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thegremlincrowsnest · 4 years ago

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Little Lamb

This is my first collab piece and is part of Citrus Dome Server Hybrid AU Collab! Please Please check out all of the other amazing creators apart of this collab!

CW: Dirty talk, slight creeping from another hybrid, overall NSFW

You were always warned about the potential dangers of working for a hellhound. How they prey on hybrids like yourself and how you should be on your toes. Who had ever heard of a sheep hybrid working well with a hellhound? But you persisted, accepting the position of personal assistant to one Enji Todoroki.

You knew it would be challenging, but you were ready, always looking up to the large flame hound with reverence and adore. The first day was an odd one. Arriving early, you made his coffee and had his morning coffee prepared. When he came, you couldn’t help but stare up at him as he walked by; bowing slightly, you say, “Good Morning, Sir. My name is (y/n)-” “I know who you are.” He says curtly. As he looks you up and down, you notice the slight flare of his nostrils. His pupils turn into slits as he leans down to your level to look at you. Leaning close to your neck, he sniffs a few times before standing tall. Your cheeks burn as you worry about how you smell. “Hm...Precious.” He says before he walks into his office. You stand for a second, stunned, before trailing behind him with your clipboard.

The next few months were...interesting, to say the least. You had always heard and seen on TV how intimidating and standoffish he was but, as you worked with him more, you got to see those soft cracks. He even invited you to join him for mundane things as the months went along. Dinners and lunches became almost routine; your professional and personal lives seemingly bleed together. He became softer to you, and you felt that you could confide in him when things got tough for you. He also became highly protective of you, not as if you needed it. Being able to handle your own in a work environment filled with predator alphas was a skill you learned quickly before working for him. However, you did notice how Enji would growl at younger employees who would flirt with you or place a protective hand around your waist during meetings with other heroes. Especially whenever the no. 2 hero Hawks would come around. The young griffon hybrid had taken a liking to you a while into your employment. Always finding an excuse to follow you around and compliment you endlessly on your physique.

“Honestly, Enji. How can you work with such a plush and tasty one like that? I’d have them bent over my desk in a heartbeat.” Hawks would tease slightly as he watched you. Enji would growl possessively, telling Hawks to knock it off. “They’re a loyal employee. I’m grateful to have someone as determined as them.” He would say. Pausing a moment to indeed look over your form, eyes lingering on the swell of your hips and thighs. Yearning to know what it would feel like to have his fingers in the softness of your curls, brushing fingers across your cute ears. His eyes finally ended on your tail, wagging excitedly as you wrote down dates and appointments on the large calendar you had insisted on putting up for him. Saying, ‘That way, even if I’m not here, I trust you won’t be totally lost.’ He grunted at the notion but had to hide his blush at the bright and warm smile you gave him. “They are..attractive. But that has no bearing on work ethic Hawks.” He says as he forces his eyes back down to the papers in front of him.

You walk up to his desk, setting down a few papers before leaning over. “Ok, so this is the plan for the next few weeks. I’ve scheduled a few interviews and appearances and spaced them out, so you have some time to prepare.” You begin as you point to different dates and times. You were wearing a relatively low-cut maroon dress; Enji had mentioned once that the color looked good on you. With your hair pulled back, anyone could get a nice view of your assets. It became clear when Enji glanced over to see Hawks unabashedly staring at your chest. The rage that filled him was something he had never experienced before. Standing up, he gripped Hawks arm, pulling him towards and out the door before closing and locking it. You stopped your explanation, watching, confused as your boss’ flames grew slightly before extinguishing entirely as he walked towards you. “Sir? Is everything ok?” You asked. Enji stood in front of you, looking you up and down before settling on your face. With one hand, he gently pushed a stray lock of curly hair behind your ear. Entranced by how your brown skin shimmered in the light of the setting sun. Cupping your face gently, he brushed the apple of your cheek, smiling softly as you leaned into his hand. You held onto his wrist with your much more petite hands—ears flattening as you looked up at him with a smile. “Y/N…Is it..alright if I kiss you?”, He asks. Your eyes widen as his thumb grazes your lips; you nod quickly, not wanting to wake up from this dream. He leans down, gently pressing his lips against yours. You deepen the kiss, wrapping your arms around his neck as you whimper softly. He tastes like hickory and coffee, and your tail shakes excitedly as you feel his hands grip your hips. Pulling back, he stares at your face, eyes half-lidded and soft pants escaping your plump lips. Growling softly, he lifts you up; walking back to his chair, he sits down, placing you on top of his desk.

“Do you know how many times I have to excuse myself because I can smell how horny you are?” He says as he kisses your neck, fingers gripping your plush thighs as he gently pulls them apart. “You smell so fucking delicious, like milk and honey.” He says as he kisses down the valley of your breast. His tail thumping against his chair as he reaches behind to grip the zipper of your dress. “May I?” He asks as he looks up at you. You nod again, face flushed as you hold his face in your hands. “You can do whatever you want, Sir. I’ve waited so long for this.” You say as you feel him lower our zipper, gently pulling down the straps of your dress. He growls softly as he sucks on one of your nipples, pinching and pulling on the other. Hearing your soft moans and pleas for him to give you more, the gentle tugging of his hair as you press yourself into him. As he switches to your other breast, he lets one hand roam, squeezing your thighs and ass before reaching your tail. So soft and short, he can’t help but tug it gently, kneading it as he milks your tits. Your soft whimpers and moans were music to his ears as he continued to ravish you. One of your hands rubbed his fluffy ear, making him growl and bite your nipple. Pulling back, he kisses down your soft stomach, kissing every stretchmark before he reaches your mound. Getting on his knees, he looks up at you, gently rubbing your clit with his thumb as he kisses the inside of your thighs. You moan louder, bucking your hips against his fingers. “Are you ready little lamb? To have this wolf eat you?” He asks as he continues to rub your clit. You nod quickly, spreading your legs more as you whimper softly. “Please, Enji. Eat me~.”

His resolve snaps as he lunges in; licking your hole gently, he groans. You taste so good, so sweet. His tail thumps against the floor as he thrusts his tongue into your entrance. Fingers digging into your thighs as he slowly moves his tongue inside of you, nose brushing against your clit. It feels like hours go by as he devours you, drinking you down as he gently coaxes orgasm after orgasm from you. Deciding you’re ready, he stands up; as he begins to undo his belt, you stop him. Moving to kneel in front of him, you undo his belt and pull out his cock, drooling slightly at how heavy it is in your hands. It throbs as you stroke it gently, feeling every vein and ridge as you grip the base. Looking up at him with big eyes, you begin to take him into your mouth. Whimpering as you take more of his cock down your throat. He groans above you, gently placing a hand on your head, admiring your curls and how soft they feel. You whimper as you struggle taking the last two inches of his cock, choking and drooling as you keep trying. Enji can’t take it anymore and grips your head; thrusting deeply, he holds you to the base, rutting against you as he moans loudly. “Fuck Y/N! I’m gonna cum down that slutty mouth of yours.” He growls.

Your tiny hands grip his hips as you feel his cock pulse in your throat. Cumming down your throat as he whines, tail wagging like crazy. Pulling back, he holds onto your cheeks, tilting your face up to him to examine you. What he wasn’t expecting was your blissed-out eyes and mouth open, filled with his cum. Gulping it down and showing their mouth empty again. Lifting you up and laying you back down on the table, he spread your legs, rubbing your clit gently as he stroke his cock. “Ready little lamb?” He asks as he gently presses the tip of his cock against your entrance. Nodding frantically, you mewled, reaching up for him. “Please, Enji...Breed me~ I wanna feel your fat cock inside me so bad!” You moan out as you look up at him. Desperately holding himself together, he sheaths himself slowly inside, growling at your walls constricting around his cock. His claws grew and dug into your plush thighs as he pushed them to your chest, licking his lips at your soft stomach and tits as he bottomed out. Your eyes rolled back as you felt his cock press against your cervix, throbbing by the second. He couldn’t hold back anymore, your whimpers, your soft skin under his large hands. It was all too much; Baring his fangs, he began thrusting hard and deep inside. Making you whine louder and hold onto his forearms. The slapping of his balls against your ass rang loudly throughout the room as he began to quicken his pace. Lifting you up, he held you close, snarling in your ear as he bounces you on his cock, claws drawing blood as they sink into the flesh of your ass. “Fuck..You fit so well on my cock; how does it feel to be a cock sheath little lamb.” He growls as he feels you cum around his cock. You can barely speak, eyeliner and mascara streaking down your face as you thought your pussy clench around him. “S-so good! Your cock feels so good!” You babbled as you tried to hold onto him. He chuckles, licking a stripe up your neck as he sits back in his chair, bouncing you on his cock while he watches your face. Flushed out and crying from overstimulation, he can’t help but think you’re ethereal. The look in your eyes is one he hasn’t seen towards him in a while, one of pure love and admiration. “Enji. Enji, I love you.” You say so sweetly to him; he reaches up and cups your face gently, you grind your hips down on his cock. Taking some control, you begin to bounce on his cock slowly, using his shoulders as leverage. “Fuck. I love you more, Y/N. Fuck I want to keep you to myself. Always so jealous of letting those lackeys seeing what’s mine.” He growls as he watches you bounce on his cock. Leaning up to suckle on one of your breasts as he holds you closer to him. One of his ear twitches, listening around, he notices you both aren’t alone. You see, he’s distracted, lifting his head up to stop bouncing, whimpering softly. “Enji...is everything ok?” You asked worriedly. The sunset reflects off of your e/c eyes, making them shimmer and glow. He lifts you up again, spinning you around and rolling you both towards the window. Spreading your legs wide, he slowly thrusts up into you, kissing your hair and gently rubbing your clit. “Just relax for me, little lamb. You need to if you’re gonna take my knot.” He says as you start to feel something else slowly bumping against your entrance. You begin to relax before beginning to comprehend what he said. Before you can even ask him to explain, he grips your hips, slamming you down onto his knot. You feel his knot press against your g-spot, sending you over the edge, squirting on his cock with your legs shivering. His piercing blue eyes, staring off outside as he bites down on your shoulder, you only let out a squeal as he starts thrusting inside faster, rutting against you. He can’t help but get you on the floor, thrusting down, determined to make you cum again before he fills your womb. You’re marked up and bruised, still looking like an angel to him as he finally holds you close to him. Howling softly as he fills your tiny cunt, letting you pant softly and regain your composer as he pets your head. Looking up to meet golden eyes across the way to the top of the building.

#Cernunnos Writings #endeavor #endeavor x reader #endeavor smut #enji todoroki #enji smut #enji x reader #bnha smut #bnha x reader #bnha enji #citrus dome collab #collab

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heavywithourbabies · 3 years ago

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Emma and Mark 2

The first thing that Mark noticed was off when he woke up is that he couldn’t see anything. He knew he wasn’t suddenly blind, but every time he opened his eyes, his vision was blurred by some sort of thick fabric. He also couldn’t help but notice that his wrists were above his head, and he was clearly restrained against the headboard of the bed. He shook his wrist restraints a bit and felt the cold metal on his skin and the sounds of small chains hitting each other. “Emma” he thought and grinned. Mark was an incredibly heavy sleeper and from time to time, his wife had taken full advantage of that in their bedroom as she often woke early and sometimes needed extra attention. He had to hand it to her though, this time she outdid herself. How in the world his heavily pregnant wife could pull this off without waking him up was the question. He heard the shuffle of bare feet against the floorboards and quickly decided it didn’t matter.

“Emma” he called out, with a knowing grin. “Babe, not to alarm you but I think we’re being robbed by kink thieves.”

“I had such an amazing time with you last night.” Emma’s voice replied. He couldn’t quite place her in the room, but he knew she was close. “You really made the last date night before the baby extra special. I just feel bad I was so tired by the time we got home.”

“Well” mark started as he tried to look in her direction, “You’re almost 40 weeks with a big baby, so it makes sense you get tired.”

“I am 40 weeks as of today.” Emma replied, her voice a bit deeper and sultry.

“Baby, that’s amazing, we should – “ Mark began before he felt his wife’s finger on his lips, hushing him up.

“I’m 40 weeks today, Mark. 40 weeks with our big, healthy baby boy growing in my belly. The baby that you put in there.”

He felt his wife’s tiny hand on his as she slowly took it out of the handcuff, lowered his wrist, and placed his hand directly on her belly. Feeling her belly was one of mark’s favorite things to do. He could never get over how warm it was. How dense and heavy it felt under her soft skin. She rubbed his hand for him over her belly and mark felt the stretchmarks that had grown on his wife. Her skin felt tight and smooth.

“Do you like feeling my big, heavy belly Mark?” She asked, slightly teasing. “Can you feel how tight and full it is? Can you feel the weight of it? Does it turn you on knowing how heavy and full you’ve made me? Knowing there’s a bun in the oven and you’re the one that put it there?”

“yes.” Was all mark could get out in reply. His breath already short.

“Good.” Emma said, and replaced Mark’s hand into the restraint. He felt it close but it wasn’t that tight. Wherever she had gotten them, the handcuffs were cheaply made.

“I want you to feel me” Emma said. “I want you to feel me with your body.”

He felt her two hands close to him on the bed as she leaned over. He could feel the tips of her thick, engorged nipples on his chest and running down his stomach and back up again.

“They ache you know?” Emma said. Mark swallowed hard. “They ache just doing this. My nipples are so sensitive now thanks to you, so thick. My areolas are huge and dark. I can feel the pressure of the milk building in them, making them heavier. So they ache. They ache to be milked. Ache for your baby to suck on them. Ache to do what they were meant to do….”

Suddenly Emma’s hands were on the waistband of his boxer briefs and she easily glided them down his legs. Mark’s cock was getting hard and he felt it twitch in the open air.

“I don’t mind the aching though. To be honest I ache everywhere now that I’m so big and heavy with your baby.” Emma told him as he felt her soft tiny hand take the shaft of his penis and slowly rub up and down on it. He couldn’t help but groan a little. “I know it’s all worth it. All the aches and pains. Feeling heavy and ready to burst. It’s all worth it so we can meet our baby. But it’s also worth it, just to carry my man’s baby in me.” And with that, mark felt the plump lips of his wife taking him in her mouth and she began to slowly bob up and down. Her mouth was warm and wet and he could feel her tongue swirling over the head of his cock, making mark shiver a bit. Emma kept stroking him as he felt her get up on the bed with him. He could hear the bedframe creaking under her weight, as she straddled him. He felt her place his cock on her skin but he couldn’t tell where. He heard her quietly spit in her hand and started to rub it against the top of his dick as he was pressed against her. “I told you I wanted you to feel me baby.” Emma said slyly. ”How does it feel to have your big cock rubbing on my belly?”

“Oh God…” mark let out and he felt his cock throbbing. His wife continued to tease his member along her fecund belly for a few more moments, rubbing him off gently against herself, before she stopped. Mark didn’t know what she was doing but he could feel her moving her cumbersome body up the bed. She had to be standing above him. She took a few awkward steps forward and he could feel her feet on either side of his head.

“My body has become more womanly, no thanks to you.” She said from above him. He heard you grunt a little and the weight above him shifted. A part of her was right above his face now and he could tell. Her musky scent filled his nose and he knew her crotch was right in his face. He could feel slight dripping on his mouth and cheeks. His cock was iron hard. She lowered her legs and got on her knees, the sweet smell of her sex all over his face. “You’ve made me swollen everywhere. Taste how swollen I am for you.” Emma said in a deep husky voice and then fully dropped on his mouth. His nose was buried in the thicket of hair she had grown since she could no longer shave, and her fatty, thick labia lips were open on his mouth before he even began. Mark couldn’t help but rock his hips up and down out of pure desperate need as he began to lick his wife’s soft wet walls. He slowly parted her lips all the way and began with a few long strokes of his tongue, going up and down her entrance, just to taste all of her. Although his hearing was muffled by her strong thighs, he could her his wife moaning in pleasure. She began to rock her hips in time with his lapping. He loved going down on Emma but doing it while she was pregnant was a whole different experience. She really was swollen everywhere and somehow she felt softer. He enjoyed how wet and sticky she became and began licking faster when he felt her juices running down his chin. Emma was letting out a series of short and small little yelps, a sign she was close and mark went in for the kill. He started to run his tongue all over the hood of her engorged clit. Then he would make direct contact with his tongue and run circles and other patterns on her most sensitive spot. Soon he could feel the whole bed rocking back and forth under the weight of his very pregnant wife. Without warning she let out a low pitched moan and came all over his face. He backed off of licking her clit but he kept lapping away at her. In that moment all he wanted was to make her feel good. To thank her for carrying their baby. To worship the place where his baby would be brought into the world. And the deeper more animalistic side of him wanted to drown in her pregnant cunt.

