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writing-mlm · 11 months ago

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Blue-pilled man [D.W]

Summary: Sophomore year of college and life is good-- until Bruce invites your family to Thanksgiving. Thankfully your boyfriend is there to distract you-- wait, boyfriend??? Pairing: Damian Wayne x male!reader WC: 9.3k A/n: part 2

A glitch in the system is what you’d considered yourself. There wasn’t supposed to be anything special about you, the middle child born from the rare chance the birth control didn’t work. The failed plan B. The unimportant middle child in a large family living along the West Coast. You hadn’t been anyone special, you hadn’t done anything remarkable with your life.

You’d graduated high school and flew across the country to Gotham of all places. Low housing costs, honestly, was the only reason. You’d been going to Gotham University for what? Five or so months before you’d gotten an internship at Wayne Enterprise for your major in business. It was going fine, you met some other interns and made fast friends and went out with them as often as you could.

Which is probably where you fucked up. You’d gone out to someone’s birthday party in a club, fake IDs locked in. It was fun, from what you could remember. And you were all going to head out since it was a Sunday— poor choice, you know but you went to use the bathroom when someone shoved some blue pill into your mouth. But at the time you were too drunk to care about what it was. It tasted like a mint though, so you assumed that’s what it was and thanked them for the breath mint before heading to meet your friends in the Uber.

The next morning you woke up with a raging headache and the need to vomit. Unfortunately for you, you had a meeting with the Bruce Fucking Wayne. Apparently, he interviewed each intern a couple of months into their internship and it was your turn. Surprise!

But thankfully, it led to where you are now.

As a Junior in college, you like to think you’ve been doing this long enough to get the hang of it. You’ve also been granted off-campus housing. Which was fucking amazing. You lived with one person and get this… he’s Bruce Wayne’s son! Honestly, for a nepotism baby, he was cool.

Plus, he was Robin. So it made going out to fight crime at night so much easier, and his dad— your boss in more ways than one, always understood why you were late to work. But it also meant he called you whenever Robin was called in.

“Player!” Robin shouts as you leap from roof to roof, leaving an animated dust cloud after you. “Player!” He repeats this time his voice cutting through your comms. “You’re going the wrong way!” He groans and you land on the roof, confused. He watches as you tap in the air and a holographic map pops up, taking over your field of view.

“Oh, shit!” You say, tapping a button on the bottom of the map and it shoots back to the corner it came from. “My bad, Rob!” Tapping on your waist bag, you see a selection of food and swipe to find a glowing lollipop. “Heading your way now!” Popping the lollipop into your mouth, you feel a surge over you and look down at your boots. There’s a green glow on them and you nod to yourself before jumping to the roof that was closest to him.

He nods when he sees you following him, taking off towards the robbery happening at a local, beloved restaurant.

“You think they’ll be open tomorrow?” You ask, catching up to Robin just as the two of you jump down from the roof and land across the block from the restaurant. “I was thinking we get some of their food for dinner tomorrow.” He glances at you then sighs, heading towards the restaurant.

“Considering no one’s dead, yes.” He says once he's halfway across the block. You grin and catch up to him, already scanning through your inventory for where you kept handcuffs.

—

“Do you reckon I could be a mad scientist?” You ask Damian as you walk into his bedroom, not even looking up from your laptop. “Or could I get roped into a cult? Am I cult material?” Sitting on his bed, you tuck one leg under you and let the other dangle off of the bed. “I don’t think I’m cult material, I’m not easy to peer pressure,” You mutter.

“No,” He sighs, setting his own laptop down next to him but he doesn’t close it. “You couldn't be a mad scientist but you would get sucked into a cult.” Gasping, you look up at him and blink.

“Nuh-uh! How?” Crossing your arms, you sit properly on his bed and shut your laptop.

“You almost signed up for the Church of Scientology last week because they asked if you wanted to take a personality test. Every time you pass by a club that asks you to join, you sit on it for a week before declining because I remind you that you’re a full-time college student with a job and a vigilante!” He lists and you huff, throwing yourself onto his bed. “It’s not your fault, though. Growing up in an environment where you didn’t feel loved would lead to a person being more susceptible to a cult. They make you feel needed, wanted.” God, you hated that he had taken that psychology course.

“Ouch,” You mutter, resting your hands on your stomach. Looking over at him, you see he’s gone back to doing his work. “Do you want me?” You ask and he glances up at you before looking back to your laptop.

“In my room? Depends on my mood.” He shrugs.

“In your life, I mean.” He looks at you this time, his hands ready to close his laptop.

“I do,” He gives one strong nod. “Considering I agreed to live with you until we graduate, I would hope I’d… enjoy your company.” Smiling, you look back to the ceiling. His ceiling is bare, although you can see the marks from the times you’ve thrown sticky balls to the ceiling and pieces got left behind. You wonder why he hadn’t taken those off yet.

Damian’s room isn’t what you had expected it to be. He has various art materials set up around his room, an entire section of his room is dedicated to his pets like their beds and toys, and his walls are covered in various items. You see drawings, news clippings, posters of various famous people he enjoys, and a full-length mirror was nailed to the back of his door. He doesn’t have a rug, he says Alfred the cat likes to tear those up. But he does have a curtain that looks like a rug.

Not to mention his swords.

His bed is nice, too. Bruce had spared no expense furnishing the place, he’d gotten the best beds possible for the two of you. Damian preferred a firmer bed, he never liked the feeling of sinking into a bed and not being in control of that. He also needed space for his pets, since there was no rule about how many could sleep in his bed now that he no longer lived in the manor. Prior to moving in, you’d pegged him as a one-pillow type of guy. But he had an absolute mountain of pillows, most of which he didn’t even use.

Tapping on the transparent food icon that was always in the corner of your eye, you watch as your inventory materializes above your body. You widen the bar into a grid and scroll until you reach a water bottle.

“Want one?” You ask. “They’re cold.” He hums and you pluck two water bottles out from the bar and toss one to him. Of course, being Damian, he catches it without looking up from his work and you roll your eyes.

“Thank you,” He says as you close out your food inventory.

Honestly, major fucking thank you to that blue pill guy. Whatever was in it had made you into your very own video game character. You could even change your appearance! It was so fucking cool, you could find random items lying around and literally create a bomb in two seconds!

Not that you’ve ever done that.

Sitting up, you take a slow sip of the water as Ace trots over to you and lifts his paw. Grinning, you pat the bed and he jumps up, bumping his nose to your arm as a greeting before curling up at Damian’s side. He glances down at his dog and mindlessly pets him along his spine.

“Have you studied yet?” He asks, lifting his eyes from his screen to meet yours for a brief moment. Capping the bottle, you toss it back into your inventory and lean back on his bed.

“A little,” You admit. “Between jobs and class, I haven’t had time. Was gonna during break, though.” He raises an eyebrow and you shove his foot. “Sorry some of us won’t be visiting family and will have an entire week to do nothing!”

“Oh, and where do you think you’re staying?” He asks, finally fully closing his laptop and setting it on his nightstand.

“Here,” You shrug as if the answer was obvious.

“Father wants you at the manor, he’s invited you to Thanksgiving,” This is news to you. Looking at him, you see Damian is looking at you before he turns his attention back to Ace. He’s old, you note. He’s gotten the powered face and you’re pretty sure he’s been sleeping on the sofa while watching late-night game shows. He even snores now.

“Oh, thanks so much for the heads up!” Scratching his backside, Ace’s leg kicks and you chuckle. His eyes crack open when you stop and he moves to nudge your hand, letting out a small howl.

“Don’t be cruel, he’s old.” Damian gestures to the dog who’s doing his best to look like he’s about to cry. Where he learned that, you’ll never know. But you lay down properly on the bed and continue to pet him. Damian pets his head, and you just barely register that he probably doesn’t want you to smash his pillows underneath you. Adjusting yourself, you look around for Alfred.

He’s awake in his cat tree, but his tail is slowly swishing in the air. A little harshly, you might add.

“Someone’s jealous,” You joke, and Damian follows where you’re looking. “Come and get pet, Alfred!” The cat lets out a chipper merwl and leaps from his place on the tree and onto the floor. There are two small thumps, one from the front paws hitting the floor and the second from the back paws. Alfred flicks his tail as he lands before jumping onto the bed in one big jump.

He nudges your free hand and when you lift it, crawls underneath forcing you to pet along his back before he settles on your chest. One thing about cats is that despite their small size, when they’re sitting directly over your ribcage they all but quadruple in weight.

“Ow,” You bite back a groan, closing one eye and slowly easing onto Damian’s pillows. “Lay down, please,” Whispering to Alfred, he blinks and then plops down as if his bones had just gone away. Chuckling, you pet wherever he asks and close your eyes.

“Fathers texted,” Damian mutters, shifting down on the bed so he could comfortably lie down. “We’re patrolling tomorrow,”

“Thank god, not tonight,” You huff, looking down at Alfred whose content on your chest. He’s purring loudly, and his front paws are neatly tucked under his body while his lower half is splayed out to the side. His eyes don’t leave your face, though. They’re half-lidded like he’s fighting sleep and you see his head rocking a bit. Scratching his forehead, he pushes his head further into your fingers and gives one lick before laying his head flat on your chest.

“He likes you too much,” Damian chides. “He’s a traitor!” Alfred doesn’t miss a beat as he rolls to turn his back to Damian, letting out the loudest sigh he can muster in his very tiny body.

“He’s a baby!” You protest. “Ain’t that right, Alfie?” In response, Alfred flicks his tail once, slowly lowering it back down to your stomach. “See,” Looking over at Damian, you see him watching his cat with an almost envious glare before he looks at you.

“You know it took me five hours to train him?” He asks as Ace gets up and jumps off of the bed. You watch for a second as he paws the door open before slipping into the hallway. Damian scoots a bit closer and raises his hand to pet Alfred. “He was totally feral before me.”

“Ah, so he was you before Bruce?” The tease is clear in your voice, your eyebrows wiggling and your chest shakes a little bit when you see his reaction.

“I wasn’t feral,” He bites, looking over at you.

“You stabbed your brothers,” You softly remind him and he scoffs, laying his head down on the same pillow you were using. But neither of you seems to notice or care.

“If they could get stabbed by a ten-year-old, they deserved it.”

Alfred stands up, his back rising to comical heights before he spawns and stretches over to Damian.

“Traitor,” You frown, rolling to your side and watching as he lays down on Damian, his tail curling under his body.

“He knows where home is,” Damian jokes, making you scoff.

“I’m gonna go take a shit,” You mutter and press a kiss to Damian’s forehead. Somewhere in your mind, it was intended for Alfred, but you missed it and didn’t realize it until you were at the door.

“I don’t mind,” Damian said when he noticed you had paused at the door.

“…Okay…” You hum and leave his room. It’s not like you’ll make a habit out of it.

—

A week later you’re both in the apartment's living room, Damian is busy working on this art project he’s been working on and you’re cramming for your last final of the semester. You’re sure if you read another word in that stupid textbook you’re going to explode and huff, slamming it shut before tossing it onto the pile that had amassed on the floor.

You need to do something else. Looking towards the kitchen you squint, food? No. Sighing, you look towards Damian. He’s focused on his drawing, you’d hate to disturb him. Your attention drifts down to your phone that’s vibrating on the coffee table.

Perfect timing.

You grab your phone and stand up before leaning down to kiss Damian’s cheek and say a quick “Call,” before heading into the kitchen to fix yourself a snack.

Okay, so habits quickly form, according to your track record.

Apparently, anytime either one of you leaves a room, you announce it with a kiss on the cheek or forehead— whichever is closer, and then the location. You’d actually grown to be fond of it. And it didn’t really affect your previous relationship with him. If anything, you spent more time with Damian now. Which seemed impossible considering you go to the same college, live in the same place, work at the same place, and fight crime together.

But, still. It’s just bros being bros.

“Hello?” You answer the call just before it stops ringing. Slipping the phone between your shoulder and ear, you open the fridge and lean inside for a better look. God, you need to go grocery shopping soon.

“God! I’ve been calling you for twenty minutes!” A woman shouts from the other end and you pull the phone from your ear and check the caller ID. It’s not saved and you don’t recognize it. Probably the wrong number.

“Who is this?” You ask, grabbing the butter tub and opening it. Yogurt-covered fruits. Jackpot. You set the tub on the counter and reach for a nearby bowl.

“Your mother! Hello, this is (Y/n), right?” Standing up straight, you disregard the fruit and rush into the living room and wave to get Damian’s attention. He doesn’t notice and you almost shout at him; he’s Robin and he can’t tell when his best friend is literally silently calling out for help five feet away?

“Hey, mom!” He looks up at that, slowly setting his pencil and sketchbook down. He mouths something but you don’t catch it between your blinking and pacing. “How’d you— how are you?” You cringe, biting your fist to stop yourself from speaking.

“Horrible! Where are you? We’re in Gotham,” She huffs and you whip around to Damian, eyes wide and you’re so close to lowering yourself into a squat and banging your head on the table.

“You’re here! In Gotham!” Damian sits up properly, motioning for you to put it on speaker and you do, setting the phone on the table. “How long are you here?” You ask, tugging your hands down your face.

“Two months,” Your mother answers and you swear you almost passed out right then and there. “Ujjwal, no! That place looks like it has bedbugs,” She huffs and your step-father starts to complain in Hindi. “Where are you?” She asks over the complaining. “We’re coming over!”

“I dorm, actually!” You quickly spit out, covering your mouth immediately afterward.

“Ah, why don’t you have an apartment yet?” Your step-father asks. “You know, your sister, Nadia has a house.” He says, forgetting the fact that Nadia was 27 and had won the lottery before moving to the countryside and buying her own house with her roommate since elementary school.

“I know, abbā.” You strain.

“I still don’t know why he went to Gotham for college,” He mutters and you wouldn’t have heard it had it not been for them being on speaker.

“Come meet us!” Your mom demands. “We’re in front of Gotham Bright Hotel! Diana is tired.”

“I’m busy, mom.”

“Nonsense, come and pick us up!” She huffs.

You at Damian, silently telling him see, crazy! He nods and thinks for a second before grabbing the TV remote and hurriedly opening YouTube.

“I’m studying and I’m pretty busy,” You repeat, watching as he looks up Fire Alarm noises. “Just stay there. I heard it’s a go—“ The video plays and you thank god there wasn’t an ad and it’s loud enough to seem real. “Sorry, abbā, mom, I gotta go! Fire drill,” Hanging up, you sigh and press your forehead to the cold table.

“Why are they in Gotham?” He asks, stopping the video.

“Fuck if I know,” You grumble into the wood. “I should get a new number…” Sitting down, you stare at your phone and groan. It’s not worth it. “I’m gonna take a nap, don’t wake me up until the sun comes up, please.” Getting up, you kiss his cheek and head to your room.

—

It doesn’t take long for you to bump into your family. The very next day, in fact. Dick had all but begged you and Damian to come along with him and the rest of the Waynes to go and check out the tree they put in front of Gotham City Hall every year. Like the New York tree. Just way smaller and probably will be stolen before Christmas.

You’re next to Damian, your hands stuffed into your big coat and your chin trying to retreat into your scarf watching as the crane lowers the tree. It’s already decorated in yellow and red ornaments, There’s some Gotham Vigilante ornaments, too, you note and grin when you see your insignia.

“It looks nice,” You chitter to Damian who looks over at you. He laughs at your state and moves in front of you to fix your scarf. You watch him as he carefully unwraps it and measures it to an equal length. He does it incredibly fast and you hope one day you’re as good as him with— everything really.

He looks back up at you and carefully draws the middle in front of your neck. He has to lean a bit forward to wrap the material around your neck but he doesn’t mind the fact that you can see your breaths mixing with the small gap he created. You don’t either, though. His fingers graze your neck as he tucks the scarf into itself before he admires his work and nods.

“Thanks,” With a noticeably less chatter of your teeth Damian is satisfied with his work and stands next to you again. You peer over at Dick who’s grinning ear to ear, watching the tree and putting his phone back into his pocket.

“He’s like a kid or something,” You laugh and Damian follows your eyes.

“He’s up to something,” He shakes his head and glares at his brother. Feeling the glare, Dick looks over at the two of you and waves his hand wildly. “Suspicious,” Damian confirms to himself. You roll your eyes and look back to the tree. There are some people helping set it in place as it’s lowered. Hopefully, there are no bombs in it this year.

“(Y/n)?” Several heads turn to the voice and you see your younger sister grinning and rushing over to you. She’s dressed in a fancy blue winter coat, the one with a small cape on the shoulders and white fur along the edges.

“Diana…!” Behind her, you see some other family members. Your parents, both your step-parents, your siblings, and two cousins with their mom. “Oh my god.” You whisper. In truth, you probably should’ve expected they’d be there. That’s your fault.

“We should run.” You tell Damian and he considers it. But your mother must be the flash with how fast she’s in front of you.

“Where’s your hat? And you don’t have gloves!” She immediately says while removing her gloves and holding your face for a second. She removes her hands as you try not to move away from her grip, then places the back of her head to your forehead then your ears. “You’re going to get sick!”

“Is this your mother?” Bruce smiles as he stands behind you.

“Yes,” You nod, putting your hands in your pocket.

“I’m Bruce,” He introduces himself and holds his hand out. It doesn’t click fast for the others, but for Diana it does.

“Like Bruce Wayne? So, you’re Damian Wayne, right?”

Diana’s eyes gleam as she asks and for some reason, it leaves a bad feeling in your mouth. You don’t like the way she looks at him and the idea of her touching him makes you angry. He notices, you don’t know how, and places a hand on your shoulder.

“Yes.” He nods. “And you are?” Her smile falters for a second and her eyes dart to you for a second. She composed herself and removed her hands from her pocket.

“Diana, his sister!” She holds her hand out for him as the rest of your family catches up. “He must’ve talked about me a bunch!” She flashes a grin to you.

“Not at all.” He shakes his head and turns to the rest of your family. You hide a grin and he shakes their hands, he already knows their names and he’s seen their faces before so it’s just a formality on his end.

“I had already invited (Y/n) to Thanksgiving,” Bruce starts, getting everyone’s attention back to him. “Would you like to join?”

Oh god no. Please.

Damian looks over at his father with barely hidden distaste as you stare at nothing. You know they’ll jump at the chance. They’ll ruin everything.

“We’d love to!” Your father says as your stepmother nods in agreement. The rest of your family agrees and maybe it’s the cold air that makes it hard to breathe but for some reason, you can’t. You blink, trying to take in as much as possible but it’s hard and you’re sure you don’t have asthma. Not anymore at least. Subconsciously, you tug at your earlobe to try and calm down.

“We need to leave now, though.” Damian cuts off your step-father as he’s about to speak. “We have finals to study for. It was nice meeting you.” He grabs your wrist from your ear and tugs you after him; you follow him without hassle until you’re back at the car Bruce had driven in.

“I truly do not understand father's thinking. Inviting them without consulting with you was a brash and out-of-character thing for him to do.” He frowns, unlocking the car with the keys he snagged from Bruce’s pocket. You used to wonder how he did it, but you’ve learned to not truly question him and his methods. Just hope he teaches you then one day.

“Yeah,” Is the only thing you manage to say. Only Damian really knew about your family, the others just knew you weren’t very close with them.

It was one night, you figured. You’ll be fine.

—

Bruce had requested everyone be at the manor before noon, which to Damian reads as being at the manor by nine. It’s less than a two-hour drive from your apartment to the manor, so you had to be up since four in the fucking morning. Which, honestly, you didn’t mind all that much.

It was a little homey just sitting with Damian in the living room and the sun wasn’t up yet, and then taking turns getting ready. It was nice. Different too. It almost distracted you from the fact that you were about to see your family.

“Is this okay?” You ask Damian as you enter his room, tugging at the hem of your sweater. He was already dressed, in a simple black shirt and brown pants but he made it look expensive. You felt stupid and like someone pretending to be important. God, your pants didn’t even fit right! You should probably go and change, find something from one of the gala’s you’ve attended.

“You look perfect,” He says as he removes your hands from the hem and locks your hands together to stop you from leaving. “Cuff the ends of your pants, perhaps.” He adds offhandedly. You frown and look behind him. He has a small bag packed and you look back at him.

“I don’t wanna go,” You whisper, searching his face for a sign that he’ll agree and you’ll both stay in your apartment for the night. You won’t have to see your family and probably finally block them. He won’t have to deal with his brothers. It’s a win-win situation.

“Take this opportunity,” He says and lets go of one of your hands to grab his bag from his bed. “Show them how good you’re doing. You’re basically a Wayne, you’re above them in every way possible.” Shouldering his bag, he guides you to your room and hands you your bag.

“But…” You bite your cheek and take the bag. “What if… I dunno— I do something stupid! I slip up and reveal everything… I’m probably better off just sitting there. Diana will do most of the talking anyway.” You huff the last part. “Did you see the way she acted? I mean, she definitely toned down the spoiled and entitled energy but still. She’ll probably try and get with you, too.” His face scrunches at the thought and it makes you laugh.

“You should know she’s far from my type.” He says as he checks his phone and you don’t really understand but you pretend you do.

“Can you grab Alfred? Pennyworth is here.” Humming, you enter the living room and grab the carrier that Alfred is less than happy to be in from the table. You try and keep him as stable as possible while Damian gets Titus and the two of you head out. He locks the door and you add an extra measure from your toolbar before going to the elevator.

“You’ll be fine,” He swears as the two of you step inside. There’s no one else in the elevator seeing how early in the day it is and all the students have already gone home. “Besides, I’m sure one of my moronic brothers will do something embarrassing and do all the talking for us. And Pennyworth has promised knafeh.”

“I love knafeh,” He grins and steps out of the elevator.

“That’s why I asked him to make it.” And they call him a demon.

Following Damian, you spot Alfred waiting in front of the car with a warm smile.

“Good morning, Mr. Pennyworth,” You greet him while giving him a one-armed hug.

“Good morning, Mr. (L/n),” He pats your back then moves to open the car door. “Young Master Damian,” He nods and Damian nods back. The two of you scoot into the car and you set the cage in front of your legs. Alfred meows when he realizes he’s going back to the manor and begins to scratch at the bottom of the cage.

“I’m sure he misses the open space,” You comment, trying to peer down inside of the cage but you can only lean down so far without fearing you’d break your back.

“Alfred is truly a pampered cat,” Pennyworth says as he enters the car. “Buckle up.”

The ride is spent with you and Damian discussing random topics from your next patrol to your finals. He had even gotten Alfred to join in on the topic and the two of them all but yelled at you to study for your finals. Eventually, you did cave and promised them you would and you just know Damian is going to hold you to that.

“Now,” Alfred sighs as he parks the car in front of the door to the manor. “I have to retrieve your family along with Master Dick. Do not tell the others this, but I trust you two the most in the kitchen. Could you please continue my preparations?”

“Of course, Alfie!” You grin while Damian just nods. Alfred smiles and looks at the two of you through the rearview mirror.

“Thank you, I have a list on the fridge. Simply follow it until I get back.” With the promise not to fuck anything up, the two of you head into the manor and quickly put your things into his room and let Alfred out.

“You’re better with a knife,” You mutter as you read over the list on the fridge. A list probably isn't even the right word for it. It’s four pages long and double-sided, explains what’s being made and the steps to make it and you’re not sure that’s even all of the papers he’s created. Alfred tends to go big for Thanksgiving, you think it’s because the Wayne’s hadn’t been a big family until Bruce got addicted to taking in kids. Not to mention now your family was joining. “I’ll season the food.”

Damian peers over at the list as you move to wash your hands and sees that everything has a time next to it, they’re already a little behind schedule so he’ll need to work quickly. He’s sure that the two of you can catch everything back up to speed and hopefully allow Alfred some breathing room.

It’s vegetables after vegetables for Damian. He’s sure he’s cut up an entire acre of carrots and onions by the time he sees the two cars pull up to the manor. You, on the other hand, are having fun mixing and mashing various foods. You just hoped it was to Alfred’s standards.

You see both of the cars pull up and take that as your sign to wrap up whatever you’re doing and you wash your hands.

“I’m a pro fucking chef,” You grin at Damian as he sets the last of the stuff he chopped into a bowl next to the sink.

“It smells good.” He agrees, watching as the cars pull to a stop just long enough for everyone to get out. Your family piles out of the cars and you cringe as Diana is quick to insist on a family photo. You, of course, are not included in it but that’s nothing new. That fact doesn’t do anything to satiate your mood, though.

“Bathroom,” You say as you kiss his cheek and head down the hallway. He watches with a frown before he wipes his hands on the kitchen towel and decides he’s not going to greet your family at the door.

He stops at the first-floor bathroom and hears the faucet running. He knocks on the door once with his index knuckle and hears the water stop running.

“I’m going to be in the family library,” Looking up from your spot on the top of the toilet, you wipe your face and clear your throat.

“Okay, be there in a second.”

—

Entering the family library, you’re glad your family wasn’t inside just yet. They were probably still taking pictures in front since god knows how many individual and group pictures they like to take. Damian is sitting on the middle couch, Titus and Ace are sandwiching him together but Ace moves when he sees you. Like he knows you’re going to sit there.

It makes you smile and you greet Tim who’s on a chair, he gives a small wave without pulling his head out of his laptop. You wonder what case he’s working on, has to be important if Bruce couldn’t force him to keep it in his room. The others aren’t downstairs yet, so it’s just the three of you in the room.

Damian moves his left arm to the top of the sofa as you sit down and only when you’re comfortable does he move it to lay across your shoulders. He doesn’t do that often, but whenever he does it’s a welcomed interaction. You lean into his touch, just a little.

