#the other part of why she is so short and round is that short fat people are very hot :pray:

[ahollowgrave]

Every time I lend out Odette data for screenshots with people, I always get at least one shot of OCs standing next to (towering over) Odette and some comment along the lines of "SHE IS SO SMALL" and it makes me teeheehee for real!!! The only time this doesn't happen is if I've linked mare with someone and we've RP'd before, and even then I usually get a DM about it x) I can't leave field of view alone for better or for worse so no one ever knows Odette's height until they see her next to other OCs. But she's part lalafell (her family line is traced back to Sil'dih) which is part of why she is so short and round!

[rs-hawk]

Could you do a modern day female orc x female reader? I see very little now

Sure! A lot of my short stories tend not to be modern set so that might be why for me.

When you saw Cassia for the first time, your heart fluttered. Your chest felt tight. Your lungs were tight. It was like you were struck all at once. Was this what love at first sight felt like? It was a whirlwind romance, but after only a few days of talking, she was inviting you out to drinks. You flushed when you said yes.

Of course, you forgot that Orc bars are not the same thing as human bars. There were similarities, the loud music, the loud patrons, and the stench of liquor and sweat, but the way that the Orcs interacted with each other was something you never thought about, and definitely didn't expect.

Cassia, being a large woman, with large, thick tusks that put even many male ones to shame, commanded respect the second she walked in. All eyes were on her, and your face flushed darkly under the gaze of the other Orcs. Once the two of you sat down, the bartender didn't even ask you what you wanted to drink. He just slid a glass of clear liquid towards you.

"it's pretty much the only thing humans can drink in here," Cassia explained, taking what was clearly her usual from the bartender who winked at her as he handed the glass to her.

"Is Orc liquor that much stronger?" you asked, looking at her glass curiously. Was it really stronger, or was it just that Orcs are so large that it doesn't affect them the same way?

She laughed, tilting the glass towards you. "If you're going to eye me so suspiciously take a sip and see for yourself." When you leaned forward, she leaned in, whispering in a voice that made heat pool between your legs, "a sip, human. Remember."

And you did. You took a sip, and she was right. Whatever Orc liquor was made of was way too strong for humans. If you had drank much more than that, you'd be black out drunk already. You laughed, and the two of you seemed to be getting along really well. You kept leaning over, touching her arm, batting your eyes up at her. Every time you did, it made her smile, or laugh. She was clearly enthralled with you too.

Before too long, both of you were drunk. "I have to pee," you announced, staggering to your feet.

"I'll go with you," she offered, getting up on her unsteady feet.

The two of you leaned against each other, with you obviously leaning more heavily on her. Once the two of you were done, and washing your hands, Cassia looked over at you.

"You're gorgeous," she muttered, her eyes now hungry as her gaze stalked up and down your body.

Goosebumps sprung up under her gaze. "So are you. I don't think I've ever seen a more beautiful woman," you whispered, eyes round as she leaned forward to finally kiss you.

The kiss was rough, and you had to be careful because of her tusks. They scraped the side of your cheeks, but you didn't care. Her mouth tasted like liquor and gum, and you hoped your breath didn't smell or taste bad, but that thought only came to you for a moment as she lifted you onto the counter. Part of you wanted to protest, but between the intoxication from the liquor and the intoxication from how good she was making you feel, you didn't dare.

She slipped a hand down your pants, pressing her fingers to your soaked cunt over your panties. "So wet already for me," she moaned, pushing your panties to the side to be able to tease you with one of her large fingers.

You spread your legs, wanting to give her more access. "So good. You're so good," you moaned back, grinding your hips against her finger.

It wasn't long until she had brought you to the edge of an orgasm, where you were whining and begging her to let you finish. However, when she dropped to her knees, ripping off your pants and panties, you almost cry in anticipation. Her fat tongue works over your desperate cunt perfectly. Her finger now circling and teasing your clit as she lapped at you, parting your lower lips with her skilled tongue. Tears pricked your eyes as you felt yourself tettering on the edge as she played with your body.

"Cum for me. I want to taste you," she groaned against your skin, reaching up with her other hand to fondle and play with one of your breasts, lightly pinching the nipple.

Almost on command, you cum, covering your mouth to keep from screaming, though you're sure the whole bar knows what the two of you were doing in here. After the waves of pleasure crashing over you subside, she kisses your inner thighs, her tusks scraping the soft skin there, threatening, but also comforting. Such a dangerous creature is so gentle with you.

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[demiesworld]

The toji eating out reader was HELLA good😍 maybe you could do one for gojo? Please?

EAT IT TILL I FAINT! | satoru gojo

☆ — pairing: satoru gojo x black!chubby!fem!reader

☆ — contents: nsfw, oral (f receiving), pussyeater!gojo, daddy kink, blindfold, dirty talking, overstimulation, dumbification, squirting, fingering, multiple orgasms, face-sitting, just the usual filth

☆ — notes: reader is female and she is black. i wrote this with a black reader in mind. reader's pronouns are she/her. this shit is gonna be like a water park so get your floaties ready. title came from megan thee stallion's "eat it" which i was listening to while writing this lmao

You and Satoru had been dating for several months before he wanted to officially make you his girlfriend. The chemistry you two had was strong and Satoru knew you were the one for him. You were a gorgeous woman, a thick and chubby one at that, and you didn't shy away from wearing clothes that would show off your figure. Satoru liked to see you in body hugging dresses, specifically short ones to show off your thighs, and in denim shorts that had the roundness of your ass looking phenomenal. He couldn't resist the temptation of squeezing your ass or groping your thighs whenever you two are out in public or even at home.

While you and Satoru had already had sex around a month into dating, one thing that Satoru hadn't done for you was eat you out. He wanted for you to experience it, however you would decline his efforts and just get him to finger you instead. So when one night after you came out of the shower fresh and clean, ready to go to bed, he popped with the question.

"Why won't you let me eat your pussy?"

You visibly flinched when he asked, but answered anyways, "Because I just don't want for you to do that Satoru."

He moved from laying down on his stomach to kneeling on the bed. Satoru's hands rest on your knees when he pushes his body between your plump thighs and then blurts out, "Have you ever had your pussy eaten out before?" His piercing ocean blue eyes locked on your deep brown ones.

Your eyes look away from his stare, and like a child cornered by their parent you whisper, "Well... no... but-"

Satoru abruptly interjects you from continuing, sassily sucking his teeth, "Tch. You can't just tell me 'no' because you've never had your pussy ate before, baby. You gotta try new things to see if you'll like it instead of outright saying 'no'."

You were about to argue with him, but Satoru stuns you by pressing his lips to yours. You could taste the faint linger of candied oranges on his lips. It was a reflex for you to kiss him back, parting your pillowy lips and curl your fingers to the undercut. He mutters a husky, "fuck" before he's ravishing your mouth. Your boyfriend's tongue slid into your mouth and began to explore your cavern with vivid familiarity.

In the midst of a break, when your lips are away from each other and you are just gasping the other's air, you breathily asked, "Satoru what are you doing?"

He briefly pecks your lips after you asked the question. Then he answers panting, "I'm, ha, going to show you how it feels." Satoru kisses your plump lips chastely and then reaches his hand in between your fleshy things.

His fingers stroke your puffy folds through the thin layer of panties you're wearing. There's a wetness forming underneath the fabric and Satoru feels his cock straining in his pants. You get excited so easy, from things as simple as a kiss from him. He runs his fingers up and down your dampening cunt listening to you let out soft gasps and sweet moans. You grind your hips towards his hand as you pull him in closer for a deeper kiss. Satoru hooks his fingers on your panties and pulls them to the side, anchoring the string on the cleft of your fat pussy. The cold air that blows on your slick pussy causes you to shudder and hiss from it.

"Satoruuuu... fuck...." you moan out.

The white-haired man puts two fingers inside of your tight pussy at once and it stings from the stretch of it. You whimper on your lover's lips when his slender digits rapidly pump your entrance. Satoru's teeth gnaws on your bottom lip, then tugs on the plump appendage until he lets go of it wetly. He looks into your glossy brown eyes as he fucks his fingers, curling them upwards and stimulating your sweet spot with them.

