked to tease her to “suck in” when her bust no longer fit in her old dresses.

“You’re carryin’ my whole world” he told her time and again, whispering it into her ear and squeezing her tight. He sang to his babies and they quited, he read to them from the Gospels and they kicked: “just like the John the Baptist” and in the latter months when he’d teasingly mimic a babe's cry when snuggling his wife, her breasts would begin to leak.

And now the swimsuits. Graduating up one size after another in these later months, Laney had packed on a bit of tush along with her belly and tits and the sway of it, atop long stems sat upon pretty footsies in heeled sandals, drove Elvis and half his army mates wild. See, after awhile, the secret was out and the other army wives came to swim, too. And their husbands became over eager to pick them up after class.

Threats be damned. Elaine Presley was sweet and pretty and often made chit chat with their wives and babies, towel slung uselessly over her shoulders and pool droplets running from her clavicle to the never-never-land of her bosoms when she bent to kiss a child or two goodbye. Just lanky enough to require a bend, that lady, and just affectionate enough to not content herself with head pats.

Dodger observed these things and pondered them but kept her mouth shut, sat like a disapproving crow under a umbrella and sipping gin and tonics after Elaine had insisted they wouldn’t kill her. Elaine liked to press the cold glasses to her throat when playing Bingo on the patio chairs. Eileen Macdermot went home, scandalized, one day at the way the girl splayed her legs over the side of the lounger, like a primitive or else - a man.

These things filling her days and bothering neither of the newlyweds much, if at all, Elvis had come home one evening to the smell of pork chops and gravy and no Laney in his kitchen. Their house was tiny with few rooms and after inspecting the empty single bedroom he proceeded into their bathroom and found her there, stripping out of her sodden swimsuit.

It was black, with lemons on it and white polka dots intermingled and it paired so well with her tanned skin and white headband that Elvis groaned aloud at the sight and spooked his wife who didn’t suspect him home.

“Lord, Elvis-“ She clutched her chest and heaved in a breath, smile breaking out as soon as her shock calmed, “-you’re home early.”

He wrapped a hand around the doorframe and practically lounged against it as much a person could lounge while standing, while vertical, stupid, giddy grin in place. She was halfway through stripping and there was something so very domestic, jarringly normal and almost raw about seeing his swim pink wife in a modest chipped tile bathroom of a single bedroom house, swollen and barefoot. Just one more regular American housewife among many in a tidy row of white picket fenced army accommodations.

Playing house, it was moments like these when it hit him just real enough to taste a dream and chew it and swallow it down till it fizzled out his fingers and mouth in a hunger fueled by gratitude. This wasn’t gonna last forever, not the normality of basic training or the ruthless hours of not belonging to himself, this too would pass he told himself when it got awful. But so would these precious days of just the two of them, Laney alone to putter around their house and think only of him and he to come home to her with only her on his mind and in his arms.

“Elvis?” she prodded again when he barely managed more than a soothing, faraway humm of greeting when she calmed.

“Yes Mrs. Presley?” he asked, doorframe digging into his cheek, wondering when she was going to drop the lovely sweetheart neckline she was clutching to those creamy tits that heaved under his stare like she didn’t endure such admirations regularly.

“A-are you going to-“ she was oddly hesitant, his pretty wife tonight, she’d been a bit voracious recently as the health came back to her but maybe it was just the fright.

“Am I gonna what, babydoll?” he asked softly, eyes flicking up to meet hers and he saw a little panic brewing in their warm depths. “Why, what’s this, huh? Caught ya at something?” he teased her, genuinely unsure of what was amiss and why she still clutched the soggy suit to her goose pimpled skin. “You’re gonna get cold, shuggums.” he straightened up and moved towards her, army boots mashing down the pretty green pile of the bathroom rug.

She stepped back reflexively before catching herself and giving a forced little laugh and shrug, a shrug that was very hampered in it’s carefree intentions with the way her arms crisscrossed over her chest. Perhaps he’d been too eager for her lately, he thought with self chastising consternation, perhaps she was flighty from soreness or neglect of more cerebral pursuits or maybe it was bad news from home.

“Is everything alright?” he finally asked, grave and soft spoken.

“Oh yes I was just-“ she mumbled, gesturing to the pink marbled countertop and its bottle of baby oil and pearlescent nail polish “-about to moisturize. The pool, the chlorine it…I’ve become itchy lately after going in. Doctor said it was normal, stretching and such but-“ she raised her eyes to his and they looked so young without the coal lining of cosmetics, sometimes he forgot his Tink wasn’t an ancient love goddess, just a sweet and unsure teenage girl. “I didn’t expect you home so soon.”

It didn’t make sense why her tone would be apologetic about that. He was early and she was industrious, dinner already baking and even if she hadn’t -they’d been making such ravenous love of late that often they ate charred remains of her carefully made meals or else opted for burgers at the joint in town. There’d been no apologies then; why now?

“C’mere babeh, lemme help.” he drawled and before she knew it he’d slinked across to her and laid his warm hand on her chilled shoulders.

Such lovely, large hands, they spanned her shoulders and a clavicle each, thumbs meeting like a little talisman adornment at the hollow of her throat. Seconds before he even did it she could predict the soothing swipe of his thumbs there, and so he did, and like clockwork she found herself taking in a larger breath, one that expanded her chest and made her clutched swimsuit a little obviously absurd. She used the breath he’d given her to let out a sigh of defeat.

“I’ve been growing.” she admitted rather resignedly and at this admittance Elvis had to check himself from nodding in furious, appreciative agreement, there was invisibly some catch here and in his own enjoyment of her ‘state’ he tried his damndest to recall it must be uncomfortable at best, growing and stretching and creating life inside one’s guts. Hell he wanted to die sometimes from too many sandwiches, how much fuller she must feel, about ready to burst with kids.

So he restrained his enthusiasm and nodded encouragingly. “Mhmm.”

“All perfectly normal, doctor says it is and others too, all the others say so. Nothing out of the ordinary and I was expecting it. Yet still, it’s quite-“ Elaine trailed off on this long prelude and Elvis held his breath lest his concern leach into impatience.