You hear them enter the manor, but you’re more focused on the fact that he started to play with the hair on the base of your scalp. He’s probably doing it on purpose, but you don’t care; you’re glad he does because you didn’t even realize they had entered the library until you felt him greet them. His shoulder bounces a bit as he nods to them.

“Oh,” Nadia says and you look over at her. She says it in the same way you’d say oh when you catch onto something. But you’re not sure what she’s caught onto. Her roommate, Kendall, waves with her fingers and you wave back. “Hey, squirt.” Your eyes turn back to your sister and her hand that twitches to grab Kendall’s.

“There you are!” Her hand snaps back to her side as your mother speaks. You sit up straight as you see your mother, you don’t know why. But it felt wrong leaning on Damian with your family there, you’ve never felt that way before. “Why didn’t you greet us at the door?” Your mother asks.

“I was busy.” You say, looking over your family. “How was the ride?”

“No one shot at us,” Your cousin laughs, throwing himself onto one of the sofas. You cringe, watching the wood bend at the sheer force he’d thrown himself down with. “But there was this one lady with the only gyatt!” He says and oh my god, you’d forgotten he was a middle school boy.

“How’s school going?” Your step-mother asks, sitting in your father's lap. Your mother eyes them and you try not to as well, but you’ve never liked them together. She’s twenty-five, hardly old enough to be with a man in his fifties.

“Good,” You hum.

“So,” Diana grins as she crosses her leg over her right. “Damian, what’s it like— living in Gotham? I bet it’s scary.” She’s sitting on the sofa next to the one you’re on, but closer to Damian. You bet if your folks weren’t in the rooms she’d try and reach for his hand. You try and not to focus on that.

“It’s not,” He shrugs.

“Really?” She grins. “Because I was thinking of transferring to Gotham University!” She says and Damian’s fingers twitch along your back.

“It’s not scary for me, someone who isn’t used to life here will never make it.” He quickly adds and she frowns.

“It can’t be that hard,” She waves her hand to you. “I mean, (Y/n) is doing fine and he’s… him!” She laughs as she says that and you look at your parents, they’re clearly listening to the conversation but as per usual, no one will ever stop Diana.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Damian asks while leaning forward in his seat.

“There you two are!” Dick shouts as he runs into the library. His eyes look between the two of you and he makes the same face he does when he sees a cute dog.

“Richard.” Damian greets.

“Kori!” You gasp and rush over to the woman as she walks into the room. Damian grumbles something but stands up and follows after you. “Oh my god, Dick didn’t mention you were coming.” You glare at him but he holds his hands up.

“We wanted to keep it a surprise,” She laughs and holds onto his shoulder. “His father has the baby.” Two months ago, Kori had given birth to their daughter, Mari. You had yet to meet her, but Dick made sure to spam-send you photos whenever he could.

“Aw!” You frown. “Why does that old man get to see the baby first?” Damian hides his laughter and you nudge his side with your hip.

“Because she’s my grandchild,” Bruce says as he walks in behind them. He walks next to Kori and you see her swaddled in a purple blanket, sound asleep.

“And I’m the godfather!” You remind him, looking down at Mari.

“As am I,” Damian reminds you and you roll your eyes, waving your hand at him.

“Can I hold her?” You whisper, afraid you’d wake her up. Bruce nods and you grin, helping him slide Mari into your arms. “She’s so small,” Turning to Damian, he holds your shoulder with one hand, and the other scoops under the hand that holds Mari’s head. He’s trying not to smile in front of Dick but you can see it.

“She has your hair, Richard.” He notes, turning to his brother as he puts his phone back into his pocket as quickly as possible. He raises an eyebrow but doesn’t broach the topic.

“And her mother's eyes,” Dick smiles at his wife.

“Let’s sit,” Bruce says and you nod, unable to look away from Mari in fear of dropping her. Damian guides you back to your seats and you slowly lower yourself onto the couch.

“She’s less fragile than you think,” He softly reminds you and you finally look away from her. Damian looks away from Mari and looks at you, his eyes flickering across your face before they settle on your eyes.

“She’s so small, though.” You frown and he nods, moving some of your hair from your face. “Wanna hold her?”

“Wish Jay took that much of an interest in her.” Dick frowns, watching the two of you. “First grandchild of the family!”

“Hopefully only grandchild for a while,” Bruce says as he unbuttons his jacket to sit comfortably.

“I doubt you’ll have a baby problem anytime soon.” Tim laughs, finally putting his laptop away. “Dickie is the only one of us to date a woman.” Dick laughs and Bruce genuinely has to think about it. Had he raised a home filled with gay people? Did he make kids gay? He’s one for four at the moment but he sort of wishes Duke and Cas would even the scores out a bit. No— he’s zero for five. He corrects himself, remembering Dick’s boyfriend from a few years back.

“Not true,” You cross your arms, oblivious to Bruce’s spiral. “Steph—“

“You know what I meant!” He rolls his eyes. “He’s the only guy in this family who’s dated a woman.”

“No,” You shake your head while looking at Damian. “Didn’t you date uh… what’s her name? Nika?” He looks almost offended that you said that.

“(Y/n), she’s gay.” He corrects.

“Alexis?”

“She was delusional.”

“Emiko?”

“Friends.”

“Maxinne?”

“Friends. Why do you think I’ve dated these women?” The man himself walks into the library with Alfred.

“…Jason…” You admit and he gives you a Are you fucking serious look. Jason looks confused for a second but he can get a hint of what’s happening based on Damian and Dick’s face.

“You believed Todd to tell you the truth of my love life?” He stresses and now you feel stupid.

“When you say it like that!” You huff, turning your head away from him. “I mean he also said you dated Jon.”

“And that didn’t give you a sign he was lying?” He chuckles.

“So, are you single?” Your mother asks and you catch Diana pretending not to listen but she leans in closer.

“No.” Damian answers in a tight tone and you frown.

“No?” You echo and he looks at you, bewildered.

“No shot,” Jason laughs, his head tilted. “You two with me.” He points between the two of you and you look between his family, a similar look spreading across their faces. What the fuck is going on? But you follow Jason after Damian handed Mari back to Dick. He doesn’t look happy, you note as he walks two paces ahead of you; something he hardly ever does.

Jason guided the two of you into a smaller library that Bruce uses when he’s having meetings. You stand on the carpet while Damian stands close to the fireplace.

“Damian,” Jason says as he closes the doors. “Are you single?”

“No.” He snaps.

“(Y/n),” He turns to you. “Are you single?”

“Yes…?” You trail. “Why?”

“Figure it out!” Jason laughs and then leaves the room. Staring at the door, you sigh and sit on the couch, leaning your arms on your legs.

“(Y/n),” Damian calls. “Why didn’t you tell your family we’re together?” His voice is smaller than before and he doesn’t look at your face, like he’s ashamed.

“We’re what?” You shout, your head snapping over to him. “Dude, since when?” He realizes it then and now it makes sense.

“You kissed me.” He stresses and sits down across from you.

“Yeah, on the cheek!” You roll your hand. “That’s normal and totally not romantic!” He crosses his arms and you shrink into your seat under his gaze.

“Do you kiss all of your friends?” He asks, an eyebrow raised in the air. You humor it for a second, thinking about kissing one of your college friends on the cheek like you did with him. It seemed gross, wrong. As if it was some sort of violation. That those kisses between you and Damian were sacred and to even think about it with someone else was somehow an act against god.

“Well, no,” You blink down to the floor.

“Then why me?” He asks. You don’t understand at that moment, but when you look back on the conversation you realize he was guiding you to an answer you already knew.

“I mean, it just feels right with you.” Looking back at him, he’s smiling and his eyes are bright. “But I’ve never liked a guy before.” You admit, taking in a deep breath. “I dunno how to be in a gay relationship.”

“It’s the same as any other relationship.” He reassures you. “If that’s what you want.” He adds, holding your hand. You look at your hands together and smile. Do you want that?

You imagine yourself, going on dates with him and announcing each other as your boyfriend. Kissing him. Like actually kissing him. And it makes your face hurt with how much you’re smiling. You’re giddy, like some kid with a crush and you feel stupid for not putting two and two together sooner.

“I think I do.” You look at him and hold his hand back. “I do.” You nod. “I want that— this.”

“Good,” He sighs, his shoulders relaxing. “Because my family already knows.” He admits and you look at the door. Jason is probably still there, listening and reporting back to the others.

“Do you want other people to know?” You ask. “I know you consider your private life… private.”

“I would love nothing more than to introduce you as my partner.” He says, his thumb rubbing against your flesh.

“If I knew you liked me this much before I would’ve made a move sooner,” You laugh, looking between his eyes. He rolls his eyes and stands up, pulling you with him.

Once you’re on your feet, he holds you by your hips and you don’t exactly know what to do with your hands. You settle on holding his waist, you’ve never realized just how toned he was.

“Can I?” He asks, bringing his left hand up to brush against your bottom lip. Understanding what he’s asking, your heart hammers in your chest as you nod. “Use your words, Habibi.”

“Yes.” You nod feverishly and he dips in without a second thought. His left hand cups your face, trying to pull you closer and you’re doing the same with his waist. Digging into his skin, you’re sure your lips are going to bruise with how needy you’re kissing him. It’s almost shameful how easily you’re crumbling under his touch. Your stomach is doing tricks that only Dick could perform and for some reason, you don’t know why you didn’t do this sooner.

Never has a kiss felt this good, this right. His right hand moves from your hip and travels up, surely messing up your shirt but that’s a worry for another time. You can only focus on how it’s now holding the back of your head, his nails dragging across your scalp and you can’t help the noise that comes out.

“Oh?” He utters against your lips. You laugh and take the time to catch your breath, looking between his eyes, listening to your shared panting.

“Again?” You’re almost pleading, your eyes stuck on his lips.

“Of course.” This kiss is different, it’s less of a release and more of a we have all the time in the world now type of kiss. It’s slow and it’s tender, you feel all the details in his lips and how yours moves against his. This one feels like a hum you’ve known all your life and it’s wonderful.

This time, your hands find his hair and you don’t realize it, but you’re dragging your nails across his scalp and playing with his hair. He does, though. It makes his heart hammer and he moans into the kiss, unable to do anything but focus on you.

“Alright, that’s enough!” Jason says as he opens the door. Without breaking the kiss, you open your hot bar and with pure muscle memory, grab the water gun and spray him until he leaves. Damian laughs, pulling away from the kiss, and looks at Jason who’s trying to avoid getting sprayed but it seems like Damian’s rubbed off on you more than you realize it because damn, even when he moves you’re still hitting him!

He looks back to you and you’re still looking at him, your pupils blown wide and he can feel the light panting coming from you. Your lips are glossy, coating in both of your spit and he’s sure his are too. He can get used to that.

“We should head back,” He reasons, lowering your water gun. “Before father sends Grayson and he starts crying like before.” Throwing the gun back into your hot bar, you give him a questioning look. “When I announced we were dating… he cried.”

“You’re joking?”

“Unfortunately not.” He rolls his eyes and stands up straight, fixing his clothes and his hair. You do the same while Jason is going on about cleaning up the water and having to change. There’s no water on the floor, you note as you walk out of the library. None on the walls either. Every single one of them hit Jason.

Back in the family library, you return to your seats and Tim is the first to notice both of your elated moods. It’s more visible on you, but it’s harder to spot with Damian. It’s more of a feeling he gets, his face is as neutral as he can be when he’s around you but he’s so clearly happy. His steps are different, he imagines if he had less dignity he’d skip around the manor. The two of you settle in your seats and he’s pleasantly surprised to see you lean into Damian without a care of who else is in the room.

He’d gotten the text, along with every other sibling from the NO BRUCE!!! group chat. Jason, only seconds after closing the door had told everyone that you didn’t know of your own relationship. Safe to say you knew now.

Tim looks at your family and the only happy one seems to be Nadia. She’s a somber type of happy, though. She’s happy for you, but she can’t bring herself to be half as bold as you are and it hurts. Diana is trying to wrap her head to a different conclusion, she’s holding onto hope that you’ll be pushed away. It almost makes him laugh. Your older brother is in his own world, as he’s always been. He’s quiet, hardly noticeable but it seems to be on his own devices as he had picked the furthest seat from everyone.

But it seems to be from more of an air of misplaced pride than anything. His nose is turned up and he’s wearing an expensive suit. But it’s clearly not his, Tim would know. If there’s the money to splurge on that type of suit there’s always a tailor to get the proportions right.

Then there’s your half-sibling, from your father's side. She’s around ten and he wonders just when did your parents separated. Then he remembers there’s a seventeen-year age gap between the oldest and the youngest of your siblings. She’s sleeping, her head on her father's shoulder and the forgotten iPad discarded on her lap, about to fall off and hit the carpet.

Your father sees the two of you and looks at your mother who’s trying to keep her calm around the company— rich company at that. Tim doesn’t know why, but if he were them, he would at least try and pretend as if he’s happy for the relationship. Their son was dating the richest bachelor in the world and could very possibly give them a comfortable life. But he doesn’t think they see the bigger picture.

And yet, despite the clear disgust throughout your family, no one says a single word. The entire library is silent save for Mari and the two of you, talking as if no one else is in the room.

He wants to gag.

“Kids,” Bruce says as he sits straight in his seat. “Could you leave us for a moment? I’d like a word with the adults.”

“Half of us are adults,” You chide and he gives you a look.

“A word with the parents.” He corrects.

“I’m still in, baby!” Dick silently cheers to not wake Mari. But it only makes Bruce sigh and pinch the bridge of his nose.

“A word with (Y/n)’s parents and aunt. Alone.” He stresses. Curious as to what he’s up to, and mostly afraid of what’s going to happen while you’re gone, you open your hot bar without causing too much attention to yourself. The Hotbar is only visible to yourself, so no one sees the vast list of gadgets you pull up and quickly find the listening device Tim created.

“Don’t need to ask me twice,” You grumble and stand up, pulling Damian up after you.

Jason and Tim are already out of the room, there any fewer interactions and they’ll jump at the opportunity. Dick and Kori, despite wanting to enjoy the snow in the yard with the others, retreat to Dick’s room to nap while Mari is sleeping.

You hold the door open for your siblings and cousin, but Damian sees you place the device on the door and raises an eyebrow

“(Y/n),” Bruce says in a low tone. Of course, he’d seen it, too.

“Gotta go!” You urge and slip out of the room.

—

Diana, alone in the yard as her family had drifted away, finds herself bored and honestly, she’s at Wayne Manor and she just has to show off. She hasn’t posted the pictures yet, she still needs to edit them so no one knows she’s there. And she’s sure her followers would love to see a snowy Wayne manor.

Thankfully, the wifi was stable enough in the backyard that the connection for her Instagram Live was crystal clear.

She waits until she sees five digits on the view counter before he even starts speaking.

“Hey, guys!” She waves at her phone. “Bruce Wayne invited my family to his manor for Thanksgiving! Super grateful for that,” She nods towards the large manor and then at the comments, begging to see the man in question. “He’s inside, talking to my parents. But his kids are here too! I think Damian went into the maze…” She looks off to the green hedges coated in a thick layer of snow. “I’ll go and find him.”

She flips the camera around, and her viewers watch as she walks inside. She doesn’t notice right away, but nearly gasps when she sees she has just over two million people watching. Maybe you are good for something, she almost laughs.

It takes about twenty minutes of aimlessly walking before she finds the center of the maze. The two million viewers had gone down to just a million but she’ll take it.

“I think that’s it,” She mutters, seeing a clearing of bushes. It’s incredibly cold, so she’s shivering and her teeth are chattering but she can’t blame herself! She’s not used to snow. “There’s Damian!” She whispers, seeing his head of hair sitting on a bench. Pointing her phone in that direction, she decides it’s better to hide herself and look through her phone.

From what people can see, Damian is sitting next to someone. They can’t tell until she turns the phone a bit more and it’s you. Gotham citizens know you, of course. Over the past couple of years, everyone in Gotham knows the two of you are friends but no one really cares to post about it.

She rolls her eyes, of course, you’re still stuck to his side. The two of you are talking, but you’re too far away for Diana to hear the conversation. You’re laughing, though and Damian is explaining something. Your laughter slows down and the two of you just sorta of look at each other.

Damian asks something and you scoff, looking away before he grabs your chin and leans in. The viewer count is going up and before Diana can fully process what’s happening, the two of you are kissing. Honestly, she’s furious! You knew she liked him, she’s sure of that. This— whatever game you’re playing is just to get at her. She’s sure of it. But she can’t act on it, the views are around eight million and she doesn't want Damian to think she’s crazy.

He’s holding you dearly, it’s the gentlest he’s ever touched a person before and you’re proud to say you’ll be his first and only.

His lips detach for yours and trail down to your chin.

“Habibi,” He mutters and you shudder, feeling the vibrations against your neck. Honestly, at that moment you genuinely could not give a single fuck about your family. About their feelings towards you, about the ways they treated you growing up, and about them. As people. Each and every one of them, none of them could ever compare to this.

Thank that blue-pilled man, seriously.

#x male reader #x reader #damian wayne x you #damian wayne x male reader #damian al ghul x reader #damian al ghul x male reader #damian wayne x reader

872 notes · View notes

soaps-mohawk · 2 months ago

Text

Cherry Red, Crimson Blood

What Could Have Been

Summary: You've reached the age you can be chosen. Little do you know your future has been planned out from the start.

Pairing: Philip Graves x reader

Word Count: 7, 358 words

Warnings: Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics, a/b/o, Omegaverse, Alternate Universe, AU of an AU, suggestive content, mentioned predatory behaviors towards a minor, Philip Graves is a major creep, reader has a set age for plot (she is an adult), dubcon (pushing noncon at the end) but it's muddy water because a/b/o, kissing, touching, lingerie, panic, coercion, virginity and purity culture, fade to black because I couldn't write smut for this

A/N: I am...very sorry for this. Honestly I've been debating posting it but I wrote 7k words and I don't want that to go to waste. This is very...dark. A lot is implied but there's still some fairly disturbing content because of those things. The reader is 18 in this because of plot, but it still feels very...icky. Definitely recommend reading Chapter 34 before reading this to understand the context. Not necessary to read. Just an AU what if kind of bit for the story.

Also if you're finding this and you've never seen my stuff before, Hi! I highly recommend reading Cherry Red, Crimson Blood first before this for context otherwise some things might not make sense. I suppose it could be read as a stand alone but still, context is nice to have

What Ifs Masterlist | Directory

“You’ve been chosen.”

You had barely managed to get a bite in of breakfast when one of the staff members had pulled you away and led you to the director’s office. None of the omegas at FIOT particularly like him. He’s a small man, middle aged and balding. His scent is...not pleasant. Nutty with undertones of wet animals and whatever he ate for his meals that day. Every omega in the institute dreads being called to his office, being closed in with the offensive smell he permeates.

You would have been experiencing that same disgust had it not been for your shock at his words. “What?” You breathe, eyes wide.

“You’ve been chosen.” He repeats, folding his hands on his desk over a thin file.

“So soon?” You ask, forgetting all decorum and manners you’ve had drilled into your head for two years.

It’s your eighteenth birthday today. You just became old enough to be chosen a matter of hours ago.

“This pack is very eager to claim you as their omega.” He says. “One of their betas will be by tomorrow to interview you.”

Your heart flutters in your chest. While it’s shocking you were chosen so soon, this is what you had hoped for. Two years of training and drilling perfection into your head did pay off. You’ve hardly been on the available list more than a few hours and already there’s a pack interested in you. Something about it has a chill running down your spine, tickling at the base of your neck. You brush it off as shock at this all happening so soon.

“You may return to breakfast.” The director says, going back to his paperwork.

“Thank you, sir.” You say, exiting his office.

It doesn’t feel like your feet touch the floor as you walk back to the mess hall, your body floating as you make your way through the halls. If tomorrow goes well, this will be the last day you spend in this building, this prison you’ve been confined to. They’ll be here as early as they can be tomorrow, if they’re this eager to choose you.

The thought has something prickling in the back of your mind still.

Who are they? Who is this eager to choose you? The must have known about you before you even showed up in the registry as being available. You’ve heard rumors that institutes will supply information about omegas to packs for the right price under the table. Information on omegas that aren’t old enough to be chosen.

You wouldn’t be surprised if FIOT was one of those institutes. The packs that get their omegas here are packs that can pay a hefty price. There’s usually a waiting period while background checks are done and information has to be verified and packs have to interview with the director before omegas themselves can even be interviewed by the pack. You’ve seen it take weeks before.

Whoever the alpha of this pack is...they knew about you before you became available.

“What did the director want?” One of the omegas in your age group asks as you take your seat at the table again. Amanda. She cried for five days when she was brought in.

The others at the table lean in close, like you’re about to reveal some big secret.

“I’ve been chosen.” You tell them. The words almost seem like a foreign language on your tongue.

They all cheer happily, getting looks from the wardens around the mess hall.

“That’s amazing!” Chelsea says, wrapping her arms around you to squeeze you in a tight hug.

“So soon?” Amanda asks as the congratulations die down.

“Yeah.” You say. “They’re interviewing me tomorrow.”

They all share looks, and you know they’re thinking the same thing you are.

The rumors are true.

“Impressive, isn’t she?” The warden for your dorm group says, as if you’re not sitting there too. She’s responsible for overseeing the small group of eight omegas you’re a part of. She’s the most knowledgeable about the omegas under her watchful eyes, and it’s standard practice for the wardens to sit in on the interviews between the pack beta and the omega being chosen.

“Quite.” The beta says, looking over your thick file. Bryan, he’d introduced himself as. He’d shaken your hand, something you hadn’t been expecting. He acknowledged you as existing right away, something that doesn’t happen often in the stories you’ve heard about interviews, stories from omegas that had made it this far in the process, but were rejected in the end. “Excellent scores, quite extensive essays.” He says, flipping through the file. He’s not really looking at it. You can see his eyes just scanning the pages. He already knows. He came into the building with his answer.

Whoever his alpha is has already seen your file.

He closes the file, pushing it forward on the table. He’s looking at you. You can feel his eyes on you. Yours are lowered respectfully, no matter how badly you want to stare back at him.

“To be honest, my alpha already made his decision before I got here.” Bryan says, leaning his arms on the table. “Your profile was enough to convince him.”

“So, you’d like to move forward with the process?” Warden Jameson asks.

“Yes.” He says, nodding. “She’s going to be a perfect fit.”

You glance up at him, a warm smile on his face as he stares at you. It’s really happening. You really have been chosen.

The next hour is a flurry of paperwork and signatures. None from you, of course, but from the beta of your new pack. The paperwork would be sent to your new alpha to sign off on and to finalize the decision once you meet him. No one has ever been sent back after that point, yet you can’t help the nervous flutter in your stomach. What if they don’t like you after all? What if they made a hasty decision and regret it as soon as they meet you? What if you mess everything up?

You follow Bryan and the director towards the entrance to the building, something you haven’t seen since your tour after your arrival. It’s off limits to omegas, several locked doors standing between them and freedom.

Or more like to keep others out.

There’s someone at the front desk as you pass by, and you turn to look out of curiosity. It’s a middle aged woman with blonde hair, dressed in a business suit. “Kate Laswell, here for an appointment with Director Jones.”

You don’t get to hear anything else, ushered out into the world by the director. You’ve heard how giddy he gets about omegas leaving from staff, though you supposed that’s because it’s extra money in his pockets. The more omegas he can match and get out of FIOT, the more the government pays him.

“I’m looking forward to hearing how she’s settling in.” The director says to Bryan as he hands off your small bag of meager belongings.

“Of course.” Bryan says, setting it in the front seat of the car waiting out front. “My alpha will be in touch.”

“Good.” He shakes Bryan’s hand before turning to you. “Good luck. I expect the best from you.”

“Thank you, sir.” You say, dropping your gaze out of respect.

Bryan opens the car door for you and you slide in, smoothing out your skirt. You’re still in your uniform, and you won’t be able to change until you get to where you’re going. If they let you change. It’s important they remember where you came from, where you were taught the things you’re supposed to know, where you were trained to be the perfect omega. As if they could forget where they paid for you.

Bryan drives away from the institute, taking you away from the place that’s been your home for the last two years. It’s the first time you’ve been outside those walls since you were forced in, ripped away from your home the day after your presentation. You’ve thought about your family many times over the last two years. Where are they now? How are they doing? What have your siblings been up to? Have any of them presented as omegas too?

Maybe your new alpha will let you contact them again.

It’s wishful thinking. Most don’t. Not the kinds of alphas that buy from FIOT.

“Nervous?” Bryan asks, glancing at you through the rearview mirror.

“Yes, sir.” You say, smoothing your hands over your skirt. You’re projecting your scent without even realizing it. “Sorry, sir.”

He smiles. “I don’t blame you. I’d be nervous too. Don’t worry, though. You’re going to a good place.”

Despite his well meaning words, you can’t help but feel a bit of trepidation. Is it a good place? Or is it only a good place by beta’s standards? He can’t possibly know, he can’t possibly understand, unless there’s other omegas.

You’re almost excited by the thought of being around other omegas in a pack. Having that chance to have friends and bond with others like you who know. Those who understand.

You can’t help but stare as Bryan pulls into the parking garage of a very nice hotel. The cars in the parking garage are some of the most expensive you’ve ever seen. You’re not surprised, given the types of alphas that choose omegas from FIOT. Rich, important alphas looking for trophies to wave around.

Look at me, look at my perfect omega.

Bryan opens your door for you, helping you out of the car. He’s holding your bag in his hand, using the other to guide you towards the elevator. His hand is warm, even though your back is beginning to sweat a bit. You’re really nervous now, but you try to keep your scent under control.

Your new life is about to begin, the life of a claimed omega.

Unless they don’t like you.