After a moment or two, he felt the bed shift again as his wife struggled to get up. “More” she said in that deep and husky voice she got when she was really turned on. At this point Mark’s penis was achingly hard for her. More than anything he wanted to take her then and there, and feel every inch of her belly and tits but he was still restrained. He rocked his wrists against his restraints and heard a small click. Emma positioned herself over Mark’s painfully erect penis, grunted again and lowered herself down. It was amazing she could still be this graceful being this large but with one swift motion she straddled Mark, feeling her already wide hips ache a little in protest, and guided his penis into her soaking wet vagina.

“Fuck yes!” Mark said and immediately thrusted once into her. Emma put her hands on his chest to signify she was in control and he lowered back down. With that, she began to rock her expanded hips back and forth, feeling the sensation of his engorged cock filling and stretching her. It hurt a little since she was so much tighter now but the feeling of having her husband inside of her made her eyes roll up in the back of her head as she continued. As she rode, she felt heavy and large. Fertile and ripe. She couldn’t move very fast on his cock but her movements were deep and slow. Her meaty pussy swallowing all of his cock greedily. Mark was in heaven as felt the full weight of his wife on top of him. Her heavy belly rubbing against his stomach as she continued to grind on top of him. She put her hands back on mark’s chest to steady herself and started riding faster and harder on him. She felt her belly rock up and down and her heavy tits clapped together almost painfully.

“Yes baby, yes” Mark kept saying over and over again.

“Do you like feeling how heavy I am?” Emma asked in between deep sighs and moans. “You like how swollen and huge you’ve made your wife?”

“Fuck yes.” Was all Mark could reply as she neared towards another orgasm. This one took her completely by surprise. Usually she had to work at cumming but the more pregnant she became, the easier it came upon her. She felt her whole body tense up as it clenched deep inside her core. “I’m… I’m” she stammered as buried her hands into marks chest, almost drawing blood with her nails. The orgasm was going to be big, she could tell. So strong it would probably ache a little. She was right at the precipice when she suddenly felt mark’s hands all over her hips and he thrusted upward into her as strongly as he could and held himself there.

“You’re fucking beautiful “ Mark said and Emma let the waves crash all around her. Her whole body shook as she continued to semi rock on Mark’s penis. Her thighs clenched and unclenched at their own will. She felt this in the deepest part of herself, felt it all throughout her massively pregnant body. She was a fertile, ripe, pregnant queen thanks to her man. And she was going to completely soak him in her thanks. Somehow through the haze of her pleasure, she registered the fact that Mark had somehow gotten loose and taken his blindfold off. How he did it was beyond her at the moment but she didn’t even care.

Somehow, mark was able to lift her and put her down on her back with her legs spread for him. The pressure of all the baby weight immediately hurt her back and made it hard to breathe but she couldn’t care less at the moment. Mark began to drive into her as hard and as fast as he could. Her huge belly, slick with sweat, pressed against his stomach. He grabbed a handful of her pretty brown hair and kept thrusting.

“I fucking love you like this” he said “I want you heavy and swollen with my babies all the time. I especially love this-“ he grabbed either side of her belly. She grabbed on to his arms feeling a smaller orgasm come on and she teased the feeling along. “You love pregnant women? You love a big pregnant wife? Show me. Show me how much you love that belly.” She demanded and started clenching again as the third orgasm hit. Mark quickly pulled out of his warm wife, felt himself throbbing in his hand, and groaned loudly as he erupted all over her massive, stretch marked belly. His whole body went stiff as a board as the sensation grabbed him by the spine. Shooting length after length of his hot cum all over her orb of a belly.

The pair stayed in place for a few moments, both trying to catch their breath. Mark slowly withdrew from the warmth of his wife and looked at the mess he had made of her.

“Oh shit, baby, I’m sorry.” He said.

“Don’t be.” She replied as she started rubbing his seed all over her belly. “I needed to lotion anyways.”

They both erupted in laughter and held each other closely. It wouldn’t be long until their family would expand with another. And not long after that, two more.

#pregnantfetish #pregnancyfetish #pregnanterotica #pregnancyerotica #heavywithmybabies

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pterodactylterrace · 4 years ago

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Guys Like You Chapter 6

Title: Guys Like You

Chapter: 6

Chapter Summary: More of a filler chapter, not much Henry, I’m sorry.

Rating: 18+

Warnings: Mentions of abuse, pregnancy, poor self image, bad coping mechanisms, low self esteem.

{Prologue} {Chapter 1} {Chapter 2} {Chapter 3} {Chapter 4} {Chapter 5}

"I already told you, Faye! I don't want anything to do with this!"

"So because I want to keep my babies, you're leaving me? Is that what you're trying to tell me, David?"

"Yes! Shit, I knew you were dumb, but seriously!"

"Excuse me?"

"Are you deaf too, whore? How do you even know I'm the one that knocked you up? You've slept with just about every guy in town!"

"Get the fuck out."

"Don't come crying to me later! You're nothing without me! No one is ever going to want you. Especially once you have kids. Who the hell wants used goods? Have fun living a life of regret!"

Faye jerked awake, her head spinning as she tried to catch her bearings. Did David really leave her just like that? Sure he wasn't the greatest, but he had never lashed out like that before. At least not where anyone else could witness it.

No. David's gone. He has been gone for almost four years now. New life. Starting over. It's all in the past now.

Have to get the baby up before the sitter comes. Work is coming up soon. Life goes on.

"Briar, what are you doing on the floor?" Faye chuckled, crouching down next to her daughter, curled up on her pillow by her bed.

"I'm a puppy." Briar yawned in explanation, holding her arms up to be lifted, promptly licking her mother's cheek as soon as she was up.

"Briar, we talked about licking people."

"I'm not Briar, I'm puppy."

"Ok then, puppy, no licking people. Now what do you want for breakfast?"

"Puppy food."

"Cereal it is."

Feed the toddler, quick shower, get dressed, throw her hair up away from her face, wait for the baby sitter, hugs and kisses goodbye, then off to work. The usual routine she had settled herself into.

Feed the baby, because she's hungry and she comes first.

Shower, because she probably has some sort of mystery goo on her from the toddler.

Get dressed, avoid the mirror. No one wants to be reminded of how much they've changed. The softness she wasn't used to around her lower stomach, hips and thighs. Her breasts no longer as perky as they used to be. The stretchmarks competing with her tattoo's for attention.

Then, the hardest part of the day. "Ok, Briar, Mrs. Anderson is here. Mommy has to go to work. I love you."

"I love you too, Mommy." Briar responded, hugging her mother tight and kissing her cheek before she was sat back down.

"Have a nice day, Miss Warren."

"I hope she's not too much to handle."

"Never is."

Some days, Faye likes to pretend she's ok. Like she has a handle on things. Like she knows what she's doing and not just blindly stumbling through her life while trying to do right by her daughter.

Other days, she would absently push her sleeves up and her eye would catch on the black lines decorating her forearm, just below her elbow. Some days she's reminded that life is a bitch, and you can't always get what you want. On those days she tried to stay out of her own head, though that rarely worked.

She could slap on a smile with the best of them, but she could never force it to reach her eyes. Her face always remained an open book, free for anyone to read. The past creeps up on you. There's nothing you can do to stop it some days. On a bad day, the ghosts of the past will haunt your mind, echoing the worst days of your life into the void of your shattered heart.

"No one is ever going to want you!"

"You're nothing without me!"

"Who wants used goods?"

"I'm sorry, Miss Warren. There was nothing we could do."

Over and over on a seemingly never ending loop, reminding her of the darkest times in her life.

Why would anyone want her? She's not the same hot twenty six year old she used to be. She was soft. She was saggy. She would never be as attractive as she used to be. Anyone in their right mind would turn around and run once they realized how much she had let herself go.

Days like today were best spent keeping people at a distance. Tell them some story about being tired. Avoid anyone that is going to call her out on her obvious lie. Therein lies the problem with dying your hair obnoxious colors. Among a sea of blonde and brunette, powder blue tends to stick out and make it almost impossible to vanish.

Lie your way out of it. Survive another day. Tomorrow might not be better, but at least it won't be the same.

"Mommy, you're back!" The sweetest sound she could hear all day.

"I always come back, my little love." Faye assured, kissing her daughter's head.

Need to care for the baby. She comes first. She deserves the world. Play time. Dinner time. Bath time. Story time. Bed time. The same after work routine she had established months ago when she decided to drop everything and run.

Her daughter thought the world of her. She would do anything to see her smile. She would wear the stupid costume. She would pretend to be a horsey. She would let her daughter use her as a jungle gym. She would make the same dinner again for the third night in a row for her. So what if she soaked the bathroom floor during bath time? She was a mermaid, and she wanted to show off her tail. Story time, always an adventure with her imaginative little girl. What world would they find themselves in today? Dinosaurs? Princesses? Mythology? A rhyming book?

Ah, yes of course. Her current favorite, the book about the dinosaur cleaning his room. She was a girl obsessed with dinosaurs at the moment.

"Mommy, where's my Papa?" Briar asked, staring intently down at the page depicting a mother and father watching the dinosaur throw away paper scraps.

"Don't worry about him, sweetheart. He wasn't a nice man." Faye explained, resting her cheek on her daughter's head.

"Can I have a new Papa?"

"Maybe someday, sweetheart."

"Can Spider-man be my new Papa?"

"Why do you want Spider-man to be your new Papa?"

"He's my boyfriend!"

"That's not how it works, silly. If he's your boyfriend, he can't also be by boyfriend! Pick another hero!"

"Batman!"

"Well, he is rich." Faye mused, Briar giggling happily. "Now it's time for bed, my love."

"Ok, Mommy. I love you!"

"I love you too, Briar." Faye whispered, kissing her forehead. The nightlight was switched on and the door was left cracked open, just in case. Now for her seldom used free time.

Should she sketch some more? Finish that painting she started forever ago? Ever since she started a "real" job, her art had fallen by the wayside. She was too drained to do much after work and caring of her daughter.

Maybe some drawing will lift her spirits and keep the nightmares at bay tonight. But what to draw? Not in the mood for still life. Brain too fried for something straight from her imagination. Her usual model was sleeping, and her last few self portraits had been a serious blow to her ego. She just drew what she saw in the mirror. Then, when she was finished, she decided she should have worn more clothing before she drew herself. What was supposed to boost her confidence and empower her as a woman instead left her wondering when exactly she developed that roll when sitting in that position.

"Fuck it. I'm drawing a moose." Faye grumbled to herself, turning the page from her self portrait to a blank sheet. Half an hour later when she was trying to remember what a moose's antlers looked like, she finally picked up her phone. Seven unread messages? That seems like a lot. When was the last time she looked at her phone? Oh yeah, when she got home, five hours ago.

All from one person. So she wasn't ignoring everyone at least. Seven messages, all from Henry. Shit. That's not good.

Are you ok?

You seemed off on set today

You didn't even talk to me

Did you at least make it home alright?

Can you send me a sign of life?

I'm sorry if I upset you or something. Can you please talk to me? I'm genuinely worried.

Please?

Well, fuck. Here she was playing unicorn apocalypse with her daughter, and this poor guy was worrying himself to death.

Sorry, I was drawing a moose

Perfect way of saying "I wasn't ignoring you" while also avoiding his persistent questions about her wellbeing. The good old 'drawing a moose' excuse. Works every time.

I think your moose aged me by ten years. Are you ok?

Just had a bad day

Anything I can do to help?

Squeeze me until I stop struggling and my spine snaps

That's called 'murder' Miss Warren

I knew there was a name for it

Is there anything I can do for you that involves less prison?

Nah, if you're not going to take me out, then I'm not interested

I'm not going to take you out by murder. I will take you out on a date.

Faye froze, staring at her phone. He was just playing around, like he always did. No way he was serious. Henry liked to flirt, and she wasn't about to throw herself at him over a joke. She had more dignity than that. So how does she respond? She can't just ignore him, and taking forever to respond is going to give the impression that she was freaking out over what he said.

She was completely freaking out over what he had said, but he didn't need to know that. Was he just looking to get laid or something? Probably. He had gotten pretty close the last time he had been over. There's a difference between dating and screwing, though. He was probably just looking for someone to fuck while waiting for a woman worth his time to come along. Faye was broken out of her thoughts by her phone going off again, alerting her to a new message. Didn't he know she was busy having an existential crisis?

If you're free on Sunday you can come over and show me that moose your working on

*you're

Smart ass

Sunday?

I'll have to see if Mrs. Anderson can watch Briar

Bring her along. She keeps asking me about Kal

Pretty on brand for her

Sunday?

Sunday.

Sunday. What to wear on Sunday? He was probably looking for a little something something for his time, so something slutty? She got rid of all her slutty clothes after she had Briar in a fit of self hatred toward her new mom bod, so that was out. Besides, he wouldn't have invited Briar over too if he was looking to get laid.

So what does one wear on a casual 'date' these days? She had until Sunday to figure that out.

Tag List: @Xxxkatxo @Weallhaveadestiny

#henry cavill #henry cavill x ofc #henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill fanfiction #guys like you #guys like you fic #triggering themes

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miss-edith-cushing · 4 years ago

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The post that is about hip dips, but not really

A few weeks ago I stumbled upon Rachel Maksy’s video called ‘Let's Talk About "Hip Dips" (& other insecurities)’. I saw it in my recommendations on youtube, but I clicked on it before I’ve even read the title - seeing two small drawings on the miniature, one called ‘No Dip’ and the other ‘Dip’, was all that I needed to watch it immediately. I never heard of hip dips, never knew it was a problem common enough that it had its own name - all I knew was that the drawing called ‘Dip’ was showing something I saw every day in the mirror, but what I never saw anywhere else. I knew Rachel’s channel, I saw a bunch of her vintage clothing videos, so I was very surprised to see her in sports bra and leggings, with no or barely any make up. She talked about hip dips and what causes them (no, it’s not badly fitted underwear, lack of workout or family curse - it’s your bones, your literal skeleton, so there’s not much you can do about it), about her insecurities (stretchmarks, flat booty, colour of her eyes, hip dips, tummy rolls...), about a lot of other stuff. I don’t remember much from it, but seeing her in those very revealing clothes, showing exactly what parts of her body she doesn’t like, made an impact on me. Something about her figure made me think about myself - the fact that she is both slim and soft, looks ‘feminine’, but is not very thick, has no butt, rather slim hips, those darn hip dips, she’s pale and red-haired... And seeing her made me feel better about my body.

I don’t have a lot to complain about when it comes to my looks, I won the genetic lottery, but there are still parts of my body I don’t like. Or, I should rather say, I learned to not like. I used to think I was mediocre, 5/10, alright, but nothing more. When I was a child, I wanted to be a blonde, but I got over it quite quickly; like many girls, I talked a lot about how fat I was (from age 13 to 16 I used to wear size 38 EU, then lost some weight due to stress), I hated my face covered in acne and always wore stupid bangs that made my poor skin on forehead even worse. But the thing is, I never truly believed it. I never fully and completely thought my bangs were awful or that I was fat. I never hated myself for it. My acne, well, that’s another story. And no one ever said anything bad about those things. Not my family, not my peers, no one. Those were insecurities I created myself, maybe except for acne - my mother used to talk with me about it, but wasn’t mean, just tried to be helpful. We know a lot about the pressure media and society puts on young people, especially women, about their looks, but it’s not what I wanted to talk about today.

When I was 16, someone told me one of the boys from my class called my profile doglike. Oh, I thought, I never realized that, and tried to understand what he meant. My nose looks kinda like Michael Sheen’s, but it’s a little smaller, so I figured it’s about it looking kinda like dog’s head. I never particularly liked my nose, but I still tried to just shrug that comment off. 15 years later, I still remember it. When I was 18, my then best friend told me a few times with snide laughter that I don’t have any butt, just very long back. Oh, I thought, I never realized that, because I never really paid attention to it. When I was 19, a man I was in love with told me my bum looks like it belonged to young Greek boy. Oh, I thought, he is right, that’s very accurate description, but I didn’t knew if he was mean about it or not (now I know he was). When I was 28, I met a girl a few years younger than me, with the same case of flat ass like me, who talks quite often about new excercises she tried, going to the gym, everything she does to make her bum more round. She teases me a little about it and I tease her back, but never to hurt each other. Still, after our conversation about two weeks ago when I talked with her and our other friend on zoom and they discussed yet another excercises and diets, I’ve spent next evening being miserable and thinking about how no one will ever love me, because I have no booty (and I mean, that would be the only reason, how ridiculous is that).