A gasp is pulled out of you when you feel the tips of them touching your spot. You vigorously roll your hips forward to his fingers and toss your head back as you whine out his name. "Satoruuu.. baby you're gonna make me- c-cum!" Your toes curl on the bed, and your legs begin to tremble as he speeds up and savagely stimulates your sweet spot. You threw your head forward and look down at his two slender fingers, disappearing and reappearing into your heat. Your stomach tightens into a knot as you watch the action go. Satoru's forehead presses against yours as his ocean blue eyes stare at your erotic pleasure-filed faces. He pushes his fingers in deeper, doesn't move them but instead wiggles it against your sweet spot. His thumb flicking at your clit when he does so. At these actions, you frantically kick your legs onto the bed and whimper hysterically, "Fuck, fuck, fuck, Satoru! Sato-Satoruuuu!" You let out a scream when you cum all over his fingers. Your cunt spasms around them and slick covers the long pale digits.

"Mhm, mhm, that's a good girl." Satoru plants a gentle kiss to your sweet lips. He murmurs approvingly, "That's a good girl." He pecks your lips again then he asks, "Now would you let me have a taste?"

You release a shaky breath, but you nod your head to his request. "It was how you found your body positioned over Satoru's face. Your pussy above his mouth, and he was laying there on his back just waiting for you to sit down on his lips. His large gentle hands were stroking your hips as you were still uncomfortable with doing something like this to Satoru.

He could sense your hesitation, which is the reason he asked, "Are you okay baby?"

You shake your head and your thighs quiver. You reply to him, "I'm scared I might suffocate you Satoru."

"Tch, baby you won't hurt me. Listen... if you turn out to like it a lot, you can ride my face." He rests a hand on your thick thigh, caressing your smooth skin in circles. Satoru watches as your eyes shift over to the nightstand where his blindfold is at then look down at him. "What's wrong pretty girl?"

You don't respond to him; you lean over and reach to grab his blindfold and play with it in your hand. Your brown eyes glance at his, every second before you finally gave in.

"I want for you to wear this, w-while I'm doing it... please?" The last word comes out in a squeak, and Satoru finds it adorable.

He affectionately smiles as he carefully takes the blindfold out from your grasp and puts it around his head. His sight is immediately black, and he couldn't see you anymore, though he could feel you still hovering above him. The taste of your pussy is just inches away from his lips. Satoru swallows in anticipation of it, and licks his suddenly dry lips with his tongue. The tightness in his pants is painful, though not as painful as waiting for you to sit on his face.

You inhale sharply, then exhale. "Okay," you mutter to yourself, "I'm about to lower myself down o-on your mouth Satoru." You shut your eyes and look up at the ceiling as you slowly drop your pussy down onto your boyfriend's mouth. "J-Just please b-be gentle- hm!" You jolt when you feel his tongue lap at your slit languidly. "Satoru, ha, be gentle, please!"

Satoru's hands firmly grasp your round ass and yank you closer to his mouth. The first swipe of his tongue tasting your delicious nectar drove him insane. He was sucking on your fat folds, and rubbing them together with his lips. He lets them go with a wet smack before repeating the action again and again, until your slick is drenching his lips. Your back arches forward and your hand reaches down in between your thighs to tug on Satoru's hair.

"Ahh! Satoru, fuck! Oh my god!" You cry out and look down at the blindfolded male in a sensual awe, "W-What are you do-ING!" You squeak when he slithers his tongue inside of your heat and was wiggling the appendage around. You choke on a moan, clenching your pussy around his tongue as your slick covered his reddened face. "Satoru! Oh, Satoruu!"

He gave your ass a hard smack while he fucked his tongue inside of your gummy walls. Your body twitches upon hearing the "mwahs" of Satoru kissing your pussy, and the sounds of his spitting on it before he eats you out like you were his last meal. Your mouth goes slack and you tighten your grip in his hair. "D-Daddyyyy!" You whine out, rocking your hips against his tongue. "Daddy you're gonna make me cum again! Hm!"

Satoru slid his tongue into your entrance and moved his face close enough for his nose to be rubbing against your clit. He shook his head side to side and the intense wriggling of his head brought you to your next orgasm. Your stomach felt tight for a moment until you released all over Satoru's handsome face. Your essence squirting out in a stream and dampening the blindfold he was wearing. You were writhing throughout it, and wailing out his name in high-pitched moans.

"Satoru! Satoru! Satoru!"

"Hah.. hah.. oh fuck, god you taste so good baby." He compliments, then reaches his hand up to pull the blindfold off of his eyes. You looked down and observed his current state. He was panting heavily underneath you; his white hair sticking to his forehead and a thin sheen of your slick covering half of his face. You wanted to cum again by the erotic sight of him. "Think you can go a few more times?" His mouth kisses you tenderly on your inner thigh. "Mwah, can you give me some more baby?"

"Yes daddy, fuck daddy, can I-" You wanted to ask if you could sit on his face again, but you got shy.

Satoru licks your brown skin and gingerly kisses it. "Hmm... you don't have to ask to take a seat baby. Just go ahead and sit down." He lays his head down on the pillow whilst his hands are caressing your fleshy thighs. He rasps, "Sit on daddy's face baby."

You couldn't explain why that unlocked something within you. All you could do was grasp Satoru by his hair and promptly sit your pussy down on his face. Your dazed eyes looking into his own as he was devouring your pussy nastily. You whimpered when his mouth was sucking on your clit and alternating with quick flickers of his tongue. A gasp shoots through your mouth, and you bite down on your bottom lip still maintaining the eye contact. Satoru hums against your throbbing nub, wrapping his arms over you thighs and narrowing his blue orbs up at you.

Your hips gently rock forward and you desperately mewl, "Daddy your t-tongue! Fuck, keep doing w-what you're doing with it!" You squeal when you feel his fingers suddenly slide into your entrance and pump fervidly in your slick walls. A strangled noise comes out of you, and you let go of his hair to lean over the headboard and twist your hips agitatedly. "Hm! Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuCK!" you feel the room shatter as your pussy spasms around his fingers. You cover your mouth with your hand as tears fall down your cheeks and you squirt all over Satoru's face again. "Hmm! Hm! Mm!"

Satoru presses his fingers flat against your sweet spot, and the action causes you to hiss and snarl at him. "Fuuuck! Oh fuck Daddy you're so fucking good for me!" Your voice then breaks down into a whimper, "Pl-Please don't fucking stop!" You go on to ramble about how good he is, and not to stop while he pushes your body off of him and lays you gently on your back.

"Oh, please Daddy, fuck," You babble, your legs trembling and shaky hands wrapping around Satoru's broad shoulders as you lower him down for a filthy, tongue kiss. He is just as drunk off of you as you are him. The kiss is literally just his tongue lazily lapping at yours breathing in your oxygen. Soft moans passing in between quick breaths.

His hand goes in between your thighs and he draws quick circles on your puffy clit. You squeeze one eye shut, and arch your back while squirming and whimpering. Your chubby wet pussy is so obnoxiously loud with the noises it makes. The squelches are raunchy.

Satoru is speaking in a rushed, soft tone as he rubs on your clit. "It feels good when I eat it yeah?" You nod your head and hum in approval. "I know it feels good baby." Satoru kisses you intensely before plucking his lips away. "Now lay back beautiful... Daddy's not done with his dessert."

You lay down on your back, and Satoru asks for you to hold your legs up to your shoulders. Your knees are pressed against your chest and his head is in between your thighs. You wiggle your hips towards his mouth, biting down on the corner of your lip as you do so. Satoru smirks at your newfound interest. He spreads your puffy folds apart and sticks out his long pink tongue. You arch your back up from the bed, and your toes curl when his appendage slithers into your slick abused walls with little resistance. You could see stars in your vision and your brown eyes go cross as you're fucked into another state of ecstasy.

"Haahhhhh~ Sato- ruuuuu~" You coo out.

He goes to town on your swollen cunt. Satoru's tongue is like magic as it works its way back and forth in your gummy hole. You're babbling out words, "Yes Daddy," "Don't stop," "Oh god," and letting out cute little squeaks. He slides his tongue out after collecting some of your cum on it then spits it back onto your throbbing clit. He slurps on your hardened nub along with putting three fingers into your heat. He dives them inside and curls them upwards against your sweet spot.

Satoru grinds his erection against the bed, humping it while he eats you out. A low moan courses through his mouth at the friction he receives. The white-haired male's eyes roll into the back of his head as he jerks his hips forward and promptly cums inside of his pants. He feels his hot cum drench his underwear and smearing inside of it. After he cums, Satoru moans onto your nub. He pops his glossy lips off of your clit. His fingers quicken their speed.