You have to do everything in your power to make sure they do.

The elevator ride seems to take a lifetime as you go up to a high floor overlooking the city. You’ve never stayed in a hotel this nice before. You’ve never even been in a building with this many floors before.

Bryan leads you down the hall to a door, using the keycard to open it. He gives you a reassuring smile before pushing it open and guiding you through. It’s a suite, possibly the nicest hotel room you’ve ever seen. Bryan leads you to the small living area, the man you assume is your alpha seated on one of the couches. He’s sitting there casually, ankle crossed over his knee, his arm thrown over the back of the couch. There’s a grin on his face, your eyes widening as you stare at him.

“Phil?”

It comes out before you can stop it, all training and decorum leaving as you stare at him in shock. His smile widens, showing off perfect white teeth and dimples. He’s a bit older now than he had been back then, but it is him.

“Hi darlin’.” He says, pushing himself up to stand. “Been a while.”

Ten years or so. He was your dad’s best friend while he was stationed in Texas. He was at your house constantly, sitting around watching sports and standing in the backyard while your father barbequed. He was always friendly to you, always sitting just a little too close, always hovering. You hadn’t thought anything about it back then. You were too young to understand.

Now you do.

You drop your gaze as he approaches, trying to recover from your shock. You still have an impression to make, a role to fill. Calloused fingers cup your chin, lifting your face back up. You stare up into Phil’s bright blue eyes, just as friendly as you remember them being.

“None of that.” He says softly. “We’re familiar with each other, aren’t we?”

“Yes, sir.” You say, swallowing thickly.

A small smile tugs at his lips before he releases you. “Come on, make yourself comfortable.” He motions to the couches. “We've got a few things to discuss.”

Nerves twist in your stomach as you move to the couches, tucking your skirt under you before you sit. The couch is comfortable, your body sinking into the cushion. It's far more comfortable than the chairs and benches at the institute. He takes a seat right next to you, draping an arm across the back of the couch behind you.

His fingers curl under your chin again, turning your head so you're looking at him. Those bright blue eyes scan your face, taking in every detail.

“Those pictures didn't do you any justice.” He says. Your file is sitting on the table in front of you. “You've always been a pretty little thing.” His thumb traces your jaw, your stomach churning. “Look like your mom more than your dad. That's certainly not a bad thing.” He smirks.

He holds you there for a moment staring into your eyes. Something tickles in the back of your mind as he stares at you, something instinctual like a warning. He releases you, dropping his hand back onto his lap.

“It's good to see you again.” He says, the fingers of the hand behind you playing with the strands of your hair. “A lot has changed, hasn't it? I got old, you became an omega. I always knew you would. Your temperament wasn't right for an alpha. Always so calm and eager to please. You weren't rowdy like your brothers. Always such a sweet little thing.” His fingers trail over the back of one of your hands where it's draped in your lap. Your stomach clenches at his touch, something churning inside you, something you haven't felt since the last time you were around him. “You didn't deserve the way he treated you. It wasn't your fault for becoming what you are.”

He's talking about your father.

“How did you-”

“I was the one he called.” Phil says simply. “Raging and carrying on about his useless child presenting as an omega.” He shakes his head. “So I pulled some strings, promised some favors, and got you into FIOT immediately, with the stipulation that you would be mine as soon as you were old enough.” He grins. “Now here we are!”

You swallow thickly, staring at him. “It was you?”

He nods. “Had to make sure you'd be taken care of until I could come yet you myself. Now you’re here.” His arm wraps tighter around you, the hand that had been brushing yours dropping to wrap around your thigh. You stare up at him as he leans down slightly closer to you. He smells just like you remember. Woody with the rich scent of chocolate underneath. “I will take care of you.” He says, looking pointedly into your eyes. “You'll want for nothing and you'll be happy.”

Will you?

You break away first, your eyes dropping to stare at the hand that’s gripping your thigh, fingers indenting the skin through your tights. It feels like a threat, a silent reminder of the power dynamic between you, something he won’t say out loud. He’s an alpha, you’re only an omega. He has control over you, he can dictate your entire life now that you’ve been chosen by him. You belong to him, just as he’s wanted.

He’s been waiting longer than two years.

“You hungry?” He asks, his entire demeanor suddenly shifting.

You are hungry. You had left the institute just before lunch, and you had barely been able to eat breakfast because of the nerves. You nod, deciding telling the truth is better than to try to lie to him early on. “Yes, sir.”

He gives you a grin. “You don’t have to be so formal. You can call me Phil, just like old times.” He finally releases you, leaning forward to grab a tri-fold menu off the table. “Pick whatever you like.” He says, putting it in your hands. “I’ll be right back.”

He gets up from the couch and you watch him go before turning back to the menu. The prices make your stomach churn. Your family wasn’t necessarily poor, but with so many of you, you certainly weren’t taking very many vacations very often. Your family moved around so much there wasn’t much of a need to take vacations either.

You’re not even sure what to do, looking at the menu. What was acceptable? What if you ordered something too expensive. With a hotel room like this, you’re not sure you could order something too expensive. You’re not even quite sure what Phil does anymore. You remember overhearing a conversation he had with your dad about joining MARSOC before he disappeared from your lives. Is he still involved with the military? Did he leave and enter a new career field, one that allows him to stay in places like this?

You might never know. It’s not your job to know things like that.

You just need to know how to serve your alpha and take care of him, follow his orders and give him pups when he desires them. Be a good omega and do whatever it is he wants. Your wants don’t matter, only your alpha’s.

“Decide what you want?” Phil asks, appearing in front of you again.

You jump in surprise, having been so caught up in your thoughts, you hadn’t noticed him approaching. You’ll have to break that habit and fast. “Yes.” You say, even though you hadn’t even read through the menu in its entirety.

You try to stop your hands from shaking, picking out the first thing your eyes land on. You’re not even quite sure what it is or if you’ll like it. You needed an answer and you gave it to him. Just exactly what he wanted.

That is your job, after all.

Give him exactly what he wants.

The bed looks plush and comfortable, larger than you’ve slept on in a long time. The beds at FIOT weren’t too terribly uncomfortable, but you’ve gotten so used to sharing a room it seems strange to be sleeping on your own.

That’s not the only reason it feels strange.

“Are you not going to-”

Phil cuts you off before you can finish, not even needing to know what you were going to ask. “No. Not here.” He says, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “That’s for when we’re at home. Besides,” He smooths a hand over your hair. “You’ve had a long day.”

He stares down at you for a moment, and you almost think he’s changing his mind, deciding he can’t wait until you’re back in Texas. Instead he takes a step back, turning to the dresser your bag had been set on. There’s other shopping bags next to it, things you hadn't even noticed when you walked in.

You had been too focused on the bed.

“Bryan picked up some clothes.” He turns back to look at you, his hand trailing down your back. “As cute as the uniform is, I’d rather you be comfortable.”

You can see it in his eyes. He’s picturing you in it, and not standing before him. It makes your skin crawl.

“Get some sleep.” He says, moving his hand from your lower back. “We’ve got an early flight tomorrow. You need anything, I’m across the hall and Bryan’s next door.”

You nod, swallowing the lump in your throat. “Thank you, Phil.”

He grins down at you, dimples indenting in his cheeks. “Of course, darlin’.”

You stare at the door for a minute after he closes it, holding your breath. You half expect him to come back in, change his mind and decide he’d rather do it here. He could barge in, force you down on the bed and you wouldn’t be able to do anything. You’re not supposed to do anything.

Good omegas do as they’re told. Good omegas don’t fight back.

You wish the door had a lock on it.

You jolt awake as you’re jostled in your seat. You let out a quiet sound, not quite sure where you even are, much less what’s going on.

“Just a bit of turbulence.” A voice says, pushing your head to rest against a shoulder again.

Right. You’re on a plane heading towards Dallas. You didn’t realize you fell asleep, your head resting on Phil’s shoulder. He smells like scent blockers, all three of you do. The plane is a cocktail of scents, the chemical burn of scent blocker mixed with the ugly mesh of too many scents in one confined space. Not everyone has the decency to use scent blockers while traveling. You’ve always hated planes for that reason.

You stretch your legs out as much as you can, your knee bumping the tray lightly. It had been lowered, you assume, at some point while you were asleep. Your book is sitting on it, the book you had been reading before you fell asleep. It’s the only one you own, a worn out copy you stole from FIOT’s library during your first week and never returned. The cover is faded and nearly falling off, the pages yellowed and stiff from how many times it’s been read over the last two years.

You’d had a brief discussion about it before you descended into silence, Phil promising you all the books your heart desires once you get to his home. Your home.

It’s your home now too. You’re no longer attached to your family, no longer attached to the institute. Phil is your world now, and you exist solely in his sphere. You’re dependent on him, and once the claim is made and the paperwork is filed, you will be his forever.

There won’t be any going back.

Phil will never change his mind.

The plane jostles again and you grip the arm resting on your leg out of instinct.

“Easy.” Phil shushes you, his lips brushing your forehead. His hand closes around yours, squeezing it gently. “Haven’t flown much, have you?”

“Twice.” You say, your fully awake brain realizing you’re still leaning against his shoulder, but you’re not sure you should move. He obviously likes it if he let it happen. Will he get mad if you try to move? Would he reprimand you on the plane, even if you are quite spaced out in first class?

He hums, resting his cheek on your head. “We’ll go on lots of flights together. I’ll take you all over the world.”

Would he take you to see your family again?

They were friends once. He has to at least know where they are and what they’re doing. Would he do that for you? Or is he going to keep you isolated as expected to prevent those bonds from forming again. Your only bonds should be with him and his pack. Not your old pack that you left behind for a reason.

You don’t know anything about his pack.

You know he has a beta, Bryan, his most trusted beta, from the looks of it. How many others are there? How many other alphas and betas? Is he head alpha, or is there someone else? You can’t imagine Phil not being in charge. He always seemed to take command of a room, even with other alphas. Even with your dad.

Are there other omegas in his pack? Or will you be alone, surrounded by alphas and betas?

Can you even ask him? Or is he saving that for later, when you’re at his home. Would he get annoyed if you asked? Would it ruin his plan that he obviously has laid out?

Your name being said brings you back to reality, your head tilting to look up at Phil. He’s staring down at you, his eyebrows raised.

“Welcome back.” He says, and for a second you wonder if you fell asleep again. ��Lost in your head there, huh?”

You swallow thickly. “Yeah. My instructors said I have a lot of strengths, but my one fault is I think too much. Sometimes they’d say I’m sucking all the thoughts out of the room. Though, I think that was less of an insult towards me.”

Phil chuckles. “Got a lot of things going on in that head of yours. Just don’t let it get you too distracted. Hate for something to happen to you.” He presses a kiss to your forehead again as the plane begins its descent.

His words almost feel like a threat again, like a silent warning that something will happen if you don’t stop thinking so much. Will he try to fix that habit for you? Will he try to break you of that? Good omegas don’t have to think, they know and they act. An omega with too many thoughts is too independent. Alphas don’t like independent omegas. They want someone to listen and do as they're told, not question their orders.

You can’t help but sense the silent threat that radiates from him, the undertone of danger that has warning bells going off in your head. He’s been nice and polite and caring so far.

How long will that last once you’re in the privacy of his home?

It’s a nice neighborhood. Nicer than you’ve ever lived in, at least. The houses are big, the cars parked outside are nice, the lawns are pristine. It’s all very picturesque, it all feels very...manufactured.

Phil drives to the end of the cul de sac, pulling into the driveway of one of the two houses facing the rest of the street. There’s an American flag hung up on the porch rustling with the soft breeze. It’s warm outside, something you haven’t missed. It’s been years since you’ve lived in Texas, ten almost. You had been eight years old when your father received his next change of station orders and your family packed up and moved again.

That had just been shortly after Phil disappeared from your family’s lives.

Phil pulls into the garage, parking the SUV next to a rather expensive looking classic sports car. You stare at it for a moment, questioning just what Phil does and how much he makes from doing it. You’re not sure you want to know.

You fumble with the seatbelt as Bryan opens the door for you, blinking yourself out of your haze. He offers a hand and you let him help you out of the car to not seem rude. Phil gives you a small smile as you approach him.

He cups your chin, staring down at your face. “Jet lagged?” He asks, his thumb stroking your jaw before letting you go.

Jet lagged, confused, uncomfortable, unsure. All of the above.

“Yes.” You nod.

“Come on. I’ll give you a tour and then you can nap.” He says, slinging an arm around your shoulders.

He opens the door into the house, unlocked, you note. The inside is nice. Clean, pristine, staged looking. You’re not sure if anyone even lives in the house. You can’t help but wonder if Phil bought this house just for this moment.

“Cleaners come twice a week.” He says as he leads you around the first floor. “This whole space is yours, except for this room.” He says pointing out a door at the end of one hallway. “This is my office. Door’s always locked at all times. No one is allowed in besides me. You see anyone trying to get in, you tell me right away. Understood?”

You nod. The idea of what could be behind that door has a shiver running down your spine.

“Good girl.” He says, booping your nose. “Now, for the best part.”

He leads you upstairs, giving you a quick tour of guest bedrooms that don’t look like they’ve been touched, bathrooms far too clean to have ever been used. Why he needs so much space is beyond you.

No, you know why.

He leads you down to the end of a hallway, a door looming in front of you. You know what’s behind it. It’s what’s been clawing at you since the plane landed, since the drive from the airport, since you stepped foot in Phil’s home. Your home.

It’s nice inside. Clean, well organized. It looks like a stage in a movie. The bed is large, larger than necessary you think. The comforter is a deep navy with nothing but the necessary amount of pillows on it. There’s a chair in the corner that doesn’t look like it’s ever been sat in. A TV hangs on the wall across from the bed and a dresser sits between two doors on the far wall. The closet and bathroom you assume. It’s spacious, but not comforting.

That’s your job.

“Don’t worry, you can add your womanly touch to it later.” Phil says, stepping up behind you. You can’t hide the way your body tenses as his hands slide up your arms. His breath fans over your ear as he leans down, pressing his face against your neck. “We’re going to make good use of this room.” His lips brush your throat, tongue darting out to lick your scent gland. He hums appreciatively. “Sweeter than I remember, those strawberries.” His arms wrap around you, pinning your back against his chest. “We were made for each other.”

Your stomach clenches as his scent intensifies, blending with yours. You try not to panic as his lips drag up the side of your neck. There’s no stopping him. There’s no convincing him to wait.

He presses his nose into your hair, taking a deep breath in. “Get some rest.” He finally releases you. “I’ve got some things to take care of, and I don’t doubt the girls will want to take you shopping.”

“Girls?” You frown, turning to face him.

“The other pack omegas. They’re excited to finally meet you.”

Oh. You haven’t even thought about the pack or how big it is or its dynamics. Everything has happened so quickly, there’s been no time for discussions like that. You suppose you should have that conversation soon. Though, it’s been a long day already and he’s not wrong. You do need some rest.

‘A good night’s sleep is essential for omegas to do their jobs effectively. No alpha wants a whiny omega.’

He brushes his hand over your hair, giving you a soft smile. “Take a nap. You look like you need one.” He presses a kiss to your forehead before he leaves, closing the door behind him. You stare at it for a long moment, half expecting him to change his mind, but you can hear him going down the stairs. You can hear everything in the silence of the house. It’s almost too quiet after the constant noise of the institute. There’s always someone talking, moving around, making noise. Even at night it was never truly quiet.

Now the silence is almost loud in your ears.

It won’t be silent forever.

You stare at the bed, half tempted to just curl up on the floor. He would be mad if you slept in one of the guest rooms. He’d know immediately. You’ll have to brave the bed. Better to do it now than when you have no choice.

“Look at you!” Hands squeeze your arms. There’s so many scents floating around you, yet it’s comforting. You’re among your own again. “Oh, you’re just a baby aren’t you?”

Natalie, her name is. You had been introduced in a flurry of excitement, and you had lost track of most of their names. Doesn’t matter, you’ll learn them all eventually.

Her alpha is Osmond, ‘Oz’ as he’d told you to call him, Phil’s second alpha. Not necessarily a large man, but highly intimidating nonetheless. You’d guess Natalie to be in her 30s, though you’ve never been good at guessing ages.

“How old are you, sweetie?” She asks, squeezing your arms again. She’s trying to comfort you in your obvious state of overwhelm.

“Eighteen.” You answer, staring up at her.

Something flashes across her face, but it disappears as quickly as it arrived. “You are a baby.” She wraps an arm around your shoulders. “Come on, we’ve got a lot to cover and we’ve got some errands to run.”

There’s a lot of omegas. Phil had finally broken down the pack and its dynamics over a late lunch, even introducing you to a few members on your way to Oz’s house. You had your suspicions that Phil was pack alpha, and you were right. His presence, the kind of power he radiates. You’re going to be the head omega once Phil has claimed you. Natalie has been serving that position, as second alpha’s omega.

You’re not sure you want to take it from her.

They’re all older than you, if by only a couple of years. You do feel like a baby in their midst, so unprepared and unsure. It’s natural to feel that way, you were taught. There’s a shift, a change in dynamics, an adjustment period in the pack when a new omega is added.

Why couldn’t Phil have just been the family alpha type?

“Phil says you’ve known him for a while.” Anna, Marcus’ omega, says.

You nod. “He was friends with my dad when he was stationed in Fort Worth.”

“That was a while ago.” Jenny says.

“About ten years.” You say.

Silence falls in the room for a moment. It’s a tense silence, speaking volumes of their understanding and the realization of the situation. They won’t say anything. They can’t say anything.

“Well,” Natalie says, breaking the silence. “We’re glad you’re here. If you need anything at all, you’ve got us now.” She wraps her arms around you again. She reminds you a bit of your mother, perhaps if your mother hadn’t been constrained by the controlling nature of your father. “All omegas truly have is each other, right?”

The others agree with her, and you can’t deny it. What do omegas really have? Nothing their alphas don’t want them to have. Nothing parents, institutes, anyone in control don’t want them to have.

All we really have is each other.

“I mean it.” Natalie says. “Anything at all.”

They are excited to take you shopping, despite the heaviness of the conversation that had transpired. They spoil you, throwing bags and bags in the back of the SUV, brushing off any concerns about money. Anything you want or need, you get several of them. It’s overwhelming after never getting anything but the bare necessities and what the institute wants you to have.

Marcus, one of the higher ranking alphas in the pack, follows everyone around like a security detail. You had been concerned upon hearing only one alpha was accompanying you...until you saw Marcus for the first time. He’s big. Very big. Tall and bulky, he’s the perfect specimen of an alpha. Many young omegas’ dream alpha. Marcus is intimidating, letting off a dangerous air which causes most that pass your group to not even give you a second glance.

He escorts your small group around, offering up no question or complaint. You almost wish he was going to be your alpha, but then again, you know almost nothing about him. You don’t even really know that much about Phil. Most of the things you know are things you overheard from conversations he had with your father. But how trustworthy are those things, really? You hadn’t understood much until now. Now it all makes sense.

A lot of things make sense now.

Natalie stands with you on the sidewalk as Marcus and Bryan carry load after load of bags into Phil’s house. Your house. You’re scared for what’s coming tonight. Phil won’t wait. He won’t put things off, he won’t hold off until your first heat. He’ll want to make things official now, stake his claim as soon as possible. He’s waited ten years for this.

Natalie smiles softly down at you, a knowing look in her eyes. “Nervous?” She asks, picking up on your uneasy energy.

You nod, trying to stop the tears from pooling in your eyes. Good omegas serve their alphas, no matter what.

“I know what that’s like. I was scared shitless too.” She laughs quietly. “I think Oz was just as nervous too. Just relax and breathe. Phil will take care of you. That I can be confident about.” Her smile turns almost bittersweet. She knows. She understands. “You’ll be alright. I’ll come by tomorrow morning, okay?”

You nod, trying to suppress your nervousness. Natalie will understand, though you’re not so sure Phil will.

You look terrified as you stare at your reflection in the mirror. You bathed an hour ago and yet you still can’t quite bring yourself to leave the bathroom. You smooth your hands over the silk hugging your skin for the thousandth time. You’re shocked you haven’t worn through the thin fabric yet with your sweaty palms.

Your eyes dart down to the sink, your stomach churning wildly as the bedroom door closes. Phil is back. You’ll have to leave the bathroom soon. You can’t spend the whole night behind the locked door.

You don’t doubt he’d break it down eventually.

Then he’ll be angry.

You let out a long breath, curling your hands into fists to stop them from shaking. You have to do this. This is your job, your duty as an omega. Serve your alpha and make him happy. Be a good omega and do what he says. Obedience is an omega’s purpose. This is always what was going to happen, be it with Phil or with a stranger. Perhaps there is a small comfort in the fact you know Phil. You’re familiar with him. Why would he wait ten years for you just to hurt you?

The little food you managed to eat churns uncomfortably in your stomach. Phil had treated you to dinner before he’d left again, giving you time to clean up and prepare yourself for tonight. For right now.

You spritz more scent-enhancing perfume on your skin before you let out a long breath. You try to fix your face, not look quite so terrified, but you’re not sure you can hold it as you unlock the door, turning the knob.

The light in the closet is on, the door half open. Phil must be in there, likely having to maneuver around bags. You’d unpacked some things and put them away, but you’d nearly had a breakdown when you reached the lingerie store bags. You’re wearing some of it now, the silk robe and little white number your fellow omegas had gotten you. Specifically for tonight, you think. You won’t be wearing it again.

The closet door opens fully, Phil standing there in nothing but his jeans. His eyes trail your body as you stand there awkwardly in the middle of the room. His teeth sink into his lip, his scent thickening. You’re trying to look anywhere but at him but you can’t help the way your eyes are drawn to his form. He’s just as tall and muscular as you remember, more lean than bulky like your father had been. His skin is pale, though you can’t imagine him spending much time lounging in the backyard by the pool. Under the awning at the grill with a beer in hand as he used to do, that you can picture.

“Look at you.” He says, turning off the light before stepping fully out of the closet. “All wrapped up like a present just for me.”

You feel like vomiting as he approaches you slowly. You feel like a rabbit trapped in the sights of a hungry wolf, too afraid to run, too afraid to fight back. You’re going to be devoured and there’s no stopping it.

You jump as his hand cups your face, your eyes darting up to his. There’s a soft look in them, an attempt at soothing your fear. There’s nothing he can do to make this easier, though, other than just get it over with.

It’ll get easier. That’s what Anna told you. Eventually your omega will be happy, content with a good alpha and a pack. It’s just an adjustment. That’s why it’s recommended to wait when adding a new omega. Get past the adjustment period before reaching this stage.

How do you stop an alpha that’s been waiting ten years?

Most alphas don’t wait anyway.

“Don’t be scared, darlin’.” He says, lips tilting up in a smile. “I’ll take good care of you.”

His fingers tug at the ties of the robe around your waist, your heart thudding in your chest. You’re shocked he can’t hear it. It’s pulsing in your ears, nearly blocking out all sound as he pulls the tie free, revealing your lacy lingerie underneath. He lets out a low whistle as he pushes the robe off your shoulders, letting it drop to the floor.

“Look. At. You.” He says, enunciating each word. His hands slide down your sides, brushing lace and smooth skin. “Can’t wait much longer.” He nearly groans, his gaze darkening. He steps up closer to you, your gaze locked on his. You can’t look down, you can’t stare at the tent in his jeans, you can’t stare at the bulge that’s brushing against your pelvis with every breath. “You ever done this before?” He asks.

You shake your head, swallowing the lump in your throat. “N-No.”

“No?” He raises a brow. “Not even a kiss?”

You shake your head.

“Pure little thing, all for me.” He nearly growls, pushing his body fully against yours. His hand cups the side of your neck, something tingling in the back of your brain as his fingers brush the sensitive skin on the back of your neck.

You’re distracted from that tingle though as he kisses you, his lips rough against yours. You’re not sure what to do, but he doesn’t seem to care. His other arm wraps around your waist, pulling you tight against him. Your stomach is churning, not entirely from nerves anymore as his scent completely takes over, clouding your mind. Despite your nerves and hesitation, your omega purrs appreciatively. He smells good, like alpha. It’s exactly what your omega wants, what she’s been craving.

“Fuck,” He groans against your lips, hands tugging at the lace covering your lower back. “So fucking sweet.” He bites at your lower lip, harder than you're expecting. You let out a quiet nose but that only seems to encourage him.

He pulls away from you, turning you towards the bed. Your palms fall against the mattress to catch yourself. The comforter has been pulled down, your hands falling against the sheets. White sheets.

Phil’s hands drag up your back until it reaches the top of the lace. He rips it easily, tearing it down the back before he pushes it off your shoulders. His hands run over your skin as he pushes the lace from your body, his back meeting your chest. His skin is warm against yours, his bulge pushing up against your ass at this angle.

“Sweet little omega.” He growls, pressing his face into your neck, inhaling deeply. “All for me. All mine, aren’t you?”

“Yes, alpha.” You say, fingers curling into the sheet beneath your hands.

He hums appreciatively, nipping at the skin over your scent gland. You can’t help but begin to feel a stirring in your stomach. It feels good, despite everything. Your omega is growing complacent, the promise of what’s coming not nearly quite so frightening.

It gets easier.

Phil’s hands rest on your stomach, pushing your body tight against his. “Can’t wait for your next heat.” He groans, pushing his hips against your ass. “Gonna pump you full until it takes, give you a pup like you’ll be begging for. Keep you pumped full, just like your mama, huh. You’ll give me a big pack, won’t you?”

You’re glad he can’t see your face as he holds you there, your eyes glued to the white sheet in front of you. You desperately fight back the tears blurring your vision.

“Yes, alpha.”