I thought about all of that a lot in recent days. About how lucky I was that the first thing I watched about hip dips was Rachel’s video that named the problem I had and at the very beginning explained it was a matter of my bones - not a bunch of advices about what to wear to hide them or what kind of workout will be helpful to make my hips rounder. How I had no idea that there’s ‘something wrong’ with my body until other people pointed it out and were mean about it. How much discussing these characteristics as something that obviously should be get ridded of, when combined with poor mental state, can throw me into a pit of misery. How on one hand it’s great that thick women are starting being seen as attractive after years and years of simply calling them fat (yes, of course, not all of them, but that’s another topic), but on the other hand I feel more and more repulsive every time I see pictures of influencers or celebrities, so often with their features more or less photoshopped to look juicier. I know I’m babbling a lot here, but I just need to do it, because... I’m so tired of having a body. Of having it so peculiar that today’s fashion rarely have anything for it to offer. Of sewing my own clothes, especially blouses, because nothing really fits my figure how it should. Of not being able to wear some clothes I like, because I would know I look very bad in them and that would make me uncomfortable. Yes, there are some things that don’t make me look 10/10, but I still wear them because I love them so much and I love how I feel in them. Of being aware that other people might find some parts of me unattractive. I’m tired of feeling miserable about myself and I want to find some way to stop it.

One of the things that striked me in Rachel’s video was her confession, quite logical, that wearing vintage clothes, especially wide skirts and dresses, hid her hips and booty and therefore helped her with presenting herself in a way that made her feel attractive. I thought ‘If this video is about insecurities being ridiculous, then why are we talking about hiding those unattractive parts?’ I used to do that too, but for some reason that wasn’t enough for me anymore. I don’t want to hide anymore, I just don’t want to think about it, wear whatever I want - and goddamit, I love skinny high waisted jeans, I don’t want to go back to wearing wide skirts on the days when I feel insecure. So what to do about it, how to not give a damn?

And then, as quite often in the last 1,5 years, Good Omens helped. Every day since June 2019 I see Crowley on my dash, wearing insanely tight clothes, sauntering like he hasn’t full control over his limbs, being so damn skinny, having absolutely no bum whatsoever, looking almost ridiculous, but still being described by fans as, yes, ridiculous, but so loveable. Trying to be cool in a way he thinks is cool, not adjusting completely to current norms. If Crowley was a real woman with the same type of figure as David Tennant, she sure as hell wouldn’t be wearing wide skirts with a petticoat, or padded underwear, or A line dresses. Crowley doesn’t hide who he is, what he finds cool, what is imperfect about him (no, we’re not discussing his sunglasses right now, that’s a topic for another conversation). He’s honest about who he is and what he wants.

And hell, if I need to learn to be like that by buying and wearing black waxed high waisted superskinny jeans, so be it.

I just got the email, the package with my new clothes is just on its way.

#personal #good omens can sometimes be more helpful than therapy - that's thanks not only to the book and the show but also to the people in the fandom #i babble a lot about my body and clothes but as everyone who've met me knows - it's really always about identity

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worryinglyinnocent · 4 years ago

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Fic: A Spark of Life and Hope

First fic in a brand new fandom. I always forget how nerve-wracking it is to start playing in a new sandbox. Enjoy!

Summary: There’s longing and desperation in his kiss, the pain of a parting almost but not quite upon them, wanting to draw this moment out as long as possible…

“Please,” she whispers as he finally lets her up for air. “One last time before you go.”

When Hohenheim leaves, he doesn’t know he’s left behind a spark of new life in Trisha. When he contemplates the possibility of having done so a couple of months later, it changes everything.

Hohenheim returns, Trisha lives, and as the years pass, hope and peace come to the Elric family as light comes to the shadows of Xerxes.

Rated: Mature – there’s some brief sexual content at the beginning, but it’s not the focus of the fic.

A Spark of Life and Hope

Hohenheim isn’t asleep. Trisha can tell. He’s staring up at the ceiling, thinking of tomorrow morning and what he’ll leave behind when he goes. He’s all packed ready, suitcase standing in the corner of the room like an ill omen, and she sees his eyes slide over to it every now and then.

She doesn’t know exactly what he’s leaving to do. He’s been open with her about his past and his nature and everything surrounding it, wanting her to know the truth before she committed herself to him, but she’s never pried too much into the work he does.

This is about more than just regaining his mortality, though. He’s left looking for leads on that before, but what he’s about to do is more important, more all-encompassing, and it will take him away for a lot longer. He’ll be away for years this time. He’s covering Amestris in its entirety, looking for something to prevent a crisis that only he, with his unusual traits, can prevent.

Trisha just wishes that it didn’t have to be him on this one-man mission to save the world.

She rolls over and pushes herself up on her forearms, leaning over him.

“Don’t think,” she says. “Don’t think about tomorrow. Just kiss me now.”

Hohenheim obliges readily, pulling her down with strong arms around her shoulders. There’s longing and desperation in his kiss, the pain of a parting almost but not quite upon them, wanting to draw this moment out as long as possible. Trisha gives in eagerly, shifting to straddle his hips.

“Please,” she whispers as he finally lets her up for air. “One last time before you go.”

They don’t do this very regularly. After so many years of people warning her that men were only interested in this one thing, Trisha was rather surprised to find that this is the one thing Hohenheim really isn’t interested in. She assumes its because of the souls, although she’s long since accepted that they’re there, and they can’t help being there, and she’s told him over and over that she doesn’t mind that they’re there. He’s still affectionate, with kisses and cuddles and soft touches; it’s not that he’s not intimate with her at all. Just the act itself he can take or leave.

He’s happy to participate when she wants it though, and now he nods, slipping his hands up under her nightdress and skimming his fingers over her breasts as she tugs it off over her head. His pyjama pants and undershirt go in short order too, and then he pulls her down to kiss her again, one hand slipping down between them to the apex of her thighs. He brushes over that sweet spot with his thumb, and Trisha gasps against his mouth, rocking her hips into his and feeling him begin to twitch and respond under her. She remembers their first time together: awkward, clumsy, fumbling and altogether wonderful.

They’ve come a long way since then, and they know how to make each other fall apart.

When Hohenheim finally pushes into her wet heat, they’re so close that Trisha can’t tell where she ends and where he begins. There’s almost no space between them, and yet they’re still not close enough for a goodbye that will last such a long time…

She comes with a cry, pressing a hand over her mouth in case she wakes the boys, and she feels Hohenheim’s fingers dig into her backside as he follows her over just a moment later. They stay panting in the afterglow for a while until Trisha sits up again, letting him slide out of her and grabbing a handkerchief from her nightstand to clean up with.

She’s going to miss this. She’s going to miss pondering the marvel of his unchanging body whilst he gazes lovingly at her scars and stretchmarks and fluctuating weight, all the things he says make her human and remarkable. She’s going to miss the way his hair looks when it’s loose and spread out over the pillow, the way that it shines in the moonlight showing its colour as truly gold instead of blond. She’s going to miss mapping him with her hands and lips.

The comparative infrequency of their love-making makes each time all the more beautiful and passionate, and it’ll be lost to her for a long time.

Maybe that will make their reunion sweeter.

“Trisha?”

Hohenheim reaches up to touch her face, and Trisha realises that she’s weeping. She twines her fingers with his, keeping his hand pressed against her cheek.

“I don’t want you to leave.”

“I don’t want to leave.” He brings her hand down, kissing the palm before pulling her back down against his chest and holding her tight, face buried in her hair.

If only they could stay like this forever.

Eventually she slips off him, curling in close to his side and getting comfortable for sleep, but she doesn’t think it’ll come. Not tonight, and not for either of them. There’ll be time enough for her to sleep once Hohenheim is gone. For now, she just wants to savour this time that they still have together.

“Just promise me that you’ll come back, ok?” she whispers. “Don’t get yourself killed in your quest to save the country and your own mortality.”

“I promise. No matter what, I’ll make it back here. I promise we’ll grow old together.”

They lie together until the grey dawn chases the shadows into the corners, and Hohenheim sighs.

“I want to leave before the boys wake up. I don’t think I’ll be able to go through with it otherwise.”

Even as he says it, neither of them move for a long time afterwards. Eventually, though, Hohenheim unwraps his arm from around her and untangles their legs. Trisha watches him get dressed and pull his hair back, the couple of strands escaping at the front like they always do.

“Promise me you won’t cut your hair, either.”

He laughs. “I’m not likely to change my style after four hundred years.”

Once he’s ready to go, he comes back over to the bed and leans in to kiss her forehead.

“Wait for me. I’ll be back, I promise.”

She nods, and he’s just about to leave the room when she scrambles up, pulling on yesterday’s clothes.

“Wait. I want to see you off at the door.”

They walk through the silent house hand in hand, but Trisha’s fingers are shaking as she goes to unbolt the front door. Hohenheim’s hand closes over hers.

“It’s ok. I’ve got it.”

He hands her the suitcase and unlocks the door, but he doesn’t open it. For a long time he just looks at her, as if he’s trying to drink in the sight of her as much as he can, a mental photograph to cling to whilst he’s away.

Then he’s kissing her again, a final frantic kiss, his hands on her face and his legs bumping the suitcase awkwardly against hers. Trisha doesn’t care, letting go of it with one hand and pulling him in closer.

“I love you,” Hohenheim whispers.

“I love you too.”

It can’t last forever, as much as they might like it to, and eventually they have to break apart.

Trisha sighs. “Take care of yourself. Don’t get into trouble.”

“I’ll do my best.”

“And…” Trisha trails off as she sees movement out of the corner of her eye and the boys come into view. She sees Hohenheim freeze when he realises they’re there, sees him withdraw into himself. The very reason he wanted to leave early, and now they’re here and he’s here on the threshold.

She’s not surprised that he leaves the house without a word, not when she can see the tell-tale little tremble in his throat and the set in his shoulders that means his stoicism is only hanging on by a thread.

The fact he didn’t say goodbye still hurts, though.

When she gets back to the window after sorting the boys out, she can just about see him in the distance on the path down towards the town, head bowed and shoulders drooping. With the boys safely back in their own beds, Trisha crawls back into hers, burying her face in the pillows that still smell like him and crying her eyes out.

Two weeks after Hohenheim leaves, there’s no blood in Trisha’s underwear when there should be, and a few days after that, she feels the same kind of distinctive, curdling nausea in the pit of her stomach that she’s felt twice before.

Something has been eating at Hohenheim ever since he left. Whilst at first he put it down to the pain of leaving his life behind him, the more that he’s gone on and the more that he’s been unable to let go of it, the more he’s been thinking about it and the more he’s fixated on it.

That last morning, that last kiss at the front door… Something was different about Trisha and he hasn’t been able to put his finger on it. He keeps telling himself that it’s just her sadness at him leaving, but that feeling that something was off about her, not wrong per se as different to normal, won’t let him go.

He’s dozing on a train to Western City when it hits him, and he jerks into full and very aware consciousness.

He’s felt that same kind of oddness around her before, he just didn’t register it properly at the time, not until a lot later.

Alkahestry relies on being able to feel the flow of life through the body and the earth - the chi, as the Xingese call it. Hohenheim has spent so long helping to develop alkahestry and tying it up with alchemy; he’s become so used to feeling it that it’s just second nature to him, like the hum of the souls in his veins.

During that last desperate kiss, pressed in so close against Trisha, his hands on her face, there was something different about her chi. It was just a little bit more forceful, just a little bit hotter. Barely noticeable, but there.

He’s noticed it about her before, a couple of times, but not usually until it became much more obvious, until the balance was very clearly tipped.

It was more forceful and hotter because there was more of it.

There was more of it, and it hadn’t split off to become someone separate’s chi yet. It was still a part of Trisha’s. A part of his, too.

Trisha is pregnant.

He’s glad he’s on a train in the middle of nowhere when he realises, because his first reaction is silent panic, and at least he has until Western City to think what to do next.

On the one hand, he intended to leave and not return until Homunculus was defeated, and everything would be well in the world, and he could return knowing that he wouldn’t have to leave again.

On the other hand, that was before Trisha was pregnant with a child he might not get to meet for years. Trisha did not have easy pregnancies with Ed and Al, and he would never want her to go through a third on her own.

By the time he gets off the train in Western, he has at least some semblance of a plan. The change in Trisha’s chi was so small that it could be that it never took and never became a pregnancy; she might be none the wiser that it had ever been there in the first place, so maybe he should check first before he starts panicking afresh.

He doesn’t have to go far to find a payphone, and the ringing as he waits for it to connect is far too loud in his ear.

“Hello?”

“Edward, it’s me… It’s Dad.”

“Dad! Where are you? Are you coming home?”

“I’m… Is your mom there?”

“Mom’s sick.” There’s a shuffle on the end of the phone as Al comes over to investigate on hearing that AWOL-for-two-months-Dad has resurfaced.

“Ed, how is she sick? Fever, flu, throwing up?”

“She’s throwing up all the time. Granny Pinako says we won’t catch it though.”

Well, no, they’re definitely in no danger of that.

“I’ll get Mom!” Hohenheim hears Al’s footsteps patter up the stairs and out of earshot.

“No, if she’s sick just let her rest…” He knows it’s fruitless, and just listens to Ed chatter on about everything that’s happened since he’s been gone until he hears Trisha’s voice.

“Love?”

“Trisha.” It’s such a relief to hear her voice that for a moment he can’t say anything else.

“Boys, could you go into the other room please so I can talk to your father in private? Thank you.” She returns to him. “How have you been?”

“I’m fine. I was calling to see how you were.”

“I’m…” There’s a long sigh. “I’m ok. I just miss you.”

“Are you sure you’re ok? The boys said you were sick.”

“It’s nothing, I’ll be fine, and it’s not catching.”

“Trisha, are you pregnant?” He hadn’t intended it to sound so blunt, and there’s silence at the other end of the phone for a long time.

“Yes.” Her voice is barely above a whisper. “Yes, I am. It had to have happened that last night before you left. I… It’s your baby, my love, I just didn’t want you to worry, or feel like you had to come back before you’ve finished what you’re doing…”

“Oh Trisha, I never thought for a moment it wasn’t mine.” He leans against the side of the phone booth, resting his forehead against the glass. “I’ll be home in three weeks; I’ll need to pick up some research materials from Central.”

“You need to do what you set out to do.”

“I will. I’ll just have to go about it a different way.” He paused. “I want to meet my third child when they’re born, Trisha. I’m selfish like that.”

She laughs on the other end of the line, soft and musical.

“I want that too.”

There’s such wistful yearning in her voice, and it makes something inside Hohenheim clench to hear it.

“I love you, Trisha. I love you, and I’ll see you soon.”

Three weeks later, he’s halfway up the lane to the house when he hears a long shout of ‘DAAAAAAAAD!’ and Ed and Al come barrelling down the hill towards him. He tries and fails to brace himself for the impact and they all end up in a pile on the path.

“You’re back,” Al says triumphantly.

Hohenheim nods, winded. “Yes. I’m back.”

They let him up and Al attempts to drag the suitcase up the hill. In the end it takes both of them, and Hohenheim trails after. He hadn’t intended to be back so soon, but if there’s one thing that has always been certain in his life, it’s that nothing ever really goes the way he plans it. This is just another one of those things. The fight to stop Homunculus will continue, but for now, it’ll continue in theory and calculation only, in things he can be here in Resembool to do.

“Mom, Mom, Dad’s back!”

As he enters the house and closes the door behind him, Hohenheim hears retching from the kitchen, and he goes through to find Trisha hunched over the sink.

She glances over her shoulder at him as she turns the taps on hard.

“Not exactly the romantic reunion I was planning,” she says lightly. “It’s ok, the sickness is getting better. It’ll have gone in a couple of weeks.”

“Oh, Trisha.”

She melts into his arms, squeezing him tightly.

“Thank you for coming back,” she whispers. “I know that…” She tails off. “Thank you.”

Later, when they’re curled up together in bed, Trisha pressed in close against his chest, she voices the thought that will go on to change everything.

“I think you should tell the children your story.”

“I think you’re insane.”