"That's a good girl baby, good fucking girl. I'm gonna spell my name on this nice sweet pussy. Hmm, fuck, I don't think I can get enough of it."

Your stomach tightens up, and another crash of lightning overwhelms you. Satoru howls, "Yes baby! Yes baby! Give it to me! Give it to me!" Your body violently trembles on the bed when you squirt for him one last time. He laps up the streams that you put out with his tongue. Satoru, then, suckles on your drooping wet folds, giving them twirls of his tongue and gentle nibbles of his teeth. "So good." His tender lips kiss your clit then goes to suckle on the overly sensitive nub. Satoru lets out heavy pants after sucking on your clit until he's diving his head back on it for more.

"Ugh, ahh, D-Daddy... fuck, hell Daddy... too much! T-Too muc-AHHH!!" You're startled when you briefly go through a dry spell of an orgasm and your cunt spasms.

Satoru finally releases his mouth from your pussy and he backs his head away from it to assess the damage. Damn your pussy looked fucked out. Your folds were glistening from your cum, and Satoru's spit. Your hole was fluttering as it was softening up from the torment he put it through. Then your clit was perky and swollen from him sucking on it like a straw.

Your boyfriend lifted his head up to you, his pretty brown and chubby girlfriend, then crawls on top of your body. He kisses you sweetly on your lips, letting you have another taste of your own cum. You lazily return the kiss, and let your legs go limp at his sides. Satoru swallows down your soft pleasured sighs. His right hand grope at your fleshy waist and left one rubs on your round breast. His index and thumb pinching at your nipple.

"Thank you, mwah, baby for giving me a chance." Satoru then looks you in the eye, "That didn't feel too bad now did it?"

You shake your head, smiling contently, "N-No... it felt really good. I-I didn't know I was going to like it that m-much."

He chuckles and lightly squeezes your breast, "Next time, now you know not to say 'no' to something you haven't experienced yet. Silly." He playfully flicks your nose and lovingly pecks the pout that shows on your lips. "I'm sorry, I couldn't help it. You're just too cute baby."

"You are r-right though... hmph... can we take a clean up Da- Satoru?" You almost let the term you called him earlier slip out.

Satoru grins and pretends he didn't caught on to that, but agrees to your request. "Yes we can clean up baby."

☆ — notes: ....i think i just came while writing this.... lmk what you think of this. reblog pls!

© demiesworld. please do not plagiarize, translate, or repost any of my work on any other platforms without my permission.

[aconflagrationofmyown]

Even Goldish in the Privacy of Bowls do it

A Sarge & lil Mama episode

circa 1966 (yes this got moved a little from original shooting time of the movie hinted at here-in, shh)

Elvis Presley x original character -chart refresher for kid’s ages HERE

Warnings: 18+ -y’all, this is perhaps my most unhinged attempt at chaos yet. Finally we’re getting to see more of the kids, maybe more than wanted when a man’s just trying to grab a quickie in the shower with his wife. Warnings include unhinged family chaos, filthy smut, Elaine using firearms, brief mention of animal death by gunshot, brief mention of implied young children sleeping in their parents bed/bedroom while past sexual activities may have taken place, and -PLEASE NOTE- multiple references to an eating disorder on Elvis’ part. Troubling issues like this are integral to him and his mindset at the time so I include them, but please be aware there’s language in here that’s dismissive and condoning at times by certain individuals, just as it’s pleaded against by others. Along with brief body issues and shaming. Just a caution.

Word count: 12k -hope ya missed my tomes lol

Thanks: ever so much thanks is owed to many for their help and support but particularly to the dolls who made this so much better worse with their suggestions. Calling out @missmaywemeetagain @elvisabutler @eliseinmemphis @ab4eva @stylespresleyhearted

Summary: when Elaine visits the Colonel’s bungalow early on a Hawaiian dawn to defend her man and his appetite for her fried chicken -bringing along a loaded firearm for emphasis- the pelicans aren’t the only things startled.

Seven o’clock in the balmy hours of a Hawaiian morning, a solitary gunshot broke the peaceful silence and sent the beach birds squawking into the jungle’s dense foliage.

As seven AM was an ungodly hour of the day to expect anything from a human being, Elvis Presley was still in bed, asleep, and finally settled into that sorta circadian rhythm that helped him sleep through nightmares, alarm clocks, voracious wives and the pokes and prods of three to five children in his bed.

But a gunshot was jarring enough he swam to the surface of consciousness long enough to fling an arm out and pat Laney’s sweet ass and mumble an inquiry as to wether she had any clue why someone was shooting a gun in fuckin’ Hawaii. Especially as he, the only one likely to do so, was, quite obviously, in bed with her.

Except Laney’s sweet flesh wasn’t anywhere to be grabbed the more he flailed his arm in the cold sheets and, with a sudden bolt of terror, Elvis sat up and searched about the room only to find her gone. Jack was, predictably, still clinging to the same pillow Elvis had mistaken as her. He felt a little validated by that.

Two more gunshots punctuated his growing alarm and before two seconds had passed he was flying out of bed despite the way Jack’s legs clung to him and he exited the bungalow door with nothing but his silk night shorts on and espadrilles.

“Laney? The hell are you, woman?” he bellowed out the veranda with caring bravado.

No answer. Which didn’t mean much but it was harder to shake shit like this since the recent uptick in hate crimes and the way those girls had jumped her at their own gate last summer. His knuckles ached at the mere memory of the pummeling he’d given those tarts’ car hood. Nothing funny or harmless about it.

“Laney!”

Jesse barreled out shortly after and stood beside Elvis with a mimicking pose of concern, staring out at the beach with his hands on his hips, surveying the glittering water in the fresh sun’s rays and the undisturbed sand for miles. She wasn’t anywhere to be seen for that long stretch of golden beach.

“You seen your mother?” he asked Jesse sternly.

“No sir, didn’t hear her go out either. She not in bed?”

“No, and I didn’t hear her either. Neither did Jack and he’s always wound round her like a sloth to a branch.”

“Maybe she’s the one doin’ the shootin.” Jesse ventured with a mild expression of hope.

Father and son were both recalling when Elaine had given Elvis ample complaint and ample warning to do something about his reprobate pet chimp and when nothing was done and a child was harmed, Laney stalked into the den where Elvis and the boys were going over rehearsals and asked if he’d like to do the honors of shooting the damn monkey. When he laughed her off she trumped upstairs and the next thing Elvis knew was Tink clipping past the den and out the front door in her heels with his shotgun in her hand, while poor, unfortunate Scatter was being carried by the scruff of his sailor costume.

By the time Elvis caught up with her she’d put five holes in the hairy little pervert. To be perfectly honest he was aghast at such overriding of his jurisdiction but it didn’t prevent him from appreciating that when she meant business, she meant it.

So, it was plausible Laney was shooting something at seven am, and that was one of the reasons Elvis loved her. The only trick was, there was no Scatter here, no enemies in the general vicinity for her to be shooting at.

Elvis commented as much to his young son in grave deliberation.

“ ‘Cept for the colonel.” Jesse pointed out blithely and at that excellent observation all of Elvis’ blood felt like it rushed to his brain and pounded within like a tribal drum.

“Oh sweet merciful Jesus-“ Elvis wheezed and took off from his porch in a sprint along the beach hedges, towards the colonel’s adjacent bungalow, the roof of which -now that he was looking- appeared to have smoke coming out of its abnormally saggy thatch.

“She didn’t like it when he called ya fat yesterday!” Jesse was still hell bent on a little redeeming PR and Elvis waved at him with the back of his hand in acknowledgment that, if Laney was murdering, it would be for him.

And his fat self.

And for the reputation of her fried chicken that Elvis had been laying off of ever since he got so damn pudgy no director would hire him without contractually asking for a little casual bulimia on the side.

It was all part of the business, the snow job of an available and attractive man made harder by the real life presence of a wife and brood of children. The addition of a decidedly fatherly gut wasn’t gonna make them money.

He got it. Laney didn’t.

He tried to jog faster through the sand before she put her fingerprints all over the scene.

Inside the bungalow Elaine fanned the smoke out of her face with red tipped fingers and kept her diction very clipped as was most effective with this self consumed weasel.