“Buuuuut?”

“But it doesn’t lessen that it’s quite ugly.” Once decided upon a course she finished up quite tidily but Elvis found himself further confused.

“What is, baby?” he asked, bewildered. “What’s ugly?”

“This.” she gestured resignedly at her belly and scratched the clinging nylon, her skin irritated from the pool.

“Don’t, stop that.” he chided softly, knowing it would make it worse and caught her waists in his hands, swaying them between them gently. “I don’t know what you’re on about but let’s get oil on there so you ain’t so prickly.” he suggested and let go of her hands, dropping them gently before raising his hands to her shoulders again and sensuously trailing his fingertips over the swell of her breasts till he met lemons and polka dots, and peeled the material down away ever so gently. “How’d you plan on hidin’ from me?” he asked her as the pert darlings came into view with the enlarged areolas and lengthening nipples.

“I wasn’t planning!” Elaine protested, biting her lip as he tugged further “It just- it showed up out of nowhere and it’s-“

He’d managed to peel the thing over half her ponderous belly, uncovering her belly button, when he caught sight of something entirely new. Red with a tinge of silver, a split, a crack, a bolt, scarred across her navel, running up and down -straight as a proper zig zag.

“Well. Goddamn.” he breathed, sitting back on his heels to take it in. His hand shook a little as he laid his palm on the stretch mark, an awed expression on his face as it was nearly the length of his whole hand. “Why, goddamn Tink,” he repeated, marveling, “you’ve got yourself an honest to God lightnin’ bolt on yous.”

Like her belly were heaven and in the paying of her dues for such a miracle as two lives with one body, it had been rent like a sheet. His stomach churned, something a little worshipful filling him. He took his hand away, marveling at the perfect design.

A lightning bolt. That’s not at all what Elaine expected from him, some kindness and maybe even relieving indifference, she anticipated that despite her embarrassment, but awe wasn’t on the cards. “I guess it rather does look like…that.”

“Looks like Shazam done paid you a visit, lil mama.” he nodded enthusiastically and Elaine laughed before she could help herself, thinking it funny her naked state was suddenly a costume in his mind. “Don’t you see it?” he crunched down to his knees and took her still suit clad hips in his hands and turned her towards the mirror.

“I-I suppose it bears some resemblance.” she muttered with distaste at the sight of it only more angry and prominent since the pool. “It’s a horrid color, looks like an scar already-“

“-oh hush up it’s amazing.” Elvis swatted her backside with his hand and she yelped, the jangle of his watch chain familiar as was his grinning face at belly level. “You’re mama’s all down on herself,” he loudly whispered to the babies inside her house, “don’t appreciate the fact she’s lookin’ like an gen-u-ine superhero. I know how to solve that.” he muttered darkly and Elaine felt him gather her hands again and he placed one in the counter for stability before he yanked the rest of her wet costume off, letting it pool round her ankles and helping her disentangle it.

“What are you going to do?” she asked with some trepidation as she stood fully naked before his keeling, uniformed, booted figure.

“Gonna convince ya.” he stated sure of himself before reaching for her nail polish, the pearlescent, silver shimmer of it drawing his eye like a magpie. “Gold would suit better, but between you’n’me doll, we’ll assume it’s platinum.” he murmured conspiratorially before giving her a solemn wink and unscrewing the cap.

Before she could worry for his trousers, he didn’t carry her foot to his knee and paint her toes. No. Instead he brought the tiny brush and its icy paint to her belly and began to swipe it along the design of her recent marring. Elaine gasped at the chill and in shock of his ingenuity, the tongue bitten concentration on his pretty face and the way his free hand splayed on her skin like an artist’s beside its canvas, anchoring his work.

Tink was yet a new little thing, barely broken into the art of the marriage bed and now accommodating his children, her bred little body hadn’t yet widened in all the ways it would eventually come labor. Her hips were beginning to comically expand whereas her waist in the back remained tapered and gave her a nearly illustrated quality to her proportions, that Elvis had begun to obsess over watching in the mirror when he was taking her.

Everything about her was ripe and taut and now this. He found his eyes going glossy and he tried to finish his painting in a tidy manner, his groin pusing distractingly beneath the material of his slacks as he worked lower, catching a whiff of her own interest in those soft curls.

He could almost taste her by memory.

He pulled away and surveyed his work, immensely pleased with the glistening silver lightning bolt stamped across his children's abode.

“It’ll smear with the oil.” was all she said, soft, distant.

“Then we’ll have to let it dry.” he decided, letting his fingers trace up the backs of her shapely thighs, appreciating soft flesh and toned ridges. He gave it some thought before he pursed his lips and blew. His cold breath blasted against the freezing polish and Elaine felt herself start, a gush of arousal puddling between her lips, almost burning at her entrance as she tried to clench it shut, keep some demureness in the face of it all. She thought she’d caught him sniffing, it wouldn’t do to have her legs a running mess with her need.

But the chilled ghosting of his breaths, the tantalizing burn of his fingertips’ trail- they made her throb and Elaine let out a helpless little moan, shifting on the pink rug in restless wanting.

“What’s that, baby honey?” he asked softly, looking up at her equal parts eager and questioning. “Makin’ you feel funny?”

“It’s the oddest sensation.” she shivered.

“What’s it make you want?”

“You.”

“Which’aways?”

“All of the ways.” she giggled bashully and stared at her swollen reflection and his at faucet level in the mirror, kneeling still. She chose to put her foot on the counter top, opposite hand balancing against the wall, “Elvis, won’t you lick me, please?” she asked.

“Since you ask so nicely.” he whispered, “And since you hold the power of a million universes.” he gestured to her belly once more before ducking his head running his nose along the seam of her slit, nudging her nosing like a puppy.

He hadn’t even kissed her mouth in greeting. He regretted that before opening his poofy lips and beginning to caress her pretty pink labia like he was smooching a lover. A gush let out against his chin, she must’ve been keeping that to herself for some time, there was too much of it. As was the pained moan that followed as her cunt clenched around nothing at his expert manipulations and teases. He opened his jaw and gathered as much of her in as he could before closing his mouth and sucking, amused at the sounds of shock she made as he swirled her, guarding her from his teeth, just his tongue and lips and the hot inferno of his mouth turning her to puddy.