“Maybe not the overnight death of the entire country and the accidental immortality and the half a million souls sharing your headspace. Maybe not yet. But I think you should tell them about your life before. About Xerxes.” She pauses. “The boys kept asking me about you when you were gone, and it made me realise just how little they really know you. It’s their heritage as well. It’s their culture, their language. They’re a part of you, and so it’s a part of them. You used to speak Xerxian to them all the time when they were babies.” She laughs softly. “That’s how I knew just how deeply and unconditionally you loved them. You did it without even thinking.”

“That makes it sound like I don’t love you deeply and unconditionally because I never speak it with you.”

“That’s because you met me long after I learned to talk and understand Amestrian, silly.”

“I love you,” Hohenheim says in his mother tongue. It feels odd to be speaking it to Trisha. He’s so used to not using it with anyone, in any situation where it might mark out his otherness. Everyone is wary of people who speak what they can’t understand, and a long-dead, completely unrecognisable language is even more suspicious.

But Trisha knows him and knows his story and knows where he’s from. Why shouldn’t he be himself with her?

She raises an eyebrow. “Can I guess what that was?”

“Probably.”

She leans in and kisses him. “I love you too.”

There’s silence for a long time, and Hohenheim thinks she’s fallen asleep until she speaks again.

“I mean it. The children are half-Xerxian. They deserve to know where they come from.”

Many years later, Hohenheim will think back on this conversation and realise that of Trisha’s many good ideas, this was definitely the best one she ever had.

Although Trisha feels a little guilty for pulling Hohenheim back from his quest when he’d only just got started on it, the sheer relief at him being back more than cancels it out. The last two months of morning sickness, trying to remain upbeat and look after the boys at the same time, have been awful, and him being here just makes everything so much easier.

The sickness goes, replaced with aches and cramping and general discomfort. Trisha is not one of those ladies who enjoy being pregnant. She felt lousy the entire time with both Ed and Al, and she knows she’s going to feel lousy with this one, too.

But in return for suffering through it, she’s going to get a beautiful son or daughter, and that’s the thought that keeps her going.

It takes some persuading for Hohenheim to come around to her idea of telling the boys about himself, but one night, when she’s already in bed feeling even worse than normal and Hohenheim has been in charge of the evening routine, she hears him settle on the floor in the boys’ room to tell them their bedtime story.

“Edward, Alphonse… Do you know I’m not from Amestris? Well, this is the story of the country I was born in. This is the story of Xerxes…”

He weaves his tale into their bedtime stories for the next few nights, and the boys lap it up eagerly, voracious in their desire to learn more about the country that might have been theirs if history had turned out different. Trisha listens equally spellbound, tucked up in her own bed, nursing her aching baby bump and feeling too feverish and breathless, more so than the previous two pregnancies.

It’s only the woozy next morning, when she can’t quite wake up despite Hohenheim’s panicking voice sounding far too loud in her ears, that she realises this isn’t just the baby making her feel horrible. She hears him call the Rockbells, hears him pack Ed and Al off to stay with them for a few days, hears the words isolation, infection, quarantine, hears him argue with Yuriy and Sarah and Pinako, hears the vague but true affirmation I’ll take care of her, I don’t get sick.

She doesn’t remember the next few days. She remembers broken, fitful sleep and fighting for breath. She remembers the red crackle of Hohenheim’s alchemy.

She remembers waking up properly conscious at last. Still very much unwell, still feverish, but with clear lungs. She remembers Hohenheim taking care of her until the boys come back – safe, well and unaffected. She’s on bed rest for the next month, and in the dead of night, Hohenheim sleeping the sleep of the completely exhausted beside her, Trisha dreads to think what would have happened if he had not been there.

There are no secrets between them, but even after years have passed, she will never breathe a word of that fear – that she would have died and left the boys on their own – to him.

Like the first two both did, their third child arrives at night.

The boys are in bed asleep, and the evening is wearing on. Trisha has been uncomfortable all day, unable to find a position that doesn’t cause her aches or pains somewhere, and she finally nods when Hohenheim asks if she wants to have a bath. He helps her into it, says he’ll come back in half an hour, and goes back downstairs thinking nothing of it, going back to his study and the reams of paperwork spread out all over it. He’s nearly at a breakthrough, he can feel it.

All thoughts of alchemy and solar eclipses go clean out of his head when he hears a loud splash from above him, a splash much louder than Trisha just moving around in the tub, and he takes the stairs two at a time, knocking on the bathroom door.

“Trisha? Are you all right?”

There’s a whimpering groan in response and he goes in. Trisha’s on her knees in the tub, gripping the edge with white knuckles, forehead resting on her hands. There’s water all over the floor.

“Trisha? What’s happening?”

“I’m nine months pregnant and due in three days, what do you think’s happening?”

Oh good grief.

“The pain’s been coming ever since I got in the bath, but now it’s really, really coming, and I felt my water go as well.”

Oh good grief.

Considering that this has happened twice before and he was definitely around both times, Hohenheim feels completely clueless in that moment. He crosses the room to the tub and closes his hands over Trisha’s, prising her fingers away from the metal before she breaks all her nails. She latches on to him instead.

“It hurts more this time,” she says. “With Ed and Al it was more gradual, I had more time to get used to it. This time it’s…” She doesn’t finish the sentence, her words becoming a high keen of pain, and Hohenheim hears the boys waking up and talking to each other about the noise. He tries to move away, but Trisha’s hold on him is like iron.

“Don’t leave. Please don’t leave, I’m scared. It’s all happening so quickly.”

“I’m not leaving.”

“You ran off and hid when Ed was born.”

“I’m not doing that, I swear, but we need to call Pinako.”

“Not enough time.”

“We can’t do this by ourselves.”

“We’ll have to.”

Outside, the boys are still whispering urgently. Hohenheim pushes Trisha’s damp hair out of her face.

“I won’t leave the room, ok?”

She nods, letting go her limpet grip. Hohenheim goes to the bathroom door and peers around it; Ed and Al are looking out of their room.

“Boys, I have an important job for you. I need you to go downstairs, call the Rockbells, and say that Mom is having the baby now. And stay downstairs, please.”

Ed drags Al down the stairs, and Hohenheim returns to Trisha, settling on the floor beside the tub and offering her his hand to squeeze again.

“It’s coming,” she pants. “Pinako warned me that it gets quicker every time.” Her nails dig into his palm to the point of pain. “Don’t leave me.”

“I’m right here.”

“Van Hohenheim, don’t you dare leave me now!”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

He means it, although he can well understand why Trisha needs the reassurance considering the last two times. It’s strange how comparatively calm he feels now. For Ed’s birth he’d been so frantic that he couldn’t stay in the house, let alone the room, leaving it to the Rockbells to get Trisha through it whilst he dealt with half a million panicking souls not including his own. For Al’s, he hadn’t panicked quite so much, but he’d been watching Ed so again, he hadn’t been in the room.

Now the boys are old enough to look after themselves for a while, and he’s here with Trisha whilst she’s labouring, and although there’s an undercurrent of panic, he’s objectively calm, because Trisha’s body has done this twice before, and she can tell him what she needs, and he knows he has enough medical knowledge through alkahestry to be able to help him out if necessary.

He really hopes that it won’t be necessary.

It’s nice having Hohenheim here with her. With Ed, he was a nervous wreck and vanished off somewhere until Yuriy went and found him and brought him back after Ed was born and safely tucked up in Trisha’s arms and Pinako had dealt with the clean-up. With Al, he was much calmer and more collected, but also looking after an inquisitive eighteen-month-old, so he didn’t really have a lot of choice in the matter. Now, with this little one, he’s here with her, one hand rubbing her back whilst the other one offers itself up to her vice grip on him.

She really doesn’t think that Pinako will get here in time. The pains are faster and stronger than she remembers them from the last two times. Everything is quicker and more intense this time around, and she heaves a shuddering breath as another contraction pulls through her belly.

You’ll know when the baby’s coming, Sarah says in her mind, preparing her for Ed’s birth, almost six years ago now. She’d just had Winry, so she’d know. There’ll be so much pressure that you just have to push it out; it’ll be the only thought in your head.

It was like that the first two times, and it had been at this stage that Pinako had told her to push. It’s like that now.

“It’s coming now,” she says, digging her fingernails into Hohenheim’s hand and feeling the crackle of his innate alchemy fixing him when she scratches and draws blood by accident. It doesn’t seem to bother him.

“Ok.”

“You’re so calm. Oddly calm, for you.”

Hohenheim laughs nervously and pushes her butt back down under the surface where she’s shifting and wriggling in her discomfort. He must be covered in water by now. “Oh, I’m screaming on the inside.”

Another pain comes, the pressure is unbearable, and Trisha goes with her gut, howling as she pushes the baby down.

“It’s coming, it’s coming NOW!”

“Ok, it’s ok.” Hohenheim doesn’t sound quite as calm now. “Just go with your instinct.”

Instinct is telling her to push the baby out by any means necessary. Instinct is telling her that it feels like she’s being torn apart from the inside out. Instinct is telling her, in the midst of the pain and the pressure and the tears rolling down her face, that this baby is a girl.

“I’ve got to get her OUT!”

The pain is blinding, just like it was with Ed and Al, and Trisha screams.

“I can feel the head. Keep going, my love, you’re doing so well.”

Pain, squeeze, pain, push, pain, scream, blessed relief.

“I’ve got her.” Hohenheim sounds as if he’s about to faint. He guides the baby between her thighs and Trisha flops down onto her back, sending water careening over the side of the tub.

Then a new-born’s cry is echoing around the bathroom tiles, and Hohenheim is placing their third child on her chest, tucking in a towel around her.

“Girl?”

“Girl,” he affirms. Trisha checks for herself just in case. One perfect little girl, pink and loud and angry.

“Hello, baby,” she coos, stroking the hot little cheek. “Hello, my little one. Open your eyes for me, baby. Let’s see if you’ve got your daddy’s eyes.”

Her daughter does not oblige, but she does quieten down as she latches on to Trisha’s breast. She looks up at Hohenheim. He’s completely drenched, and he looks like he might keel over any moment, but he’s smiling, and Trisha can’t remember the last time she saw him express such unbridled joy since he first met Ed and then Al.

Trisha hears the commotion downstairs as Pinako and Sarah arrive, Ed and Al exclaiming that they’ve heard the baby crying, but it doesn’t really register with her until they come into the bathroom.

Pinako takes a look at the scene and raises an eyebrow.

“I don’t know which one of you is wetter. Is there any water even left in the tub?”

Trisha just laughs, and Pinako gives a good natured sigh. “All right. You’ve done very well, all things considered. I’m surprised he hasn’t fainted yet. Let’s get the cord cut and the afterbirth out, and then we’ll deal with this mess.”

Sarah takes the scissors out of her medical bag and offers them to Hohenheim. “Would you like to do the honours?”

“No, I don’t think I should be trusted with sharp objects right now.”

Sarah fails to smother her snort of laughter at that. Within minutes, the cord is clamped and cut and Pinako is massaging her belly to encourage the afterbirth out. Hohenheim leans against the side of the tub beside her, and Trisha nudges her forehead against his.

“Hey. You did good.” He did more than good, but she’s too addled to think of a better word right now.

“I think we can safely say you did all the work.”

Baby finishes nursing and Trisha looks down into her eyes, now open and glorious Xerxian gold like her father’s and brothers’.

She barely notices delivering the afterbirth, and everything afterwards becomes a bit of a blur. Sarah takes the baby to weigh and measure her and check her over so she can make notes for the birth certificate, and Pinako finds a mop and tells them she’ll deal with cleaning up the room, whilst Hohenheim carries Trisha to their bedroom wrapped in a towel. She only really comes back to herself once he’s dried her off and tucked her up in bed in a clean nightgown, and Sarah brings their wiped down and tightly swaddled daughter through to them.

“I told the boys to wait downstairs, but I can see that they’re literally on the bottom step,” she says. “They’re very eager to meet their sister.” She looks Hohenheim up and down. “You should probably change before they see you though.”

Considering he’s still soaked to the skin in slimy bathwater, Trisha has to agree, and Sarah leaves them alone to go and help Pinako.

Baby settles into Trisha’s arms and closes her eyes, and Trisha can’t help brushing a finger over her little nose and puckered lips, so small and perfect. “She needs a name before we introduce her to her brothers.” She pauses. “Come here.”

No longer looking quite so dramatic, Hohenheim comes over and sits on the edge of the bed as he finishes buttoning his shirt. Trisha doesn’t mention the fact he’s buttoned it skewed.

“You haven’t held her yet.”

“I caught her as she was being born. I held her before you did.”

“That’s not the same and you know it.” She carefully passes the bundle of blankets over, and although for a moment he looks like she’s given him a live hand grenade, he relaxes and tucks baby in close against his chest, gazing down at her in wonder like he did when he first held Ed and Al. He’s lived for so long and he’s seen so much, some good and lots more of it bad, but the miracle of life is still a miracle. Creating a brand new person with a brand new soul is something alchemy can never do.

“Ada,” he says softly. “It means noble, like her mother.”

Trisha smiles. “Ada Elric it is.”

She knows that Ed and Al are champing at the bit to come and meet the baby, but for now she wants a few more minutes to enjoy this time that’s just the three of them, her and Hohenheim and the little girl they made. Hohenheim is murmuring to her in gentle, sing-song Xerxian, and Trisha doesn’t understand enough yet to know what he’s telling her, but she recognises I love you so much.

He drops a kiss on her forehead and passes her back to Trisha. “I’ll go and get the boys.”

Trisha glances at the window as she strokes Ada’s pink cheek. It’s the middle of the night and they’re all still awake and heaven knows what tomorrow will bring, but it’s all right, because tonight is a momentous night.

The door opens carefully and Ed and Al peer around it, Hohenheim shepherding them inside.

“Come in, boys. Come and meet your baby sister.”

They creep over to the bed, clambering up onto the mattress and leaning over to take a look. Ada squints and crinkles her face up. She’s so little she probably can’t even see them, and definitely not to take notice of them.

“She’s tiny,” Ed breathes. “What’s her name?”

“This is Ada.”

“Was she really born in the bath? How didn’t she drown?”

Trisha laughs. “You’ll learn that when you’re older. But she’s here, and she’s perfectly well.”

“Can we hold her? Please?”

“Not tonight. She’s had quite a big adventure already and she needs to rest nice and snug. But you can meet her properly and hold her tomorrow.”

They’re all so caught up in their admiration for the little one that no one notices Sarah step in with her camera.

The picture she takes becomes one of Trisha’s favourites, and one of the few pictures she has of all five of them together. Hohenheim tends to shy away from photos, knowing that they provide an indelible record of his unchanging state. It’s just a simple candid snap, none of them looking at the camera, and it's beautiful in its honesty.

Ten years later, it’s the one picture Trisha will put into her bag when they travel. Just in case they don’t make it back to Resembool. Just in case the children never see their father again.

It never fails to amaze Trisha how quickly they settle into a new routine after Ada’s birth.

Hohenheim still spends most of his time in his study, but now the door is open a lot more and the boys dart in and out, practising alchemy in the corner under the watchful, empty gaze of the suit of armour. They continue to learn bits and pieces of Xerxian, and Trisha’s privately impressed with how much she understands now, as well. They’re starting to teach it to Winry too, and the three of them conspire in the garden, perhaps not realising that Trisha can interpret more than they anticipate, absorbing it by osmosis.

She notices that Hohenheim is not quite as distant with them as he was before. Beginning to teach them about himself and where he comes from, and where they in turn can also claim their heritage from, has been good for his relationship with them, bringing them closer together.

Trisha always remembers with fondness the first time she left Hohenheim alone with all three children. She had been so nervous at the time. She’d had visions of coming home to find the house burned down. Not that her husband is a complete disaster - he managed to fend for himself for hundreds of years, after all - but to say that he’s absent-minded at times is an understatement.

Sarah had laughed at her as they walked down to the village. “How much trouble can they get into when one of them is only two months old?”

“Oh, you’d be surprised.”

When she had returned, the house was still in one piece and blessedly quiet, and she’d entered the living room to find the floor completely covered in paper where the boys were drawing basic transmutation circles. Ed waved at her to be quiet, and she’d looked over to see Hohenheim dozed off in his chair in the corner, with Ada sleeping soundly on his chest. It was one of those moments where she really wished she had a camera handy.

Trisha can tell when Hohenheim is reaching a crisis point in his research, because the study door shuts and there’s a worried frown line between his brows that won’t go away. He withdraws into himself again, pulling away from them, and she wishes she knew why.