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#call of duty #call of duty fic #philip graves x reader #graves x reader #alternate universe #au of an au #alpha/beta/omega dynamics #a/b/o #omegaverse #alpha philip graves #omega reader

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angelic-muse · 1 year ago

Text

unforgettable

a/n: i couldn't not write anything for his special day, so enjoy, and happiest of birthdays to my silly mosshead man. this was written with both anime and opla zoro in mind so feel free to interpret it as either.

pairing: roronoa zoro x gn!reader

warnings: just fluff, not proofread

summary: it's your lover's birthday, and what better way to start the celebration than to stay awake and surprise him at midnight?

...that is, if you can stay awake.

must stay awake... must stay awake.

the sentence replayed itself in your groggy head like a mantra, a broken record stuck on repeat, a toy train running in slow circles around your brain as you fought the urge to tip over the line between wakefulness and sleep.

zoro deserved more than that.

"my birthday? never really done anything for it," he'd grunted the day before after you'd brought it up. the swordsman had frowned, scratched his head. "kinda forgot it was tomorrow, actually."

and it was then that you decided to make this birthday — and all his next ones, for that matter — unforgettable.

so after some pleading with nami that then lead to careful rearrangement of night watch schedules (despite the crew's grumbling), zoro would be set to finish his shift at midnight — exactly midnight.

and what would he find when he returned to his room? you, of course, waiting for the moment he stepped through the door to shower him in love and birthday wishes, followed by a day of celebrations just for him.

well, that was your plan.

but the actual staying awake hadn't been part of it.

since your shift for night watch was the last one, just before sunrise, you were lucky enough to be able to sleep soundly all night till then. which meant you were not at all used to being awake at this time and your body was slowly but surely losing the fight to fall unconscious.

you yawned, blinking heavy eyelids as you turned to squint at the sky, the gentle moonlight washing the deck of the going merry in its milky glow. it wasn't quite yet at its highest point — still not midnight.

surely a little lay down before zoro returned couldn't hurt, right?

don't fall asleep, you promised yourself one last time as you settled into his own hammock, breathing in the lingering scent of him with a sigh. don't fall asleep...

zoro muttered angrily as he stomped across the ship back to his room, not bothering to soften the loud thumping of his boots against the planks, swords clanking noisily at his hip.

"serves 'em right if they wake up," he groused, "putting me up there at this time all of a sudden for no fuckin' reason—"

he cut short as he shoved into his room, raising a brow at the sight that met him as he rid himself of swords and shirt. there you were, curled up in his spot, sleeping soundly like a contented cat.

"the hell you doing in my hammock?" he grumbled under his breath, but zoro slid in beside you anyways, throwing an arm over your shoulders and folding the other behind his head. he didn't mind that you were here — he never did. sleeping beside you was nothing out of the ordinary anymore. he liked it, enjoyed the easy comfort and security that came with you tucked against his side; hearts beating in time, every breath shared.

it was right when zoro was beginning to drift off that he felt you stir awake. cracking open one eye, he watched as you sat up, blinking tiredly. "zo... zoro?"

"what got you up?" he murmured as you yawned and stretched your arms overheard. "m'here, get back to sleep." get back to cuddling me.

"the smell of a pirate who hasn't showered in a week," you joked groggily, rubbing at your eyes. then you froze. shit.

shit!

"no, i fell asleep!" you groaned, burying your face in your hands. how could you? you promised yourself you wouldn't, for him, and now... "fuck, fuck fuck fuck fuck... i'm sorry." you peeked back up at him, lower lip stuck out.

zoro frowned. "hah? what the hell are you on about?"

"i was meant to stay up," you said sadly. "to say happy birthday to you. at midnight. that's why i got nami to change your watch..."

rubbing a hand across his face, zoro sat up to look at you properly, blinking sleep away. you went to the trouble of getting his night watch changed and stayed up in his room just to say happy birthday to him? seriously?

he'd be surprised, but really, that was just the kind of stupid, endearing thing you'd do.

and so he laughed.

you blinked at him as his wide shoulders shook with mirth, head tossed back. an embarrassed warmth crept up your neck and you folded your arms, attempting to glare at him even as you fought to hold down a smile. "wh— it's not funny!"

"nah," he grinned at you as his laughter died down. "it's just cute. c'mere."

you yelped in half-protest as zoro grabbed your head to pull into his chest, laying back down with a sigh.

"you don't hafta... stay up until midnight or do shit like that just for me." he uttered after a moment of quiet, brushing his fingers through your hair. "you need your sleep, and i need mine. so just... just wait until morning next year, yeah?"

"i... okay," you sighed, trailing a finger across his chest, drawing mindless patterns over scarred, tawny skin, making him suppress a shiver. "i still have stuff planned for later, though."

"yeah? let's hear it."

"i'm not ruining the surprise, silly. but... i did get you some presents and convinced sanji to bake you a cake. among other things."

zoro snorted. "bet that shitty cook did it for you more than me."

"probably," you teased, tilting your head to look up at him. "don't get jealous that he might love me more than you, it's okay."

the swordsman scoffed, turning you both on your sides with a grunt. "maybe, but he'll never love you as much as i do."

you chuckled, tucking your head into the crook of his neck, inhaling his familiar scent; steel and sweat with an earthier undertone somewhere beneath. "i love you too, even though you still smell like you've never showered."

zoro barked out a laugh, tightening a thick arm around your waist to pull you further into him. "i'll take a shower for your birthday, how's that sound?"

you peered up at him and wrinkled your nose. he grinned.

"you're gross," you muttered with a smile even as you snuggled further into him. he kissed your forehead and you could feel his own smile against your skin.

"and you still love me."

"lucky you, huh?"

zoro exhaled softly, closing his eyes. "yeah, lucky me."

slowly, quiet draped itself over the two of you like the softest blanket, comforting and warm as the sounds of your breathing lulled each other to sleep after gentle whispers of goodnight and wishes of good dreams. and he rocked you in his arms, like how the gentle waves rocked you from below, mother nature's cradle for her sleeping children as they rested in an embrace so tightly woven with nothing but pure love not even the sharpest sword could ever hope to sever it.

and that morning, when zoro awoke to his dear lover smothering his face with kisses as they pulled him from his sleep with the promise of birthday gifts, he knew with clarity, such a deep, resounding clarity it made his heart ache—

that you, on this day and every other, were the greatest gift he could ever ask for.

nia's ask box is open!

#♡ — nia writes #zoro ♡#this is terribly unorganised and silly #and for that i apologise lmao #its currently 1am and i needed to get something out for the birthday boy #so please enjoy this incoherent jumble of words #roronoa zoro #roronoa zoro x reader #zoro x reader #opla zoro #opla zoro x reader #zoro #zoro x you #zoro x reader fluff #opla zoro x reader fluff #opla roronoa zoro #one piece #one piece x reader #opla x reader

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cherrygirlfriend · 3 months ago

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kook!reader camping with bf!pope heyward

warnings: fluffy smut, loss of virginity, awkwardness but in a sweet way, praise, MDNI i really wanted to write something sweet but also smutty and i got this idea a few days ago ,,, also as someone who was a girl scout for six years pope being a former boy scout is canon in my heart. anyway i'm definitely gonna write more kook!reader x pope bc i love their dynamic sm … currently planning a moodboard for them

when pope's great idea for your birthday was to take you camping, to say you were reluctant would be an understatement, especially since your initial plan was to lose your virginity on said day, and the thought of sleeping in the middle of some forests surrounded by mosquitos and god knows what kind of wild animals wasn't exactly your idea of a "romantic evening."

you couldn't help it, you had always been a planner, and when pope had brought up the idea of camping with you for your birthday, you had subtly tried to tell him it wasn't something you were too interested, but the boy seemed so sweetly clueless about it, you didn't want to burst his bubble of excitement, especially when he showed you the camping gear he'd dug up from his storage from his days as a boy scout.

so, you just decided to try and make it as romantic as possible. your parents had conveniently misplaced one of their expensive bottles of wine, which had somehow ended up in your trunk, and you had purchased a new lingerie set as well as condoms, wanting to make sure you were prepared.

you were pacing around your bedroom, your duffle bag having been packed with the things you'd need; you didn't know why you were nervous, it wasn't like you'd never done anything sexual, and more often than not, your heated makeout sessions in your bed ended up with his hand in your panties or his cock in your mouth.

but the thing was... he had no idea that you were a virgin. sure, you had boyfriends before him, but most of the time things stayed strictly hand-or-mouth zone. but honestly, the moment you two drove to the nearby cliffs and he told you about the different constellations, you were ready to jump him right there, but you didn't want to give him the wrong idea, so you simply adored him while the boy pointed out the stars to you. however, after a few weeks of dating, he drunkenly told you about how he'd only slept with one person, and was kind of worried that you were more experienced, which you found adorable.

but, when you finally heard your doorbell ring, you took a deep breath, and tried to calm yourself down before having to face your boyfriend and have the boy realize that you had just spent the entire morning overthinking a simple camping trip.

"are we going where i think we're going?" you asked pope, the boy driving your car, having nicked your sunglasses off the dashboard, now covering his eyes, and to be fair, they looked much better on him than they did on you.

"damn, have i already lost the ability to surprise you?" he chuckled, making you roll your eyes playfully, the boy taking your right hand into his and pressing a kiss onto it, "we are. but i have a surprise for you waiting there."

honestly, i should've known that the place he was taking me was the location of our first date even before he turned the car on; he wouldn't really admit it, but there was a part of him that could be incredibly cheesy, and you liked that about him. most of the guys you'd dated before him hadn't been nearly as thoughtful as pope was, and even though you'd only dated him for a few months, he'd been more considerate than some boyfriends you'd been with for close to a year.

it wasn't long until the two of you arrived near the cliffs where you'd had your first date, pope taking your hand into his as you traipsed through the woods, the boy much more comfortable in the terrain that you were, and whenever you were about to trip, he steadied you, trying not to laugh.

you gasped when you finally realized what pope's surprise was, when you noticed a tent perched close to the cliff, overlooking the water. the two of you walked closer to it, and that was when you realized that pope had put up fairy lights all around the tent, and there was a blanket that stretched all the way over to the cliff so you could sit there and look at the stars like you'd done on your first date.

"do you like it?" he asked, as he wrapped his warm arms around you, and you looked up to him with a smile, nodding eagerly, the sight in front of you causing your heart to clench in your chest. "i love it."

"how many times do i need to tell you to blow on it?" pope laughs, almost doubling over on the blanket as he just watched while you struggle with the s'more, letting the gooey confection fall onto a plastic plate before you took a large chug of wine from your plastic cup, the liquid now lukewarm.

you'd spent the day swimming, watching while pope surfed, playing cards, and simply talking, now he was blowing onto your s'more, while the two of you sat on the blanket on the cliff, and as you felt the wine starting to warm you up, the last thing you cared about was your damn s'more, but you also didn't know how to initiate, the boy always-

"i wanna have sex."

before you could think about your wording any more, it just... slipped out, pope's eyes widening as he let out a cough, nearly choking on his wine as he processed your words. "what?" he asked in between coughs, and you waited for him to start coughing before repeating yourself.

"i wanna have sex. with you, if that wasn't clear." you said, clearing your throat, "that came out... more straightforward than i intended." you said with a small smile, feeling your cheeks warm up as you looked down at the ground.

"are... are you sure?"

"yeah. i mean, i've wanted it for a really long time, but i suck at initiating any of that stuff, and i haven't ever done it before so it's probably gonna be awkward and if you don't want to, that's also fine and i can definitely wait even longer but-"

before you could babble any longer, pope pressed his lips on yours, and somehow his kiss could make you forget everything you were thinking about, your focus only on him as he pulled you closer by your waist, hunger evident in every move he made as if he hadn't just eaten three s'mores, his lips tasting of the red wine you'd been sharing.

he pulled away from the kiss, the palm of his hand moving to cup your cheek, "i'd love to, but... are you sure? like... absolutely sure? you really haven't... done it before?"

"i'm more than sure." you say, your voice weak from the effect his kiss had on you, "i've known pretty much from the first time you kissed me right here. you're... just the sweetest guy i know. you're so smart, and... i've never liked anyone as much as i like you."

"you're adorable." he says as he tugs a strand of hair behind your ear, "i, uhh... i just don't have any..." pope clears his throat, scratching the back of his neck, and although you didn't know it, he was internally cursing himself for not accepting the condom jj had offered him earlier. "protection, y'know."

"i do."

pope almost let out a chuckle at how fast you had rebutted his words, the boy watching as you pulled out a condom from your purse, pressing his tongue against his cheek. "you came prepared, huh?" he couldn't help but grin, his amusement only heightening when he saw the pout on your face, the boy pressing a small kiss on your lips, "i think that's cute."

it wasn't long until the two of you were tangled on the blanket under the stars, pope's shirt thrown into the tent, your dress pushed up until it was only covering your breasts, pope kneading the fat of your ass, his lips greedily consuming yours.

he pulled away from the kiss, leaving the both of you panting and breathless, his calloused hands pulling your dress off in its entirety, throwing it into the tent, his lips attaching themselves to your neck while you unbuttoned and unzipped his shorts, one of his fingers slipping into your panties, the boy letting out a small chuckle into the crook of your neck when he felt how wet you were.

when the rest of your clothes were discarded, you watched as he rolled the condom onto his hard cock with a sigh, biting down on your lip as a mixture of eagerness and nervousness rolled around in your abdomen.

"tell me if it hurts too much, or if you want to stop, alright?" he looked at you with raised brows, pressing a gentle kiss on your lips as his chest was pressed against yours, pope brushing a strand of your hair behind your ear. "i will." you smiled, positioning your hands on his shoulders.

you weren't quite prepared for the loud gasp that he'd pull you from you when only the tip of his cock was in you; sure, he'd prepared you and tried to stretch you out with his fingers beforehand, but even his thick digits hadn't prepared you enough.

"are you alright?" he paused his movements, peppering soft kisses on your neck, "just tell me if you want me to stop."

"i'm okay..." you said breathlessly, "go ahead."

it took you a while to get used to feeling him stretch you out, it definitely didn't help that pope was probably the biggest guy you had dated, but slowly it started hurting less and less, the boy whispering sweet words into your ear as he moved inside of you slowly, your back arching against the blanket, your nails digging into his back every time he bottomed out inside of you, causing him to let out low groans every time he hit that spot inside of you.

"you're doing so well..." he spoke softly, his thumb rolling over your clit, slowly starting to pick up his pace, "taking me so well... don't know how i went so long without you, you feel so fucking good..."

his lips attached themselves to one of your hardened nipples, your mind turning hazy as you tried to focus on all the sensations pope was making you feel, the coil in your stomach growing with every roll of his hips, one of your hands in his hair as you let out a moan, arching into his mouth.

"pope, i'm getting close..." your words were between a mumble and moan, but it seemed that pope still understood what you had said, picking up his pace just slightly so it'd be easier for you to achieve your orgasm.

it wasn't long until you were moaning out his name, overcome with your orgasm as he continued moving inside of you, slowing down his movements as he let you ride out your orgasm.

when pope had come undone himself, he threw the used condom into the trash bag he had brought, pulling you close to his chest as he pressed a kiss on top of your head, covering your naked bodies with another blanket.

"that's cepheus." he said against your hair, pointing up at one of the constellations in the sky while you simply nuzzled closer to his chest, letting out a soft "mmhm..." as you closed your eyes, somehow feeling more comfortable on a cliff in the middle of the forest than you even did in your own bed. "happy birthday."

BONUS: before he came to see you, when pope told his friends about what his plan for your birthday was, jj definitely clapped him on the back and said, "you're finally gonna get laid!" and tried to get him to take a condom with him, but pope just looked at him murderously.

#pope heyward x reader #pope heyward #outer banks #pope obx #pope outer banks #pope x reader #outer banks fanfiction #pope heyward x y/n #pope heyward x you #pope heyward fluff

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pupkashi · 1 year ago

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satoru spends his birthday in a way he’d only dreamt of

a/n: this is just a tiny drabble for my hispanics out there ‼️ happy birthday to my angel boy 🩵 (will hopefully make something else tmrw perchance …. do not quote me on this)

masterlist

trans: mordida: [take a] bite; mi hermoso amor: my beautiful love

satoru probably gets so excited when you start chanting “mordida! mordida!” after singing happy birthday, beyond excited when he goes in for a little bite.

he doesn’t expect megumi and yuta to grab the back of his head and smashing it in the cake, for the first time in so long he was caught off guard.

when he finally unsticks his face from the cake he can only smile, blue eyes sparkling as he takes in the sight in front of him. yuta and megumi are high fiving behind him, laughing uncontrollably.

nobara and yuji are toppling over in laughter, panda has his paws over his mouth and toge is giggling. he can see maki rolling her eyes, the ends of his lips twitching into a smile. shoko is wiping tears away from her eyes, letting out a content sigh.

finally his eyes land on you, a loving smile on your lips as you hand him some paper towels. “you got a little something there,” you giggle, moving his frosting covered bangs from his forehead and wiping his nose, pressing a soft kiss before handing him more towels.

“okay now who wants a slice of cake!” you smile, bringing out the backup cake you’d bought.

the rest of night went by quickly, soon enough all the kids filed out of your home and back to the dorms, shoko ushering them out, hugging the two of you goodbye before following them out.

satoru smiles when you push him into the restroom, turning the hot water on and urging him to get in. he’s over the moon when he realizes what you’re planning on doing.

his eyes flutter closed when your fingers run through his hair, nails scratching his scalp in the most perfect way. the smell of your shampoo fills his nose, humming as you continue scrubbing. by the time you’re done satoru is beyond relaxed, ready to get into bed and cuddle.

you shower after hims quickly, forcing him out of the restroom when he tries to return the favor to you, insisting you’ll let him another time.

satoru smiled when the bed dips under your weight, immediately taking you into his arms. he’s giggling and blushing when you pepper his face with kisses.

“i love you, mi hermoso amor,” you whisper, watching as his dimples deepen, a wide smile on his face. you can’t help but smile, your fingers running through his still damp hair as you press a kiss to his forehead.

“i love you more sweetheart,” he mumbles, catching your lips in his. “thank you, for everything.” the weight of the words are heavy in the air, and they land softly in your ears. your face burns as you smile at him.

“you deserve it all, lover boy” you reply, cuddling into his side, your arms snaking around his waist and squeezing him a bit.

satoru doesn’t say anything, he only kisses the top of your head, he knows this wasn’t an argument he’d win. he holds you tightly, staring at you for a couple seconds before his eyes flutter shut.

there’s a small smile on his face as he sleeps. he spent his birthday at home.

satoru spent his birthday at home, with the love of his life and his family; and he wouldn’t have it any other way.

taglist (send an ask to be added!): @chilichopsticks @anime-for-the-sleepless @4sat0ruu @safaia-47 @nanamikentoseyebags @fushironi @nineooooo @the-mom-friend-dot-com @gojoshooter @sat6ru @beautiful-is-boring @sweetheart-satoru @luna0713hunter @torusmochi

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eatmeandbirthmeagain · 5 months ago

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I could make one where it's Balwin's birthday and his beautiful wife is the most beautiful woman in the kingdom and he performs a belly dance for him in front of all the guests at the party and Balwin gets jealous and jealous and takes her to his rooms and tells him claim

♧ My Eyes Alone - King Baldwin x Reader ♧

♧ Angst ♧

A/N: Hello Anon! Thank you for the request. I think this was another one of the requests that got deleted in the first batch so thank you for sending it in again! Sorry about that 😭. As always, this is based on the film Kingdom Of Heaven, not the real historical figures. Enjoy!

TW: Leprosy

The queen of Jerusalem always prided herself on modesty.

Prior to being wed to her husband, she was a dancer. A belly dancer to be exact. And while this art was more revealing than some would prefer, y/n always carried herself with a modest grace that was admirable to many.

Baldwin knew of her hobby and had no issue with it. He knew that despite it being more revealing than he would prefer, she enjoyed it and he didn't have the heart to take it away from her. He knew that while her beauty caused some eyes to wander in her direction, dancing made her happy. So he just had to deal with it.

Until one day.

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

It was the afternoon of the king's birthday, and everyone in the castle had been celebrating all morning. Spirits were high and so was the amount of alcohol many had consumed.

It was planned that y/n and a few other women from her dance group were set to perform for the guests later in the day.

The women had gone to get ready, leaving the guests to prepare for the performance. When the group entered the courtyard, all eyes went their way.

Their beautiful jewelry sparkled in the sun, as did their soft, smooth skin that caught the attention of a few men who had a little too much to drink.

As the music started and the dance began, Baldwin felt a sting of jealousy permeate his body.

His wife looked absolutely stunning of course, but because of this she caught the attention of Guy and some other men. He watched them from his seat at the table: chuckling and pointing, objectifying and lusting.

Baldwin bit his tongue underneath the mask as he felt rage bubble inside of him at their disgusting, drunken behavior.

He tried his best to contain himself and not allow envy to consume him, but the jealousy was strong. Not just jealousy, but rage.

How dare they objectify his queen. Look at her as if she was an animal in a cage to be stared at.

This was more than he could handle.

But finally, the dance was over. As the women filled out, Baldwin followed them. Approaching his wife, he tapped her on the shoulder.

She turned around, grinning

“Baldwin darling, did you enjoy the performance?” she said cheerfully.

The king nodded quickly before speaking,

“come with me to our chambers, I need to speak with you” he said, taking her by the hand and quickly leading her away.

The smile faded from y/n’s face as she followed Baldwin up the stairs to their rooms. Her mind was racing. Had she done something wrong? Was he alright? Finally, they arrived.

Baldwin closed the door behind them,

“is everything alright Baldwin? What happened-” y/n was cut off by her husband wrapping her in a firm hug.

“I did not like how those men looked at you,” he said softly. The queen sighed and returned his embrace.

“Oh my love, I can assure you it's alright-” she started, only for Baldwin to cut her off again.

“No, it's not alright! I hate it when people look at you as if you are an object to be touched. I hate it so much” he sounded on the verge of tears.

Y/n sighed again and held him tightly.

“I know, I know. I'm sorry for letting that happen darling. I shouldn't have performed in such a large crowd”

“But it's not your fault. You shouldn't be sorry, they are the ones who should be sorry. I just hate seeing them treat you like that” he said quietly.

The two embraced for a while longer, sharing words of adoration before the queen changed her clothes and they returned to the courtyard.

Y/n did not leave her husband's side for the remainder of the day, just as some extra reassurance.

The rest of the day ran well and the queen remained safe from the prying and vile eyes of drunkards, thanks to Baldwin's peircing glares at whoever so much as glanced in her direction.

Despite the circumstances, y/n felt butterflies in her stomach about the situation. She loved it when Baldwin was jealous. It wasn't often that he was, but it always made her feel safe and protected.

It was nice to know that of all the men in the world who wanted her body, there was one man who wanted her heart.

#king baldwin iv #kingdom of heaven fandom #kingdom of heaven #king baldwin #kingdom of heaven 2005 #king baldwin x you #king baldwin iv x reader #the leper king #king baldwin x reader #king baldwin iv x oc #kingbaldwin #leper king #baldwin iv x reader #baldwin #baldwin iv #baldwin iv of jerusalem #koh #koh fandom

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dustofthedailylife · 1 year ago

Text

No Gift Greater Than Love

→ Masterlist || → Taglist

Pairing: Alhaitham, Ayato x (gn!) Reader

Summary: It's your birthday so he plans to spend some time with you.

Tags: Fluff, a teeny tiny bit of angst/uncertainty at the beginning if you squint, confessions, kissing, Ayato is being a smooth talker

A/N: I wanted to write a little self-indulgent fic for my birthday today, so here it is. Posting an HSR fic as well later! :3 I also can't add an animated header because tumblr hates me again so, sorry about that! ;_;

ALHAITHAM

You rarely ever took a day off work, not when you were sick, not when you were tired, and especially not when you had so many deadlines coming up. And knowing the perfectionist you are there was no way you’d even rest for a single day until everything was set and done. Only then you would allow yourself to rest.

So you sat there, at your desk, on your birthday, with your head buried in your books and no other plans but to study all day long. But besides that, you still hoped your friends didn’t forget you and would at least come by to wish you a happy birthday or send you mail.

Because despite not wanting to make a big deal out of your birthday and running around being like ‘Hey, did you know, today is my birthday?’, reminding people that it was your birthday and expecting gifts, you at least wanted some birthday wishes from your friends. That wasn’t too much to ask, right? Especially after your own brother forgot your birthday last year, which despite having a great day made you cry back then.

So you were positively surprised to find letters from your parents, your brother, Cyno and Tighnari in your mailbox on the morning of your birthday. Kaveh had stopped by before he visited another one of his clients as well to drop off his – quote: “magnum opus of birthday cakes”. Which was essentially just a one-by-one model of your house in cake form - with some additional tweaks he must’ve made out of artistic liberty here and there. It looked almost too good to eat.

Tighnari and Cyno both sent you a small gift and a letter with birthday wishes as well.

The only one who hadn’t yet sent anything or stopped by was Alhaitham. Not like you expected him to actually treat today any differently than any other day in the first place. Birthdays weren’t exactly something he cared about. Yet, despite knowing his attitude towards them, you felt disappointment welling up inside of you. You secretly hoped you would be his exception. But apparently not.

Swallowing the lump in your throat down you dove head first into your study materials to distract yourself. Successfully. Because before you realized the sun was barely just a thin line on the horizon and a knock could be heard on your door.

You peeled yourself away from your desk, stretching your exhausted limbs on the way, only for them to tense up again when you saw who was standing in front of your door. Alhaitham.

“You look tired.” He remarked monotonously.