He reached into his pants pocket and adjusted himself, and finding the need to touch too strong to ignore, he kept his hand there and jostled his stick and balls like a boy, moaning further into the taste of her as she came down from her high. She tasted different since pregnancy, and of late, was wet at whim. Elaine was as puzzled and shocked by the changes in her own body as he was, and it gave Elvis immense satisfaction to further surprise her with what he could draw from it. It drove him mad, this shock of hers, and he flattened his tongue and gave her a few parting, broad strokes to collect his winnings as she shoved at his shoulders in helpless, sensitive distress, yelping and shuttering and her propped leg kicking the bottle of oil over and off the counter.

He caught it before it hit the ground without even pulling his face from her muff. Elaine giggled again at his skill before whining at his repeated attempts to slurp at her sensitivity.

“You still gots an itch, lil mama?” he asked her, finally pulling away and looking up at her from under the dome of her belly, his hands planted on hips and his face aglow with her pleasure.

“I do.” she whined breathily, slumping against the wall.

He neared her again with his face and she questioned his motive the whole way until he stuck out his tongue and tried the nail polish on her belly. “S’dried.” he informed her as if he hadn’t just done a stupid thing and then with a decisive nod of his head, swiftly rose back to his full height and presented his hand to her.

“You come with me now, and I’ll tend to it.” he said and, meek as a lamb, Elaine put her little hand into his sticky one and he tugged her into the bedroom, oil bottle in hand. “If we’d been bad, mamas, if we’d been real naughty like, if I’d been a lil less good to ya, we’d be a couple of young folks new married and you swellin’ and barely a pan on the stove or a mattress on much else but floor. We wouldn’t be playin’ house in this lil shack, we’d be livin’ it and barely makin’ it.” he explained to her and Elaine was confused by his meaning, his analogy too, and where this was coming from, but pliant and tripping over her own feet from post orgasmic clumsiness, she chose not to question it, assumed it was play acting of sorts as he led her to the foot of their bed and sat himself down on the floor, still holding her hand. “But even then, Laney baby,” he glowed up at her with a bright, crooked grin on his slick face, “even if we was poor as dirt, I’d invest in a mirror so I could watch that tight lil snatch under your pretty belly swallowing me down like it’s got hunger pains.”

Elaine whirled around and stared at the mirror opposite the bed, positioned lovingly in the tiny space of a walkway where she might view the effect of her outfits and he might straighten his uniform, but perhaps more intentionally, it was placed opposite the bed where Elvis managed to configure them most times in some manner and at some point in their lovemaking so that they were near the foot of the bed and he might watch. Recently Elaine had come to enjoy the nearly lewd prospect of her growing body being gripped and kneaded and caressed, the unarguable beauty of it in the reflected image convincing her of prettiness she herself did not always feel.

The act, him, her responses to them both -they were all still new to her and now this, this pregnancy and the surprise of a million unexpected things.

Surveying themselves in the mirror she thought he looked a bit more debauched than herself, fully dressed though he was. He sat on the floor like a drunk, pussy dazed and loose, legs splayed and collar wet, pit stains prominent and swollen outline bulging in his pants. In his dishevelment he looked worse news than her wholesome nakedness and she licked her lips at the thought that it wasn’t at all wrong to indulge in such a dangerous fella. He belonged to her, and she to him.

“Did you ever think about it, Elvis?” she asked eagerly, her face aflame.

“Think of what, darlin?” he murmured, lazily undoing his fly and pulling himself out, pumping his fat pink member with an elegant pump of his wrist, ogling her appreciatively like she was a poster looming above him and not a living woman stepped between his thighs.

It made her drip. Elaine could feel the slick down to her knee, a stray dribble escaping her curls. Since marrying, since rubbing shoulders with other married women and being allowed into the gossipy little circles on base, she had begun to grow an inkling of awareness that her case was rather special. It was true, all couples made love, most couples had children, and plenty of couples were in love. But there were extracurriculars, such as she had been led to believe quite common in her own marriage, that were rarely mentioned by others, and if so, done with scandalized and hurried admittance. Elaine had begun to notice that while plenty of men liked their wives, wanted their wives even, there was a peculiar singleness of focus to her husband‘s interest in her that was not matched by others. Why, she’d even become aware of men’s magazines and the reasons for their existence, and yet never had seen one in her husband‘s possession, although she had awoke plenty of times to the sight of him pleasuring himself over her sleeping form, or as he was now, unabashedly admiring his view. She was in essence, both fantasy and form for him.

It was enough to make any woman proud and wet.

“Think of what?” he repeated with a laugh and an edge to his voice, looking up at her under an arch brow.

Elaine snapped out of her daydream and stepped up to him, enjoying the way his hands cupped the back of her knees, a little tickle, his head leaned back against the mattress. “Did you ever think to -think of…taking me sooner?” she asked, carding her fingers through his hair. “Ruining me early?” she smiled at the thought, at how clueless and helpless she’d have been if one of those nights on the den floor at Graceland during their short engagement, if one of those times he had rolled atop her - her sleeping father be damned - and had his way. It wasn’t his style but she wondered, what with the way Elvis could barely make it to the wedding, now that she knew what she knew, she wondered. In another world, would she have been a plundered little thing and he a dutiful young bachelor with a set of twins in need of a baptism to cover their conception?

“Thought of it every goddamn night.” he admitted earnestly, “Ruined a couple dozen pants over it.”

“No!”

“Mhmm.”

“Heavens. But never- you never-“

“-not while I was with ya. Bad as I wanted it.” he tisked, “I done told ya, you’re special baby. I was savin’ ya, couldn’t have brought myself to it, had plans for ya.”

Those plans of his were kicking and rolling in her belly as her heart rate sped up with the gentle trailing of his fingers over her thighs and the sight of his bobbing cock, jutting out from his uniform pants.

“I see.” Elaine simpered and pressed her palms to his own, swaying over him before he tugged her down, doing a pretty, clumsy little split over his lap. He groaned at the contact and the sight of her bare backside in the mirror.