It’s just before Ada’s first birthday that she sits him down and asks him to tell her everything about what’s going on.

He tries to demur, but Trisha already knows that what he’s planning and plotting against is something so far-reaching she might not even be able to comprehend it. He had planned to leave them for a very, very long time to accomplish his goals, and although she knows that his perception of time is all over the place due to having lived so long already, she knows that he knows the significance of a decade in their lives. He’s been back, away from his quest but still working tirelessly towards it, for almost eighteen months. Eighteen months that he could have been away doing things in other parts of Amestris.

Finally, he gives her the whole story.

It’s almost too large to comprehend, and it certainly takes a long time to tell it.

Trisha agrees that the children shouldn’t hear a word of it. Not now, at least, and maybe not even when they’re older.

At least she understands the immense gravity of the situation now.

(She already felt a deep sense of dread when Yuriy and Sarah were called up to the Ishval front and now she feels sick, knowing what the conflict is truly for.)

After Ada turns one, their routine changes.

Hohenheim starts to travel again; it’s unavoidable in what he has to do. He has to follow the path that his strange nemesis has already taken. He tries to be regular in his habits though. Three months on the road, one month back in Resembool. He misses Ada’s first word, only learning in a phone booth on the Cretan border that it was ‘dog’, but more poignantly, that it was ‘dog’ in Xerxian, not Amestrian.

It startles him when he actually hears her speak for the first time. She’s scared of the telephone and won’t come near it to talk to him when he calls. He’s only just come in the front door and put his suitcase down and kissed Trisha when he hears daddy daddy daddy babbled in the language of the sun and Ada toddles over and grabs his leg.

“She is, without a doubt, your daughter,” Trisha says smugly.

Time goes on. Months pass. Years pass. Hohenheim has to spend longer and longer away, but everyone is always pleased to see him when he returns, no matter what’s been going on in the meantime. Gradually, the children learn more and more of his history and of the work that he’s doing as he trails around the country leaving souls in the ground.

Then, all of a sudden, it’s four months until the Promised Day, and Hohenheim knows he won’t see his family again before that dread event.

It feels like only yesterday he left for the very first time. He’s missed so much of his family’s lives. He’s missed almost all of Ada’s milestones. At least he had five uninterrupted years with the boys.

At least, once this is all over, he’ll have time to make up for lost time.

He hopes he will.

Edward comes into the bedroom as he’s packing to leave for this final time.

“I want to go with you.”

It’s the fact he’s speaking Xerxian that convinces Hohenheim of his unyielding sincerity. Both he and Al are fluent now; Ada’s been bilingual since she could talk and prefers her father’s tongue to her mother’s. Trisha knows enough to get by comfortably and she understands far more than she speaks or writes; she can always follow Ed and Ada when they get into motormouth mode even though she replies in Amestrian.

Hohenheim looks at his eldest child. He’s fifteen, and he’s just as fiery and headstrong as Hohenheim himself was when he was fifteen, before he became Hohenheim. Before everything happened. His mastery of alchemy is paralleled only by Al’s. Hohenheim could not be prouder of his son, but he can’t say yes to him.

“Edward, I appreciate your offer, but no.”

“Why not? Surely you need all the help that you can get against this bastard.”

“I do. But not you. You are my son, and I love you, and I will never put you in danger like that. I need you to take care of your mother, and your brother and sister. I need you to follow the plan and keep them safe for me.”

The plan was put in place a while ago, after Hohenheim had travelled through the smouldering remains of Ishval and learned that some of the refugees had made their way to the ruins of Xerxes and found shelter and peace in a place with such a bloody history. The survivors he had met had known he wasn’t Amestrian, had known he was something… other.

He had helped them, and they had said that his family would be welcome in the sanctuary that had once been his home.

Ed nods. He’s not happy, Hohenheim can tell, but he’s accepting.

Hohenheim does not expect the hug. Ed is not tactile in the same way his siblings are. Sometimes Hohenheim wonders if that’s because he never really hugged his son when he was younger.

Whatever the reason, Ed throws his arms around his father and buries his face in his shoulder.

“Don’t leave us.” He knows he’s not talking about this latest trip, but a far more permanent departure. “Please come back. You’ve always come back before.”

“You have my word.”

For someone who has never left Resembool, the prospect of a journey to a ruined city in the middle of the desert is a daunting one. Nonetheless, Trisha knows what she has to do. She feels terrible to be leaving her country on the brink of disaster – especially a disaster that they don’t know is coming. She feels awful to be leaving her friends and neighbours. She feels awful to be leaving Pinako, although Pinako tells her to stop being silly and take care of Winry on their journey.

“Everything will be fine, and you’ll be back before you know it,” she says as she helps them pack up. “You’ve always had faith in Hohenheim before, haven’t you?”

Trisha nods. She still has faith in him now. She doesn’t want to leave; it feels like a betrayal of her trust in him, but he had insisted. He would not be able to live with himself if something went wrong, if he didn’t succeed, and if his family was caught up in the crossfire. So, for his peace of mind, knowing that he doesn’t have to worry about them whilst he does what he has to do, Trisha and the children will leave Amestris before the Promised Day. They had tried to persuade Pinako to come with them, but she steadfastly refuses, saying she’s needed in Resembool. She concedes to let Winry go away with them, though.

The trip to the ruins of Xerxes is a tense, nervous one, the vastness of what’s at stake making everyone jumpy and irritable. The Ishvalans are expecting them, and although they keep their distance, there’s definitely a mutual curiosity there.

It’s the language that brings them together, that first evening. Trisha and the Ishvalan elder who welcomed them, Miriam, speak Amestrian to each other, but within the family group, they lapse into Xerxian without thinking – Winry’s been part of their extended family for long enough to be able to follow in the same way Trisha does. It just seems natural to speak it here.

It’s the language of this place, Ed explains to the Ishvalan boys who venture to ask about this strange tongue they’ve never heard anyone from Amestris speak before. It’s the language of Xerxes, the language of their ancestors. The language of their father.

There’s so much enthusiasm and just sheer pride in Ed’s voice as he explains. This place may not be their home, but it is their homeland, and although the circumstances that have brought them here are bleak, they’re excited to explore it, to match it up to the bedtime stories that Hohenheim told them when they were small.

Then, the Promised Day comes. Despite telling herself that she’s not going to, Trisha can’t help but stare over at the horizon in the direction of Amestris, towards where Hohenheim is facing his destiny. She sees the shadows of the eclipse, the swirling storm of alchemy. It’s so far away, and yet it still takes her breath away.

Miriam comes over to where she’s keeping up her vigil and squeezes her hand.

“I’m sure your husband will be all right.”

Trisha has every faith in him, but that doesn’t stop the gnawing fear from eating away at her insides.

Four days after the storm, Trisha thinks that she sees something moving in the heat shimmer on the horizon, and she keeps glancing across at it all day. By lunch time, Ada sees it too and stations herself at the edge of the city, keeping a stubborn watch despite everyone’s best efforts to get her to move. Eventually, Trisha comes and sits in the shade beside her, and they keep their eyes on the figure until its shape emerges; a person on horseback cloaked against the desert sun, leading a packhorse. Trisha’s heart leaps to her mouth.

On the one hand, Hohenheim promised that he would come and meet them in Xerxes after the Promised Day. On the other hand, horses hate him because of the overabundance of souls.

On a third, purely hypothetical hand… Trisha doesn’t even dare to hope.

“It’s Dad,” Ada says firmly, and Trisha has to physically pull her back from running into the desert to meet him.

“We don’t know that yet, sweetheart. We need them to get closer.”

Al comes over with a telescope borrowed from one of the Ishvalan kids, and he peers through it.

“I can’t tell,” he says. “They’re too bundled up against the sand.”

“It’s Dad.” Ada’s so confident, and Trisha’s heart goes into overdrive.

The sun’s started to go down by the time the figure gets close enough for Al to make out features, and Trisha doesn’t hear Ada’s smug assertion that she knew she was right. She just throws her arms around her son, crying with relief.

It’s another couple of hours before he reaches them, and this time Trisha doesn’t stop Ada from running out across the sand, with Ed, Al and Winry hot on her heels. She watches Hohenheim dismount and get lost in a group hug; she hears the strains of their voices in rapid Xerxian but can’t make out individual words.

She sees Al point across towards the city, to where she stands silhouetted against the worn down sandstone walls.

Trisha can’t help herself, and she runs out to join them. The children part like a wave and she throws herself into Hohenheim’s arms, clinging to him like a limpet. She feels him bury his face in against her neck.

“Is it over?” she asks.

“It’s over.”

“Did you win?”

“We won. It’s all over. It’s all done. Everything’s going to be all right.”

She kisses him then, pouring all of the worry and fear and sheer relief that he’s alive into it, her fingers tangling in his hair and trying to get him even closer as his hands cup her face, brushing away her tears.

There’s a slight commotion beside them, and when she finally lets go, Trisha sees that Ed has clamped his hands over Ada’s eyes, Ada is complaining about this, and Al and Winry are just killing themselves laughing.

“I think we should… go.” Ed shepherds his siblings back towards the city and Hohenheim chuckles, putting his glasses back on where they were knocked askew in the exuberance of the reunion before resting his forehead against Trisha’s with a sigh.

As Trisha untangles her fingers, she notices that there are strands of Hohenheim’s hair shining silver in the moonlight, contrasting against the gold. Stepping back and looking at him more closely, she sees the beginnings of lines around his eyes that weren’t there before.

He’s aged.

“The souls…”

“Just one left,” he says. “Just mine. Everything’s very quiet now. I’d forgotten what it felt like.” He kisses her again. “I promised I’d come back and grow old with you.”

“Yes. Yes you did.”

They walk back to the city holding hands as they lead the horses. Trisha still can’t quite believe that it’s all turned out for the best. She can’t believe that it’s all over, that Hohenheim is back and he won’t have to leave again. After seeing to the horses, they wander through the city, Hohenheim pointing out all the places he remembers from his distant youth until they reach their campsite.

It’s a long time before anyone sleeps that night, everyone too excited and overwhelmed by everything that’s happened, Ed and Al pressing Hohenheim for details of the final battle that he won’t give.

(Maybe later, when they’re adults and they can fully grasp the horrific reality of everything that went on, but Trisha thinks that Hohenheim will take those secrets to his grave.)

Even when they finally cuddle up together under their blankets, Trisha still has to press her hand over Hohenheim’s chest to feel the steady thump of his heart to reassure her that it’s not just a fever dream brought on by the desert sun.

“You’re really here.”

“I know. I can’t believe it either.”

She bats his chest. “Don’t start. I knew you could do it.”

“That makes one of us.”

“Oh, you.”

“You wouldn’t have me any other way, though, would you?”

“Never.”

Trisha drifts off with Hohenheim’s arms around her, his breath ghosting through her hair.

When she wakes up alone, she’s not at all surprised. She gets up and checks on the children – Al is awake and gives her a little nod of understanding, gesturing the direction Hohenheim went in.

She finds him on his knees in front of what had been the palace, gazing up at the once-magnificent building with tears streaming down his face.

His home is destroyed, and his people are gone, and it’s no less painful now than it was four hundred years ago. Maybe even more so now that the souls are all gone too.

She sits down beside him and takes his hand in hers, and there’s a profound silence between them for a long time.

“I think it’s good that you’re here,” she says eventually. “This is where you lost your mortality, and this is where you regain it.” She touches the silver in his hair. “This is your absolution.”

Hohenheim nods.

“It’s not just that.” His voice is quiet, choked with emotion. “It’s the knowledge that despite it all, despite the devastation and the loss, it’s not all gone.”

“I don’t understand.”

“This place is a home again,” Hohenheim says. “The Ishvalans have made it into a home again. They’re the new Xerxians. This place is theirs now, and in time they’ll build it up and make it beautiful again. It’s not my home; it hasn’t been since I left it. My home is in Resembool with you and our children. It’s theirs, and I can’t think of anything more fitting. And my people… My people are still here too.”

Trisha wonders if he even notices he’s slipped into his native tongue.

“They’re still alive. Edward, Alphonse, Ada… They’re alive and they know about this place and its people, they know who they are. It’s not all gone, it’s not all lost. Even after I’m gone, they’ll still be here, and they’ll still remember.”

Now, Trisha understands.

“I love you, Trisha. Thank you for everything.”

“I love you too. It’s been a pleasure.”

As the sun begins to rise high over the desert, Trisha knows that true peace has finally come to her family.

#FMA Brotherhood #Fullmetal Alchemist #FMA fanfiction #Trisha Elric #Van Hohenheim #AU #Trisha lives #unplanned pregnancy #some discussion of asexuality #I seriously considered calling this 'The Law of Inverse Fertility'#Fic: Spark

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m0etenchandon · 6 years ago

Text

Let me show you (Reader x Ben Hardy)

Requested: Yes

Pairing: Reader x Ben Hardy

Warning: smut, fluff, 18+, oral (female receiving)

Word count: 2K, short and sweet

Authors note: so some of you might have noticed that i accidentally published this a few days ago... i was just trying to edit it in drafts on mobile and didn´t realize it posted, but anyways, here it is for the anon who requested it! i love the cute little messages you guys send <3

Masterlist

You were enjoying a movie with your boyfriend, Ben, on a Friday night. This was your second month together, and you were enjoying every second of it. He made you feel all giddy inside, his smile brightening your entire day. Butterflies went wild in your stomach whenever he was around, even when you just thought about him while at work, smiling like a dork for yourself. He was perfect, it was perfect. The only thing missing from your relationship was sex. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to, I mean look at the guy, but your subconscious always stopped you whenever things got too heated. He was so gorgeous, looking like he was literally carved from marble, and you were you. Sure, he always told you how beautiful you were, but you couldn’t see it. You saw stretchmarks on your thighs, ass, stomach and boobs, you saw a girl who was curvy. A girl who surely no one wanted to have sex with.

You were cuddled into his side, a hand over his stomach. It felt nice lying there in his strong arms, taking in his scent. He held you close, leaning down from time to time to press kisses to your head. You were drawing circles on his lower stomach, not really paying attention to what you were doing. He however, most certainly did. All your touches were like an electric bolt straight to his brain, it drove him insane. Especially that you always stopped him when he tried to make a move, having to end every date with his hand wrapped around his shaft, you on his mind as he chased his release. As a sex scene rolled over the screen, he tensed underneath you. You could feel his muscles contracting underneath your fingers.

“If you don’t plan to finish what you´re starting, I suggest stopping”, he said and put his hand over yours to stop your movements. There was a slight bulge underneath his joggers, and his breath was heavier than normal, voice deep. You blushed.

“Oh, sorry”, you said retracting your hand and putting it in your lap instead. You had gotten to this point many times over the last few weeks, you always being the one stopping it.

Ben seemed to be in deep thought the rest of the movie. His fingers which were previously caressing your shoulder had stopped moving, the kisses on your head had stopped completely. You let your mind wander. There was nothing you wanted more than to sleep with him, he wasn’t the only one frustrated at the situation. Maybe you should just tell him why, maybe it’s best to get it over with? Surely, he wouldn’t want to stay with you if you wouldn’t put out. Before you fell too deep into that though, he sat up straight and looked at you intensely, green eyes finding yours. Concern and conflict washing over them.

“Why do you not want to have sex with me?”, he asked, genuinely curious. His eyes looking straight into yours, making your breath hitch. You blushed again. Shit, this was happening.

“No, I do want to have sex with you. Trust me”

“Then why do you always stop me when things get heated? Are you waiting until marriage?”

“What, no, this isn’t the 1900´s” you laughed. “I mean I respect that some people do that, but that’s not me”

“Well, then what is it?”. You avoided his gaze, turning to look at the credits on the TV instead. He wasn’t having it, and brought your hand in to his, making you look at him again.

“Hey, don’t be shy. Just tell me, I won´t judge”

“It’s just, shit, you look like this Greek god and I’m just chubby old me”, you blurted out. You didn’t even believe your own ears as you said it, never daring to talk about it with anyone. He looked at you with a sad look in his eyes, a hand coming up to caress your cheek. He leaned in for a quick kiss before continuing. “Love, I don’t know how you haven’t figured this out yet, but I think you’re beautiful. Fuck, you´re so bloody perfect. I mean it, I´m not just trying to get into your pants”, he said looking at you with adoration in his eyes. You giggled at the last part, heart fluttering at his words.