“Am I understood? No more sedation and no more starvation and stop recommending those damn uppers that keep him buzzing while his body goes undernourished.”

Elaine still gripped the shotgun barrel, right there by the racker thingy but Parker had watched this woman long enough to know that if he agreed, then she would be pacified enough, he’d live to see another day.

“I get you, Mrs. Presley,” he assured in a pleasing tone, one that always suggested she started this long war between them, “no more. It was the business I was thinking of, it is my role. And yours is to nurture. You cannot expect me to have the same leniency as a wife, but I bow to your superior discretion.”

“You’ve kept him from home, colonel, robbed him and my children of valuable time together just because he knows he’ll be tempted to eat when he’s home. You’re a cruel, heartless Scrooge, that’s what you are. And this ain’t over.”

“It was merely business, Elaine.” he looks close to crying and she feels tempted to blast another shell into his roof.

“It's not your fault Colonel,” she steadied herself and he always liked how she was not so emotional like some women, even if she was icier than Elvis would ever admit, “I wouldn’t expect you to know what appeals to women, you never had the chance to appeal to them yourself. But I’ll tell you now, just for your excelsior betterment, some women like a sturdier man, some women like more cheeks on their husband, and your gravest omission when thinking of his appeal -a slight ponch rubs ever so delightfully on a woman’s clitoris when making love. You have heard of those, haven’t you? Maybe not, I’ll leave you to peruse the encyclopedia. It’s under C.”

Elvis got smacked in the face by the opening door as she stepped out right as he barreled in.

“Good morning honey, why on earth are you awake?” she greeted blithely as the door swung behind her and she raked his bed head back into place with her hands.

“Because you were shootin’ up the damn island.” he cried, “The hell’s goin’ on, Tink? You kill the colonel?”

“No. Of course not.” she rolled her eyes, “I’m just on a roll, keeping varmints in their places. It was his turn.”

“What’s he done wrong?” Elvis was aghast.

“Oh honey we haven’t got the time for all that on such a perfect morning.” she laughed instead, “C'mon back to bed, when you wake up again I’ll make you your favorite.”

“I can’t have flap jacks right now, Laney, you know that.” he mumbled sullenly as they turned back to the path leading to their own bungalow.

“Yes you can.”

“Says who?”

“Says the woman who owns ya before God, that’s who.” Elaine retorted sharply and he sucked in a breath in appreciation of the vindictive mood still clinging to her. He should chastise her for her language but right now he didn’t wanna shift the mood. The racked gun at her side may have added to the thrill a little.

“You’re real pretty totin’ that thing around in just your kaftan.” he complimented

“Oh Naughty.” she breathed, a little blush flaring on her face. His simple little sweetnesses still getting to her far more than any of his wiles or spice.

“Really, just so pretty, sun’s gettin’ in your hair like it’s what it got up to do this mornin’. S’all gold.”

“Oh naughty, hush.” Elaine felt a fit of compliments coming on and was a little rusty at receiving them, truth be told.

“Why can’t I tell ya you’re pretty?” he laughed.

“You can.” she shook her head in amusement and tried to keep walking but his narration stalled her a few steps down the path.

“Your legs are gold too.” he was saying “Is this like your witchin’ hour or somethin? Do I gotta get up at ass crack a’dawn to catch ya like this?”

“I am in a kaftan, Elvis. And this is hawaii, hardly a new sight.” Elaine laughed herself.

“Yeah, and the sun sure goes right through it.” he was admiring the way her legs were shapely shadows under the cream linen, the illuminating ball of fire in the sky giving him a little show. “Is this how early I gotta get up to see this?”

“You’re sleep deprived, that’s why you’re so astounded by a woman in a kaftan, c’mon and I’ll help ya get back to sleep.”

“No, no I don’t wanna go inside yet.” he objected like a child in the middle of his construction when the dinner bell goes off, “There’s kids inside.”

“Yeah there are.” Elaine’s lip curled in wry amusement.

“Colonel gets ya alone but I don’t.” he wasn’t saying it accusingly, just a contemplative pout and Elaine shaded her eyes to watch his face as he stood in front of the glittering ocean, so bright its reflective rays were almost painful this early in the day. “Why’ve we got so many damn kids.” he joked, “Hardly see ya.”

“Aww well I’m here now.” she was touched and a little confused by this mood but she sauntered up to him, leaning the shotgun against a dune marker, and put her arms around him.

That seemed to be the right course of action as he gave her one of those soft little expressions that weren’t smiles so much as they were bashful little cheek scrunches of recognition. The extra cheeks on him made the expression almost intolerably cherubic. “You got up to blow his roof off but..” he can’t accuse her of not getting up to be with him, that was a damn lie, Elaine somehow managed a schedule that fit both the normal world’s waking hours and incorporated in his bizarre nocturnal clock, he very rarely was awake while she was asleep although the same couldn’t be said for him and this morning it nagged him, what little pleasant nothings he might be missing at seven in the morning.

“It don’t make a habit of it,” she reminded softly, “he just needed a talking to. It’s like spanking or putting a child to bed, never meant to disturb you and was gonna slip right back in next to you.”

“Yeah well, three gunshots kinda have the opposite effect, woman.” he shook her shoulders playfully.

“Well I think I got the message across.”

“What was the message?”

“I-“ Elaine paused to restructure her complaint into the mildest terms possible to preserve his sleepy temper and the peaceful scenery around them. “It’s kinda like you were saying with me! I miss you, the children miss you and it’s got nothing to do with movies and making money. You’re tired from the pills and from the starving and -lord, if I see you excuse yourself after one of my meals one more time just to hear you gaggin’ it right up, I’ll-“ she couldn’t quite finish that, wasn’t sure what she’d do but the most constructive thing she could think of after hearing it last night before bed was to visit the colonel and put some fear of God in him.

“How’d you-“ he scratched the back of his neck, sheepish.

“Oh heavens Elvis!” she pinched his cheek, “It’s the oldest one in the book for us women, when I didn’t shift the weight in two months after having a second set of twins it was recommended to me by all the other wives. Just because it’s old or common doesn't make it healthy and I’m just saying that if you’re unhappy and wanna fit in your old slacks then so be it, I’ll feed ya salads and cut down on the butter but there ain’t a single movie producer I’m gonna let stipulate or pay you to starve yourself. Sweet Jesus I- I know you like looking pretty but for god’s sake! You are! You are pretty, you’re Elvis Pretty Presley for the love of God and what are your children gonna think growin’ up watchin’ you treat yourself this way? It isn’t business, no! No! It isn’t! Hush up! It’s not! Business can be constructive or destructive and Christian business only builds up. Actin’ like a pagan by starvin’ your bodily temple that the Lord gave ya isn’t gonna sell us more movies.”

“You done?” he asked her after letting out a long whistle.

“No not quite,” she cooled her tone a little but stopped her hug to cross her arms and hug herself defensively, “Marlon told me they’ve been asking the same from him and he told them to go- well, you know. And they did. They’re still casting him in serious roles even if he’s not a breathing Adonis. They should be castin’ you in movies about human life not posin’ you like some cut out in a storyline.”

“Brando told ya this?”

“Yeah.” she said, “Because Brando’s manager does what he’s supposed to. I was just reminding the colonel that he is *your* manager which means he’s supposed to be your advocate not your damn jailor!”

“Sheesh alright,-“

“Elvis! It’s serious! I mean if Marlon-“

“God!- stop all this talkin’ about Brando, dammit!” Elvis bellowed and Elaine flushed bright red for an instant and it made him do a double take, thinking he saw a flicker of something new there but in an instant it was gone and -this was Laney, it couldn’t have been there in the first place, “Lord ya need to cool off.” he muttered.

He saw Elaine heave in a deep breath and cup her hand over her nose in that tell-tale way she had when she was regaining her control, started with the nose then the hand would go to the lips and then drop as she shook it out like casting out the damn emotions it collected before it fell to her side, diamond ring glinting in the morning light.

He wanted to say he missed her again, but that felt redundant. Instead he busied himself with observing how pretty she was and before he could voice that again, her eyes cleared and she smirked at him.

“Last one in is chicken.” she dared him before taking off over the sand, headed for the decently violent surf.