“I missed ya today, Mrs. Presley.” he informed her as always and Elaine was grinning when he slotted his mouth against hers in a long overdue lover’s greeting.

Elaine blithely allowed him his smooching way across her throat and the swell of her decollage as she set to undoing his tie with loving firmness, and then stripping the pungent material of his worn shirt off his shoulders and at last tugging his trousers further down which broke his kisses contact and caused much protest. She stayed firm however, insisting that painting her belly with polish was one thing, but if he thought she was going to risk baby oil stains on that uniform, he had another thing coming.

“Your supposition bein’ that I’ll be in some position for stainin’!” he protested as if she were the one with all the wiles and meddlesome ideas.

“What plans did you have for it?” She asked dryly, crouched at his feet and yanking his boots off with much eagerness and little finesse.

“I intended to slather it on my wife.”

“Funny how what’s slathered on me always ends up slathered on you.” she pondered with a pretentious finger to her lips before she was tugged back atop his now bare lap, and spun so that she could lean against his chest.

“S’not always slathered.” he rebuts in a low tone, his voice gone intimate at the new position and their bare cuddling. Elvis hooked his chin over her shoulder and petted the lightening bolt gleaming so well in the mirror, the late summer’s sun beaming through the slanted blinds. He should close them before he did what he intended, before they got nekid in the first place, but if they were just any ole new couple there’d be no need with being off the road and the blinds partially drawn.

He squeezed her harder and reached for the oil. “S’not always slathered, sometimes I manage to get it real nice’n’deep, don’t I?”

Elaine sucked in a shaky breath as she felt him shift beneath her in his reach, the hot, eager firmness of him cradled under her cunt lips. She felt their privates begin to pulse in unison.

“Don’t I?” he asked her, one oily hand splayed low on her belly and the other gripping her jaw.

“Yes.” Elaine moaned, her head lolling back against his shoulder so she might keep his gaze.

His hand began to move again.

Slathering.

“Hmm?”

“Yes, daddy.” she whispered, and saw him smirk in satisfaction.

Witchcraft, it was, the way his hand could go through all the same motions as before but like a switch flipped, his own intent could bleed into his touch and suddenly he had gone from tending her stretched skin to driving her mad, oil and warmth spreading all over her, her breasts shining, her shoulders shining, her thighs aglow and golden.

Shining, all of her.

Elvis hooked his hands under her knees and spread her legs, bent and wide, feet settled far apart on either side of his own thighs. She could see little Elvis twitching futilely against his thigh, glossy, shiny, leaking oil himself. She cupped them both and did some slathering herself, wiping his arousal up her slit, rubbing his head and her puffy bud with her fingertips, the both of them moaning and whimpering in unison at the tease.

“Baby, baby let’s…let’s…” he was saying urgently and she pulled her hand away at his direction, allowing him to bring the bottle between their legs.

She felt that patter of drops against her clit and the silky run of it down to his cock. She ached, back arched and hips grinding against him like she could start a fire with the friction if she moved insistently enough.

“I-I-I want it!” she begged, overcome and her neck straining as she tilted her face to the ceiling. Waterstains patterned the white paint and she squeezed her eyes shut in a exstastic grimace as she felt him pull at his cock and tap it, all oily slapping, at her spread petals. “Elvis, please, please put it in.”

“Mm, m’not sure you’re slick enough.” he disagreed slyly, rubbing his glans against her fiery little hole as her legs kicked out in frustration. She knew he was staring in the mirror at his handiwork without even having to glance there herself. She squinted harder and aimed a thrust downwards, catching him. It was bend or enter. She had him, it took great willpower to hide her smirk as his breath gusted against her cheek.

“My baby still got an itch?” he asked softly, his large hand cupping their joining, just the tip of him snug and cozy inside her swollen channel.

“Yeah.”

“Where?” Elvis rumbled in her ear.

She took his shiny hand and spread it low on the lightening bolt, “Here, real deep.” Elaine whispered, “Right hyer.”

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

If you’d like to be tagged in this particular series please drop a note below. Xoxo 💋

@prompted-wordsmith

@powerofelvis

@crash-and-cure

@elvisabutler

@heartbrake-hotel

@stylespresleyhearted

@thatbanditqueen

@crazymadpassionatelove

@myradiaz

@ash-omalley

@steph-speaks

@burningloverdoll

@angelface-555

@lookingforrainbows

@missmaywemeetagain

@coolgirl462

@kingdomforapony

@18lkpeters

@richardslady121

@from-memphis-with-love

@lillypink

@artlover8992

@pennyroyalcreep

@notstefaniepresley

@ellie-24

@renaissingle

@waiting4brucewayne2adoptme

@presleyenterprise

@marriedtopresley

@ashtag2887

@dkayfixates

@vampireindistress

@ashtag6887

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

@obsessedvibee

@peskybedtime

@goth-cowgirl-03

@stephthestallion

@fav-fanficssss

@loving-elvis

@honeyorangess

@soloangel

@xenaspace3-blog

@60svintage

@dragonkingsdaughter

@presleysgirl6

@that-hotdog

@mydarlingelvis

@presleysweetheart

@50sexyshadesfashionista

@sexystarfish

@whatstruthgottodowithit

@suraemoon

@lialocklear

@elvispresleywife

@presleysgirl6

@ipostwhtifeel

@jaqueline19997

@queenheartz

@starryschoolgirl

@elvisalltheway101

[calisthenicsgurl]

Back muscles!

[ryuzakemo128]

Headcanons of Colonel König dating a female Italian Olympic Gymnast and Fencer reader would be like

Pairing: Konig x female Italian Olympic Gymnast and Fencer turned operative

Content Warning: Implication of smut, mention of injuries needing physical therapy.

Masterlist

Credit for Dividers: @cafekitsune + @strangergraphics

Note: Descriptors used: Nationality, height and implication you that you have dimples.

(One) König meets you during a mission in Rome. You were exercising in the gym to maintain a physique that was always ready for combat.