“Good evening to you, too.” You rolled your eyes, but without being able to suppress a small smile. After all, you knew his antics by now and his blunt statement came out of a place of concern and care. He simply huffed in reply, the corners of his mouth twitching upwards in a barely noticeable manner.

However, you couldn’t help but wonder about his visit. Could it be that he stopped by because of your–

“Do you still want to go grab dinner?” He inquires, stopping your train of thought.

Right. It was Thursday. The day you usually meet up at the Tavern after work to get dinner with your other friends every week. It totally slipped your mind since you were so buried in your studies all day. Of course, he didn’t stop by just because it was your birthday, stupid.

You nod in reply to his question and quickly grab your keys before following outside into the still-warm and muggy fall air. It smelled like damp leaves that had begun to fall and spices that always seemed to hang into the Sumerian air. It had already gone dark and the moon was hanging high in the sky, framed by a myriad of little sparkling stars. You had always loved the night sky, especially on cloudless nights like tonight.

“Do you mind if we do a little detour?” Alhaitham questioned out of the blue.

“Uh…, no not at all.”

“Good.” He nodded his head to the side, urging you to follow him to wherever he planned to go.

He began walking up the ramp to the Akademiya again, which caused you to assume that he must’ve forgotten something in his office earlier. But when he walked right past his office door and led you outside again you were beginning to wonder.

You were now standing on a secluded balcony. On it stood a blue pavilion with a mosaic roof and a single stone bench that offered a perfect view over Sumeru and the beautifully illuminated night sky.

“Beautiful…”, you mutter in awe.

“Agreed.” Alhaitham mused contently. What you failed to notice at the moment however was, that, unlike you, he wasn’t referring to the view you were referring to. He was looking right at you out of the corners of his eyes.

“I didn’t know there was such a beautiful place up here.” You exclaimed in surprise, leaning on the railing of the balcony.

“I often come here to read. Not many people know of this place.”

You could definitely see why he loved this place so much. But one question began to push itself into the foreground of your mind more and more.

“Why… did you lead me here, though?” You questioned curiously but interrupted yourself when a shooting star appeared in your field of view. “Wait, was that–? Alhaitham, did you see that?”

You turned around excitedly gifting him a smile. And the shine in your eyes sparkled more intensely than the stars in the night sky ever could.

“Close your eyes.” He urged. “Make a wish.”

You grinned widely, turned around to face him, and closed your eyes.

“You have to make your wish too, though.” You reminded him teasingly.

“I already did.”

You tried to think of something to wish for. Especially after being led here you couldn’t think of anything you desired right now.

Do you? Are you maybe not betraying your own thoughts again?

No. You didn’t dare to think about what your heart really yearned for. What it truly desired. It would never come true anyway. Alhaitham would never feel the same for you.

He didn’t even remember your birthday today.

You were just friends.

And yet you couldn’t get the image of kissing him out of your head, continuously replaying in front of your inner eye. No matter how hard you tried to push it away.

There was no way you could wish for–

You felt him inch closer to you. Leaning one hand against the railing behind you while the other hand brushed a strand of hair out of your face before he rested it against your cheek. Spearmint breath and the tangy smell of moss and pines from his aftershave ghosted over your face. He was so close by now that you could feel the heat that radiated off his skin and his breath fan over your lips.

For a moment you thought you could hear that his breath was shaky. Was he nervous?

Your mind was racing a thousand miles per hour at this point, and so was your heart. The irritated muscle was thumping against your chest with such ferocious intensity that you feared he may be able to hear it as well. Question after question and speculation after speculation popped into your mind, completely overwhelming your senses.

What was he doing? Why was he so close? How long have you had your eyes closed already? What was his plan? All of these were questions you found no immediate answers to.

You slightly parted your lips in order to speak and were just about to open your eyes again when he muttered something.

Happy Birthday.

Something that made your breath hitch and heart sing as your lips molded together, fulfilling what you had both wished for.

AYATO

You’ve been on your feet since roughly 4:30 a.m., running up and down the halls of the Kamisato Estate to help the Retainers with the preparation of the most important political meeting all year.

Much to your dismay it had to fall exactly on the day of your birthday and had to be held at the Kamisato Estate. Which meant you wouldn’t get to see Ayato for most of the day and had to spend it alone. Well, mostly. The staff, Ayaka and Thoma were still there, too, but just like you, they were busy helping as well. All hands were needed today.

Ayato woke up around the same time you had and wished you a happy birthday first thing before already having to rush out to run errands.

But you understood the importance of the ordeal and were not mad or disappointed. Which seemed to have not gotten through to Ayato yet, who seemed extra touchy today whenever you ran into him in the hallway this morning.

Just now as you were carrying some items into the huge room the conference was supposed to be held in, you walked past Ayato in the hall once again.

Gloved, slender fingers suddenly found a place around your waist and turned you around. One of his hands wandered to the back of your head, pulling your face against his chest while he pressed a kiss to the crown of your head.

He stayed quiet for a moment, soaking your presence in, and exhaling heavily before uttering yet another apology into your hair.

“My love, please forgive me. I’m so sorry we are not able to spend all of today together to celebrate.”

“How often do I need to reassure you that it is alright, Ayato? I’m not upset in the slightest. In fact, I understand the importance of this. It may be my birthday but at the bottom of it, it is just a day like any other.” You reassured, burying your face deeper into his chest and basking in his warmth for this fleeting moment while inhaling the familiar flowery scent that always seemed to linger around him.

You heard him sigh before you looked up at him. He pressed his lips together into a thin line, before kissing the crown of your head once more with a defeated look in his eyes. One that carried all his thoughts and emotions at once. You knew he was sorry, it was practically written on his face.

Sorry, that he couldn’t spend your day with you, that he wasn’t able to give you all the attention to deserved, and that he had to waste his precious time away with some boring politicians.

The hand that rested on your waist gave you another reaffirming squeeze before he peeled himself away from you again with a slight frown on his beautiful features. The sadness and disappointment still lingered behind his lilac irises. He was definitely beating himself up over it way more than you did.

“Okay.” He nodded in defeat. “I will see you in the evening, yeah?”

“Alright!” You cheered, giving him an honest smile. “And stop beating yourself up over it, okay?”

He nodded, squeezing your hands with his for one last time before going back to work.

You continued helping out around the Estate until all the guests arrived and the door to the room all of them vanished into stayed shut. You expected them to stay in there at least until the late afternoon, if not even the evening.

And you were right, the sun had already begun to set when you felt a familiar pair of arms snake around your waist from behind again. You had been sitting outside in the garden and reading your book, soaking in the soothing late summer breeze while eagerly awaiting the end of Ayato's meeting.

"There you are." You hummed contently carding through the soft pastel blue locks of your husband who had his head buried in the crook of your neck. "I missed you."

"And so did I. It's been a long and exhausting day." He spoke in a low voice, as if he was about to drift off to sleep any minute, and slung his arms impossibly tighter around your midriff.

"Let's go for a short stroll to the city, my love. Will you join me? It doesn't sit right with me that you had to spend your birthday in solitude." He proposed in an afflicted tone.

"Aren't you too tired for–"

"I will not hear any objections." He interrupted, lifting his finger against your lips with a smug grin.

And so you found yourself strolling through Ritou hand in hand. By the time you had arrived, the sun had completely set and the paper lanterns illuminated the streets, draping a comfortable blanket of yellow light over the surrounding area.

It was a quiet night. Just how you preferred it. No massive crowds of people you had to squeeze through, no queues in front of restaurants, and no one who would stop you to talk to Ayato. Just you, him, and the cicadas in the trees that bemoaned the encroaching end of the summer.

"Do you want me to get us some milk tea? I saw that my vendor of choice is still open." He asked when you sat down on a bench underneath a tall maple tree just out of sight of potential prying eyes and not far from said vendor.

"I'd love to."

"Anything specific you’d like me to get?"

"You choose.” You smiled brightly. “Surprise me.”

“Alright. Stay right here, I’ll be right back.”

You watched as he made his way over to the stall, carefully studying the menu with squinted eyes and a hand on his chin. You bit your lip and laughed to yourself because, as always, he was taking this tea business way too seriously.

Eventually, he picked an item before going right back to studying the menu as if he wanted to burn the letters themselves, into his retina. The vendor was visually nervous to be serving the man in front of him in fear of messing anything up and was twirling a straw between his fingers to calm himself. Until your husband finally decided on the second drink he wanted to order.

The vendor carefully handed the drinks to Ayato and promptly refused when he was offered Mora in return. Ayato skillfully ignored the man and promptly put the coins inside the tray before walking back in your direction with two cups of tea in hand.

“So, what did you get for me?” You quizically raised your eyebrows at the drink he handed you.

“I guess there is only one way for you to find out.” He smirked, taking a sip out of his own cup.

You carefully did the same, subconsciously expecting something like salty algae tea with sea ganoderma pearls, because you knew your husband and his strange tastes. But alas, you had signed up for it.

But unlike what you were expecting, black milk tea with a tinge of honey and sunsettia pearls enveloped your tastebuds soon after. Your favorite.

You hummed and closed your eyes with a smile, raveling in the refreshing taste of the beverage, making you forget how lonely you had been most of the day.

“You chose well.” You contently stated after a brief moment of indulging in your tea and looked at Ayato with a smile.

He inched closer to you on the bench with a devilish smirk painted across his lips. He shifted your chin upwards, making eye contact with you for a fleeting moment before uniting his lips with yours in a tender, loving kiss. And after all this time, it never failed to make the butterflies in your stomach flutter about wildly.

He gently took your hand in his as he began to carefully twist the wedding band around your finger. He looked up into your eyes, a sly smile adorned his lips once more before he smugly whispered: “Of course. I always do.”

Do not repost, copy, translate or edit - © dustofthedailylife || reblogs, comments, and asks about Genshin or my fics are always greatly appreciated and motivate me! Maple dividers are mine - do not copy.

#genshin impact #astronetwrk #genshin fanfic #genshin x reader #alhaitham x reader #al haitham x reader #genshin fluff #ayato x reader #genshin x gender neutral reader #genshin x female reader #genshin x y/n #genshin impact fanfic #genshin drabbles #genshin scenarios #genshin brainrot #genshin headcanons #🍁 dust writes #🍁彡 gi

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alxtiny · 4 months ago

Text

Then now and always| Song Mingi x reader

Synopsis: when memories of how you met resurface

Pairing: song mingi x reader

Genre: fluff

Word count: 2.4k

Warnings: -

Notes: happy birthday to our favourite princess ✨✨✨

Main masterlist

When you first saw Mingi, he had come to pick his niece up with his older brother. He was dressed to the nines, a perfect image of street fashion, of course he had his idol image to uphold, he seemed exactly like the cliche cold hearted bad boy that exists only in dramas.

Expensive looking sunglasses were perched up high on his perfect nose and his lips moved silently along to whatever was playing on his headphones. He didn’t seem bothered at all by the passersbys that stared at him, or when the teen girls from a nearby high school giggled and approached him asking for autographs or pictures. He would flash a perfect smile making them swoon at his devilishly handsome looks. But as soon as they were gone his smile would drop and he would go back to whatever was so interesting on his phone. He would stay and scroll mindlessly while his brother talked to your co teacher.

You would simply ‘observe’ Mingi in the meantime from the classroom window. You didn’t understand all the hype behind him, sure he was super talented, tall, and had a nice face but that was it wasn’t it? It wasn’t. You shook thoughts of him out of your head and focused more towards the next week’s lesson plan, but somehow he managed to make his way back onto your mind.

Thankfully (or not) you had other things to worry about. You Were more than a little apprehensive about the day ahead. Your colleague, Ms. Han, had taken a day off, leaving you in charge of dispersing the students at the end of the day. You didn’t hate doing this, but the thought of having to talk to each parent and offering reassurance to their worries gave you a headache.

As the day drew to a close, you gathered the children, guiding them to the front of the school where their parents would pick them up. The familiar sight of Mingi standing next to his brother caught your eye. As usual, he was dressed impeccably in streetwear that probably cost more than your monthly salary, with those expensive sunglasses perched on his nose. He stood a little apart from his brother, scrolling through his phone, completely oblivious to the world around him.

You took a deep breath, trying to steel yourself for the encounter. It’s just a quick exchange, you told yourself. Hand the child over, smile politely, and be done with it.

“Alright, children, let’s find your parents!” you called out with as much enthusiasm as you could muster. You crouched down to help tie a stray shoelace, when a small hand tugged at your sleeve.

“Teacher, can I go to my uncle now?” a sweet voice asked. You looked up to see Mingi’s niece, a bright-eyed little girl with pigtails, looking at you expectantly.

“Of course, sweetheart,” you replied, offering her a smile. “Let’s go find him.”

You took her hand and walked over to where Mingi and his brother stood. As you approached, you noticed Mingi glance up from his phone, his eyes briefly meeting yours before he looked away. You couldn’t help but feel a bit of unease at his aloof demeanor.

“Hello, Mr. Song,” you greeted Mingi’s brother with a polite nod. “Here’s your daughter, safe and sound.”

“Thank you, Miss L/N,” Mingi’s brother replied warmly, ruffling his daughter’s hair. “Did you have fun today, sweetheart?”

The little girl nodded enthusiastically. “Yes, Daddy! We learned about animals, and Teacher let us draw pictures of our favourite ones!”

You smiled at her enthusiasm, but your attention was drawn to Mingi, who was still standing silently beside his brother. He wasn’t looking at his phone anymore, but rather at his niece, a wide smile playing at his lips. It was the first time you’d seen him express any emotion other than boredom or indifference.

Before you could stop yourself, you spoke up. “She’s a very bright girl. Always eager to learn and help others.”

Mingi’s eyes flicked to you, and for a moment, you thought you saw a hint of surprise in them. But just as quickly, his expression returned to its usual stoic mask.

“Thank you,” Mingi replied before his brother could, his voice deeper than you expected. “She’s a good kid.”

You nodded, feeling a bit awkward under his gaze. “Well, if there’s nothing else, I’ll be going back inside.”

“Wait.” Mingi’s voice stopped you in your tracks. You turned back to face him, curious about what he could want. He seemed to hesitate for a moment, as if he wasn’t sure how to continue. Finally, he spoke, his tone softer this time. “Thank you… for taking care of her.”

It wasn’t much, but the sincerity in his voice caught you off guard. You’d never expected someone like Mingi to show such genuine gratitude, especially when he’d always seemed so detached.

You offered him a small smile. “It’s my job, Mr. Song. But you’re welcome.”

Mingi’s brother chuckled, clapping his hand on Mingi’s shoulder. “See? She’s in good hands, Mingi. You can relax a little.”

Mingi shot his brother a glare, but you could see the faintest hint of a blush on his cheeks. It was almost… endearing.

As you walked back inside, you couldn’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, there was more to Song Mingi than what met the eye.

---

Days passed, and Mingi continued to pick up his niece, nowadays he would often come alone, but something had changed. While he still maintained his aloof facade, you noticed he would occasionally glance in your direction, as if checking to see if you were watching him. His visits became slightly less hurried, and once, you even caught him giggling —like actually giggling—as his niece excitedly told him about her day.

One afternoon, after most of the parents had already picked up their children, you found yourself alone with Mingi and his niece. She was showing him a drawing she had made, proudly pointing out each detail.

“And this is you, Uncle Mingi! See? I made you tall because you’re the tallest!”

Mingi crouched down to her level, his sunglasses pushed up onto his head, revealing his sharp eyes. He was looking at the drawing with genuine interest, nodding along as she explained.

“You’re really good at drawing,” Mingi said, ruffling her hair. “I like how you made me look cool.”

She giggled, clearly pleased with his approval. “I’m gonna draw another one tomorrow! Maybe I can draw Teacher too!”

Mingi’s eyes flickered to you, and you felt a strange flutter in your chest. You weren’t sure why, but the idea of being included in his niece’s drawing made you oddly happy.

“That sounds like a good idea,” Mingi said, his voice softening. “I’m sure she’ll love it.”

His niece beamed up at him before running over to show you her masterpiece. You praised her drawing, and she skipped off happily, leaving you and Mingi standing there in an unexpectedly comfortable silence.

“She really looks up to you,” you said, breaking the quiet.

Mingi glanced at you, his expression unreadable. “I’m just her uncle.”

You shook your head. “You’re more than that to her. You’re someone she admires and wants to make proud. That’s not something to take lightly.”

Mingi seemed to ponder your words, his gaze drifting to where his niece was now playing with a couple of other kids. “I guess… I never thought about it that way.”

You smiled gently. “She’s lucky to have you in her life.”

Mingi looked at you then, really looked at you, and for the first time, you saw something genuine in his eyes. “Thank you. That means a lot.”

There was something in the way he said it that made your heart skip a beat. It was at that moment you realised that Mingi wasn’t the cold-hearted bad boy you had first assumed him to be. He was just someone who cared deeply, perhaps more than he let on, maybe there was even a cutesy princess side too his personality.

---

Two years had passed since that first awkward encounter with Song Mingi, and so much had changed. You and Mingi had gone from polite acquaintances to something much deeper, starting off from him asking you if you’d like to join him for coffee someday to going for long walks and romantic dinners, although it had happened so slowly and gradually that you could hardly pinpoint when the shift had occurred. What you did know was that Mingi had become an irreplaceable part of your life, and as you stood in the kitchen putting the finishing touches on his birthday dinner, you couldn’t help but marvel at how far both of you had come.

The soft glow of candles flickered across the table, casting a warm light over the carefully prepared dishes. You’d spent the entire afternoon cooking his favourite foods, determined to make this evening special. It was Mingi’s 25th birthday, and you wanted to show him just how much he meant to you.

As you set the final plate down, you heard the sound of the front door opening. Mingi’s deep voice called out, “I’m home!”

You couldn’t suppress the smile that spread across your face. “In the kitchen!” you called back, anticipation bubbling up inside you.

Mingi appeared in the doorway moments later, his tall frame leaning casually against the doorframe. He was dressed in comfortable clothes, having ditched his idol persona for the evening, but even in his relaxed state, he exuded a presence that made your heart flutter. His eyes scanned the room, taking in the sight of the candlelit dinner, and a soft smile tugged at his lips.

“You did all this?” he asked, his voice laced with a mix of surprise and admiration.

You nodded, feeling a little self-conscious under his gaze. “Of course. It’s your birthday, after all.”

Mingi walked over to you, his gaze never leaving yours. When he reached you, he wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you close. “You didn’t have to go through all this trouble, you know.”

You chuckled, resting your hands against his chest. “It wasn’t any trouble. Besides, I wanted to.”

Mingi looked at you for a long moment, his expression softening. “Thank you. It means a lot.”

You smiled up at him, your heart swelling with affection. “Come on, let’s eat before everything gets cold.”

He nodded, reluctantly releasing you to take a seat at the table. As you both sat down, Mingi took a deep breath, savoring the delicious aromas wafting from the food. “This looks amazing,” he said, his eyes sparkling with genuine excitement.

You blushed at his praise. “I’m glad you think so. I wanted to make tonight special.”

“It already is,” Mingi replied, his voice low and sincere.

You shared a quiet, contented meal, the conversation flowing easily between you. It was one of those rare, peaceful moments where everything felt right in the world. As the evening wore on, the candles burned lower, casting long shadows across the table. You could see the flicker of the flames reflected in Mingi’s eyes, and it made your heart skip a beat.

When the plates were finally cleared, you stood up and walked over to the small side table where you had placed a cake—a simple one, decorated with Mingi’s favorite colors. You lit the candles, and as you carried it over to the table, you began to sing “Happy Birthday,” your voice soft but filled with emotion.

Mingi watched you with a mixture of amusement and affection, and when you finished singing, he leaned forward to blow out the candles, his wish left unspoken.

“Make a good wish, princess?” you teased, setting the cake down in front of him.

Mingi smiled, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

You laughed, feeling a sense of warmth spread through you. As you sat back down, Mingi reached across the table to take your hand in his. His touch was gentle, his thumb tracing soothing patterns against your skin.

For a moment, neither of you spoke, simply enjoying the quiet intimacy of the moment. Then, you took a deep breath, feeling the weight of the words you wanted to say.

“Mingi,” you began, your voice barely above a whisper, “I just want you to know how proud I am of you.”

Mingi’s eyes met yours, his expression softening as he listened. You could see the flicker of uncertainty in his gaze, as if he wasn’t quite sure what you meant.

“I’ve watched you grow so much over these past two years,” you continued, your heart pounding in your chest. “I was thinking earlier, about when I first met you, I never imagined we’d end up here, celebrating your birthday together like this. But as I got to know you, I realised just how strong and kind and dedicated you are. You’ve come so far, Mingi, not just in your career, but as a person. And I’m so incredibly proud of everything you’ve accomplished.”

Mingi’s grip on your hand tightened slightly, his eyes shining with emotion. “I’m so glad to have you with me, then now and always, and-”

He paused, his voice faltering as he struggled to find the right words. But you knew what he was trying to say, and your heart swelled with affection for him.

For a moment, there was nothing but the soft flicker of the candlelight and the quiet hum of your hearts beating in sync. Then, Mingi stood up, pulling you gently to your feet as well. He wrapped his arms around you, holding you close, as if he never wanted to let you go.

“Thank you,” he murmured into your hair. “For everything.”

You closed your eyes, resting your head against his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. “Happy birthday, Mingi,” you whispered.

He pulled back slightly, just enough to look down at you, his eyes filled with a warmth that made your heart ache in the best possible way. “It is a happy birthday,” he said softly. “Because I have you.”

And as he leaned down to press a gentle, lingering kiss to your lips, you knew that no matter where life took you, you would always be proud of the man Mingi had become—and even prouder to stand by his side.

DISCLAIMER: THIS IS PURE FICTION AND NOT RELATED TO THE MEMBERS OF ATEEZ IN REAL LIFE PLEASE DO NOT TAKE IT SERIOUSLY

#ateez fanfic #ateez fluff #ateez imagines #ateez scenarios #ateez x reader #ateez #ateez reaction #ateez smut #ateez x y/n #ateez x you #mingi imagines #mingi fluff #mingi ateez #mingi angst #mingi scenarios #mingi x reader #ateez mingi #mingi #mingi smut

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banquetwriter · 3 months ago

Note

I NEED vampire Jonnie Guilbert idc if it’s smut or fluffy I just need a vampire Jonnie however you wanna write it and whenever you have the chance too take your time and thanks in advance if you do this!!!!

୨୧ bleeders part 1 ୨୧

pairing: Johnnie Guilbert ♡︎ Reader

warnings: ୭̥⋆*｡ NOT PROOF READ, general vampire stuff so talk of blood and death,

summary: ʚ after roaming your family’s old property you discover that a shadowy figure and you might have a long history ʚ

Words: idk :p

An: let’s pretend this isn’t almost 6 months old. also ik that johnnie is way more emo but he does enjoy a few classic goth things so in my head he is like a goth in the 80’s before he died lol

The rain was only picking up as the night went on. You were packing your bag up. Putting on extra layers of clothes is anything you could possibly need for a midnight stroll.

It was bad.

You knew it was bad, you just couldn't help yourself. Ever since you had started to explore your family's grounds you had a new purpose it seems. Studying during the light hours but as soon as the night came you were bundling up to go exploring.

You hadn't always lived in this house. But when you were 18 your parents tragically passed away and left you this house in your name. You weren't sure why at all. You hadn't even known it was here.

It was sorta like the house wanted to be forgotten. You weren't the type to believe in all that “spooky” stuff but you could not deny the creepy vibes of the property.

The previous caretaker was nice enough and said while the house and surrounding land were beautiful they definitely had some repairing needed. He told you that in order for the house to be livable it would need work and lots of it. He also quickly told you not to go too far at night, there were lots of creatures at night and he didn't want you to get hurt at all.

And with that, he left. You were a photographer which meant you got to work on your own time. You documented all the work you had done on the house and had skyrocketed your success online and financially. Three years later, a few days after your 21st birthday, you were finally officially done with renovating the house.

You kept the historic feel and haunted “vampire vibe”. But your curious and creative heart was bored by the house, so you took to the outside. Going out at night and choosing to shoot your pictures there.

You planned on slowly transforming the grounds too but that was going to take some time. You placed your camera in your bag and set out, locking your house. You flipped your hood up and started down the path you usually take.

Last time you had discovered what looked like a tombstone about a mile from your house. You took a deep breath in as the rain made your bones cold. You made it out to the tombstone once again. You looked down at it. You couldn't make out the name but it looked old. Like really really old. You stepped back taking a few pictures of it.

Suddenly you heard a tree branch snap from somewhere beside you. You whipped your head around frantically. The images of all the different types of creatures out here flashed through your mind. Luckily it was just a deer. How odd. You had never seen a deer out here before. But maybe whatever creature lives out here kills them before you can see them.

You pull your camera out and line up the shot. The animal slowly nibbled on some grass under a tree. You snap the photo and look down at your camera looking at the photo, and suddenly another tree branch snaps. You start spinning around further rain hitting your face.

And between the rain, fog, and trees, you could make out a figure. You freeze in place, “Is someone on out there?” you call out, your voice shaking. The shadow doesn't move at all.

You point your camera trying to see if you can catch any sort of proof. You snap a picture in the direction of the figure. Once the picture is taken you look away from the camera looking back to see that the figure is no longer there. You huff out checking your camera to see if you caught the picture.

It wasn't there… Suddenly another twig snapped. This was your cue to bolt. You pushed your camera into the bag and ran for it. Attempting not to trip and fall on every piece of shrubbery.

You finally manage to stumble into your backyard. You fumble for your keys and it drops on the ground in front of your back door. You have looking behind you not seeing anything but the pictures of horrifying creatures flash through your mind. You scramble to pick up

Your keys and unlock the door.