That was an old trick of hers, when shit became too real she just- played, instead. He felt it was for his benefit but maybe not, maybe it kept them both sane. He was as fond of the old trick as he had been the first time she pulled it in the studio back in ‘56. Elvis caught up to her about three paces from the surf and managed to swing her up in his arms and crash into the water together. After that first gasp inducing plunge and the salty sting up the nose, the water became a sparkling friend to them, and holding onto each other they surfaced and bobbed for a brief time, enjoying the sounds of the island waking up.

“So I guess I gotta get up at the crack a’dawn to do this with ya.” he griped again and pouted into her neck.

Elaine laughed and stroked the curling hair at the base of his neck, “If you want to escape the heat of the day and catch this lighting, then yes, yes you do. Otherwise, I’m here anytime you want me.”

“Why’d we make so many people!” his face puckered playfully for a moment, “I miss you!”

“I dunno, just sorta happened.” she fibbed herself and after a moment of disbelief he caught the joke and laughed too.

“I-I mean I try to be a good father-“

“You’re an excellent father .” Elaine butted in sternly.

“a-and part of that is bein’ with ‘em and I do try,” he laid his head back partially and let the water buoy him, “whatever you may say, I do try, but when I try I-I well, I let Daisy give me a haircut because she had her heart set on it and then when I get to the film set I’m told that was a ‘dis-reee-spectful’ thing to have done. I just can’t figure out how to manage what everyone wants from me. Just can’t figure it out.”

“Elvis, I don’t know why you’re caring so much what a half a dozen crusty old men say.” Elaine murmured, “Especially not when your wife finds your haircut rather fetchin’ and thinks the meat on your bones feel real nice when you’re up against me.”

“Oh?” Elvis tipped his head back up and seemed to register their close proximity for the first time. As if a switch had been flipped it seemed to be all his eyes could process, the material of her transparent kaftan clinging to what parts of her torso he held out of the water by his hold on her thighs and- Elaine thought it sweet how sometimes her man had a singular track in his mind and that was for sex, but just as singular could be some other focus and a near naked woman wouldn’t strike his as suggestive at such a time until he was made to notice. “Oh, Laney!” his eyes lit up as he surveyed his wife and then the coastline behind her, “Hell, baby, we’re alone, we’re genuinely alone!”

“I know.” her voice couldn’t keep from pitching low as she tightened her legs around his padded hips and watched in awed appreciation for the way his face’s coloring looked like it belonged in the blush splashed sea. “Seven am, for the lighting and for -the solitude.”

“Oh I like the lighting.” he muttered as if to himself as he swayed closer, eyes glued to her wettend lips. “And I like not havin’ all those damn people around. You get it don’t you?”

“Yes I do.”

“You tired of our friends?” he asked.

That could be trick question so she carefully shrugged it off, “Not really, you?”

“Not really just-“ Elvis pondered for a bit, his full cheeks squishing his mouth up and he looked the closest to his babyish self when he had married her than he had in ten years. “It’s just always so crazy ‘round us and I -I want more of this. Just not at seven am. I’ve got a naked woman in the ocean and I’m so sleepy I can’t even stay on track to get in her!” and he laughed ruefully.

“You can just kiss me?” she begged, “Kiss me and we’ll get you back to sleep.”

As if he knew what kind of his kisses she’d been missing most in this fast paced life -for Elvis Presley had many different kinds of kisses for Mrs. Presley- Elvis brushed her hair off her face with gentle care before thumbing at her throat, making her pulse jump from the swipe of his thumb before he brought his lips nearer and nearer as her own trembled and puckered in anticipation until after painful restraint those two plush pillows caressed her own. And stayed. And stayed.

Stayed until the screech of a car peeling out on the path they'd just abandoned made Elaine look up and she saw the Colonel’s conveyance speeding inland after breaking to view their little rendezvous.

“I’m sure we cut a rather scandalous figure in here.” she realized.

“Where’s the scandal when you’re married?” Elvis scoffed. “Besides, not even the paps want a picture of me when I’m this fuckin pudgy-“

“-oh not this again!” Elaine growled, kneading said pudge with vigor as if it would get her point through him better.

“Laney, you're sick in the head, we’ve established this already.” he replied, teasing yet not entirely unserious, “What appeals to you ain’t a rule for the rest of the world.”

“Ha.” she tossed her head back, “Let’s talk about trends then. The trend is towards beefier, hairier men, less of this pristine crooner image, more of the beefcake -Redford, Bogart, that sorta thing.” Learning her lesson on the beach, she omitted Brando from the list.

“Neither of those men are fat.”

“And neither are you.”

“But I don’t look like a star no more-“

“-oh, oh trust me,” she crowed, “if you got yourself a role where you could play a man, a real , raw, gritty man, theaters would be forced to change their seat cushions.”

Elvis scoffed again but asked again with helpless curiosity, “W-what kinda man? I mean, I’m playing real men, honey. Whadda ya even mean, Tink?”

Elaine kneaded his shoulders and pondered the earthy, sultry lines of his face and the heft of his chest beneath her hands, “A working man.” she admitted. “Salt of the earth working man. A man they show working. That’s what I mean.”

“Want me to play a mailman or somethin?” he rolled his eyes. “Real innovative, honey. I’ve been a race car driver, a-a-a Cowboy, I-I’m playin’ a pilot now-”

“I mean a hefty, strong working man who crawls out from under a sink he just fixed and lays a lonely housewife on her husband’s table and gives her something to keep her company at night.” Elaine rasped in his ear.

She felt the gust of his shocked gasp against her wet ear. “Hell, Laney,” he choked, “this-this somethin’ you wanna play?” he sounded scandalized and eager all at once.

“Always, when you’re ‘in this state’, my dear.” she murmured, thumping at his back significantly.

“Hell mama, I could lay you out good.” he swore, going back in for another searing, messy kiss.

“Is everything alright boss?” a yell from the shore startled them both and Elvis fumbled with his grip on Laney’s ass to lower her further in the water for modesty’s sake.

“You’re a lil late, Jerrah.” he snarked back at his friend who was investigating gunshots from fifteen minutes ago. “But yeah, yeah all’s fine.”

“Yeah, yeah ok,” Jerry hollered back, slowly backing away from the beach and up to the hedges, “I can see that. That it’s alright, I mean, like, I can see y’all are very alright. I mean, yeah ok, I’ll go.”

“Why’s he actin’ so prissy.” Elvis grumped but began to ease them both out of the surf anyway.

“You know why it is.” Elaine’s color heightened and Elvis’ grin grew wildly proud. “We were mauling each other a bit.”

“Oh you’re thinkin’ of those early days, hmm? Fresh back from Europe and alllll the world clutchin’ their pearls over how much we loved each other. Fuck ‘em.”

“Elvis!” Elaine prostested, amused yet aghast, “We gave them some cause!”

“Yeah buddy we did.” his tone held masculine admiration for the memories of leading Tink away to a darkened alcove in her pretty jewels and silks and taking her up against one of the ‘Cabana’s marble pillars. He’d had to move so slowly not to attract notice that it was practically cockwarming with a little jive to it.

“Don’t forget the boat.” she pointed out as if she knew he was hung up on another memory.

“Ooh, oh the boat.” he clutched his chest as if she’d brought up the fondest of memories and he was an old man reviewing the best in the twilight of his life, “God you looked so damn good in those photographs, Laney.”

“Elvis! It’s not a proud thing to be the first “indecent” photograph on the cover of Life Magazine.”

“We were fully clothed! They’d no idea what-“

“Yeah, yeah just a man casually playing hoola hoop behind his wife, I’m sure. That stupid captain’s hat,” she pretended to bemoan, “if you wouldn't have been wearing that I coulda resisted and we wouldn’t be on Life.”

“Five years ago, ‘bout time to give ‘em a refresher on the faces you make when lil Elvis is hittin’ the spot.” he snickered at his own joke as she swatted him towards the stairs to their bungalow.

“Five years is not sufficient to dim for me the awful talking to the colonel gave us that night.” Elaine retorted wryly and watched Elvis’ broad back shiver at the recollection before he jiggled up the steps in just his soaked silk night shorts. She stayed below for a moment just to enjoy the dripping, meaty sight of him.

“Lord mama, what was all that for? Was that you?” a wall of young voices hit them as they stepped into their house, five children in various stages of undress and sleepwear scattered around the front kitchen area and worked up by excitement to an ungodly level of energy this early in the morning.