Your Hip and ankle mobility drills included: Cossack squats with knee drops, deep squat with calf raises, narrow squat pistol to Cossack slide, ankle circles, Shrimps curtsy lunge, Quadruped hip drops, side lunge to curtsy lunge, and plyometric box jumps. You had been pushing your body to the limit, focusing on the task at hand, oblivious to the outside world.

Your other drills were: Sledge pulls, bear crawls, farmer's walk, HIIT training, body weight strength training, Push Press or Strict Press, and you had just finished a set of 100 pushups when you felt the presence of someone watching. You wiped the sweat from your brow and turned around to find Colonel König, impressed by your dedication. He had a stern look on his face, but his eyes held a hint of curiosity.

Sometimes you deadlifted and calisthenics, sometimes you sparred with the gym's punching bag until your knuckles were bruised and your breathing ragged.

(Two) König likes the height difference between the two of you. You're not exactly petite, standing at 5'11, but his towering 6'10 frame made you feel delicate in a way that was surprisingly comforting. His physique was imposing, a testament to the years of rigorous military training, yet there was a softness in his gaze that made you feel seen beyond the sweat and the grime of the gym.

A past incident left you injured, which sent König into a right frenzy at the time. You were in Milan when it happened. He was in Austria. Thousands of miles away from you. It was supposed to be a simple, routine mission, one that quickly went sour before you could scream the word 'extraction'. The intel was bad, shoddy at best, the enemy had anticipated your move, and suddenly you were caught in a crossfire, a bullet grazed your side and your left leg took the brunt of an explosion. The pain was sharp, the world spinning around you, and all you could think of was how you'd never get to see the Eiffel Tower again.

When you said, "Why do I have to get injured man. I was looking forward to seeing the Eiffel Tower. Chi vive sperando -- muore cantando. He who lives with hope dies singing. Thought you might need to hear that. My mother wouldn't stop bugging me until I did."

König's stern expression softened into a smile, a rare sight that seemed to warm the very air around you. He leaned in closer, his deep voice rumbling as he said, "And here I was, worried you'd forget your Italian after all that time in the field."

"I use it as much as I can." You remarked with a wide grin. "Ti sei fatta male cadendo dal Paradiso?" Meaning, Did it hurt when you fell from heaven?

König's eyes narrowed, a hint of amusement playing on his lips. "I'm not an angel, bella," he said, his Italian a gruff contrast to the melodic rhythm of your words. "But I've had my share of bruises from the fall."

"Angel's are the lord's soliders, Konig. They are strong as well as beautiful. You are an angel of the lord to me." You said with a wink at him. "Angels aren't delicate. My mother believes they are the fiercest of creatures."

Konig chuckled, a sound that was surprisingly gentle for someone so intimidating. "Your mother is a wise woman," he said, his eyes lingering on your face for a moment longer than necessary.

"So, there, you are an angel, rough edges not withstanding. I must say, you are MY angel, though. I still don't have any intention of sharing you, by the way." You smirked, looking him up and down subtly liking what you saw.

Colonel König's cheeks flushed slightly, a rare occurrence, but one that you had learned to recognise. "I'm not here to be your knight in shining armour, you know," he said gruffly, trying to maintain his usual composure.

"I don't want that, though. I never asked you to be." you said, your face now inches from his. As you leaned over your bed to get closer to him without hurting yourself more. "I want something a little more…intimate than that. And I want that over and over again."

König's throat bobbed, and he took a step back, trying to regain his composure. "Now isn't the time for this," he murmured, his gaze lingering on your bruised and bandaged form.

“I’m asking you out on a date, silly.” You whined as he touched your cheek, instinctively leaning into his warm hand.

König’s eyes searched yours, looking for the usual playfulness, but all he found was sincerity. His hand hovered for a moment before he pulled it away, his expression unreadable. “When you’re well enough to walk without wincing, then we’ll talk about it,” he said, his voice a low rumble that sent a shiver down your spine.

“Really?” Your eyes lit up in excitement.

König nodded, a smirk playing on his lips. “If you can keep that mouth of yours shut and that flirty tongue in check until then, yes, really.”

“All the more reason to send you erotic poetry, then.” You said with a cheeky smile. “I’ll have you know, my tongue is quite… versatile.”

König’s smirk grew wider. “I’ll hold you to that promise,” he said, his voice dropping an octave. His cheeks flushed from the thought of the erotic poems you might send him.

(Three) König indeed received your poems through envelopes made from beige paper. Tinted with brown, as if it was drenched over with a tea bag. The poem itself is usually written on lavender scented paper. Written with a fountain pen, in metallic crimson ink and Italian cursive. Which curled and curved as if she waved a wand of seduction. Putting a spell of love and lust over him through a dance of words.

The page had a purple metallic border, painstakingly drawn onto the page to give it a feel of elegance, royalty, and timelessness. Imbued, bathed inside of eroticism, words flowed out of your heart and mind like a river of molten lava. One could burn through the page, breaking through the fabric of reality. A declaration of desire, testament to the passion you felt, and hoped to share with König.

The letters stuffed into a larger envelope disguised as normal military missives to prevent unwanted eyes on them. Each individual letter sealed with wax, pressed on with a griffon signet ring you picked up from a Flea Market when you visited your hometown in Florence. Hoping it would add another touch of romance to your lethal charm.

You described him as your angel, as yours, as someone you were not willing to share with anyone. The way you described him as a gemstone, rough around the edges and always holding value.

(Four) You also wrote him long form letters that you used the same method of writing your poems. Only difference between them was the scent on the paper. Instead of lavender it was Cherry Blossom and Jasmine. Written in matte crimson red ink instead of metallic.

‘I don’t want to live a fairy tale if it’s not with you.’

‘I want to make a home with you, next to you and hopefully, someday, on top of you.’

‘Your eyes are like the ocean, I always find myself drowning in them. Drifting off to sea without a care in the world. Without paddles unafraid of the circumstances of where I find myself heading towards. Flooded with a yearning to reach a destination where I might find you.’

‘I want to take your hands in mine and never let go. Your past isn’t your future, stop looking back, you’ll never be hurt again, not as long as I live on this planet.’

‘You will never be hurt again. I promise to shield you from harm. Even as you tower over me as easily as a redwood tree. I will protect your heart as someone should have long ago.’