“I mean, I turn into a horny teenager whenever I see you. A hug is enough to make me hard”. You looked away again, hiding your blush. The thought of turning him on fueling your confidence.

“Y/N, I love you. I know it hasn’t been that long, but it´s true. I am head over heels in love with you, all of you. Especially your lovely curves”. His hand left yours to caress your hips.

Tears were threatening to spill down your cheeks at his lovely words. You couldn’t believe it. Ben loved you, he really did. You pulled him into a kiss, feeling him smile halfway through. Hand on both sides of his face, keeping him in place, not wanting this moment to pass.

“I love you too, Ben”, you whispered before kissing him again. He swiped his tongue against your bottom lip, asking you to open your lips for him. You did, tongues dancing together perfectly. You moaned into his mouth as he slightly bit down on your bottom lip, heart beat racing. He pulled away from you, and you could see he was breathless. Eyes darker than they were a few minutes ago. Cheeks tinted pink and lips puffy.

“If you let me, I would like to show you how much I love you”. His eyes were studying yours, looking for any signs of doubt as you nodded.

“Yeah, I-I would like that”. He grinned like an idiot before bringing his lips to your neck, sucking slightly. His hands went down to your waist, pulling you closer.

“Can I take this off, love”, he asked pulling at your shirt lightly. You nodded, biting your bottom lip. This was it. It was now or never. You held your breath, closing your eyes.

He pulled it over your head, sucking in a breath when he saw your half-naked body. His hands immediately went back to your waist, over your soft stomach and up towards your breasts. They were so warm, making you melt completely into his touch.

“This okay?”. You met his eyes again, his hands ghosted over your bra. You nodded in response, before he unclasped it. He looked at you like you were a masterpiece, making you blush. Never had a boy looked at you like this, like you hung the stars in the night sky. Ben muttered ´bloody hell´ under his breath before his hands met your bare breasts. Gently massaging them, you could see him getting harder in his sweat pants. He leant down and started to kiss your breasts before moving on to one of your nipples, gently sucking on it. You moaned and tangled your fingers into his soft hair. His lips were soft against them, tongue swirling around them ever so lightly.

“Fuck, you´re so beautiful Y/N”, he muttered against your skin. You fumbled with the hem of his shirt, desperate for him to shed some clothes too. As your fingers accidentally brushed against his bulge, he whined. That was the single hottest sound you have ever heard, making you moan yourself.

“See what you do to me, love? You have me completely under your spell”, he smirked before going to remove his shirt. You moaned at the sight before you, fueling his ego.

“Can I get you off with my mouth, love? I bet you taste so good”, he blurted out. You were stunned by his abruptness, wetness pooling in your panties. His plump lips would look so good around your clit, the thought making you whine and arch into his touch.

“Shit, Ben, I haven’t”. Your sentence was cut short as he started kissing your lower stomach.

“Are you a virgin?”

“No, it’s just, fuck, no one has gone down on me before”

“Well, then you’ve been with the wrong people. Let me take care of you, please. I promise I will make you feel good”. He looked at you with puppy-dog eyes, making you melt under his gaze. He placed kisses at your waistline.

“Okay”

He smirked, before undoing the button of your jeans. You lifted you ass off the couch, allowing him to slide both your jeans and underwear down your legs. Thank god you had put on a nice pair of panties. He peppered kisses over your thighs, over your stretchmarks. Occasionally looking up at your through his eyelashes, making you moan.

“So fucking beautiful, love. Please don’t ever forget that”, he said between kisses. Moving his hands to both your knees, he slowly pushed your legs apart. He kissed up your thighs, taking his time to kiss every stretchmark, every dimple. Lips were slowly inching their way towards your heat, stopping right before he reached the place where you now desperately needed him.

“You´re so wet for me, love. I’m not the only one who was been sexually frustrated, hmm?”

“N-No, shit Ben I need you to do something”. You weren’t lying, the very picture of him between your naked thighs having been the subject of many of your recent dreams. However, you always woke up panting, wet, and desperately alone in your own bed. Until now.

He wasted no time and started to kitten lick at your folds, enjoying the taste as evident by the sounds leaving his mouth. Your hands immediately found his hair as he moved further up towards your clit, taking it into his mouth. He sucked on it lightly, before letting it go again, looking at you a whimpering mess under his touch, a smirk plastered on his face. He licked from your entrance all the way up to your clit before sucking lightly, repeating the acting several times. You were so turned on, so frustrated that you wanted to yell at him to get a move on.

One of his fingers finally inched its way towards your entrance before pressing it into you and curling it upwards. He found the sweet spot immediately, rubbing against it with a determined look on his face. A moan escaped your lips. It was like music to his ears, only encouraging him further.

He added another finger, picking up his pace. You couldn’t understand why you haven’t done this before, it felt so fucking good. As he leant down again and started licking at your clit, your back arched of the couch. It was all too much, the knot in your stomach tightening with his every move, fingers tightly curled in his hair.

“Fuck, Ben, I-I´m gonna cum”, you panted. You could feel him humming against your clit, sending shivers down your spine. His fingers hit that sweet spot, at the same time as he sucked particularly hard at your clit, making you see starts. Electric bolts shot up your body, the coil in your stomach unraveling deliciously. His name left your lips as you came around his fingers, walls clenching around him. Ben let you ride out your orgasm before sliding his fingers out of you. He brought them up to his lips and licked them clean, making your mouth fall open at the sight before you. His fingers left his mouth with a pop, a smug smile plastered on his face. You just looked at him I’m awe. How was this man your boyfriend?

“Mmm, you taste so good, my love”

You blushed again, looking down. It was hard to avoid looking at his crotch, his cock straining against the material. Your mouth watered at the sight, your clit twitching with the thought of having him inside you. Tentatively, you reached out to run a ringer at the outline of it. Ben sucked in a breath, his cock twitching at the contact.

“Shit, Y/N, you don’t have to”

“No, but I want to, Ben”, you said before switching place with him on the sofa.

“Fuck, I love you so much”, he muttered under his breath as you pulled him out of his joggers.

Masterlist

#ben hardy #ben hardy x reader #ben hardy smut #ben hardy imagine #Ben jones #ben jones smut #requested #my writing #queen #queen smut #queen imagine #borhap #borhap smut #borhap imagine #bohemian rhapsody

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randomaumemes · 7 years ago

Text

favorite photoshoot

Alex Høgh Andersen Imagine

pairing: Alex x Reader warnings: smut, swearing, but also a lot of fluff I guess summary: Alex takes nude photos of you for the first time

With his last thrust he pushes you back down against him. You immediately roll your hips on top of him and he groans in pleasure, applying counter-pressure, twitching lightly as he slowly comes down from his high. You feel him releasing into the condom for the last time. His lips are pressed together when he breathes out through them and eases his grip a little, realizing how strong it was. His facial expression softens, his fingers start caressing you there. Almost as if he wanted to make up for it, his blue eyes still fixated on where you both are connected. Relaxed and happy you smile down at him and put your hands on his, after which he looks back up to you and slides his fingers between yours. Your sheepish grin causes him to smirk as well and you let go of his hands, leaning forward to kiss him. Only once, then you sit back up and start to raise your hips from him a little. Quickly he takes a hold of himself, reaching underneath you and between the both of you to make sure the condom stays in place. He slips out of you and you lift one leg off of him and let yourself fall back onto the mattress next to him. With one hand on your breasts and the other arm tiredly next to your body you lay there while he reaches for a tissue to wrap the condom in. You don’t look back over at Alex until after a little while, only to notice that he’s already looking at you, his eyes wandering over your body. You let out a silly laugh at his facial expression and remove your hand from your boobs to wave around in front of his eyes. “You okay?” He smirks a little before tiredly chuckling when he snaps out of it. “Sorry.”, he smiles lazily, his accent more noticeable than usual, “I just like looking at you.” You feel the heat rushing through your body because you have to admit, that’s such a sweet, genuine compliment. “Look as much as you want. You’re even allowed to touch.”, You joke, laughing a little, still somehow calm around him. To be honest you don’t mind at all, even if every inch of you is exposed to him, you feel comfortable around him. “Okay wow”, he answers, his eyebrows shooting up in surprise, “I was expecting anything but that answer.” He leans a little closer, hovering above you, a playful smile on his full lips “but, you know… not complaining” his free hand reaches for your hip to hold you in place before his face sinks down between your breasts, kissing you there. You let out a squeaky laugh. Your boobs are too small to motorboat them but you already know he doesn’t care about that. “Why?”, You grin when he starts playing with one of your nipples with his hand. You draw in a breath in arousal when his fingers are lightly pinching it. “Why, what?”, Alex asks distractedly, like he already completely forgot what he said two minutes ago. “Why are you surprised by my reaction?” He slowly takes his hands off of you. “Oh, well. The usual reaction when you tell a naked woman that you like looking at her is ‘Ahh, stahp. Don’t stare at me like that, I have stretchmarks’”, his voice is much higher when he tries to talk girly, turning away from you and shielding his body with his arms. Of course he doesn’t seriously believe that. He’s exaggerating and being dramatic. That’s just something he likes to do because most of the time, it makes you laugh. You giggle warm-heartedly. “Alex, everybody has those. Who cares” He turns back to a normal lying position, looks at you and starts to smile so big that you can see his almost perfect teeth. “Do you have them, too?” At first you’re a little surprised. Does that mean he hasn’t noticed them before? He’s seen you naked enough times and you always thought your stretchmarks were rather obvious. But then you figure he just doesn’t care about that. Alex doesn’t pay attention to those small imperfections of your body “Yeah. On my thighs and on my hips. Here.” His glance lowers immediately as he examines the spot your fingers point at, head tilting, before his own fingers wander over the skin, curiousity written on his face. “Oh right, you do.” You smile about his reaction. He doesn’t seem grossed out or averse to them. Not in the slightest. Which only confirms your own mindset. As long as you’re comfortable with whatever feature of yourself, other people will be, too. “Wow I can actually feel them”, he observes, his mouth slightly agape, as if he just discovered something completely new. “Yeah. They’re like small cracks in the skin”, You answer, tracing them with your own fingers. He smiles before his fingers travel higher, strands of his long hair falling into his face, always keeping his glance wherever his fingertips touch your skin. Until he’s arrived at your breasts again, briefly caressing them. You close your eyes in pleasure. But his hands don’t stay for long, they trail higher, up to your jaw and then to your lips. Gently his thumb grazes your lower lip, you feel the calloused skin of his fingers and you smile with closed eyes. You don’t notice the way he suddenly pauses, licking his lips, contemplating wether or not to tell you what’s on his mind. What has been on his mind pretty much since the two of you walked through the streets of his neighborhood one afternoon, equipped with his camera. Since he took photos of you for the first time. His heart rate increases the slightest bit as he thinks about doing something he’s never done before. He breathes out, his thumb traveling from your lip to your cheek before he leans in to replace it’s original spot with his own lips, kissing you. This time, compared to an hour ago, you’re both gentle. It’s obvious you’re not craving each other as much anymore, your bodies satisfied, relaxed and the kiss remaining innocent, with no use of tongue. He pulls back, smiling, looking at your lips, then searching for your eyes as you open them again. “Can I take pictures of you?” he finally asks, looking back and forth between your eyes, waiting for your reaction. He feels vulnerable as soon as the question leaves his lips, worried you might find it creepy. You frown a little, not completely understanding what he’s asking. “You mean -” “Right now.”, he explains himself quickly, “Like that.”, his eyes trail over your body for a second, hand caressing your stomach, “of you laying on my bed, naked.” Your eyes widen a little in surprise, looking up at him trying to read if he’s serious or maybe joking. But he isn’t, his jaw clenches under the touch of your hand, he wouldn’t be this tense if he was just messing around with you. So your eyes trail off, contemplating while you bite your lips. “I get it if that’s too much. If you don’t want to-” he immediately feels self conscious, his tone humorous, but nervous. “No”, you interrupt him, looking back at him, “I don’t think it’s too much. I just… I’ve never done anything like that before” His facial expression softens and a warm smile starts to appear on his lips when his whole body relaxes a little “Me neither. Does it matter?” You look at him and shrug briefly, thinking about it. You know how good he is at taking photographs. He has talent and an eye for it, he’s professional. Some of your favorite pictures of yourself are ones that he’s taken. Why would it be any different when you’re naked? Why not give it a try? “I really want to do this with you. If you’re comfortable with it.”, he interrupts your thoughts, “Do you trust me?” “Yeah”, you almost immediately answer and look back up to him. You do. He smiles down at you. That adorable happy smile he has that you love so much. “Good.” He leans down to you, pressing his lips to yours one more time before gently pushing you back onto his bed. “Stay right here, relax.”, he tells you softly, “I’ll be right back.” With that, he almost jumps from the bed, aiming for the shelf where he keeps his Canon. He wasn’t sure at all if you would agree to it but now that you did, his stomach turns with excitement. He stands there naked for a minute, in the middle of his bedroom, his hair falling into his face while he’s making sure all the setups of his camera are correct and adjusted. Then he walks back over to the bed and to you, putting the strap around his head. He already decided that the lighting is pretty much perfect, the morning sun shining through his curtains, illuminating the room in such a natural way. You smile at him, your head raised off the mattress in curiosity and anticipation. He smiles back at you, taking the first look at you through the lens “Lay down”, he instructs, stepping to the edge of the bed. So you lay your head back down, sheepishly smiling to yourself, trying not to look at the camera at first. His knee rests on the matress as he hovers above you, adjusting the focus. “Stay like that”, you hear him say calmly. And then the first shutter of his camera. A second passes. Then another shutter. This is really happening, you think, you’re actually doing this. It feels much more natural than you thought it would. You see him move a little in the corner of your eye, adjusting the angle he’s capturing you with. Then he takes another picture. “Okay now look at me”, he pulls your attention back to him and you finally look directly into the camera lens. He could swear his heart stopped there for a second. He holds his breath, not saying anything for the first three times he releases the shutter, wanting to make sure he captured it right. He pulls back to check it for a second, looking at the screen of his camera with a captivated look on his face. Somebody please fucking pinch him. This is so much better than every fantasy he had. With his heart bursting with joy and pride, he looks back at you. “Am I doing okay? Should I change anything?”, you begin to ask him, unaware of his thoughts. “No no no”, he stops you quickly, before smiling at you warmly “you’re perfect” You chuckle softly, relaxing back into his mattress and blanket. “Just like that. Let me take a couple more closeups” He’s leaning in and you try your best to bled out the camera and pretend it’s just him you’re looking at. Again, the sound of his shutter goes off a couple times. “Beautiful”, he praises you pulling back a to give you more space, “Now turn around for me, will you?” You smirk a little, obeying him and getting on your stomach. You’d lie if you said it wasn’t turning you on a little, hearing him speak to you like that, even if you know his intentions aren’t sexual. You feel his hand in your hair all of a sudden, gently fixing it and adjusting the way it falls along your back. You wish he’d touch you longer than that, but he already pulls back, dedicated to find the perfect angle to accentuate your curves just the right way. You lay there, the side of your face resting on his pillow you arch your back a little, trying to give him a good view of your ass as you’re starting to get more confident about the situation. He bites his lip in concentration as he adjusts the focus again, and that’s when he notices a few details that he didn’t really see before. The red marks of his fingers on your hips and ass only make the pictures more beautiful to him. He takes a couple, then he adjusts the blanket around you, pulling it over you until half of your ass is covered, focusing on your back and shoulders. You feel the mattress under you sink a little as he crawls onto his bed completely, one leg on either side of you he kneels over you, straddling you to take the next few photos. He stays in that position for a little bit, looking through the pictures. Mesmerized about what it is that you both are creating. This must be his new favorite way of making art. It’s a weird sensation, almost a little like looking at porn, but much more personal and emotional. “Have any good shots yet?”, you ask him, chuckling. “Baby you have no idea”, he answers, the corners of his lips twisting upwards. He’s still naked himself, hovering above you when he decides to take his camera off for a second, placing it on the bed next to you. He looks down at you, large hands caressing your back and traveling up to your shoulders until he leans down a little. You feel his breath hot on your neck “Favorite fucking photoshoot ever” You giggle, then moan a little when he leaves a few kisses on your neck, moving your hair out of the way gently. And then he pulls away and climbs off of you, getting his camera again, thinking about what to do with you next. He can’t really explain what it is that he’s feeling. He’s not nervous or tense anymore. He’s almost as relaxed and focused as he is when he takes regular photos with his camera. But the difference is that this is more exciting, so much more intimate. He climbs back onto his bed with you. You look at him, observing his actions when he lays down next to you, facing you, camera in one hand, the other traveling up your hip. “Straddle me”, he says, his blue eyes slowly wandering back up to meet yours. You nod slightly, slowly raising yourself from your lying position and Alex immediately reacts, lying on his back. You climb on top of him, his free hand supporting and guiding you a little in the process untill you slowly sit down on his naked thighs. Your glance stays there for a second, swallowing at the sight of him being almost fully hard again. What you two are doing is definitely affecting him as much as it is affecting you. You look back to his face and the camera, throwing your hair over one shoulder. You see his lips curling into a half smirk as he looks up at you through the lense, obviously happy with however it looks like. You smile innocently at first, looking down at him. He takes a couple of shots. You look away from him to the side, biting your lip. You hear the clicking of his shutter again. But then you decide to have some fun with it. He’s still focused on you through the lense when he twitches a little, feeling your hands on his dick, grabbing him. “What are you doing?”, he starts to breathe lowly before his back arches at the sensation “Ohh-” he’s gritting his teeth when you grind your hips over his length, holding him between your folds, letting him feel how wet you are, completely taking him off-guard with your actions “Fuckk” he takes his camera away from his face, his blue eyes looking up at you in amazement, examining your face to figure out what you’re up to. A small smile playing on your lips, you grind your hips again, letting out a sigh when you feel him grow harder between your folds. He groans, finally setting his camera aside. He reaches for the drawer where he keeps his condoms in. He takes one out, then relaxes back into the mattress, handing it to you. “Are you sure about that?”, he asks you, eyebrows raised, making sure to have your consent when he grabs the camera again. You nod, looking into his eyes. Then you sit back onto his muscular thighs, tearing open the package and putting the condom on for him. His heart is racing as he tries his hardest to focus on getting his camera ready with your hands caressing him, ready to go for the second round of the day. When he’s done, he looks up at you, nodding. So you raise your hips and adjust yourself on top of him. Both of you hold your breaths when you sink down onto him for the second time that morning, still a little sore from before, feeling him stretching you out until your pelvis is in contact with his. “Mhhh”, you moan out and Alex breathes out relieved, looking at you directly for a second, making sure to enjoy and appreciate the moment before he uses his camera again. He feels a little torn, like he doesn’t know what to prefer; continuing to take those perfect pictures of you or fully focusing on having sex with you. He’s feeling horny and he wants to touch you badly, feeling as much of you as possible but at the same time he really wants to capture you on top of him, riding him. He decides to focus on one thing at a time. So he puts the camera to his face again, biting his lip as you start to move on top of him, rolling your hips. Slowly, rotating. Quiet moans leaving your lips. You don’t pay attention to the camera anymore as you close your eyes, your face twisting in pleasure. You don’t even hear the shutter anymore when he takes the first few pictures of you in this intimate moment. “So good”, you hear him moan underneath you. He decides to stop paying attention to the pictures he’s taking, lowering the camera to his chest to look at you directly, making sure to keep his finger on the release. “Open your eyes, look at me”