“Yes, that was me.” she admitted cheerily and Elvis loved her for it. “Oh heavens, we forgot the gun-“

“I’ll get it mama!” Jesse was up out of his seat in a flash. “What’d you shoot with it?”

She kissed his forehead in a good morning greeting and soothed, “There was a varmint out back, kept me awake all night so I took care of it.”

“Oh, that’s real cool, mama.” Jesse’s eyes filled with admiration before he backed outta the screen door and flew down the path to get the gun in a blur of blue swim drawers.

“Cool.” Elaine repeated and tested the compliment on her tongue as Elvis laughed in a tired rumble that reverberated against her back as he clung to her like a sleepy child, one hand around her waist, his chin on her shoulder and his other hand busy stroking a clinging Rosalee’s head.

“Yeah, you’re real cool.” he insisted, his voice warbling.

“Outta sight.” Daisy offered from her place on the floor amidst a pile of crayons.

“Mhmm!” Elvis grunted, all gritty and revved up in her ear and she shuddered from something besides her wet kaftan.

“Alright, alright thanks.“ she batted the air like she could knock the compliments down that way, while trying to spin in Elvis’ hold. “Your daddy needs his sleep. Woke him up with all that racket, y’all be good and I’ll be back to fix food. C’mon Mopey, let’s get ya tucked in.”

“But Jack’s in our damn bed!” Elvis bawled.

“Not for long! He’ll be up for breakfast, come on baby, let me tuck ya in.”

“Can’t tuck me in the way I need when he’s there.” Elvis grumped.

“Oooooooh.” Elaine drew it out in understanding before turning back round to address their sleepy little audience gathered round the kitchen table, “Y’all get the flour and maple syrup out for me, your silly daddy dunked us in the ocean so we’ve gotta shower off. I’ll be back.”

“I know how to make pancakes mama!” Ella piped up, suddenly very awake.

“Alrighty then, pancakes it is.” Elaine smirked and saluted her before leading Elvis into the adjacent master bedroom.

“You’re showering with daddy?” Jack grumped from their bed, his stuffed whale toy clutched and his blonde hair scattered across the pillow, “I need a drink, mommy.”

“There’s this great thing called a water faucet in the kitchen, son.” Elvis snarked, now he was the one tugging Elaine.

“Well I can-“ Elaine began before finishing with a little scream as Elvis hauled her bodily into the bathroom with him.

“S’real bad to let the salt stay in your hair for long, Laney, you know this.” he tsked before addressing Jack as he slid the door closed, “Mornin’ Trouble, hope that pilla kept ya good company.”

“You’re awful.” Elaine snickered behind him as she adjusted the faucets. “Having a rivalry with your own son!”

“You like gettin’ fought over, don’t you even try to deny it.” he murmured, coming up behind her to kiss her neck -and help her remove her kaftan. “And I can dance better than him. So it’s a clear choice, lil mama.”

“Yeah, but he doesn’t give me half the trouble you do.” she grinned, making fun of his nickname for the poor kid.

“You’d be bored to death without it.” he growled and it sent sparks down her spine as his damp and slippery silk shorts rubbed against her butt.

There was a knock at the door. Elvis quickly left off his romancing and bodily picked up Elaine and set her behind the shower curtain in the steaming bath.

“What?” he asked of Jack, because of course it was Jack.

“You’re not in yet.”

“Thanks t’you,” Elvis laughed, “now what?”

“My whale wants to go swimming with you.” he held up his fuzzy sea creature.

Elvis took a very nasally breath and held it, “Jack, there’s a whole goddamn ocea-“

“Elvis!” came a rebuke from behind the curtain and only the thought of Elaine naked and slippery back there gave him fortitude to begin again, although in a mockingly patient voice:

“Jack, there’s an entire ocean out there for you and your whale to swim in. He swam yesterday and I’m sure mama’s gonna take ya this afternoon. Now go eat Ella’s pancakes. Good mornin’.” and he shut the door.

He tore into the shower so fast he didn’t even shuck his swim trunks, spurred by the image of Elaine lazily wetting her hair under the spray. She looked at him and at his dripping silk shorts and the outline of little Elvis poking needily out the waistband and bit her lip to suppress a grin. It was pretty gratifying to be so wanted.

“Did you lock the door?” she asked breezily and saw the exhaustion cloud his face once more.

“No.” he admitted and stared at the shower curtain while contemplating the door beyond it, “Nope, and if he comes in, it’s on him what he sees.”

“The kid has seen a lot and it hasn’t deterred him yet.” she laughed.

Elvis still stared at the curtain, “Yeah, maybe we should take him to see someone ‘bout that.”

“Oh hush,” Elaine smacked his belly, “couldn’t be hereditary or anything, could it?” she joked.

“I did not cockblock my father at every goddman opportunity!” he railed, playfully backing her into the tiled wall.

“Oh?” Elaine grinned, “That’s not how Vernon recalls it.”

“Vernon’s a bastard!” Six years after Jack’s birth and Elvis was still aggrieved by the suggestion that his doppleganger was anything like him. “Just makes that shit up to justify remarryin’ so fast, actin’ like mama weren’t the best thing that ever happened to his sorry a-“

“I know, I know.” Elaine soothed, regretting this line of conflict. “Just teasing.”

“Don’t tease.” he begged, kissing her under the spray, “I’m tired and I don’t want it.”

“Ok.” she assured, returning his smooches, “No teasing it is then. C’mon now, help me, step outta of them.” she kneeled under the fall of water and peeled away his shorts.

It was a gift every time, pulling the fabric away to see her man and that alluring place that all his costumes and paraphernalia teased but only she got to see at the end of it all. Those deep and skimpy tan lines that marked her territory versus the rest of him that the world saw, like a sovereign country’s borders. Thighs thicker than usual and soft brown skin stretching over his fuller belly, that dark thatch of hair so fastidiously trimmed and leaky lil Elvis collecting shower droplets on his bubblegum pink head. She shifted on her knees and licked her lips, so impatient to taste him she had to force herself to finish the task of untangling his shorts from his feet.

“Think he’s gone?” she asked Elvis as he stroked back her hair in anticipation, spreading his feet to get a stance that didn’t make him knock his knees and crumple at the first throat tickle she gave him.

“Awful quiet.” he shrugged, a whimper caught in his throat as Elaine shifted closer on the hard tile and peppered his stomach with kisses, kneading those handles of his on his fleshy hips and nuzzling the little crease he’d begun to show where he’d once been cut and firm. Her tongue darted out and traced those lines lovingly and the way she held him so firmly to her attentions and the sweet arch of her back beneath the spray convinced him to view such things a little gentler, a little less obnoxious while his Tink’s mouth was worshiping them so gently.

Down she went, lovingly nuzzling and licking a path across his creases and up his thighs, nosing as his balls and rubbing her cheek against him before opening her mouth and letting Elvis guide his throbbing length onto her tongue. He clasped her head and started a rhythm, a gentle and steady pump to the back of her throat which she knew by heart, and when the cadence had been perfected he let her be and grabbed the shampoo and lathered his own hair before tipping his head back in the water and washing the suds out. Then he poured out a dollop again and, rubbing it between his hands, began to massage it through her locks, lovingly swiping any run-off away from her eyes and swirling hypnotizing little circles into her scalp.

That made her moan. It sent the damndest spark to his very toes and he thrust in harder, hissing and smiling down at her. She was smiling back -around a mouthful of cock. And she looked so pretty doing it, there wasn’t a sweeter or lovelier face to be found when she was hollowing her cheeks and stretching her lips and batting her sparkly eyes. Savoring the feel of a man’s meaty weight in her mouth, letting him gag her with aplomb. The suds squished under his grasp as lewdly as the slurping sounds Elaine made when her gasps grew short and she tried to sneak in a breath or two between his thrusts.

“Hell laney, you’re prettier than you ever been.” he realized with his chest fit to burst from love for her, her and the way she massaged his thick sides and the way she always smiled when sucking cock. The way she blew the Colonel's roof off over a point of honor, “How’d I ever get so lucky.” he muttered, realizing suddenly that she reminded him of those early days, before the babies -any of the babies- back when she was toned and lanky and bare faced. She had the prettiest smattering of freckles when her makeup was gone, he swiped the shower spray from off them.

She looked a girl again, the girl who gave herself to him for safe keeping.

She was trailing one hand down her stomach, flat and firm again, and down and down till she was playing with herself, he could tell by the way her arm moved in time with her head. He rubbed at her scalp again.