You slam the door shut breathing heavily. “Fuck.” you mutter clambering all your stuff onto the counter. The rest of the night you are restless. Unable to sleep, picturing the figure staining your memory.

The next morning you gingerly come downstairs staring at your camera bag. You roll your eyes choosing to make yourself some tea. However, sipping your tea made you hyperfocus on the bag. You internally groaned before checking the picture from last night.

Nothing. No figure at all. Odd. Creepy and odd. But apparently not creepy enough to scare you away. So here you were back next to the tombstone like last night. You moved further to what looked like a graveyard. Around 12 or so graves littered a small patch of very overgrown shrubs.

They were split down the middle, the right side set of graves being more dilapidated. Checking the left side there were several graves with your last name. Which would make sense but it still freaks you out. You shook your head turning the batch of graves on the right.

All the graves had different last names and dramatically different years of death. One caught your interest. It seemed to be the youngest out of the group. “Here lies Johnnie Guilbert, in sin, Born: August 28, 1960, Died: October 31, 1986.”

He was only 26. You wondered what “in sin” meant but probably nothing good. You didn't like the thought of the graves being abandoned like this, you plucked a few flowers from the surrounding areas and lined them on the graves. Adding a few more to Johnnie’s. You sighed walking back to your house.

Once it was late at night again you decided to travel back to the graves seeing if you could catch the figure again. This time you came more prepared with a flashlight.

You crouched down in the misty leaves, waiting to see it again. And sure enough, you heard a small crunching of leaves. It wasn't as loud this time but you heard it. Your eyes follow the sound and see the figure once again.

“Show yourself, please,” you shouted. The figure seems to sway for a second before standing almost still. “I-I won't hurt you. Who are you?” you called out. The figure stayed where it was. Fine then. You pointed the flashlight at it.

You did not see what you thought you would. A pale-looking guy with a gothic-looking vibe stood before you. His hair was teased, and he had makeup dripping down his face. He was in a white button-up and black pants.

“Woah,” I said breathlessly. He just sorta stood there with his hands shoved in his pockets. “What are you doing here?” I asked. “Um, I don't know,” he answered honestly.

There was something off about him. You weren't sure why but you found yourself asking one simple question. “What are you?” you asked. He sighed not knowing how to answer. “Um.” he quietly spoke. Before hesitantly lifting his finger to his mouth before pulling his lips open.

Revealing pearly white fangs. You gasp, stepping back. The bag you are holding slips and within a flash the guy is standing next to you holding your bag up for you to grab. “Oh my god,” you murmur.

“I'm a v-” he stops himself, looking over and avoiding eye contact. “Vampire. I'm a vampire,” he whispers. And you weren't sure why but you believed him. He had a trusting aura. You slowly grabbed your bag from him.

“You probably don't believe me,” he whispered looking at you. “I do,” you whispered. He looked back at you. “Here follow me,” he said, taking your hand. He wrapped his, freezing, hand around your wrists pulling you to a grave.

It was Johnnie. “Fuck.” you mutter. “I saw you putting flowers on my grave. It's what made me actually talk to you,” he said timidly. His chest rose and fell rapidly seemingly waiting for my reaction.

I had a lot of feelings. Shock. Being the first but lots of curiosity. You wanted to ask how he died, and did he drink human blood.

Suddenly the very real danger of being next to him kicked in. “Wait-” you said, stepping away from him. His eyes changed. A sad film bloomed over his eyes. “Do you-” you stopped yourself. You didn't want to be insensitive to his “kind” that drinking human blood was probably a gross exaggeration.

Even if he did drink human blood he was hot enough to get away with it.

He looked at you waiting for you to finish your sentence. You shook your head instead of finishing your probably offensive words. “Never mind,” you said, waving away the thought.

The rain continued to pour down onto the forest overhead. The water drops slipping down and hitting your head. The cold finally got to it and you let out an involuntary shiver.

“Here, let's go back to my house. It's not too far up this trail.” I said pointing towards my house. “Are you sure you want to let me in?” he asks surprised with my invite. I turn to him, and for what seems to be the thousandth time this night I feel a sense of trust wash over my body.

“Yes,” I say confidently. He nods his head waiting for me to lead the way. As we walk I hear more of a story I almost wish I didn't know. “Why is there a grave in my backyard? And why are you buried there?” I ask stepping over a log.

He takes a deep sigh. “Your family. This area… your bloodline has been here for longer than most of those graves. There isn't an easy way to put this. But your family were vampire hunters.” he said and you stopped dead in your tracks.

His eyes caught yours. This was a lot of information to take in. “Continue.” you simply said starting to walk again. “There was a group of vampires that roamed this area and finally your family and a few others decided it was time to do something about it. All those graves back there are for vampires. Stakes in the heart.” he explained.

You took a deep breath wrapping around this idea for a while. “Then why are you like walking around?” you asked timidly. Johnnie takes a deep sigh. “Well it's complicated but by the time I was turned into a vampire only your family still hunted them and I wasn't turned because I wanted to… I did some bad stuff and as a result, I had a lot of bad stuff happen,” he said vaguely.

You nodded. “Did my family take pity on you?” you asked as you saw your house on the horizon. “Basically. Your grandfather wanted me dead but your dad didn't so that's why there is a grave but I'm not dead. Again I guess.” he said.

“Is that partially my graveyard too? I saw names that have my last name.” I explained stepping onto the porch. “Yes it is,” he said slowly climbing up them.

I unlock the door and wait for him to enter, but he doesn't. The door stands open but he just sits there. “Why are you standing out there?” you asked. “A-a vampire can't just go into a house we need to be invited in by the owner,” he says before staring at the top of the door.

“Please, enter my home,” you said. He stepped in and took in the house. He had seen the outside so many times but never seen the inside. You rushed around the house stripping the wet jacket off and setting your camera down.

You looked over to see Johnnie staring into a mirror, you came back behind him to see only yourself in the mirror. He couldn't see his reflection. As you walked up behind him you saw his eyes brimmed with tears. It must be hard not to be able to look at yourself.

“L-looks like your house still has mirrors with silver in them,” he murmured. “Is that why you can't see yourself?” you ask, turning to face him. “Sorta. Any mirror with silver and I can't see myself. But there are a lot of mirrors made without that now. Right after I turned I could see my reflection in stuff but as I “age” in defiance of nature but soul continues to leave, so it's harder to see myself in lakes and stuff” he said, recalling what seemed to be a distant memory.

“Well I can see you and you look great. Very on brand for a vampire,” you whispered standing closer to him. He couldn't help but let out a weak smile at your words. “Thanks. I dressed like this even before I turned,” he said.

The rest of the night went smoothly. You found out that he had drunk off of people but he really didn't do it much only when he was really weak. While it sorta scared you also intrigued you. You fell fast asleep on the couch wrapped in a blanket. Johnnie, unable to sleep, quietly watched the tv you had put on and looked over at your sleeping form.

This was nice. He can't remember the last time he was in a nice house like this, with someone so nice. But all good things have to come to an end, and the sun will be up in a few hours.

#johnnie guilbert #johnnie guilbert fluff #johnnie guilbert x reader #johnnie guilbert x you #jake and johnnie #johnnie x you #johnnie x reader #johnnie #johnnie guilbert angst #vampire!johnnie guilbert #vampire!au

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barnesbabee · 2 years ago

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[O]rgasm Denial || J.W

[ꜱᴇxᴜᴀʟ ᴇɴᴄʏᴄʟᴏᴘᴇᴅɪᴀ - ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ O]

Summary: A classic enemies to lovers quarrel, except this time you get to discipline them.

Pairing: sub!Wooyoung x reader

Words: Eminem - Without me (0:31 - 0:50)

Genre: Smut; Angst; Fluff

⚠️If you need warnings don't read my stuff you never know⚠️

A partner being jealous of his lover's closest friend isn't unheard of, it is quite common, actually. The problem is, you weren't San's partner, and neither was Wooyoung, but the jealousy you had of each other's friendships made it seem like the three of you were in some weird love triangle.

San didn't understand why there was so much tension, he considered Wooyoung to be pretty similar to himself so the reason why you seemed to dislike Wooyoung was beyond him.

To be fair, if asked, neither of you had a good response as to why you hated each other so much, it was just small issues (like San telling you he couldn't pick up because he was face-timing Wooyoung, or him telling his other best friend he couldn't hang out because he had plans with you), that went unresolved and started piling on top of each other until it reached a point where you couldn't stand to hear each others' names.

San had given up on trying to get you to be civil with each other, and he would just make time to hang out with you both separately unless it was absolutely impossible to get that to happen, which would often lead to a disaster. The one time you saw him truly mad was when you and Wooyoung caused a scene on his birthday, the last time you had to be in the same building together, so when San decided to put together a small get-together in his house for friends that were coming to visit him, he lectured the both of you for a long time.

The long long lecture didn't stop San from getting anxious though, and the anxiety grew when his friends called him, telling him their car had broken down because by that time you had both arrived and the tension in the room was palpable.

San ran a hand through his hair and exhaled, looking at the two people sitting on opposite ends of the couch.

"Right guys, the car my friends were driving in broke down and I need to go pick them up, I am begging you to not behave like animals for once."

"They're the one who-"

"Wooyoung I just asked."

Upon hearing his friend's pleas Wooyoung stopped talking and just sank on the couch, pretending not to be bothered by the fact that he was apprehended in front of his "arch nemesis".

San grabbed his coat and keys and pointed at the both of you.

"I will beat the shit out of both of you, not joking."

You and Wooyoung raised your arms up in defense as if saying "I have done nothing!", and the man left.

The silence was heavy and the pressure in the room felt somehow dense. You could hear every single sound around you, even the faint sounds of the refrigerator, and neither of you dared move, afraid to spark a reaction that would lead to San giving you the beating of your life.

That was until Wooyoung grew tired of your mere presence as if your person made him physically uncomfortable.

"Right I don't need to be here with you, I'm grabbing a beer." He said, as he placed his hands on the couch for support and stood up, before stopping and glancing over his shoulder "That is if you'll allow me."

Allow him? That was a weird, confusing joke...

You heard him trash around in the kitchen, opening the freezer, then the fridge, and then opening and closing the several drawers inside the fridge.

"Where did you put the beers? Are they up your ass? Must be nice and cold since you're a frigid bitch."

You glanced at the doorway to shoot him a threatening look only to find that he was not there.

"I must look like a bartender to you."

"You look like many things to me, none of them pleasing, but I just wanna know where you put the damn beers."

"I put them nowhere why the fuck would I bring beers."

You heard the refrigerator door close, and a couple seconds of silence. You then heard steps come your way, and soon enough Wooyoung's phone was plastered in your face, specifically a text San had sent to the party's group chat "Y/N you're in charge of the beer, okay?".

"You are so fucking useless oh my God! One thing you had to do and you fucked it up! It wasn't even that hard!" He semi-yelled, holding up one finger in front of your face.

He was right, you did fuck it up, but you weren't about to let Wooyoung think he was right, let alone reprehend you for it.

"Maybe it's for the best that there's no beer because you're unable to just shut the fuck up when you drink and I can't stand to listen to that window-wiper laugh of yours." You said, slowly standing up and walking towards him.

"Oh, you can't stand my voice, really?" He asked, pouting and with fake pity dripping from every word "Maybe you should fucking leave then, problem solved."

"You're so fucking unbearably annoying I can see why San would need me, must be nice to get a break from you."

You definitely struck a nerve with that comment, Wooyoung gripped your arms and brought you closer, your faces just inches apart.

"You're fucking delusional if you think for a second that San prefers hanging out with you. You're the most fucking dull and boring person I've ever met!"

You pushed him away from you. Wooyoung's back hit the wall and his eyebrows furrowed in pain. You walked towards him, cheeks red and eyes teary with anger.

"At least I don't bitch about my problems at every given second!" You yelled.

"At least I'm not a fucking bitch!"

"Oh, you're not? Are you sure?"

Wooyoung took back control of the situation, grabbing your shoulders and pressing you against the wall.

"Yes, I'm fucking sure, I'm not the idiot who ruined a party by not bringing the fucking alcohol, you're so useless."

The tension in the room had slightly changed. Your breaths were heavy, there was barely no part of your body that wasn't touching and you were looking into each other's eyes with pure hatred and fury, but somehow there was a hint of sexual desire between the two of you. It wasn't that you ever desired each other, but there was this... need to be rough with one another, to punish the other.

It was spontaneous, and if asked "did you mean to do that?" Wooyoung would deny it to the end of his days, but he gripped your neck and brought your face closer until your lips smashed together.

His hands moved to your hips, steadily keeping you in place, while yours were tangled in his hair, slightly tugging on it (which Wooyoung enjoyed, but he wouldn't let you know you were doing something right).

You pushed him away slightly, enough to part the kiss and leave a little distance between your bodies, and gripped his throat. He didn't say it, but you could tell he was into it from the way he leaned his head back to give you more access. His jaw tightened and he took a deep breath.

"I knew you were into some kinky shit, I bet you'll love it if I call you a slut too." You said, pushing him backward by the neck until he felt the couch hit the back of his knees.

"Takes one to know one, doesn't it." Wooyoung said, as he sat down and pulled you to sit on his lap.

You slapped his cheek, hard enough for him to feel something, but not too hard as to not actually hurt him.

"I can tell what you like from a mile away," you paused, gripping his throat a little harder and grinding down on a (definitely) growing boner "and if you keep acting like that I will be having a lot more fun than you, I promise that."

Wooyoung chuckled.

"Let's hope you keep promises, bitch."

One of your hands worked on undoing Wooyoung's belt and zipper, as you kissed him harshly. There was no passion, no romance, or any trace of mutual tolerance in the kiss: it was pure tension and hate.

Once you managed to get everything out of the way, your hand slipped in between the jeans and his thin boxers. You could feel every curve and every vein of his cock on the palm of your hand, and this time Wooyoung didn't hold back any noises, knowing fully well that his moans and groans would work towards teasing you.

Wooyoung could be insecure at times, but if there was something he was sure of is that he sounded good. Really good.

You felt yourself getting warmer and warmer, and your stomach started clenching. Your hand slowly pulled Wooyoung's cock out of the confinement of his underwear, and as you did so, you climbed down from his lap and knelt between his legs.

You avoided his gaze. You had no intention of seeing him looking down at you sucking his cock with his shit-eating grin.

You took his cock in your mouth, letting his tip hit the back of your throat as you slowly moved your head. Wooyoung groaned and bucked his hips into your mouth.

As a consequence, you slapped his thigh and looked up at him.

"You're so gonna regret that."

"Oh am- shit." His sentence was cut off by your mouth on his cock again, sucking him off at a faster pace.

He stared down at you, eyebrows furrowed and mouth agape. He could feel something bubbling in the pit of his stomach, and his chest started moving up and down quicker.

When his voice started becoming whiny and his moans became more drowsy as he came close to a state of bliss, you pulled your mouth away and began pumping him with your hand. You met his glossy eyes and from your devious look, he could tell what you were about to do.

"Fuck, don't you dare."

Your hand sped up, the sound of skin slapping becoming more frequent.

"Don't dare, what?"

Wooyoung groaned and hissed.

"Please Y/N, fuck- please don't do this."

You smirked, bit your lip, and, just as Wooyoung's hips bucked, ready to cum on your hand, you pulled away.

The tip of his cock hit his stomach, still covered by his shirt.

Wooyoung watched as you removed your pants and underwear, but he didn't dare touch his cock as you did so. The man didn't want you to know how badly he needed to fuck you right then and there.

You straddled him once more, making sure to rub your crotch against his in the process, earning a breathy moan.

"Are you still going to act like a little bitch? Hm?" You asked as you teased his cock with your entrance.

He pretended to think, letting out a "hmm", as he pretended to consider the question, and, when he felt his tip right at your entrance, Wooyoung grabbed your waist, bucked his hips, and smashed you down on his cock.

"Fuck!" You yelled, gripping his shoulders tightly, shocked by the sudden contact.

Wooyoung bit your jawline and smirked.

"Yes, I am." He finally replied.

You gripped his throat, tightly this time, and with your free hand, your kept gripping his shoulder for stability, as you began to ride him.

"You're such an annoying asshole."

His eyes were locked with yours, and his hands gripped your ass.

"Sticks and stones baby." He said, tongue poking against his cheek.

You kissed him to shut him up, and secretly because he was a fucking good kisser. Wooyoung helped you by bucking his hips up against yours and slightly propping you up and down.

Neither of you held back any noises, you knew it wasn't worth the effort, and it didn't take long for Wooyoung to get close again, as he was already pretty sensitive.

"Y/N let me cum." He demanded, almost.

You stared at him sweetly and you caressed his cheek with fake pity, Your hand then descended to his neck as your lips approached his ear.

"No." You whispered.

"C'mon- fuck. Let me cum."

You smirked and stared right into his glossy eyes.

"Beg."

"Shit- what?"

"You heard me, I want you to beg." You said, between breaths.

Wooyoung's jaw tightened.

"Fuck you."

You moaned his name loudly and gripped his throat tighter, knowing the outcome would be the one you desired.

"Shit I give up, Y/N please please let me cum!"

His whiny voice was music to your ears.

"You can- you can cum."

Wooyoung's hands gripped your ass with full strength as he trusted deep in you and came.

His hands fell down to your thighs and he rested his head on the couch, as the both of you tried to regain your breaths.

From the corner of your eye, you two noticed a wide figure: San, that had entered through the back door.

"You know what? I don't care to know what happened, I don't even care to know if you used protection or that you're doing it in my couch, just clean up this mess and get fucking dressed while I stall the other guests so no one sees you fucking. If this makes you stop twisting my balls about each other's presence then it's fucking worth it."

#ateez #ateez smut #wooyoung smut #ateez wooyoung smut #ateez reader smut #wooyoung reader #wooyoung reader smut #jung wooyoung #jung wooyoung smut #kpop smut #sub!ateez #sub ateez #sub!wooyoung #sub wooyoung #wooyoung x reader #wooyoung x reader smut

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itsquakey · 3 months ago

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Q&A Time!

I haven't done a Q&A in a while so let's bang out some asks from the askbox and answer them.

Without really saying much, things have kinda gotten better, but I am def in a hole right now from multiple pretty saddening things happening to me all within a month. I'm having a lot of issues drawing but I don't think it's burnout-more likely I'm just a sad lump. I'm sure I'll improve though once the year finishes us.

Kind of...I plan to make either a epilogue for Revenge of Pike Knight or an entirely different comic about his process of letting go but also forgiving himself for her actions. He never goes back to being sweet bandana waddle dee but she does manage to loosen up as time goes on.

Mago gets stripped of any and all power that the average doomer doesn't have. So yea. He's a little guy you could punt like a football.

It's honestly really hard to say what my favorite food is, as I am someone who struggles with food (I blame it on the fact I almost died of starvation as a toddler and it ruined my entire digestive system but who knows it could be crappy genetics too). However here are some foods I enjoy that people may like! (Recipe Links are in the names)

Banoffee Pie: I usually like it without the bananas though, they are too soft texture-wise for me so it's really more Toffee Pie. Just remember if you are making the toffee from scratch that it is basically like making a bomb and you HAVE to make sure timing is correct otherwise pressure will build and either you will die or your kitchen will get a nice brown coat of sugar-paint (Personal experience here).

Chocolate Souffle: I always have this for my birthday so it's a fond treat. It IS a souffle though, so it's very hard to make if you do not have the experience.

Quiche: I love quiche, it's something that is eggy but also a pie and I can eat it any time of the day. I usually like just cheese in it but meats and some small greens are also good.

And finally- Zucchini Brownies (Or just walnut brownies): Which I actually haven't had in a while but man am I craving them. They sound weird but you can't taste the zucchini and it brings a nice dampness to the brownie.

When Powehi was little his sisters loved to tease him even though he would give little to no reaction. They seemed to have a decent relationship as children but I would not be surprised if Powehi doesn't really like his sisters a whole lot when he's an adult. They're still as annoying as before but now they act more like their father (a pet peeve of his). However they are still his sisters at the end of the day, so he puts up with them.

Since I don't know if I have the post up anymore- ANY FANART OR INTERPRETATIONS/INSPIRATION OF MY WORK IS OKAY. If it is fanart or is heavily based off my work all I need is name credit or an @/. If you @/ me, there's a very high likelihood I will see it and reblog it!

As someone who worked with various animals including tarantulas for a while- I love them. I love their fuzz and their little claws and paw pads and the fact they're chill (but at the same time very anxious) little dudes. I think they get a bad rap but they're nice.

If I remember correctly, the death of Meta Knight comic was originally artist trolling. Yes, I made the comic to purposefully get a reaction from you all and laugh evilly while you cried over his death. However that comic is the backbone of Nextgen and I'm glad I made it.

Yes, I will get to that art eventually. I'm just taking my time for reasons. I will/am also uploading art that is old but was never released on my account. Eventually once all the old art is posted new art will start up again.

Meta works his way up the ladder to become a Reaper. Not really spoilers but his design will be brought back soon. But yes, he can still see his friends with the help of Morpho. Also Galaxia shattered in the death comic, so she's long gone as well but returns to Meta in the afterlife at some point.

Dedede ain't dead yet! He's still kicking. Meta would have to meet him in the mortal realm as a little buggy.

Yes, however I highly doubt I will ever cover them in Nextgen, so it's up to fan interpretation at the end of the day.

Yes he does, he takes the form of a beetle much like Morpho takes the form of a butterfly in the mortal realm and gets to visit his friends when he can.

Apologies, but only my girlfriend can hug me : )

I imagine if the situation calls for it he does use his tongue. However he mainly chooses the sword and his fabric arms.

In Nextgen I like to imagine Kirby's copy abilities change as they grow up instead of someone upgrading them for him, hence why they look different when he uses copy abilities.

Powehi has always had some of Marx's powers and grew up with them normally. However as he gets older he begins to really not like them because it makes him different in a way others may be intimidated by.

In Nextgen Chilly and Magolor never got nor will get married. They're off again on again exes because it is way funnier that way and honestly aligns with the one manga more.

Magolor and Chilly met during the events of Star Allies, and their relationship/personalities are kinda based off that manga in a minor way.

Arthur showed up out of nowhere on Castle Dedede's entrance and ever since then Kirby has taken care of him.

In a surprising turn of events, no. The waddle dee from Kirby 64 in Nextgen is actually Bandana's/Pike's older brother who is the sole reason Bandana/Pike went down the path she did. The stories that were told about the adventure and the heroes his older brother worked with got her to be inspired enough to actually work alongside Dedede and later Kirby and the others.

Because that belt buckle is the last remaining piece of who he used to be. His robes are gone along with everything else but that buckle. He is now nude.

All Noddies are biologically and magically tied to the Dream Fountain which is the thing that gives them their dreams and tiredness. The only way Castella can have nightmares is if there's some kind of tampering with the Dream Fountain that effects it negatively.

I don't think canon Bandana would enjoy the fact I assassinated his character for some plot lmao. But for the sake of the funny just imagine them interacting like that one sonic and shadow clip from Sonic Adventure 2.

The cycle of matter only affects Dark and Light matter/ anything in between that. Matter like that usually will never see a reaper in their life because their souls almost never make it to the afterlife and instead are in a constant cycle of reincarnation, hence the name. Meta Knight was merely lucky enough to have Morpho break the rules for him just like how Necrodeus broke the rules for him when he was Gala and took his soul to the afterlife. Normally living things are taken by reapers to the afterlife when they die though. While non-matter characters like Dedede, Magolor, Marx, Pike, etc will be able to have a one way ticket to the afterlife, I'm keeping it vague for Kirby as not to spoil future ideas.

That's all for now! I'll be answering more asks in the future don't worry.

#kirby #ask #nextgenerationau #doomerlorau #thats all the tags im putting down lmao

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dreamseersystem · 8 months ago

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A little birthday present for @ask-sibverse the love of our lives and more. Since they only wrote a td1reader birthday with Star Sanses. I decided to write the Bad Gang version. Enjoy!

You look over at the picture on the table beside your bed. It was last year with your first proper birthday with the Star Sanses. But this year, you were spending it with the Nightmare Gang since it was their "custody time" as Killer put it. It was kinda surreal how much changed in a year.

The two groups were kinda getting along despite still fighting with one another. They only seem to agree that you should be protected no matter which side you are fighting on. And both sides will stop a fight if your blood sugar drops too much mid battle as well.

You shake your head to focus on the now. It was your birthday and who even knows if the Bad Gang even celebrates it. They never do theirs, so why do yours? You get a shower and get dress to come down for breakfast. The first thing you see is Horror making your favorite breakfast. You sat down and Killed appears behind you. It was easy to sense him since he was humming something.

Suddenly you felt a pressure on your head. You reach up to touch it and paper? You tried to take it off but Killer grabbed your hands. "No you don't. Birthday people need their crowns," he singsonged. You blushed.

The rest of the gang came in, and everyone said happy birthday except Nightmare. Tho he did look at you when he sat down. "My brother gets you tomorrow for your birthday before you come back here to resume your week," he said. You nod. He was always so factual towards you. You think he just let you stay and share custody for his mens' sake.

"But today we get you!" Killer said with glee. "I have a whole day planned!"

"Do not worry, I approved it before I let him take you out all willy nilly," Nightmare huffed from reading his newspaper and sipping tea.

After breakfast, you were dragged out of the chair and the gang took you to an amusement park au for the day. Killer acting like a child and letting you pick the rides out. Horror and Cross kept checking to make sure your sugars were doing ok.

You didn't see Nightmare, but the gang reassured you he was planning his own thing for you. You did get a bit sick on the chili cheese dogs and a roller coaster you tried to go on right after, at Killer's insisting, so they decided to call it a day and take you back to the castle. The rest of the time till true nightfall was spent watching your favorite anime.