You do. And you smile when you’re finally able to look at his face again. Not looking away from his blue eyes once, you continue to ride him, going back and forth, still agonisingly slow. He seems to have taken enough pictures because one of his hands grips your thigh all of a sudden, finally touching you. He reaches to put the camera away, more than ready to turn the both of you around and make you feel good himself. But you stop him, grabbing it from his hands. He looks back up at you confused when you stop riding him for a second to fiddle with his camera. Then, suddenly, something clicks in him and he chuckles, relaxing back into the pillow and looking up at you. You know the basics of how to work a camera. He taught you that. And now you’re turning the tables.

You giggle when you see him grin at you playfully through the lens, sticking his tongue out between his teeth. You take the first picture of him laying there, still buried inside you. Messy hair, full lips, muscular chest, well built arms and blue eyes staring into your soul. He’s far too beautiful to not be captured as well. You focus on moving again, pleasuring him, slowly lifting your hips up so he almost slips out of you, then sitting back down in a rotating motion, feeling his whole length, centimetre by centimetre, stretching you out again. You can’t help but let out a moan yourself, before you calm down enough to operate the camera again. Like you hoped, his facial expression is different now. It isn’t staged anymore. With his eyes half closed, brows furrowed and mouth slightly open, his face is twisting in pleasure. You press the shutter release, then you move again. His hands dig into your thighs as he hisses, arching his back a little. You take another picture of him, deciding this would be the last one because the both of you clearly won’t be able to keep this up for much longer. You bend forward to set the camera on his drawer and he opens his eyes immediately, staring at you as you sit back down onto him, hands resting on his chest. His arms reach around you, pulling your chest down to his, groaning into your ear. “My turn” Then, in one swift movement, he has the both of you turned around, finally being able to move the way he wants to. You squeal when your head hits the pillow, his facial expression turns serious when he adjusts the condom briefly, then he leans over you again and this time he fills you up completely with one powerful thrust. You moan into his ear in surprise as for the first time a pretty loud groan escapes his lips before he continues with strong thrusts, his hips snapping against yours. Sweat begins to form on your skin, everywhere you’re touching. He lifts his head from your shoulder to find your lips for sloppy, damp kisses that he eventually spreads along your jaw and neck and you feel the familiar knot in your stomach forming. You wrap your legs around his hips, pressing your nails into his back and pulling his upper body closer to you to have more physical contact. Something you can’t get enough of right now. That way the angle of him entering you changes just enough to have him exactly where you need him. With your moans and sighs into the crook of his neck becoming more regular you try to signal him to keep going. “Just like that”, you tell him breathlessly. Breathing heavily, he gives you a couple more aimed and deep thrusts. “Come on baby”, he stimulates you, voice strained, “Come for me” His words and his voice are exactly what you needed to send you over the edge. Overwhelmed you cling onto him and shortly after that you don’t even know what you’re doing anymore as you lose control of your body, your second orgasm rushing through you. As soon as you’re able to think somewhat clearly again, you still feel his fast thrusts, your body much more sensitive then before, and Alex still on the edge of his own release. He’s not quite there yet, you both know he takes longer the second time. So you losen your grasp on him so he has room to do whatever he needs to do right now. He comes back up a little, supporting himself on his arms, lips parted and breathing heavy and you try your best to focus on keeping up with his fast thrusts, which are now turning increasingly sloppy. You become aware of the sounds around you, the faint creaking of the bed frame and the slapping of your skin is filling his room, mixed with his low groans. When you reach up with your arms, pushing yourself away from the head of his bed to be able meet with his thrusts more, his muscles suddenly contract, a throaty grunt coming out of his mouth. He stiffens over you, breath hitching in his throat for a second. You feel his hips jerk slightly, him twitching inside you. When he finally begins to loosen up again, he breathes out with a shaky, relieved moan, leaning forward again. Still breathing heavily, he finds your lips to kiss you. Only once and slowly, then he starts to smile against your lips, chuckling hoarsely. You can’t help but smirk yourself. “Well fuck”, he breathes, exhausted and you giggle “Mhm”. You pull him back down to you by his by now sweaty neck to give him another audible kiss. Then he pulls away, sitting up and the cool air hits your damp skin as he carefully pulls out of you. You lay on his bedding, refusing to use any blankets because you need to cool down first. Smiling and cuddling comfortable silence as you relax into him, focusing on his breath and his body in a whole different way then you just did a few minutes ago, feeling completely calm.

But Alex, he can’t help it. He reaches over you to get the camera from his drawer, adjusting the way he lies with you as he presses the button to look at all the taken pictures. “Well,”, he purses his lips, an impressed look on his face, “now I have something to jerk off to” You let out a dirty laugh, shoving him gently. “Shut up” but then your curiosity gets the best of you “Can I see them?” You end up scrolling through them all, not sure how to feel about it. You don’t know what you expected, it’s new and a bit weird to look at pictures of yourself in such private, intimate settings but you definitely kinda like them. You like the ones you took of Alex more, of course. But there are definitely two or three of those photos he took of you that you feel really good about. “This one’s my favourite”, he beams proudly at one of the pictures of you on your stomach, your hair spread out on the pillow, zooming in on the red marks on your hips. “Of course it is.”, you mock him, cackling, “It’s my ass.”, knowing exactly which part of your body he’s always liked the most. “What are we doing with those now?”, you ask him, head resting on his shoulder as he continues to look at them. “I’d say we print them out, I keep yours to myself and you keep mine.” You smile warmly, your hand resting on his toned stomach, cuddling into him just a little more “I like that” He still looks at them, a sudden wave of excitement and joy rushing over him as he smiles from ear to ear, letting out an adorable squeak. “Ahh they’re so beautiful. I’m so fucking happy we did this.” You giggle at his childlike joy as he puts the camera to the side, smiling and looking at you, his hand reaching for your cheek “I love you so fucking much.”, he beams, kissing you before he pulls you into him, hugging and cuddling into you. “You’re my favourite photo subject”

Ayyeee my first written imagine on here. 🙌

I barely do those because they take me forever, even longer than AU Memes, especially until I’m content with them. Also this is the first time I’ve ever posted something smutty, so I’m double self conscious right now haha. I hope y'all can give me feedback, that would be much appreciated. I fucking love this concept, since Alex super into photography and a bit of artsy, I can totally imagine this happening with him and I tried my best to put it into words.

I wanted to make this relatable, but also somewhat realistic so I had to go into detail a bit. I hope it’s okay that I pictured the reader with small boobs and stretch marks. If that’s not applying to you, feel free to ignore that part. Anyways I hope you enjoyed! MASTERLIST

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fiftyeightminutes · 7 years ago

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@faenies asked for the prompt:

“Relatively early into their relationship, Person A and Person B are having sex, and for the first time, they’re so into the moment that they leave the lights on, which they don’t usually do. Person A starts undressing Person B, but B stops them when they reach a certain article of clothing that conceals their scars. Whether or not B ends up removing the clothing or A accepts it and they continue (+ A’s reaction to these) is up to you.”

with Blueski and stretchmarks.

I’m sorry, I know it’s been forever since you sent me this prompt. But I hope it’s everything you wanted! Set partway through 2.03 (Obligate Mutualisms), after Whispers is taken away and the cluster have saved Sun, but before the end of the episode when Croome gets stabbed lol.

---

After so long in the murky half-consciousness of heroin, Will revels in the ability to fully feel his cluster again. Once Whispers is on ice and Sun is safe with Min-Jung, Will grins and pulls Riley close to him. “I missed this,” he says softly, resting his forehead against hers as his mind brushes against those of his other selves’. He shares with them each briefly in turn, just enjoying the fact that he can. After a moment with each of the others, Will focuses all of his attention on Riley. Sitting on the ratty mattress in their Amsterdam safe house, the two of them allow their consciousnesses to completely overlap. For a few moments, it’s almost overwhelming, having gone so long without being able to experience this fully. When Will catches his breath and settles back into his own body, he leans forward to kiss Riley gently. “I missed you.”

Riley gives him one of her brilliant smiles. (The kind of smile he saw that first day back in the church in Chicago, a smile that shines brighter than the sun and makes Will go weak in the knees.) “I missed you, too,” she replies before peppering small kisses along his jawline, enjoying the smoothness there for the first time in months.

“Careful,” Will teases as her lips get closer to his neck. “You keep going that way and I may just have to tear your clothes off.”

“Who said that wasn’t the goal?” Riley jokes back. He laughs, but it catches and becomes a groan as she brings her lips to the hollow of his throat. This kiss is much less chaste. She sucks at his skin, loving the heavy breaths this draws out of Will. He clutches at her, one arm wrapped around Riley’s waist while his other hand finds its way to her ass. She slowly licks down his neck, only stopping when she comes up against the collar of his t-shirt.

Will doesn’t need to their connection to know what Riley’s thinking. He sits back quickly and pulls his shirt off, and then she’s sucking on his collarbone before the garment even hits the floor. He lies back on the mattress, letting the sensations roll over him in a way they haven’t for months. Riley moves up and straddles him. Now that they are finally allowing themselves to share again, it feels like any space between them is too much. She is licking and sucking her way down his chest, and Will can’t help gripping her hair to keep her against him. Riley moans at the tug, loving that she can feel how the sound affects him. Smirking against his skin, she grinds her hips down on him and takes pride in the way he gently bucks under her.

“Fuck, Riley.” He sits up, moving her with him so he can kiss her and start taking her red sweater off. Reluctantly, he breaks away from her to pull it over her head. Now there are only two layers - her tank top and bra - keeping them from being skin to skin. Will’s fingers find their way to the hem of her shirt, and he’s about to begin lifting it when he feels a small wave of anxiety from Riley. (If he weren’t so in tune with her, he might not have even recognized it for what it was. Will can’t quite put his finger on what the cause is, but it feels like something deeply buried.) Immediately, he pulls his hands away from her. “What’s wrong?” His lets his concern flow into her, trying to make sure she knows he would never do anything she doesn’t want to do.

Riley looks down and bites her lip. “It’s silly,” she answers.

“No,” Will replies. “It’s not.” He slowly brings his hands up, giving her time to pull away before he reaches her face in case this isn’t okay. Not feeling any discomfort coming from her at this, Will lifts her chin so she’s meeting his eyes. “I don’t want to do anything with you if you aren’t 100% okay. You being alright isn’t silly.” He gives her a serious look. “Not to me.”

Closing her eyes and taking a deep breath, Riley nods in acceptance. “It’s just that...I realized the lights are on,” she says hesitantly.

Will blinks, surprised at this statement. “Is that not okay? I can turn them off if you want.”

“No, that’s not - I just mean - we’ve never had sex with the lights on before. You haven’t seen….” She trails off, but the sentence doesn’t need to be finished for Will to understand. Wisps of recollection flash from Riley’s mind into his, and he knows. He sees her, younger and sadder and with brown hair. Watches her shakily touch her belly, noticing after the accident in the mountains that it is getting smaller again. He pulls himself out of the memory, not wanting to intrude and see what she is already worried about showing him. But even as he retreats back into his own mind, the word lingers. Stretchmarks.

He leans forward and presses a kiss to her forehead. “You don’t have to show me anything you don’t want to. Not now, not ever,” Will murmurs.

Riley thinks about it for a moment, then pulls him down so their lips meet. When she pulls away, she says, “I think...I think I want to.”

“You positive?” He can sense her trust for him, but he still needs to be sure. It would kill him if she felt pressured into anything.

Nodding, Riley reaches out with her mind to him. She concentrates on everything Will makes her feel - worthwhile, safe, loved - and does her best to share that with him. Riley focuses on how meeting Will in person had made her feel that maybe she could be whole again. How even through all they’ve struggled in their short time together, being strong for Will and their cluster has made her want to live.

Will lets Riley’s senses eclipse his completely, crashing over him like a wave. Her awareness fills him with security and contentment. He allows it to consume him, sharing his unbridled joy in return. Having had to endure so much pain over their time together, he would have understood if this was too much too soon. Instead, though, Riley’s trust and affection for him are enough that she is willing to share something so personal. Will is practically over the moon.

Through him, Riley guides Will’s hands to the hem of her tank top. They lift it slowly, as one. Without having to say anything, Riley brings her hands to meet his and finishes removing the shirt, having a better angle for it. Before she even has it all the way over her head, Will has tentatively brought his hands to her hips. He feels her nod of affirmation more than sees it, but it’s enough. There in the light of their shabby room, he sees her stretchmarks for the first time. They’re faded now, but Will can see the thin lines snaking up from under her jeans. Gently, he begins to run his fingers over the marks. She watches, bathing in the love and acceptance that roll off of him. Will follows the pale white ribbons from her stomach to her hips, until he’s traced all of the stretchmarks he can see. He wraps his arms around her waist and pulls her against him.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispers, and Riley can’t help kissing him in reply. It starts out soft, slow, an expression of everything between them in the moment. But then Riley brings her hands up to Will’s face, and after caressing him her hands find their way into his hair. Soon she’s tugging at it, Will’s licking her lips, and they’re moaning into each other’s mouths. He slides his hands up her back until he reaches her bra. Riley lends him her muscle memory as consent, allowing him to deftly unhook the clasps.

Will finally pulls back from the kiss so he can take the bra off of her. Once they’re apart, he takes a moment to really look at Riley. Normally, this would make her feel like she was under scrutiny, but not with Will. With him, she can see the awe in his eyes, knows how every day he thanks every deity he’s heard of that he’s lucky enough to have her. Their connection is at its strongest in months, and Riley experiences Will’s wonder as her own.