‘You are not your mental health struggles. You are more than what you deem yourself worthy of. Like a gemstone, you are rough around the edges, always holding value, not matter the form you take.’

‘Lets build a cottage somewhere, a farm for you and me. A way to live with hurt or harm, a way to ease the hurt. A way to ease the soul. Let’s build a cottage somewhere, so I can build something for you come home to.’

‘I want to build you up with gold and make your cracks shine so bright. I want to hold each flaw with an embrace everlasting.’

‘I want to take the pain you feel from you. Leaving your soul unmarked and untainted from the horrors this world is capable of. Though I know it is not possible. We are not powerful gods as the ones the Greeks and Romans had prayed to. Even so, I will try anyway because you are worth it.’

‘I want to kiss you, softly, gently, passionately, with a fire burning brighter than the sun. A kiss to make you feel seen, a kiss making you feel alive. A kiss whispering endless promises of forever and ever after.’

Each letter signed off with, ‘We, Us, Together.’  

(Five) König loves bringing you with either Chamomile tea, Butterfly Pea Tea, Hibiscus Tea or Mulled wine. All of which you treasured deeply. Considering they were the ones you most likely went for if you could walk. During your physical therapy, he was a blessing covered in military gear. Even if he didn’t seem to think he was helping you.

“You’re here that matters more than you think it does.” You would remind him. A smile forming on your lips, your dimples on either side of your mouth giving you’re a gentle, youthful glow. It made his knees weak and wobbly at the sight of your smile.

Here you were hurt, and you fussed over his feelings, you were still making sure he knew he was appreciated. It was a strange role reversal he found oddly endearing. You were the one who had taken a bullet to your side and your leg had taken the explosive. Yet you were the one who was comforting him. He cleared his throat and nodded, a soft smile gracing his lips. "Dankeschön," he murmured, the German word for 'thank you' rolling off his tongue.

You replied, "Prego." meaning You're welcome in Italian.

[a-fitness-diary]

So far I'm 1.5 weeks into my latest attempt to get fitter and healthier. I've decided to jump back into Calisthenics this week and just successfully completed my Day 3 of the Calisthenics Programme I'm following.

I didn't want to exercise today. I woke up 2 hours late, had a very long and stressful day at work, missed a webinar I was looking forward to, and was feeling overwhelmed from my own emotions.

But I decided to motivate myself by promising myself a slice of chocolate if I complete the exercises. Sounds counter productive I know, but it worked 🤷‍♀️ not going to do this for every workout, but when you need that reason to do something then why not.

[jackdaniel69nice]

Random tokoyami hcs to go with my shadow one :P

Agender/voidgender (nonbinary) any pronouns

Bisexual but really only for men and nonbinary people, he’s never met a woman he’s liked before but you never know

Might be somewhere on the acearo spectrum as well

Polyamorous

He’s not really a fan of labels tbh but I’m giving you my closest guess to his vibes

He likes bad boys, tall dark and handsome please, if they wear black and are irksome he’s probably at least a little interested (dark shadow hates this and scares them off XD)

He definitely wouldn’t date anyone unless dark shadow liked them as well because dark shadow would get too jealous

Follows strict schedules like when to eat and sleep

Has never actually had coffee before going to UA because he’s afraid caffeine is an “addictive substance”. He tried decaffe coffee now and decided it’s not as great as everyone said

He has had lots of herbal teas though

Everyone says he sleeps with a night light which is fine but it’s literally just the purple lights he always has on in his room (they are special lights that don’t hurt shadow)

He did used to have one that projected stars on the ceiling as a child though (dark shadow gave it to eri)

His parents make him sleep with the full lights on at home so he’s happy to be without them now

Autistic

Sensitive skin, doesn’t like being touched

Sensitive hearing, doesn’t like when people are being to noisy

Always talking to dark shadow in his head, has trouble focusing at times because they’re so chatty

Might talk to dark shadow out loud when he’s alone but he would get in trouble for that so he doesn’t do it often, the only one who has caught him doing it is Midoriya

Unspecified dissociative disorder and maladaptive daydreaming…it’s pretty bad actually

Acts VERY different when it’s just dark shadow and him, he’s much more relaxed and playful (he’s actually pretty funny)

Likes to dress up in fancy clothes but is to scared to wear them in public

He makes his own clothes sometimes but his aunt is a seamstress and likes to make him and shadow nice dresses and cloaks for holidays and their birthday so most of them are from her. Otherwise he thrifts everything

Also makes his own jewelry

Knows how to dance but won’t do it in front of others because that’s a private bird thing also trauma

Will not make “bird noises” unless he’s alone but he can do it. Occasionally can get a squawk spooked out of him

Has lots of knowledge on psychology and was actually going to be a psychologist/psychiatrist before switching to heroism (AND THANK THE GODS FOR THAT!)

Can give quite the verbal thrashing, he already knows all your insecurities and will wreck you. He never really does this unless the offender SERIOUSLY pissed him off and they need to be taught a lesson on manners. He would also win every argument in debate club if he ever joined

His musculature/training is more in line with calisthenics because he needs a strong core for dark shadow to carry him around all day. Also I think he should do parkour

Has lots of odd hobbies obviously (like bone foraging and sword swallowing)

[nihilnovisubsole]

i'm really still feeling it but i crawled out of the despair miasma enough to look at my mass effect tag, and so i will wish you and irina and zaeed a happy n7 day :3

i find when things are bad and i have no power to make them good, it helps to anchor myself to the things that will stay the same. i'm going to eat spaghetti for dinner tonight. it will taste as good as the last time i ate it, a few weeks ago, before my fortunes turned. if i put a certain song on, it will sound as good as it did when i heard it in my friend's bedroom on a middle school halloween. i had to water the azaleas this morning. tomorrow, if it's windy, i'll hear the chimes on the patio when i get up and clock into work. none of this diminishes the bad. that's very important. i'm not downplaying it. but it moors me in the storm of reality. i can still count on dishes and emails.

when i was in college, i went through a big, dumb thing that was entirely my fault. it felt like i had burned my whole world down. one day, as i stared out the window and thought about my sad, empty life, i saw an old woman doing calisthenics in the park. she was just out there, in her bright tracksuit and i think a bucket hat, swinging her arms and lunging and minding her own business. i don't know why, but it hit me. i thought, "she doesn't know what's going on. she doesn't know about any of the things i've lost, and she's doing fine. she's happy without them. all she cares about is getting her exercise." i watched her for a long time before the sun set and she went home. i didn't feel better, precisely, and it didn't do anything to improve my circumstances, but it reminded me that a world existed outside my despair. i could go to the park instead of staying inside. i could at least control that much. we do what we can. we'll wave to each other again this time next year.