Once dinner came around Nightmare appeared to grab you and the boys and took the group to Outertale. He had set up a birthday picnic that Horror prepared for yesterday and you enjoyed talking with them as you ate your favorite foods. Then Horror revealed the cake and they all sang happy birthday to you, tho Nightmare just hummed it politely. They called you birthday princess the whole day instead of your name and it felt nice.

"The Star Sanses are gonna be hard put to outdo us!" Killer said. The rest of the gang agreed with laughter. Dust pulled put his phone and got a selfie with everyone in it. He promised to print it out for you when he got a chance.

Once the day was said and done. Everyone headed home once the shooting stars were done and they went their separate ways. You gotten a few presents from them. A knife from Killer. A scrapbook of pictures Dust took of the last year of everyone. Cross gave you a fighting outfit that had protection magic imbued in it. And Horror a cookbook that was written from one of your favorite animes. Tho Nightmare didn't give anything.

You headed towards your room when the boss suddenly melted out of the shadows and got close to you. You froze, not expecting him to be there, and his hands wrapped around your neck. "Happy birthday, birthday princess," he softly said before he walked off. You felt a weight around your neck and looked down. He slipped a crescent moon necklace on you with a pretty purple stone on it. You blushed but he was already gone.

Guess the Star Sanses really did have to outdo this birthday tomorrow. You smiled as you head to bed.

#t1d reader #nightmare x reader #bad sanses x reader #killer sans x reader #horror sans x reader #dust sans x reader #nightmare sans #killer sans #horror sans #dust sans

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therealslimshakespeare · 1 year ago

Note

Where can i read Both sides now? If i click the link in the old post you reblogged i cannot find the post :(

Alas, stupid deactivated links. Here, I shall post it anew for you 💋

Sweet like Cinnamon

Warnings and Summary: the entire theme of this is loving on Elvis’ chief embarrassment: his uncut cock. So, be warned, ahead lies body consciousness, savoring of foreskins, edging, talking to cocks, Elvis in subspace and bad safe word etiquette 😆 also suspend your belief that he didn’t get past this with multiple women before in the 60’s

Repost of an old fic

“Gentle now, no need to thump it, it ain’t got a spirit you can animate by kickin’ it like that.”

Susie huffs at him and aims another whack at the motorcycle’s exposed engine with her dainty hand, like she can slap it into submission. “Well then you try!” she whines at him and Elvis woulda done so first if she hadn’t beat him to it. After that he’d gotten distracted by watching the way her bottom looked in those jeans while she was bent double.

“I’ll do just that if you’d get up and stop thumpin’ it.”

“I am not ‘thumping it’, Presley, merely cajoling.” she points her little chin in the air haughtily and Elvis is filled with the desire to grab it between his fingers and shake it. She’d wrinkle her nose at that and all the little freckles on it would fold up.

“Mhmm, well, get outta the way Susie, let the ole man have a shot at it.”

“Good luck.” she grins and moves to stand up and he watches a little too long as she hikes her jeans back up so her tied shirt meets the top of them. He mourns the loss of that sliver of skin and bends down to take a look himself, conscious of her eyes on his ass.

They’re fair like that, Susie and him, he doesn’t watch nothin’ on her that he hasn’t let her watch on him. That’s what good buddies do, they don’t begrudge a mate. So he doesn’t begrudge her much when after getting the offending part off he feels the pointed toe of her shoe slide against the seam of his pants. It gets boring stranded on the side of a country road in the middle of the Californian desert, and little girls need their fun.

“Almost done,” he tells her, “this just came loose, s’why it’s rattlin’ like that. Didn’t help that somebody smacked, too.” he looks up at her out of the corner of his eye, making sure to layer on the patronizing airs so that she’ll break and smack him. She does, lightly on his shoulder and he chuckles and ignores the way the gravel digs into his knees and chalks up his slacks.

“We’re going be late.” she observes, and it’s not a whine, it’s just statement.

“Thought your landlady didn’t know we were comin’?” he grunts, working on the obvious problem he can perceive now, scorching his fingers on the hot metal.

“Careful!” she fusses as he hisses from the burn, rising to his feet and brushing off his slacks, readying to try cranking the motor again.

“You know what I meant,” Susie goes on, admiring him as he swings those long legs to straddle the bike, elegantly swathed as they are in pants tailored to the last inch by darling Edith, “This has thrown us off by an hour and knowing you and your propensities when in the company of little old ladies -we’ll be late at the studio. I’m calling it now.”

His face clouds over for a moment as he ponders the prospect of getting chewed out by the director for taking a brief and condoned break. Just to zip over and wish Susie’s landlady a happy birthday. The shriveled little munchkin was starry eyed the one time he swung by to pick Susie up, and with her son overseas it seemed the nice and gentlemanly thing to do, to use the break to brighten her day. The motorbike breaking down on the side of the road wasn’t part of the plan.

“I ain’t turnin’ back now,” he mutters, frowning at the horizon that wavers in the scorching afternoon sun, “They’ll find somethin’ to bitch about anyway, and you needed the break. Say, you alright with that? With playin’ hooky? I’ll tell ‘em it was my idea.”

“Oh hush now, ‘course I don’t mind and I’ll take full responsibility for myself, Presley.”

They both know he’ll get in between her and anyone trying to chew her out but she tries, really tries to take some of the brunt of the condemnation directed at them when they go off the rails together, lost in their own little world. One where midnight dancing, helicopter racing and practical jokes are king.

She cozies up behind him on the narrow seat, her thighs bracketing his famous hips and the bike cranks to life. They make it to Doddi’s birthday party before it’s in full swing. Susie spends the next hour and a half on Elvis’ knee as he chats with her landlady who informs him she had her son, the one overseas, at the ripe age of fifty five.

“Well I’ll be!” he whistles and that starts a very earnest discussion about modern medicine and the wacky new advice to cut back on fats. Doddi is adamantly against it, as is Elvis. Susie gets her opinion asked after awhile and she informs them that whatever they’re both doing now is obviously working for them. That earns her a ticklish kiss on the neck from Elvis and a sage smile from Doddi.

“You know something, Miss Dean,” Doddi addresses Susie, “I have seen you starring in three films alongside this man.”

“Yes ma’am!” Susie nods, they've got dynamite chemistry and Hollywood isn’t one to let a thing rest until it’s dead from overuse. As for Elvis and herself, well, contracts are contracts and just maybe they’d rather kill their careers alongside each other, out of anyone else in the world.

“And in each one,” Doddi goes on, “you begin as an innocent until finally succumbing. It’s a testament to your skill that you can begin again, three times at that, as a virgin with each new start, when you must have been plundered at some point in real life.”

Elvis had said something equally insightful to her ages ago, something about her doe eyes and gentle face making him feel like the first time each time. Each time they do a scene, of course. Because they’re just buddies. No matter if her real first time was with him. And a good costar is meant to make you feel some kind of way so that you can play off it. It’s just good sportsmanship.

Elvis pats her on the back as she chokes on her mimosa, unable to take Doddi’s inquiring gaze for much longer, seems she’s asking as to when Susie herself got plundered and it’s a memory best left buried. Blessedly, Elvis changes the subject with his typical, stuttering charm.

Drifting on a wholesome high, they slip out together, a good three hours and multiple slices of cake later. He’s pensive on the drive back, speed limit actually being observed and Susie lays her cheek on his shoulder to watch the thoughts flit along his nobel profile.

“What’s wrong, Mopey?” she asks him.

“Nothin’, jus thinkin’.”

Gloomy thoughts by the set of his pouty lips. “Well I want some breeze to help with this heat, so gun it, Presley.”

Those lush lips curve up at that, his shoulders shaking out his mood a little as a rivulet of water the folks around here call a creek comes into view. He doesn’t take the bridge over it, he plunges the motorbike down the bank with Susie shrieking out her joy behind him, gripping his belly for dear life as the motor fights to get them back up the opposite side without tipping them backwards.

It’s damn good fun. Pity their director doesn’t agree when they get back wet and a little muddy, hours late. Filming has been canceled for the evening, and choice words are had about tardiness and Susie’s poor delivery of a inane line of script she hates with a passion.

Elvis takes all of this with dogged sullenness, only biting back when Susie’s name gets drug through the mud. She succeeds at hauling him away and up into his suite, badgering him about helping her with the line.

They’ll end up eating too much hotel food and philosophizing on the how each subsequent film they’ve made has diminished in artistic quality. If they really feel brave maybe they’ll end up kissing, just for practice, just because they’re lonely and the other understands. And won’t hold them to it.

This time he disappears into the shower, a quicker one than usual and when he comes out in nothing but a towel, swearing over having forgotten his clothes, he looks like the proverbial stormcloud is hanging over his wet and sleeked back hair. Susie has got burgers and cola at hand on the bed and is ready for the mood to be over. She’s worn out, too.

“What are you so sore about Presley?” she asks, gently because he might as well have a sign hanging around his neck reading: “fragile! handle with care!”

“You wanna know what it is?” He grunts, rubbing at his face, rosy and gleaming from the shower.

“Yes!”

“I’ll tell ya honey, I’ll tell ya. It’s that I had a grand time with you today and yet I couldn’t stop thinkin’ about how if we would just stop foolin’ around then-“

“-hey now, it was your idea to fool around!” she protests.

“-I know I know, but as I was sayin’ I was preoccupied with the thought that I just wanted to get the next damned scene over with.”

“The one scheduled for tomorrow now?”

“Yeah that one. Another windshield scene.”

“Another what?”

“Windshield scene, honey.” he insists, a little hurt she didn’t get his meaning right away, it was the thing digging at him for awhile now, making him sore. “You knew how many scenes I’ve done where they’ve got a camera on the hood shootin’ through the windshield, while I’m sitting in the driver’s seat pretendin’ to drive while a screen flashes scenery behind me, and I sing a song that sounds a lot like the ones I’ve sang doing the same damn thing in the same damn movie before it? And I’m talkin’ just movies since I been back stateside.”

“Quite a few I gather.” Susie’s mouth sours in sympathy. “So, New Years resolution, no more windshield scenes.”

“Add jet-skies to that list.” he flops back on the bed and blows out a breath, making his lips flap with all the dignity of a five year old.

Susie has long since learned to humor him when he’s in this sort of mood and she contents herself with leaning against the wall and watching the long line of his body, bronze and sturdy and interrupted only by the stark white towel around his waist. He manspreads even in a towel and she is tempted to take a peak. She’d probably get spanked for it and tonight she’s unsure it would be a jovial slapping around, he’s testy and nearly looking for an excuse to blow up. Or pout face first into his pillow until he gets hungry -he’s shockingly petulant for a man dually capable of the occasional bout of astounding maturity.

“Eat your burger.” she nudges his bare foot and the feel of her shoe against his skin gets him to raise his head and give her a once over.

“Get comfy honey, you don’t need to be all in your heels and such.”

“Well, i wasn’t sure you really felt like having me stay.”

“Don’t be silly, lil girl.” he rolls his eyes, and sits up, abs rippling and scrunching as he hunches into himself and starts gnawing down on the burger. “This ain’t cooked enough.”

“You weren’t cooked long enough.” Susie tosses back and takes a seat next to him on the foot of the immaculately made bed, kicking her shoes off, and she doesn’t miss the way a pleased smile creeps over his face. He puts the burger up to her mouth and looks so expectant that she takes a bite and lets the mustard and onions and beef ruin the spearmint aftertaste of her gum. “It’s cooked perfectly.” she admonishes him and he sneers at her though his eyes twinkle. “Alright mopey! Nothing else for it, I’m putting on a record.”

Susie abandons him and he watches as she bounces up and across his sterile hotel room to the one comfort he hauled with him, the record player and its case of records. She flips through it until she pulls out the man she commits infidelity against Elvis in her heart with, night after night. Sam Cooke.

She messes with the needle. “Ooh you’ve stopped it at ‘Only Sixteen’ -you thinking about me when all alone, Mopey?” She grins at him so sly and knowingly that he rolls his eyes, and actor though he is he, he can’t feign indifference. “Thinking about sweet little me and how you came in and bamboozled me? Had your naughty, naughty way with me?”

“Don’t remind me!” he groans and flops back on the bed, half eaten burger in hand. “That weren’t my most upright behavior but I was left contendin’ against the sight of your pretty butt in those frilly little swim shorts and I-“

“-couldn’t help yourself?” Susie recites from her stance between his splayed legs, her hands planted on her hips and he really does adore the way she looks when she’s fed up with him. Her face puckers up and she looks at him determinedly, like he’s a project and she’s a contractor. Like he’s some human sofa she’s gonna refurbish or somethin’. Sends a little shudder through him and he braces for what she says next because he feels it comin’ before those red lips start moving, he just knows her that well by now. “I didn’t mind it Elvis, you were a bit boorish about it but look at us now, we’re the best of friends ever since-“

“-damn funny way to make friends.” he scrubs his face and tries to get rid of the mental picture of baby fresh Susie with her cheek pressed to the janitor closet’s door, and the feel of those frilly swimsuit panties shoved to the side and scraping him as he buried himself in her again and again.

“I guess I more wonder why we haven’t done it again.” she honest to god pouts down at him, half a decade worth of platonic hanky panky wearing her down.

“What!” he sits up with an ungainly flail and Susie relishes the way his pupils blow out and his eyebrow quirks in indignation as if he hasn't stared at her with intent written all over his face, day after day, for the last five years since. “What, hang on now Susie, we’re buddies you and I,” he gestures back and forth between them, his hand knocking against her belly as she towers over him for once, “we’re buddies.” he repeats as if he didn’t have his head buried beneath her skirt two nights ago. That’s apparently on the list of things buddies do for each other.

“Buddies can make sweet love too, Presley.” she teases.

“Sure-“

“And grindin’ and lickin’ and jerkin’ off to the thought of me does not give you the moral high ground here.”

“How did you know-“ he looks comically appalled and it’s too adorable a look on a grown man.

“You’re loud as hell, Elvis.” she giggles and he grips her hips and hauls her down to do -well, he’s not sure what he intended, he just feels like wrestling her and she obliges, probably had planned to trick him into this after all.

Her legs flail and she’s liberal with the elbows against his ribs and he grunts and huffs and slaps at her hands and let’s her wriggle enough to keep it fun, and this is why he loves her, she loves rough housing, she loves curling up with a book and she forgives him for a whole load of horseshit he’s put her through. Susie is a woman for all seasons and he loves her in a way, grappling with her on the fresh made bed as Sam Cooke croons:

She was only sixteen

Only sixteen

With eyes that would glow

But she was too young to fall in love

And I was too young to know

Woaaah

She was only sixteen

He gets her pinned beneath him and he leans his forehead against her forehead and gives her a heart melting smile that she savors through nearly crossed eyes. He slowly lowers the rest of himself to lay against her and they give into what they’ve been longing to do, lips meeting as they savor each other, ignoring the lasting taste of the burger and indulging in soothing each other with eager presses of kisses and long, slow licks with hands that cling to each other. He starts to grind against her through his towel, her jeans making him slide roughly. That makes her pull away with a huff, and it’s not her usual pleasurable huffing. Elvis can tell she’s peeved before he can even pull back far enough to get a good look at her exasperated face.

“Why is this teenage fooling all we do?” she huffs.

“Well, Lord honey, if that’s how ya feel-“ he gripes and starts to slither down between her legs, ready to prove her a brat, and maybe torture her a bit. Death by orgasm. It wouldn’t be the first time.

“No, no.” She kicks and rolls away from him in a move he vaguely recognizes as from the “My baby is a swanky cat” choreography. “Nope, Mopey, tonight is gonna be about you.”

“About me?” he deadpans.

“Yup.” She nods and her hands are back on her hips and she’s back to eyeing him up like a plot of land freshly leveled for a subdivisions construction. “But first dance with me!”

She grabs at him and suddenly they’re in the middle of a vigorous and precarious dance off atop the mattress. Sheets and soft down cause two of hollywoods most sought after groovers to fall all over themselves and each other, hands clasped in a good Spanish pose, arms stiff and bracketing each other.

Everybody loves to cha cha cha

Little children like to cha cha cha

The cha cha cha

My baby couldn’t do the cha cha cha

Elvis forgets the renovating gleam in her eye and those unspoken refurbishing plans for a hot minute while watching Miss Susie Dean as Susie goes

I told her one, two

Cha cha cha

And one, two

Cha cha cha

And up now

Cha cha cha

And baby back now

Cha cha cha

And turn now, cross now! Oooh

I taught my baby to cha cha cha

Hearing Elvis sing along to someone else’s music is an entirely special experience Susie thinks more people ought to get the chance to watch, but some jealous and longing part of her is thrilled she’s one of few who’ll ever see Elvis belting out to Cooke while a boyish smile takes over his face, and his hips wiggle atop his swanky hotel bed in nothing but a resilient white towel. She grips his forearms harder and fully unleashes the little girl locked deep inside her. The one who misses goofing around and who only seems to thrive in the company of this very seductive, very goofy angel of a man. His grunts and groans and moans and trills shiver right through her and she longs for him, worse than most nights.

He executes and guides her in the cha cha steps perfectly, even as their bodies wobble towards the bedside lamp and then towards the TV set, a broken leg always in the cards with one snag or trip in the sheets. That would delay the windshield scene for him.

It’s that melancholy thought that has her swaying up closer to him and holding his hips comfortingly as the record turns and

I love, love, love you

For sentimental reasons..

The way men wrap towels round their hips and flip them over and over into indestructible loin clothes has long puzzled Susie, but she loves watching the way the dark trail of hair on his belly disappears beneath the white terry cloth, and how the v of his hips rolls and pumps his pelvis into the air in a mindless sort of entrancement. As if hypnotized she leans her head against his chest and looks down at him from above, perceiving the outline of him, that part of him that’s been inside her once but she’s never actually seen. She trails a finger down his chest, pink fingernails scraping lightly and trailing down to the towel and hooking inside, tugging a tiny bit, just to test the durability of that fold.

“Susie.” he murmurs warningly and she’s tired of that and not a little hurt at how he rebuffs her offers again and again.

“I’m a woman now, you do realize that don’t you? And I’ve got womanly tastes. Just want to make you feel good, Mopey.” she speaks earnestly into his chest.

“Thumper, you know I prefer lovin’ on you-“

“Is it so hard for you to imagine then, that I might want to love on you the same way?” She lifts those dark and perfectly lined eyes to his beseechingly and gah, it makes it worse than anything for him to deny her again.

“I-I-I’ll m-make love t-t-to ya t-tonight, if if that’s what you- you want-“

“Oh good lord,” she throws her hands up in the air, “you’re so thrilled at the prospect your tone sounds like you just got assigned latreen duty!” she gesticulates some more and nearly wobbles off the bed doing so. He grabs at her and saves them both, but his towel is a casualty.

He clutches her close to him standing on the mattress, and she’s surprised by that, the way there’s panic on his face and how he seems to plaster the naked length of himself against her clothed form, as if he’s safer that way. Gone is the Elvis who loves to joke off an embarrassing or saucy moment, Elvis who shoots her a dirty wink when she feels him growing beneath her during a steamy take. Gone is ole Mopey who, as a grown ass man, still refers to his cock as “little Elvis.”

Speaking of, she can feel the chubby length of him against her belly and she goes to grab ahold of him, maybe she’ll squeeze him a bit and lead him around by it like the petulant puppy he is. She can’t fully enact her plan as only part way down he arrests her movements with a gentle but inflexible grip around her wrist, hauling it back up between their chests.

“Elvis, what on earth is wrong?” she cries out, craning her neck to look him dead in the eyes and resolve his jumpiness over her touching him bare, once and for all. For a smug ‘lady killer’ he sure does act like a shy boy when a gal makes a move herself. “Are you sick?” she whispers as the thought strikes her suddenly that maybe he went a little hog wild with a couple hundred willing fans in the early days…

“What?” his eyebrows shoot up, “what? Hell naw, Susie I-I-I there never was a good time to say this but I just. I never wanted to disappoint ya-“

“Oh! Are you one of those baby Bella mushroom sizes?” Susie hasn’t had personal experience with a tiny knob but has always thought it might be fun to work one in her mouth. It’s an idiotic thought to apply to him the moment she gives it a second thought; she had felt him when he first met her and took her in the janitor’s closet. He felt mighty big then. She had been nearly a virgin but still, it felt big. That couldn’t be it…

“S-Susie.” he stutters real bad and she can feel his hands flexing against her upper arms, kneading the soft flesh in his anxiety, “it’s silly really but I just- it’s that…” his eyes pinch closed and he takes a deep breath before blurting out on the exhale, “I ain’t cut, Susie.”

Cut. She thinks of the director yelling “cut” at the end of countless scenes. She thinks of the barbed wire he hopped over the other day that sliced him real good on the hand. Cut. What the- oh. Uncut. He’s got an uncut cock. Her mouth dries out before it floods again in anticipation and she can feel her eyelids growing heavy as she yearns. Yearns for him badly and it’s no artifice when she licks her lips, trying to formulate a sentence that won’t make her sound half feral. As if he wasn’t alluring enough, now there’s this, and tonight is the night she’s going to have her way. She’ll devour him for once and make him let go of that obnoxious grip he has on every aspect of his life from how his burgers are cooked to how all sexual encounters go.

“-nice little girl like you probably-“ Meanwhile, Elvis is adding some stupid and defensive commentary to her youthful crisis, “-mama couldn’t really afford-“ as she thinks about and processes how this impossibly smug and suave cool cat has a hillbilly cock. And she wants it in her mouth, down her throat, nibbled to a angry, cherry red until he realizes she couldn’t care less that he isn’t like every dime a dozen heartthrob here in the city of angels. Actually she does care, she cares immensely, so much she’s gonna wreck him to prove it.

“Oh god.” Is all she manages initially and her voice sounds utterly fucked out even to her own ears. That gets him to stop his dumb monologue on how he’s more than happy just to mess around in other ways, and he’d never expect her to deal with that. “Oh god.” she moans into his mouth as she seizes the back of his head and brings him to meet her lips again, his stunned eyes still wide and blue and open. And little Elvis is beginning to grow brave and firm up, poking a little at her belly.

It’s not a joke as her knees begin to buckle and she lands on them with a hard bounce, a puddle at his feet, sheets crumpled beneath her knees. Dumbly she stares in reverence as she is finally face to face with him and -oh god, he’s exquisite and unmaimed and his initially unimpressive size is swelling into much more before her very eyes. It’s like watching the primal proof of his attraction grow beneath her heated stare. She places her hands lightly on those strong hips of his, holding him close and savoring the way she can feel the muscle flex beneath her palms. He’s so sturdy and she adores that about him.

The fact that he’d have rather hidden this from her, her! who he admits all sorts of shit to, who he’s cried on innumerable times, his Thumper, his ungentlemanly mistake turned bosom friend. It makes her vengeful almost, not towards him but the image of him. She feels a wave of anger for him and all the glitzy weight that’s rained down on him since he first caught the eye of the sleek and shiny machine. Forever unable to just be. Always in need of a touch up or a rewrite, a second take. Tonight is going to be impromptu, even if she has to bully him into it.

Sweet Susie is taking this vulgar aspect of him better than Elvis had anticipated. In some ways, that is. In others she’s acting batshit insane, looking like a fever has gotten to her, eyes gone glassy and then there’s the way she just slumped down the length of him and is now in a staring contest with little Elvis. It’s, well, it’s a lot for a man to shrug off, particularly when he likes and respects Miss Susie as much as he does. When he would like to be at his best for her and is severely lacking in the basics of that.

“We meet at last!” he hears her whisper down there to little Elvis, and it’s so goddamn weird yet she looks so hungry that he’s spooked by it. The spike of fear rips down his spine and his hardening cock jerks in response because he’s a twisted bastard.

She presses a kiss to the angry vein running along the underside and his own knees buckle at that. He grabs at her hair for some steadying balance, careful to not dislodge the pretty pink bow still holding her dark locks in a windswept bouffant.

“Yeah. You’d better sit down for this, partner.” She grins up at him from down there, teasing his accent.

“Susie-“

“Nope, this is happening.” she’s back in renovating mode and his chest feels a little tight and he’s not sure what he’s so scared about anyway, it’s just Thumper. Maybe it’s because it is Thumper that he’s so queasy about it. She’s a tomboy sure, but she’s always so put together, dainty and proper even in improper scenarios, she deserves the best and hell! -he’s pretty sure her parents are devout Catholics.

He lets his legs give out and he flops on his back, legs spread and a defiant look on his face, daring her to admit she’d rather not. But she doesn’t even look at his eyes, she just blows him an air kiss and then she's back to making conversation with his cock and Elvis wants to die or go back to eating his burger. Or her pussy, that would be nice -but no, Thumper is a stiff necked mule of a girl.

She gets down on her belly between his legs and props up on her elbows, nose close to touching him, “You’re as tanned as the rest of him!” she coos to it and it wobbles appreciatively, the length finally swelling enough to hold itself upright.

Elvis is turned on enough to get stiff but disconcerted and untouched as he is, it’s a slow process. He can’t remember the last time he watched it take its sweet time to get up. “Has he been sunbathing you, too? What a vain bastard! All golden and gleaming, even his pretty cock is all tanned. Does he spread suntan oil on you too? Does he forget himself and start jerking you off? Lord, has he ever burnt you like the silly, forgetful boy he is?”