Through the emotion, though, there is also a shared lust. It pulses, a slow beat in both of them, ready to pick up pace at a moment’s notice. Hands back at Riley’s waist, Will starts undoing the buttons of her pants. She takes the cue, moving off his waist to lay beside him. Turning to face her, he grabs the waistbands of her jeans and underwear, pulling both slowly off of her.

Leaning up, he holds himself above Riley to kiss her. She brings her hands to his waistline, eagerly fiddling with the zipper on his pants. “Can’t wait?” Will chuckles against her lips.

“You have on more clothes than me,” she replies with a smirk. “It’s not fair.”

Will sits back, his hands joining hers to help remove the last offending garments. “You’re right,” he says, pulling them off and tossing them over the side of the bed. “Can’t have that.”

Rather than moving to kiss her again, he scoots back before leaning down so he can kiss her thighs. He can see that there are more stretchmarks here, and he brushes his lips across them. He means for it to be tender, but the placement of the kisses just sends heat straight through Riley. The pace of the beat between them hastens. He licks up the last couple of inches of her thighs, teasing her even as her need fills him.

“Will, please,” she breathes, and he doesn’t have it in him to resist any longer. Will runs his tongue up her slit, reaching her clit and sucking on it. They both groan at the sensation. Hot arousal spikes through Will, and Riley tastes herself when she bites her lip. Working her with his mouth, he brings a hand up to start teasing at her folds. Riley’s hips thrust toward him, and he places his other hand on one to steady her. “Will,” she whines. His cock twitches in response. Appeasing them both, he steadily slides a finger into her. She’s slick with her wetness and his spit, and he moves it easily in time with his tongue.

(He’s still not used to this part, feeling something so good that he can’t physically experience in his own body. But of all the weird things that come with being a sensate, this certainly isn’t one he’s heard anyone in the cluster complain about.)

Without letting up on his rhythm, Will slides a second finger into Riley. She moans. He continues to lick and suck at her clit, his cock growing harder as her pleasure runs into him. Their minds slip into each other, sharing completely. Will clutches at the pillows with Riley’s hands, writhing as she licks him with his own tongue.

They both shudder, and neither is quite sure which of them sits Will’s body up to reach the nightstand and grab a condom. Will knows it’s him who rolls it on. Slowly, he pushes his cock into her, Moaning, Riley wraps her legs around his waist to pull him closer. He is all the way inside her soon, and he waits a moment to let her adjust. It’s not long. though, before she’s rotating her hips, aching for friction. Will obliges, rocking against her in a steady rhythm.

As their pace quickens, the line where one of them ends and the other begins blurs. Riley pulls him down to kiss her. Will gasps, each thrust of his cock into her filling him up. She feels his cock moving as an extension of herself, lost in the way her own cunt feels around him.

“God, Riley,” he groans. She reaches one hand down to brush fingers against her clit, smiling as Will shudders in response.

Seeing her grin, he decides two can play at that game. He lifts her legs a bit, angling his hips just right so Riley’s screwing her eyes shut and throwing her head back. “Will,” she cries, the shared pleasure almost too much for either of them. Riley reaches up the hand that isn’t circling her clit, pulling Will’s head down so they’re kissing again.

The pressure builds in them, their pleasure indistinguishable from each other’s. The shared experience only serves to heighten it, both of them hyperaware of every pulse of arousal. They hasten their thrusts, mouths open and panting against each other. Before they know it, their orgasms overtake them. Holding each other tight, Riley and Will ride it out together, bodies shaking in time.

Once they’ve settled back into themselves, Will pulls out of Riley and removes the condom. He ties it off and tosses it into the trashcan before lying down next to her.

Riley turns on her side to face him, wrapping one arm around his waist. He holds her close, planting soft kisses on the top of her head. “Thank you,” he says after a few minutes.

“For what?” she asks, kissing him on the cheek.

Will smiles, answering, “For trusting me,” like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“Thank you,” she replies, kissing him on the lips this time.

“For what?” Will asks, mirroring her.

Riley smiles. “For being worth trusting.”

#riley blue #will gorski #blueski #blueski fic #sense8 #sense8 fic #faenies #my stuff

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givemesomeluh · 8 years ago

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Stretchmarks ~Nate Maloley

~Stretch-marks~

This was a bad idea. A very, very bad idea. One that had my insecurities flaring, and my feet itching to go back home. I bite down on my bottom lip, trying to keep the anxiety from rising from a full on attack. I mean looking around at all these half naked perfect bodies has me feeling an ugly type of way. Nate didn’t tell me it was a pool party. All the flashing skin had me feeling a bit uncomfortable, and I was thinking up a way to secretly escape when I heard my name being called.

“Scarlet you’re here!” I hear Nates unmistakable low body melting voice.

I turn slowly to see him speed walking towards me before picking me up in a bear hug.

“Hi” I squeak when he sets me back down though a small giggle escapes from My lips.

“I’m so excited you’re going to perform with me tonight!” He cheers showing off those beautiful dimples of his.

I was about to answer him when his new fuckbuddy… girlfriend? Well whatever she was came up sliding her arm around his waist eyeing me up and down. She was in an all black thin string black bikini. It was ana, the model girl. I felt my jaw clench as Nate looked at me to her then back to me taking in the sudden tension.

“Oh scar, you’re here, dressed like that?” She asks snidely eyeing my t-shirt dress and thigh high boots.

I guess it was a little covered compared to what she was wearing, but I wasn’t exactly comfortable showing as much skin, skin that wasn’t flawless.

“Yeah I didn’t get the memo” I state glancing at Nate who looks slightly confused.

“It wasn’t supposed to be a pool party but that’s just how people showed up, I’m sure ana here has an extra swimsuit for you.” He states cheerfully.

Ana smirks at this before turning to look at me eyeing me up and down.

“I don’t know if we’ll fit in the same swimsuit but I can try.” She says.

I roll my eyes before following after her into the house, I see little bubba come trotting up, he walks right past Ana to come cuddle me. She glares as if the dog ignoring her was a big deal.

“Hi bubba! Is daddy treating you well?” I ask him softly.

He barks happily wagging his tail.

“Good, I’ve got to go put on a skimpy swimsuit, wish me luck!” I whisper kissing his forehead as he barks again before hurrying after Ana whose glaring at me.

“So you’re the one that got him the dog?” She asks arching an eyebrow.

“No, I’m the one who went and got a dog with him.” I say trying not to smirk.

She nods before leading me into the guest room, though it looks to be somewhat used by her.

“Here.” She states throwing two scraps of fabric at me.

“Um do you maybe have a one piece that I can borrow instead?” I ask hoping not to sound pathetic.

“Sure.” She snorts throwing a white scrap at me.

I bite my lip nodding a thank you before leaving to go into Nates room to change.

Once in there I quickly slip on the swimsuit before eyeing myself in the mirror. This was bad. I couldn’t just strut out in this, side my boobs looked nice and my stomach didn’t look as bloated as it had but it was so high on my hips and so far up my ass it was practically a thong in the back. It was low in the back showing off the curve of it. I would think I looked good if it wasn’t for the hideous stretch marks all over my bottom and thighs. Feeling self conscious I quickly grab one of Nates button down jersey shirts and pull it on so it covers my back and bottom. Sighing I look away from the mirror and hurry outside as I can see the people here are gathering around the makeshift stage.

“Come here baby girl.” Nate calls through his microphone as he must’ve introduced me already.

The crowd parts for me as I make my way into the stage, Nates dimpled smile is bright on display he pulls me closer as one of his new songs come on, we dance together before moving apart while he goes and woos the crowd. And then it’s my turn i sing my song but as I do this Nate gets off the stage to go appease Ana as she looks pissed.

I can feel my own frustration as he’s the one who invited me out to come up on a show with him. Ana shoots me a triumphant look before eyeing me up and down and then checking herself out as if to say she was better.

That’s when I hear the crowd chant for me to perform one of my cover songs, I smirk as I know which one I’ll do,I feel like it fits the situation going on. I turn to the dj asking if he knows what I want, and when the beginning riff starts I can’t help but smirk.

“I know you want this for life, staring at all my eyes, but I can’t be your wife I just want you for one night.”

After I’ve sing the beginning I can tell that I have everyone’s attention, especially Nates.

I get into the song, moving my hips slowly sometimes glancing at Nate who stares at me with a stoic expression. Ana just looks livid while i sing to the crowd and move my hips.

“Hope she was worth it, hope you regret it I know that she can never make you feel how I did.” I state before looking at the rest of the crowd and when Ana scoffs I can’t help but roll my eyes.

She was only with Nate because she got between us before I could tell him, she knew how I felt. She knew how him and I were in high school, but she still did it anyways.

Wanting to get out of here but also wanting to show Nate what he was missing I move his shirt back showing off my ass and rolling my hips to the beat before singing the next line while looking directly at him.

“Throwing shots like i won’t put you in your place, but do you not remember me sittin on your face? Claim you need me here but you don’t really need me here.” I sing.

He didn’t he had been keeping me around for what felt like no reason but trying to prove we could be great friends even after all the things we’d gone through together. But I don’t really think we could.

So when the song ended I was already to go home, when Ana had to speak loudly laughing with some of her model friends.

“Gosh it was so cute until she tried to show off her scarred up ass, ugh I’d be so embarrassed if I had stretch marks like that.” She laughs overly loud like.

When I look at Nate he doesn’t do anything to reprimand her or even defend me, nailing the last head into the coffin of what’s left of our friendship.

I flee from the party as everyone around her is laughing at me, and I can’t be around him anymore. So I’m gone.

~ ~ ~

It’s been about 5 hours since I was humiliated at Nates pool party. I’ve turned off my phone and am just sitting watching tv, with a big box of boneless wings from buffaloes wild wings. When my door bell starts going off. At first I think that maybe it’s just some random person and that they’ll go away. But they ring it continuously for the next ten minutes and will probably continue until I answer the door. Feeling annoyed I rush to it swinging the door open, a little surprised to see Nate standing there.

“What the hell are you doing here?” I ask genuinely shocked.

I mean when you could care less that your supposed ride or die is getting bullied by your girlfriend you’d think they wouldn’t show up at your house looking so worried.

“Scar I’m sorry I was still in shock about the song you covered it brought back memories, but baby why did you leave?” He asks quickly.

“What?” I ask still trying to go over what he said in my head.

Nate smirks pushing me into my apartment and closing the door behind us.

“That song you covered, doesn’t it remind you of us in high school?” He asks arching an eyebrow.

“God Nate really?” I groan feeling flustered. The real reason i had even covered the song was because it reminded me of the good old days between the two of us.

“Yeah scar, really because when you said ‘don’t I remember when you sat on my face’ and fuck baby girl do I.” He states while his eyes started to swirl as he bites down on his lower lip.

The image that Nate had caused to pop up in my brain was causing me to feel hot and flushed, I stepped away from him fanning my face.

{flashback}

We had been wrestling while listening to the radio and some song came on about big butts, we started dancing and I was twerking when all of a sudden Nate groaned while pushing a hand through his hair.

“What’s going on Nate?” I asked feeling worried.

“Baby, when you show off your cute little ass like that it just makes me want to.” He trails off a tortured look is in his eyes.

“It makes you want to what? Also my ass is in no way small.” I state frowning while leaning into him.

He’d relaxed laying against his bed while my forearms rested against his chest and I leaned over him, my hair a curtain around our faces.

“Trust me I know that.” He laughs his hand coming up and caressing my cheek.

I smile leaning into his hand, while my fingers trace his chest tattoo. He smiles up at me while biting down on his lower lip.

“Are you ever going to finish your sentence?” I ask looking down at my fingers, as the way he’s looking at me had my heart fluttering and squeezing my legs together to calm down the throb their.

“Whenever I watch you sway your hips, or or grind against the air while pushing your hands through your hair while looking at me with bed room eyes. Baby, it just makes me want you to sit that thick ass on my face.” He whispers.

I’m blushing now, as the hand that cradled my face moves to my chin to lift it up so that I’m looking into his eyes.

He isn’t smiling but his eyes are soft as he looks at me. Slowly he moves so that are lips are just a breath away his slowly placed his lips against mine. His lips take by bottom lip between them biting on it softly pulling it back with him before he lets it go.

He looks at me with one eyebrow raised as if challenging me, before I move to straddling him and attacking his lips with my own. He smirks into the kiss before invading my mouth with his tongue, stroking and drawing me even closer to him. His hands rub up and down my back before moving lower to gripping my ass. I moan then tangling my fingers into his hair.

“Nate we really shouldn’t..” I start to say but trail off when he starts to kiss down my jaw then starts nibbling on my neck.

I lean my head back while holding onto his biceps, I can feel him grin against my neck, while one of his hands moves up the back of my neck supporting me, while the other rubs against my thigh.

“What shouldn’t we do?” He asks softly his lips moving against my neck.

“We shouldn’t, mhmm” I moan grabbing his face and kissing him hard while pushing my ass down on him.

“Fuck it. If you really want me to sit on your face prove it.” I sigh smirking.

{end of flashback}

“It doesn’t matter what um, what, whatever memories we might’ve had or that song might’ve brought up.” I state trying to sound firm over the fact that it shouldn’t stir feelings.

“So you’re telling me you felt nothing when you sang that song. Or when you looked at me when you sang that part of your cover? Are you telling you feel absolutely nothing for me? You have no feelings that you buried deep down and just seem to be popping up after going through life without each other for 3 years?” Nate asks looking incredulous.

“What does it matter if I still feel the way I felt about you in high school to now? Maybe feeling even more now than back then?! Who cares that I buried it deep inside it’s suppose to die. Especially now that you’re clearly not single, or having lingering feelings.” I yell back clenching my fists tightly.

Nate moves towards me, but I shake my head moving away from him but he follows after me. I glare at him feeling hot and needing to cool down but he still follows me into my room closing the door behind him and leaning against it.

“I really don’t understand what you’re still doing here. Leave.” I growl before turning away from him.

I take my hair out of the high ponytail tail I have it in, while moving to grab a baggy t-shirt and band boxer underwear. Needing to get out of this barely their swimsuit. I slip out of the baseball tee and start to shimmy out of the tight one piece when I hear a hiss. Looking over my shoulder I see Nate biting on his knuckles while watching me.

“Get the fuck out.” I growl.

Before moving and pulling on the baggy t-shirt before sliding off the rest of the swimsuit and pulling on my underwear. But Nate just continues to look at me not making any indication he’s going to move.

“Please Nate just go.” I sigh feeling tired as well as sad as the anger has fled my body.

“I’m not going to go until you understand.” He states crossing his arms.

“Understand what?” I ask looking at him.

“Understand that you are beautiful not just on the inside but on the outside and that you’re stretch marks are fucking sexy.” He states.

“And how are you going to make me understand that exactly?” I ask rubbing my arms while trying to physically curl into myself.

“No don’t you dare do that, you are beautiful.” He states moving to me.

I look up at him with tears trailing down my cheeks as well as filling my eyes. He pulls me to him before kissing my cheeks gently.

“Baby girl.” He says lowly looking in my eyes with something I haven’t seen in years. Passion, yearning, lust and something too strong for me to truly decipher.

I move to speak, but his fingers have crept up and are massaging my skull, before he pulls me close and lightly brushes his lips against mine. He moves back a little to look at me before brushing his lips against mine again. My hands tighten against his arms but I still refuse to recuperate. His eyes seem to smolder as he quirks an eyebrow before moving his lips against mine and nibbling on my bottom lip. I still refuse so he sighs, before full on kissing me, his tongue traces my lips, as if he’s seeking for entrance, which I grant him. Causing us both to let out a little moan as he tastes just as good as I remember, if not better. I wrap my arms around his neck and he grips my waist tighter.

He moves so that my back is pressed up against the wall as I kiss him back harder. His hands go down gripping my butt, I wrap my legs around his waist. He moves so that he lays me down on the bed my legs are on either side of his legs as I look up at him. He’s biting down on his bottom lip.

“Baby you look so good with you’re legs open to me and you’re hair all splayed out on the pillow. But you’re going to look even better on all fours.” He smirks.

“All fours?” I ask raising an eyebrow though I really don’t have a problem with that.

“Because I promised to show you how perfect and sexy your stretch marks are.” He states winking

A part 2 will be coming soon I promise lovelies for now I hope you enjoyed it’s been awhile 😉😘💕

#skate maloley #skate imagine #skaterade #nate maloley smut #nate imagine #nate maloley #givemesomeluh

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