[ireallyamabear]

August 21st: im sitting in a park and there is a tall butch woman doing calisthenics in a sports bra right in front of me

[citruswriter]

Got room for two more?

Chapter Two - Warm Colors

A Bale AU Fic

Listen with me! ↠ⁿᵉˣᵗ ˢᵒⁿᵍ ↺ ʳᵉᵖᵉᵃᵗ ⊜ ᵖᵃᵘˢᵉ

Warnings: Tcest (you have been warned!), Character x OC, polyamory, long fic, falling in love quickly bc just bc I'm demi doesn't mean I won't make fictional characters immediately fall in love, angst, panic attack, comfort, slight spice but nothing actually explicit.

A/N: Ok so like, you see, I actually have phenomenal writing powers if I'm motivated to write smthn. 😂

It had been about two weeks since the sisters had "moved in". In that time, the two girls had pretty much relaxed all the way. Unfortunately for Raphael, there had begun a new problem. And it's name was Stellara. Raph couldn't get the damn woman outta his head and he didn't know why. He felt guilty. He already had five other wonderful mates, so why was he crazy about the white haired woman? He decided to clear his head by working out in the gym.

But as he entered the little gym area, he saw the one and only, Stellara. The woman was stretched into a kapotasana yoga pose. Her stomach and chest arched upwards to the ceiling. Raph felt his face go red as he choked on his saliva, causing Stellara's eyes to crack open. "Raph?" She called out and Raph decided that there was no going back now. He stepped in, making his way to the weights. "Hey. Hope I'm not bothering you". He grunted, setting his water down to grab at some weights.

The woman smiled affectionately, lifting her legs to place herself in a forearm stand, legs spread so one foot was pointed to the ceiling and the other one was pointed to the floor. "Not at all. Please feel free". She replied before closing her eyes once more. Raph tried to focus on his workout. Really he did. But it was hard when the split pants that Stellara was wearing seemed to elegantly drape over the woman's body. "You uh, you workout a lot?" Raph asked as he started his first set of curls.

The woman's eyes remained closed, but an ear angled more his way, letting him know that she was listening. "Usually. I do a lot of calisthenics and leg work. But today is Saturday, one of my rest days, so instead I'm doing yoga." The woman replied, gracefully moving to stand on her feet before moving into her next pose.

"What's that pose called?" Raph asked. Stellara smiled despite her eyes still being close in soft meditation. "The twisted dragon." She said gently. I'd like to twist you into some positions... Raph thought suddenly only to immediately brush said thoughts to the side. No, no, no! That's no way to think of our guest Raph! "It's great for leg flexibility and opening the hips". Stellara added.

Raph swallowed thickly as he stared at her bare legs. "You have nice legs." He blurted out. Stellara's eyes snapped open as she whipped her head around to stare at Raph, eyes wide as saucers. Stellara's pupils were dilated so far that he could barely see her golden iris's. "Sorry! I didn't mean to say that out loud!" Raph stuttered. "Raph is sorry. Raph hopes he didn't make you uncomfortable". He kept sputtering out apologies, not stopping until the kitsune was in front of him.

He slowly quieted, nervous as to what she would do next. "Thank you, Raph. I appreciate the compliment". The woman said with a smile. Raph let out a sigh of relief only for his breath to hitch once more as the woman placed a hand on him. Her hand was warm against her plastron. "Raph? Are you ok? You're awfully red." She said.

"Aha. Raph is fine." Was his sole response but Stellara looked unsatisfied. "Bend down, Raph. Let me feel your forehead". She softly demanded. He thought about denying her. He was a massive giant, it wouldn't be hard. But something told him it would be futile. So he sighed, kneeling down to her height and lowering his head. Stellara placed the back of her hand to his forehead and his cheeks. "Oh my Amaterasu! Raph you're burning up!" She said worridly.

Without another word, she grabbed his hand and tugged him forward with a strength he wasn't expecting from her tiny body. He flushed once more as he let her tug him along. "Leo!" She called out. "Where is that man? Leonardo!" Eventually she tracked down the slider, him grumbling something about her volume.

"Leo I think Raph is sick. I felt his face and he's burning up! Maybe he just feels warmer because my hands are cold or he was working out but I thought I'd bring him to you anyways. Just to be sure". Leo looked at Stellara's worried expression and he couldn't help but feel his heart melt at her genuine kindness. "I'm sure he's fine but I'll tell you what. How about I look him over and let you know if he's sick or not. Deal?" He said and Stellara immediately nodded.

Stellara then turned to the red giant, grabbing both his hands in her own incredibly tiny ones. "You take it easy, ok? I'll clean up your things in the gym and drop them off in your room". She said and Raph couldn't help but smile shyly. "Th-thank you, Stellara. I appreciate it". He said, cursing at the blush he knew was present on his face once more.

━━━━━━♡♥♡━━━━━━

Back in Leo's room, Leo did as he promised and gave Raph a thorough checking, even though they both knew he wasn't sick. "So what was that about? I don't think I've seen you that flustered since before we were together". He said stiffly, trying not to let the jealousy seep into his tone.

Raph winced and looked away. "Look, I don't know what's gotten into me but Stellara is... something. She's beautiful and kind. She's like a mixture between Mikey and Donnie. Look I'm not saying I've caught feelings or anything. But I don't think what I'm feeling is entirely platonic either. I'm sorry. I feel so bad about it." He said, looking away with shame. He waited for Leo to have a reaction, the slider got jealous very fast. But instead, he heard his brother sigh out.