The feeling of her breath huffing over him and her blatant ignoring of the rest of him is working way too well. Pretty in reference to his hillbilly cock is a goddamn lie but still, Elvis hates that she knows him this well, and he hears himself make a funny noise as she gossips about him to his own cock. “I’m gonna call you Coco, alright?” she makes this pact with little Elvis, reaching out to touch him for the first time, gripping him steadily and Elvis forgets for an second that “Coco” belongs to him, nothing is there to remind him he isn’t floating off the goddamn bed, leaving only his cock with Susie to discuss and tease his vanity and silly inhibitions.

This funky dream state gets jarred when she slides her hand up catching the fucking foreskin and begins to pull it back, farther and farther as it ought to go if his weren’t so tight and fucking weird.

“Ouch!” he hollers, fully back to earth and starts to pull away from her attentions, but she looks so grieved by that he reconsiders and takes a steadying breath before explaining, “It hurts to pull it back too far, very far at all, actually.” he admits, apologetic because that would get the wrinkly shit out of her way at least, but she doesn’t bat an eye. She just keeps looking at that swelling part of him with heavy lidded eyes, false lashes fluttering wildly at the corners, making her look like a love drunk animation. He’s seen girls look at his face this way but Susie hasn’t met his eye in a good 60 seconds or more.

“Aha right then.” she gives a vigorous nod, “Let me know things like that, I wanna know what it is you like.”

He doesn’t really know what he likes, beyond his own hand and grinding and being inside a woman. He’s never had someone have their tongue nearly loll out of their perfectly painted lips at the prospect of licking at him: not once they see what they’re dealing with. Usually this is when the lady politely glances away, maybe lays back, suggests a change of pace, a slight adjustment in the script. Those are the ones who aren’t revolted. Once he’s inside a dame, they tend to forget he’s a hick child from Tupelo, or at least they forget the more unseemly, economic realities of that, of being too poor to get trimmed up like all his fellows. Just another thing to make him set apart -odd. But Susie now, Susie’s an oddity like him and as he watches her lick her lips and stare little Elvis down, he’s uncertain he’s actually comfortable with this much devotion coming out of someone who oughta be getting worshiped by him.

She’s still eyeing him up, hungry as ever, and Elvis starts to wonder if he’s got it in him to handle this, if he might have got a freak on his hands.

This thought process comes to a halt as she does the unthinkable, bringing her hand around him and smoothing the skin forward, up and up until it is fully stretched out and only a round little disk of his pink head and his weeping hole is visible. And then he watches as if in slowed time as she takes him in her mouth just like that, her insistent suction tugging the skin further into its natural state, a state long denied it when in this context and Elvis is very much afraid that if he were a woman the sound he just made would be classified as a shriek.

She politely ignores his hollering and drags her tongue around his puffy head, flattening it suddenly like some goddamn gecko, slithering it inside the hood to lick round his pink glans and it’s, well, -it’s too much of a new thing to feel at 30 somethin’ years old and his knee jerk reaction is to plant his foot on her shoulder and shove her off.

She catapults backwards from his shove, back crashing into the TV while wearing an unphased Cheshire Cat smile. He tries not to sob from the sheer amount of feelings he is feeling about it all, his hands coming up to cover his face.

Poor Susie, poor him. Goddamn it all..

He knows if he tries to talk now it’ll be nothing but stuttering gibberish so he waits for her to come and sit beside him on the bed, hands gently petting his shoulders and raking through his tidy hair, pressing soothing kisses to what parts of his face she can reach through his hands.

“Hey, hey Mopey, you’re alright.” she coos and he thinks about shrugging her off for a minute, his pride a little hurt but he never was much good at shrugging off a comforting woman, not since mamas been gone, so he pulls his hands from his face and wraps his arms around Susie’s middle, catching his breath with his head cradled in her lap. “This is why I love an uncut man, so, so sensitive, aren’t you? I’ll be gentler.”

“No one’s ever done that weird ass tongue wriggling thing you just did.” he tries to justify the fact he threw her across the room. “Did I hurt you? You ok? -Wait!,” he sits up suddenly and his mind is whirring from putting puzzle pieces together, “you’ve done this before w-with some, some o-o-other man?”

“Yeah.” she gives him a soft grin, hand rising to his face and her long fingernails scratch at his sideburns like he’s a cat that can be pacified. Maybe he is, for her he’s close to purring.

“When?“ he demands, feeling very fatherly or some such shit. He wants to kick some ass.

“Remember that movie I shot in the Italian Riviera?”

“You were playing some Roman empress or somethin’, right?”

“Yes, that one,” she smiles dreamily, “well, the Italian producer took a shine to me. And you know that most Europeans aren’t cut either.”

“Really?” he pulls a funny face, mouth folding down dubiously, disgust at the thought of some wrinkly Italian having touched his Susie warring with the fact little Susie compares Elvis and his hick embarrassment to some exotic mogul. “And you liked that shit?”

“Oh I prefer it! So responsive!” she nods eagerly, and they’ve had this same talk about pistachio ice cream before, and Elvis really thinks he might go to hell for having been the one to put that hungry gleam in her eye. Over cock. His cock. A sort of vicarious damnation

“Damn right about the ‘responsive’ bit.” he grumbles.

“Now,” she is back to business and Elvis is back to being scared and horny, their brief cuddle session apparently at an end, “I’ll be sure to be gentler and ease you into it, maybe even give you a word to tap out if it gets to be too much. But you, you’ve gotta promise me that if you really want to explore this, you’ll be good and not throw me again.”

“I-“ -he ponders that and long buried memories of highschool jokes, cameras in the milltary barracks and snide comments from costume designers crowd in, the stupid patheticness of a man of his success and worldly confidence having trouble with this-

“You man enough, Presley?” Susie’s sprightly little dare cuts right through the static of his mind and the truth of the matter is, deep down, he wants her to thump him like she thumps his bike. Make him like it, force him to let go for once. But like hell can he actually manage to say that to her doll-like face. “Or are you gonna be a little bitch about getting your cock sucked?”

Alright maybe he can.

Susie is all woman in this moment and he realizes his little girl has grown up, she’s grown up watching him, learning him, and now she knows him too damn well. He loves a challenge and put that way…”You’re on.” he grins at her dangerously and she tries to keep her triumph subdued, just a little bounce back on her heels and a fierce kiss pressed to his lips.

“Thank you!” she whispers against his lips, eyes up close to his and he can see they are very giddy before she finally pulls away from him, pushing at his shoulders until he’s laying out all vulnerable again in the crisp sheets.

Bemused, he watches Susie bite at two manicured nails as she takes his submission in. They’re the prettiest shade of pink and he’s been trying to find the right name for it since filming began. Elvis asked her over lunch one afternoon and she said she didn't know, the makeup artist had chosen it. All he’s come up with is “nipple pink” -and that didn’t do him any favors sitting in the canteen in tight slacks, watching her Bambi soft eyes go wide when he actually said it out loud.

Now she gnaws on them while sizing up plans of torture for poor “Coco” and he grabs the sheets in his hands as a defensive measure.

“You ever been edged, Mopey?” she asks him.

“Not, not like this, nah. Not this way” he shakes his head, sucks in a breath, deciding to pull his legs up and plant his feet on the mattress, feeling a little steadier that way, “I mean, I’ve held off for a couple hours before, in between rounds or, ya know-“ he trails off because, no, he’s never done this, whatever this is that she has planned. He is sure of it without even knowing..

“Ok.” she gives him a sweet smile, “Well I’m going to be nice about it, so you’re lucky, but if it gets to be too much let’s have a word or phrase. Because we both know that your whiny little “no’s” don’t mean anything in the heat of the moment.”

He grunts and quirks an eyebrow to urge her to go on.

“So,” her tone is entirely fake in its soothing, “so if you just can’t stand being loved on without getting all macho and taking control, all you gotta say is ‘I’m a pussy’, ok?”

Oh goddamn. What a brat. He growls at her and thinks about flipping her up and over, having his way with her until she can’t form a coherent sentence. But that would just prove her point and this is a competition now, not just sex. The stakes are as high as the time she almost beat him at the corn toss last year. “Ok.” he grits out.

“Good boy.” she murmurs and it sends a shudder through him that he doggedly ignores, wary of that floaty feeling she inspired in him a little while ago. If he’s gonna best her at this crooked little game then he needs his faculties clear. “You all good, Elvis?”

“Yeah,” he gives her a cocky grin and forces his hands to relax, game face on and smug smile back in place, “have at it little girl.”

He hopes she’ll shed some of her clothes and she does but only her stiff blue jeans. Leaving her in her panties and that white crisp shirt which is very wrinkled now. The pink bow remains in her hair and serves to really fuck with his mind, along with her sweet face settling back between his legs, and Elvis is man like any other and he really, really wants to cum at the mere sight of her

“Now where were we, Coco?” she asks his weeping head and his hands start to tingle and he gets a really alarming feeling akin to stage fright, so he digs his heels further into the mattress to anchor himself. She blows on the wet head and the chill makes it twitch futilely, about as fed up as Elvis is over being teased this excessively. “So sensitive! I’m gonna have some fun with you baby. That silly man has been hiding you from me hasn’t you? Real mean of him to keep a toy like you from a girl he professes to spoil.”

It’s vague but also keen, this feeling of being ignored for his own good. Like Susie has kindly decided to remove Elvis and his goddamn lady killer reputation from the room, stripping him down to brass tacks, unmaning him to hopefully rebuild him. He really determines to give it the old college try by forcing himself to accept it, to remember that this is little Susie who’s got him in a such a vulnerable state, and while she might be a stinker, she hasn’t got a cruel bone in her body. He makes himself take steadying breaths and focus on the way her tiny hands grip him and move up and down, never ignoring the hood, always incorporating it in the sweet, slow drag. The way she rolls his foreskin up and over his weeping head again and again is just the right amount of friction, like she’s been watching the way he does it himself and he can’t help but start thrusting a little. His hips flex on their own and his mind settles into the well worn groove of needing to finish, the: “fuck it, who cares I need to cum” mentality that’s had him risking plenty of scandals in public or with the wrong lady, just because he can’t stop once it gets this good. He can taste each roll and grip and drag of her nails, and he needs more.

He lets out a heartfelt moan when her mouth starts running up the crease of his thigh, and that makes her give him a responding one. He can’t overthink now, can’t object to the way Susie has started to lick the pulsing vein underneath, collecting the salty taste of him, moaning all the while like she’s getting a deep Swedish massage or some shit. She looks like she’s in heaven kissing his balls and he whines at that, can’t help it because she looks so defiled right now.

His thighs begin to quiver as her lips drag over his tightening balls, her hands along his cock feeling too good. She’s been nice like she said she would be, no more tongue dipping into the glans and he thinks he might get through this unscathed until her hands stop and she pauses from licking at him like he’s a lollipop, to murmur to wobbling length,

“Oh pretty Coco, you look ready to pop! So soon? You can, you know, you can whenever you want, but I’m not stopping after that. We made a deal.”

Elvis heaves a breath in and somehow it sounds as loud as a wheezbag. He holds it in hopes that maybe the tunnel vision he’s got will calm down, the sheets feeling very foreign against his fingertips.

“You ok you there, Presley?” Susie checks in, raising her eyes from his engorged cock to watch his flushed face, because he hasn’t said anything in minutes as his body grows more and more desperate, all he’s been giving her are pained noises and shocked little gasps. “If you can’t talk baby, tap my hand.”

“I can talk, dammit.” he snaps, “Just wanna cum.”

“Oh alright, we’ll get you there then.” she smiles at him, pleased with the petulant set of his mouth that she’s about to erase.

“Wanna be in you.” he tries, hoping maybe her jaw is getting tired and she’ll abandon this science experiment. “Make you feel real good, lil one.”

“Later. If you’re good for me.” she assures him, “Remember, Mopey, nothing’s getting you out of this but a tap on the hand or our agreed upon phrase.”

“Later then, I’m gonna ruin you.” He snarls.

She watches his face closely as he threatens and then accepts with a roll of his eyes and a head toss against the pillows, setting his face like he does when he just wants to get a scene over with. Poor man, he needs this badly, and Susie figures that maybe edging isn’t his cure, overestimation seems more like the ticket to make him lose his mind. His true mind, the one that needs to give in for an hour or two and let himself be wrung out.

With that ambition in mind she starts stroking him in earnest with one small hand, first focusing on the base until he starts to settle and relax. “C’mon, that’s it, you can thrust baby, let’s get you there.”

He gives a little nod and a moaning assent, broad and gleaming shoulders melting back into the bed even as those snake like hips start to work in earnest with her subdued motions. She spares her left hand to place it on his thigh, just to feel the muscle work, dragging her thumbnail on the soft inside. The scrape makes him shudder, more slick seeping out of his foreskin and dripping down his length and she figures it’s now or never.

He’s distracted with bucking up into her grasp and with his eyes clenched closed he doesn’t see when she props herself up and opens her mouth to swallow him down. Predictably the lower half of him jolts clear off the bed, shoving his cock further into her mouth and she’s ready for it, swallowing him down and keeping her teeth clear.

His breath catches before his voice booms with a plaintive, “Oh god, oh no, oh god!” His hands are shaking like they’re motorized and he grips the edge of the bed in one while the other restlessly roams his chest and throat in a strange and soothing sort of tick.

Keeping the majority of his length snug against her tongue, Susie does the nice thing and rubs her hands along his shaking thighs in a soothing gesture, humming to him with his length still down her throat and his neck snaps back so fast in response he looks mildly possessed.

“God, Susie, I’m gonna!-“ he sounds very worried about it and she’s not having that at all.

She rubs the firm line of his lower belly and takes him out a little so it’s mostly just the tip and its sensitive hood left in her mouth and she works him him gently, lolling him around patiently and she’s rewarded within the minute by his pleas coming back in high pitched whines, like the kind he playfully uses in his songs and it’s the sweetest recompense for her efforts.

“Where, where d-d-do you, where do you-y-you want m-me t-to-“

She pops off him for a split second to chirp, “In my mouth baby.”

Then she gets back to it, sucking gently and working the foreskin this way and that, harmless little nibbles to it that has him sitting up straight in the bed with a sudden rush of adrenaline. His belly shaking he’s so close but he has to watch this, has to see for himself that little Susie is moaning like a paid whore while worrying his extra skin with her painted lips. He starts shaking so badly at the sight of her and gratefully she looks up and meets his eyes right when he needs to see her soul, her doe eyes are full of nothing but assurances, lust and enjoyment. Disbelieving but incapable of anything else, Elvis has all he needs in this moment,. He takes his Thumper at her word and cums against the roof of her mouth in long and steady spurts, his strength giving out as he sags back against the sheets.

“Oh goddamn, little girl.” he groans and hopes he’ll hit ground gently because right now he’s close to the moon he’s so heady.

“My word Presley, you taste Devine.” she moans back to him as soon as she is done slurping him up.

He feels his cock give an indecisive twitch at hearing her hoarse praise before it starts to soften. He’s really quite busy digging his fingers into his eye sockets in hopes that he’ll stop seeing stars so he misses it when she reaches up to her hair and tugs the pink bow out, bringing it down to his slick length and wrapping it around the base.

Hyper aware of everything relating to little Elvis right now, he flails at the feel of velvet sliding along it and before he can crack his eyes open and asses what the hell Susie is up to, his freshly sucked cock is being subjected to the hellish sensation of a hairbow being cinched around its base.

Through the pounding in his ears he hears her sweet little voice mummering: “Don’t get soft on me now, ole man. We aren’t done.”

“For fucks sake, Susie!” he thunders and launches up in a sitting posture, just in time to watch her add the finishing touches to a pretty little bow at the base of his vibrantly angry cock. “Susie, I swear, no, just no I-“

“There’s a word for ‘no’ here, Mr. Presley, and it isn’t no.” she kneels there between his legs, transatlantic accent sounding very commanding and her hands folded primly as if she didn’t just force all the circulation to stay in his aching cock. “Dost wish to tap out?”

He glares at her, shooting daggers and vindication that has made grown men shrink before him. She just keeps batting those Bambi eyes and takes to trailing a fingernail up the seam of his balls and he swears he didn’t sob from the feel of it, he just took a weird sounding breath, is all.

Elvis is almost where she wants him, he’s alarmed that he has more in him, but terrified that giving in to her will result in him really letting go. She wants him just past that, in just enough pain to be begging for her to end it by helping him chase his pleasure again. His bottom lip starts to wobble and watching it closely she moves her fingernail with unhurried determination down his balls, passing them and to that smooth stretch of skin right behind them, leading to his puckering hole. His eyes blow wide as he suspects her destination and it’s comical to see the relief on his face when she goes no further, just keeps rubbing that smooth stretch of skin until he sucks in a deep breath from something other than nervousness. Too late he realises his mistake, his stupid worry that she was going to play with his ass blinded him to the fact that rubbing right behind his balls is painfully good and he wasn’t ready to feel this good, this needy, this soon.

Susie finds that watching his balls draw up snug against the velvet bow is really the cutest thing, they’re having a grand time and their owner is making incoherent sounds and hand motions that suggest he wants her to climb up on the bed with him, be closer to him as he lays back down, his body trembling too hard to hold him up.

She feels a great deal of satisfaction at having him so overcome, she has seen him performing and at play, he has astounding stamina and a shocking amount of toughness when it comes to pushing through that pain threshold. She can tell now that it’s that very gift that was keeping him back in this setting. He nearly sinks down to blissful surrender but that mechanism keeps hauling him back out like he’s getting waterboarded instead of loved on. But he’s trembling now, hands reaching for something and his eyes look utterly lost, he’s sinking and she’s there to catch him

Settling on the bed between his splayed legs she leans over him and takes a moment to soothe him, trace his face and swipe the tears she is astounded to find on his cheeks.

“I’ve got you Mopey, we’re gonna let you break free, together, I promise.” he clutches at the back of her neck when she gets close to his ear and she only hears moans from him for a while. “You trust me?”

His hand is shaking badly where it rests on the back of her neck but she feels him starting to rut against her belly, pain having been overcome by need. “Please, mama” he chokes out. “Please, I wanna be good.”

“You’re always good for me, baby. Always.” she drags her mouth against those high cheekbones and tastes salt. “You’ll be good and tell me if it’s too much, right?” She pulls away to stare him down, make him focus on her eyes and when he does they’re shimmering sapphires in the lamplight. Her breath hitches in awe of him.

“W-wa-want y-you t-t-to ha-have f-fun.” he gasps out and that is a different voice, one she hears when he’s playing with children or making voices up for the sock puppets. It’s a little boy’s voice and she’s sure now he’s gone at last. “W-want t-to make m-my lil Susie p-p-proud.”

“I’ve never been prouder, baby boy. I love you.” she swears and now is not the time for it but it slices through his haze and strikes him as just what he needs. He looks all of 17 himself right now and her heart warms.

“I-I know!” he cries low and anguished, and his lip really is wobbling in earnest now, lashes clumping into dark little spears, “You, you a-always s-s-show me.”

“I’m gonna show you now.” she vows, “I’m going to show you how perfect and lovely and beautiful you are to me.” she kisses down the length of his sweaty chest, his hands never leaving some part of her. Her shoulders, her hair, her arms, constantly petting her and clinging as she goes further downwards. “Wouldn’t be such a challenge to get you to be selfish for a second if you weren’t the most giving man on the planet, Mopey. Look at the production you made me go to just to love on you!”

He does look at his vibrant pink cock and the bow around it and the way Susie won’t suck it like a normal human, she keeps kissing his thighs instead and sucking his balls with loving devotion and he cries from it, unabashedly whining and whimpering from how horribly lovely it feels.

Minutes go by and he tries to savor the white noise in his ears, the pounding of his pulse and the feel of her smearing her lipstick on his sack, all the while dreading and needing the moment she finally takes his jerking cock back into her mouth. She grins at the way it’s wobbling and twitching, like a white flag of surrender begging for her terms, anything she asks for and he’ll give it. It’s shining in the lamp light as precum sputters out of it almost as plentiful as seamen in an orgasm.

“Oh mama.” he keeps groaning in between sobs and she rubs her breast harder against the top of his hairy thigh, nearly insane herself from the sight of him this wrecked. Suave and smug Elvis Presley is weeping and thrusting his uncut cock into the air, a hand gripping the strands of his immaculate pompadour until it’s falling into his face, all in hopes she’ll let him cum sometime soon.

“Dear god, you are exquisite right now.” she moans, uttelry moved that he trusts her this much.

“B-be good to me, mama, I-I need-“ he stutters out, voice shaky, switching course part way through his sentence, “-a-am I-I what y-y-you wanted?”

“You are better than my wildest fantasies, sweet man.” She swears earnestly before giving in to the thing he needs. And dreads.

He was right to dread it. When she does envelop him again, it’s like fire and lightning shooting straight up his spine and the ache in his balls resonates with the ache in his chest and he howls, ass clenching, trying in vain to pump out the seed she’s clamped off. She rides him with her mouth like a damn bullrider, going with him as he makes a bridge with his hips, his whole body strung taut in the moment of denial before slumping back again, eyes wild and chest heaving, unable to release.

His body is eel-like as he writhes in the sheets, svelte and lithe, undulating and seizing up in preparation only for the cruel hairbow to dash him back to earth. Susie is losing her mind right along with him, watching this morphing of a man into his most primal state. She tastes nothing but his salty precum and she rolls his foreskin around in her mouth like a chocolate, occasionally diving down the length of him until her nose is buried in his dark thatch of hair.

It’s suckling the tip that sends him wild, so she spares it often, making sure to give him a chance to breath in between her attentions, but there’s nothing more gorgeous than watching him shake and writhe with no aim in mind, gown dumb with need. The minutes begin to bleed for him and all he can think is that he’s being good, that he’s powerless and weirdly he takes some pride that his sacrifice, each shudder and burn of holding back, makes her pleased with him.

A shaky hand comes down to where she’s scratching his thatch of pubic hair and after a brief moment she catches on to his need, entangling their fingers together as he swims to the surface long enough to shudder and mouth incoherent praises at his lil friend.

“You’re a keeper, honey.” he pants, eyes glittering and his neck strained with the effort to hold his fuzzy head up off the pillow.

“And you, Presley,” she grins at him as bright and joyous as ever, “you look awfully pretty like this, mouth hung open, eyes rolling back. Coco downright weeping for me.”

“I-I-I’m glad.” he whispers hoarsely. “T-thank y-y-you, ma-mama.”

She chuckles, because even teetering on the edge of brainless he’s still a darling. It seems he’s forgotten he even has a need at this point, hips stilling and whines ceasing as he pants, his eyes wavering in and out of focus. They’ve finally passed that line and it’s just him and Susie floating here in white sheets while she tells him he’s pretty and good. She starts to consider that maybe she should start pulling him back up in case he’s forgotten the code.

Then the hand limply holding her own squeezes tight and he mumbles into his pillow, head turned away from the bedside lamp, “I needs it bad mama, please mama!” he whines, hand clutching his own hair and his whole body starts to vibrate as if revving from deep within.

“You wanna let go?” she whispers, spitting gently on the head of him, adding to the gooey mess pouring out of him.

“P-please, oh please, I aint gots it-“ he sobs, baby talk slurring through.

“You’ve been so good baby,” she coaxes, “mama is gonna get you there.”

“Need-n-n-need to pee mama.” He whimpers bewildered.

Good lord he’s so far gone.

She makes sure to grip his hand tight and assuring as she takes him in her mouth once more, tonguing at the leaking slit and his scream is deafening and on pitch, shifting into a wheeze as she yanks the bow loose and takes her mouth off to watch the fountain of seed that comes spewing out of him. His jaw works frantically and his mouth is agape as he tastes freedom and epiphany and trust and all he knows is that he can let go at last. So he does, his muscles locking up for ages, emptying himself and he’s entirely unaware and uncaring of where he’s spraying until he hears Susie’s shocked cheer,

“Mopey you’ve hit the ceiling!” and to his misery and relief her mouth comes back to swallow what he’s giving up, warm and wet and rhythmically swallowing down his spend until it’s making him frantic for nothingness and he cries out,

“I-I-enough, enough, i I like, no I- I I am a pussy! Goddamn it!”

She stops immediately and he feels nothing at all for a few moments. He might as well be dead he is so lost to his reality, numb and his sight gone until he feels her slide beside him, soft, small hands that he’d know even in death, gentling him back to earth.

“Can I quote you on that, Presley?” she grins and he only knows that because he can feel the curve of her cheek against his own as he shudders and relearns how to breath. “Look, you’ve ruined mama’s pretty bow!” she dangles soaked pink velvet in front of his face, and for some reason that’s what makes him blush scarlet.

He lifts his eyes to find that there is a glistening wet spot on the ceiling. Oh goddamn. He moans and gives into the need to burrow, deep deep inside of her, this nasty little girl who knows and loves him. He settles for pressing his face into her breasts, the near suffocating dampness of her flesh a comforting transition after being deprived of air by his own hyperventilation for so long. She obligingly gathers him in, throws a leg over his trembling body to bring him closer and he makes himself small and savors it. Nuzzling into her skin and pressing lazy kisses to her skin, trying to say what can’t be said.

Susie finds words first, “Thank you.” she whispers into his hair, “You just gave me a precious gift. You should have seen yourself, a force of nature, Presley.”

He knows his smushed face is blushing and he tries to raise a hand to bat at her face, waggle her chin teasingly but it just flops aimless and enervated. Gah he’s really wrecked. And sleepy. He grabs at her harder as things start to slip in mushy and cloudy softness. She squeezes back just as hard.

“That’s it Mopey,” she gives him head scratches and that’s when he slips away, downwards but it’s not into blackness, it’s into warmth, “drift off, I’ve got you. I’ll be here when you wake up. Maybe hold you to that ‘later’ you swore to me.”

#elvis fanfiction #elvis presley #elvis fanfic #elvis imagine #elvis

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