Another moan. His toes curl. His spine ran like hot lava.

It had been three years since…a baby. That would account for the toned and lean look, he had a sudden epiphany. Felt a fool for it immediately after.

It maybe wasn’t what they wanted but something a little feral and fond flooded his chest at this old Tink. Something told him to marvel at her, marvel at her like he had in her soaked kaftan at the beach. He had a beautiful wife. Damn stunning and he just -he didn’t see her enough, he felt. Odd, that.

“Laney, laney, hold up.” Elvis tapped her jaw and pulled her off him, chuckling as she wheezed in a breath, spit and precum sputtering thick and shiny off her lips and caught herself against the slick tile wall as if she had sparks in her eyes.

“What baby?” she gasped with eagerness, playing with the suds on her breasts and looking up at him coyley, knowing that tone meant her man had a notion up his sleeve. Probably a dirty one.

“I-I-I w-wanna, I-I wanna see you.” he begged and when she still looked lost he clarified, “I w-w-wanna w-watch ya p-play wi’yeself.”

Elaine’s face flushed crimson in pleased gratification at his adoring tone and with one last look of skepticism at his bobbing and visibly pulsing cock, asked with soft eagerness, “How’d’ya want me, daddy?”

Oh lord, it had been awhile since they played this game and his heart skipped a beat in anticipation. “Want ya to lay down on the tile, baby,” he instructed and watched as she sank back on her haunches without argument, slowly spreading her legs and scooting down until she was laying amongst the swirling suds, “Now, I-I-I w-want ya to spread your legs, baby, nice and wide f’me.”

Elaine did as asked, her hair swirling out in the eddy of water, her belly a canvass of sprinkles, letting her right foot push into the encroaching shower curtain a little, feeling a draft of the cold outside air rush in. “Like this?” she asked, her mouth dry from the sight of his bulk standing in a straddle above her.

“Jus’ like that.” he nodded down at her, his eyes darting all across her beautiful shiny self as the spray pelted down on her after breaking across his body, “Now this next part’s important to get right, Tink. Ya gonna be a good widdle bitty f’me, ain’t ya?”

“Yes daddy, I’d do anything for you, anything at all!” her voice rose.

“Then you spread those pretty pussy lips for me,” Elvis directed, “wanna see your itty bitty rosebud, gonna let the water do the teasin’ for us. Wanna see ya cum from the drip.”

Elaine did as she was told and stretched her labia, sucking in a breath as a small jet of water landed on her teased vagina. “Ooh, l-like this?” she hoped, sucking at her lip, trying to get on top of the teasing sensation.

“Fuuuck yeah, oh fuck, ‘xactly like that.” Elvis’ eyes were glued to her wobbling little petals, battered beneath the shower stream as he began to strip his cock with cruel, tight jerks of his wrist. Elaine nuzzled his ankle and glued her own eyes to his heavy sack, swinging above her in perfect view as it tightened up, guarded by those delicious, meaty thighs and her mouth hung open in craving. A drop of water ran off his heavy balls and landed on her forehead. “Oh Laney, you’re just perfect honey, jus’ perfect.” he praised. “It feel good?”

She was pretty sure if they kept this up he’d be spouting down on her face in a matter of seconds. “Yeah, it really does.” She craned her head back and stuck her tongue out in optimism.

—————-

Back in the kitchen a disgruntled Jack wandered into the little gathering of his siblings who were eagerly dishing out advice and praise to Ella as she capably flipped decently fluffy pancakes and stacked them onto a steaming plate.

“There, that should do for a start.” she declared and even Jesse and his ever growing appetite assented as he set the kitchen table with forks.

“Rosalee.” Jack sidled up to the auburn haired little girl trying to make a swan out of the paper towel Jesse had laid down as her napkin.

“Yeah, Jack?”

“Daddy said he’s gonna take us swimmin’.” he lied with the most guileless tone, “You wanna come?”

It was a calculated move, and a stunt Jack had pulled often to back up his own devices regarding monopolizing Elaine.

Rosalee went nowhere without her father and everywhere that her father did go, she went. And Jack knew this. She had meltdowns when she was escorted off sets and had meltdowns when she arrived at sets to find him holding his young co-stars instead of her. Jealous and sensitive, there was nothing more precious to her than time with daddy and at this news of an impromptu frolic, Rosalee clambered off her barstool so quickly she nearly split her head open.

“What are you up to, Jacky?” Nine years old with a head twice older, Jesse was onto him and stared his towheaded brother down with slanted gray eyes, “How is it daddy’s takin’ ya to the ocean when he’s washing the ocean off him as we speak? Don’t sound like somethin’ he’d do before going back. Waste a’time.”

“I’m just bearin’ the news.” Jack held up his hands, “It’s what he done told me.”

“But daddy’s gotta sleep, Jack!” Ella protested, always so keenly aware of her father’s irregularities and fiercely protective of his health.

“Ooooh leave off, he promised!” Rosalee whooped in joy and tore back towards the master bedroom with a maniacally gleeful Jack following on her heels.

Ella dropped the pancake plate onto the tabletop with a thump and Daisy immediately grabbed her fork and skewered four at once.

“Where y’all goin’?” Jesse cried out after trying to get a pancake of his own, abandoning it in favor of running down his two rogue little siblings who were about to start banging at the bathroom door like they had a death wish.

——————

Inside the shower Elvis felt his climax hit him like a freight train and bracing himself with one hand on the tiled wall, he watched with flitting eyes as his thick ropes of come joined the water shower to spatter across Laney’s chest and then down to the pattering of the stream against her pink house, then back up again. His thighs quaked and his belly shook and he kept stripping himself as wave after wave took over him from the sight of her down there, looking up at him with a pleasured grimace as the jetstream wiggled her nub. She had to be close, he could tell from the lines on her forehead and he managed to lift his foot and press it gently on her lower belly, jostling her womb like he did with his hand when he was inside. Her toes curled.

“Ya almost there, ain’t ya pretty girl?” he gasped, his own toes curling as lil Elvis didn’t seem content to flag after one shot alone, still standing stiff and interested in the proceedings below him. Elvis’ hand started to cramp.

“Elvis-“ her pretty pink tongue came out and touched her upper lip, her breasts jiggling with every big heave of breath.

Just then a round of knocks sounded on the door and if Elvis was any judge of distance -and he was a good one- he’d wager they were coming from someone about three feet off the ground and blonde as satan himself. “Not yet!” he barked, well past being patient.

“Elvis!” Elaine fretted below him, so close her eyes looked scared from desire. “I’m -“

“That’s it, that’s it you just take your time and feel it, sugar pie, that’s it.” he cooed to her and stepped over her, turning round in between her legs and running his foot further down, pressing on her little mound and after observing her hesitant moan, slipped his big toe along her soft seam.

The way her legs snapped closed like a trap spurred him on, as did her happy gasp as she thrashed and gripped at her chest like she was trying to hurt herself with the squeeze. He wiggled his toe in further, snagging her lil hole and plunging in, his leg shimmying in that controlled way he’d perfected on stage and she shrieked, happily, he was sure, except Jack didn’t know that-

“Mama I know you’re in there!” He demanded from behind the door, driven to outrage by neglect.

Laney was gorgeous when she was coming, and while often a moaner in the moments leading up to it -when propriety allowed- she was a silent screamer in the throes of it. Elvis kept up the merciless jimmying of his leg all the way through it and watched with distinct enjoyment a sight he rarely got to see from this removed vantage point. Caught in the vice grip of pleasure Elaine couldn’t humor her little brat any more than she could call on Jesus for help and Elvis just smirked down at her evilly as he kept the stimulation up. Kept it up until he was getting kicked in the gut by an overwhelmed wife.

The faucet stabbed his back as he stumbled backwards, laughing those hiccuping laughs of his and jostling his throbbing balls in one hand as Elaine cupped her mouth and tried to get her breath back. “You ok?” Elvis giggled as he knelt down and crawled over her to cup her wet cheek and bring her back down to earth. She was giggling herself, unable to voice anything but giving him a thumbs up to assure she was ok. He smooched her cheek vigorously.

“You’re still-“ she tried to form a full sentence but couldn’t.