"I'm not mad Raph. I understand. You can't control how you feel. Now I'm not gonna say I'm not jealous but I will say that I'm not mad and that you shouldn't be ashamed of your feelings." Leo said gently. "Stella is a kind-hearted person with a beautiful soul." He said, grabbing Raph's face to look at him.

"And great legs. Did you see her thighs in those split pants?" He blurted out. Leo paused for a second before laughing, Raph relaxing and joining in on the laughter as well. "Yeah I think I can agree with you there buddy."

━━━━━━♡♥♡━━━━━━

"Um, hey Mikey?" A soft voice came and Mikey almost jumped from fright. "Shit woman, don't scare me like that". He said, clutching his chest. Stellara sheepishly smiled. "Sorry. I was just hoping we could um, talk? April said you're the guy to talk to about like um, feelings n stuff." She said softly, looking down in what seemed to be embarrassment.

"Absolutely! I'm Dr. Feelings, step into my office". Mikey said, grabbing a pair of fake glasses and putting them on before going to sit in a chair of his. Stellara cautiously stepped in, taking a seat on one of his bean bag chairs.

"What's on your mind?" Mikey asked and Stellara blushed, smoothing the wrinkles in her split pants. "Um... I think I like somebody?" She said, making it sound more of a question rather than a statement. Mikey raised a brow at her. "Oh? And is that a good thing or a bad thing?" He asked and Stellara sighed. "Bad. Very, very bad".

"Bad?" Mikey gasped. "How could it possibly be bad? You're in love, Stella! That's a good thing!" He cooed and Stellara cringed. "He's taken, Mikey! That's the problem! And besides, I'm no good in relationships". She said wistfully, eyes cast to the side. Mikey looked at her confused. "What do you mean?" He asked gently and Stellara looked up to meet Mikey's eyes. "I don't know. People just... leave."

Her golden orbs were downcast once more. "Maybe I'm not fun enough? I like to stay home. My ideal date is movies or painting. I find peace in the mundane. I want a family. I don't want to go out and party and get drunk at the bar. I want to wake up in somebody's arms and make them coffee with stupid cute latte art. I could care less about going out on fancy dates when we can stay home and do yoga together and then take a bath after. I'm not... what people want. I'm the second choice. The rebound. I'm the person who teaches you how to love... but not the person you end up loving". Stellara couldn't stop the words that poured out of her mouth, voice cracking as she got more and more emotional.

"Men, women, monogamous, polyamorus. I've done it all. And people never stay. Am I just not good enough? I love so much and with such intensity. I don't know what I'm doing wrong. And now I think I like somebody again and it's not even somebody I can have and it's all so stupid." Stellara's chest began to heave as she began to spiral into a panic attack, tears spilling over her cheeks as more and more words poured from her heart and out past her trembling lips.

Suddenly Stellara's eyes widened and her hands snapped to her neck to clutch her throat, the intensity of her emotions causing her throat to swell up and keep her from breathing. Mikey sprang forward and into action. "Stella. Stella stay with me. Look at me. I need you to look at me". The woman's eyes were wide with fear, they looked almost feral as her body shook.

Mikey grabbed her face in an attempt to force her to look at him. It worked, her eyes snapping to attention as she felt his warmth. "Deep breaths. Please, Stella. I need you to take deep breaths." He said, thumbs rubbing over her cheekbones. "Come on. Do it with me." Mikey began to do deep breathing with her. It took time but eventually she was able to match Mikey's breathing, although her body was still trembling.

Mikey moved his arms down to her shoulders and arms. "You good? Can I touch you?" He asked gently and Stellara nodded. Mikey sighed softly and pulled her into a tight hug, he felt her tense before relaxing into his hold. "M sorry. I didn't mean to lose control like that". She said finally, nuzzling slightly into his chest.

Mikey rubbed the woman's back until she stopped trembling. "There we go. You feeling better now?" Mikey cooed. Stellara shifted enough to look up at him through wet lashes with big doe eyes. "Yeah Mikes. I'm good". The woman replied and Mikey swallowed thickly.

Oh fuck. Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck. "Mikey?" Stellara noticed his dazed look but all Mikey noticed was the way her tone had a whine to it as she said his name, voice still raw from crying. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Get yourself together. "M-Mikey?" To Stellara, Mikey was looking down at her with an almost husky expression. To Mikey, Stellara look perfect. Wet lashes, puffy lips, chest slightly heaving as she whined out his name.

Mikey dipped his head down lower, causing the kitsune to back up slightly. He wanted to kiss her, nip at her lip, slide his tongue into her mouth and taste her. Maybe taste her in other ways too. He wanted to make her whine his name out again as she arched off his sheets and- "Mikey?" Another voice broke the silence, finally jerking Mikey out of his stupor. His eyes shot up to see Chiyo.

Chiyo simply leaned up against the doorway, eyes narrowed in suspicion. "And what exactly is going on here?" She asked. Stellara and Mikey took one glance at each other before jumping away from each other. "Oh I came to talk about feeling with Mikey and I had a panic attack so he hugged me to calm me down!" Stellara said in a rushed manner.

"Wait. Stell. You had a panic attack? Are you ok?" Chiyo said, immediately changing moods and moving closer to her sister. Stellara stood on her feet and nodded. "Yeah. Mikey helped me through it." She said, giving a small smile as her sisters hands came up to cup her cheeks. "Oh thank goodness. I'm so glad. Thank you Mikey." Chiyo said, giving Mikey a thankful smile.

"Oh it was no problem. Just another day's work for Dr. Feelings!" Mikey said, laughing nervously. "Of course. Hey uh, Chiyo, I'm hungry. Wanna go best up some leftovers pancakes from breakfast?" She asked and Chiyo grabbed her sisters hand. "Oh absolutely!"

As the woman dragged her sister off to the kitchen, all Stellara could think about was Mikey. Had he been about to kiss her? What would he have done if she let him. Or better yet, how far would she have let him gone...?

Anyways I have today off apparently??? So don't be surprised if you get more than one chapter today. Remember to block appropriate tags if you don't wish to see updates of this fic!

Taglist: @cherrytreatsart