“Those diet pills.” he whispered in explanation, gingerly still stroking his hard cock but over-sensitive cock. “It won’t go down, Laney.” he whined a little as he humped her slick belly, conscious that this was a lil pathetic to do on the shower floor but this is what he missed, moments like these where they could trust each other with all of it. He couldn’t stop himself now just to make it a little less animalistic, a little less needy. Truth was he needed her terribly and he didn’t mind her knowing.

Elaine’s hands came up and clung to the backs of his meaty thighs, as high as she could reach over his hips and she begged in a hoarse whisper that underscored the way her eyes were heavy and half mast “Sit, please, sit on my face, Daddy. Wanna taste you, I’ll get ya drained.”

She’d seen the chafed markings on her little friend from all the tucking and taping the wardrobe department had put him through, she’d tended to them with Vaseline and kissed the booboos goodnight. From the way she had her mouth open and her chin tipped back -Elvis knew what his wife wanted and with a weak moan he crawled over her again and at her insistent hands, turned back around till they faced the same way.

69ing he’d heard it called from a co-star. A filthy sorta indulgence that his ingenious wife had discovered on her own without the benefit of co-star gossip or ‘new wife’ magazines. “Gosh yes, yes that’s it, smother me baby, you're a hunk like this you know?” She gushed, gripping his hips firmly.

“Mama?” got yelled through the door along with another knock and a small racket as if there were reinforcements approaching -wether for Elvis’ cause or Jack’s, was yet to be seen.

“Go eat your pancakes!” Elvis hollered over the noise of shower spray.

“I need mama to cut them up!” Trouble hollered right back and Elvis looked down to see his fair temptress waiver at the sound of her son’s dire plight.

“Oh no, no you don’t, don’t even think it.” Elvis corrected her as he settled over her, a hefty thigh on each side of her face trapping her where he needed her, hard tile and grout lines digging at his knees. He patted at her belly and rubbed her hips as he stared ahead at the wall and slowly, almost apologetically, lowered his package over her sweet face. One ball slotted into her waiting mouth perfectly, aided by her eager little hands as she snuggled it onto her waiting tongue and with a contented grunt he muttered, “All you need to think about right now, my lil Tinkerbell, is how full and stuffed your lil mouth is with daddy’s sugar plums, how nice he is to give ya a treat n’how good you’re lil mouth is gonna make daddy feel, so good I just might kiss your lil kitty in thanks.”

Laney always got a little woozy when he didn��t give her a choice, told him it made her feel like goo inside and like she was a baby again -not in a bad way, mind. She loved it and he capitalized on it on occasions like this. After years together he’d come to understand she enjoyed a little sternness so long as he mixed it with affirmations and gentleness after. Something his younger and randy self may have been pitifully short on in his eagerness to sample her. So Elvis found himself able to squash the shame of teabagging his wife in the shower rather speedily, the obvious and untampered joy she took in the act helping him, as well as the feel of her rolling the damn things, one at a time due to size, in her mouth like his nuts were a Listerine swish.

How someone could enjoy gargling ballsack or having their noses smashed to an asshole was a little beyond Elvis, but when he said as much to her, Tink had told him she didn’t get how he could eat bloody pussy for hours.

After arguing this they had to call a truce. No accounting for taste. And since then, as a treat, Laney gets to suck his balls with the only addendum being she can’t lick his ass.

Never stops her from kneading it though, digging at the plain globes with her nails and pulling it apart -for his sanity’s sake he likes to assume she spreads it so she can get some air down there. He wishes he didn’t like that feeling as much as he does but hunched over her in the shower he has to admit the stretch of it feels rather good, combined with her suckling his sack. Little Elvis begins to pulse like he gets the memo. The better it gets, the greater the sensation becomes, the more he moans and shifts and bends double till he’s biting her thigh to keep quiet. In doing so he stops sheltering her little house from the spray with his shoulders, and with malevolent delight, he notices her jerk from the water jet.

It’s fun to watch from down here, her pretty pink petals getting battered and he adds his tongue into the mix on occasion and she thrashes and screams around his balls and he keeps his thighs locked against her cheeks, muffling it almost completely. He’s missed this, not just the filthy want for each other but -but the selfishness to do it. Sure he had been a cad in their earlier marriage, using her more like an animated glory hole than a cherished child of God, but they’d both trade the exhausted lassitude of the past year for that rigorous idiocy in a heartbeat. There’s gotta be some middle ground. He just can’t come up with the right balance with Tink mouthing at his balls like a feral harmonica player tearing up the riff to Orange Blossom Special.

“Daddy! Daddy when are you takin’ us swimmin?” That’s Rosalee’s voice, coming through the door and Elvis’ heart thuds to a stop for a moment in complete confusion as to why his lil pet expects that of him this morning, “I’ve been waitin’ patiently! Please daddy!”

She’s been waiting, by the door, this whole damn time while Jack’s been doing his regular, moronic behavior. She has been good. And somehow there’s been a mix up. He’s had little enough time to play with the kids on this set and Rosalee always takes that absence the hardest. The tile is unyielding beneath his knees and his resolve waivers.

“Oh sweetie I-I-“ he brings his fist up to his mouth to try to steady his wrecked voice, “sweetie I didn’t say nothin about that, did I?”

Elaine, callous succubus that she is, ignores his fatherly plight and begins to strip the base of little Elvis like it’s gonna spurt pixie dust for her. He falls down a little more in his kneeling posture from the intensity of it, forehead banging against her shin as he claws at the slippery grout lines.

“Jack said you promised to take us swimmin!” Rosalee sounds close to tears and it makes Elvis plan on wringing Jack’s little neck while the desperate need to cum rattles in Elvis' head until he’s humping Elaine’s mouth like a maniac. She digs in harder and he hides a sob as a cough.

Angrily he peels her pussy wider and let’s the jets sting her little nub, locking his legs resolutely against her cries until he sees a stream going in the opposite direction of the shower flow, a pretty little arc of fluid straight from her pussy and if it weren’t so diluted by the shower he’d know it tastes perfectly salty sweet. Satisfied with his revenge he covers her again with his back and lays his face on the tile between her legs, trusting her to either let him get up and console his poor daughter or else finish him fast.

Going with the first option becomes entirely necessary when he hears the door crack open and a cold gust of air rustles the shower curtain.

Panic gives Elvis’ voice a thunderous edge as he shouts:“The hell are you doin’? Don’t you dare open the curtain, don’t do it! Do not!”

“Oh daddy please don’t hit me!” Rosalee wails this idiotic plea like it’s a line from some dramatic afternoon Soap Opera, and Elvis is quite sure that’s where she learned it.

“Oh, s-s-stop the d-d-dramatics!” he begs, half to his children and half to Laney who seems convinced he can come from ball sucking alone, while he’s quite sure he can’t today.

“You promised!” Rosalee continues crying, very near the shower but not touching the curtain.

“Jack!” Elvis' voice thunders shakily.

“Yes Elvis?” the kid replies very calmly from the sink area.

“G-get out! Both of ya- get out.”

“I just wanted to take a bath with you!” Rosalee stays from sheer horror at having provoked such temper from her ever-loving father, “I’m sorry daddy! I-I-I didn’t mean to make you mad, honest I didn’t! Jack said-“

“Guys, what the- come on, get out!” That’s Jesse’s beautiful voice resounding in the bathroom, sounding like a general at nine years old and Elvis is gonna have to buy the kid another motorcycle for always being such a swell fella in times of need.

“But Daddy promised to take us swimming-“

“Guys out!” Jesse grabs ahold of Jack’s tshirt and starts tugging.

“But swimming-“

“Only Mommy’s and Daddy’s swim in showers, sometimes-“ Jesse insists.

“I just came to tell mama that Ella has caught the stove on fire-“

“Jack, liars go to hell.” Jesse reminds.

Elvis realizes then that maybe his thighs are squishing all the sound from Laney’s hearing and that perhaps she’s just coasting while enjoying her favorite hobby, unaware of exactly how nuts it’s gotten in here. Nuts was a bad word for it but- he starts to pull himself off her only to feel her teeth snap in protest at the thin base of his scrotum.

He can’t help his yelped,

“Laney!” that in turn spurs Jesse onto a frantic beg,

“Kids come on! Really, we need to evacuate now!” The poor boy sounds frantic and Elvis wishes he had the moral fiber to get off his wife’s face this close to the finish line. But he doesn’t, not for Jack, not even for Rosalee and any other sweet idiot spawn who didn’t obey the closed door policy.

This isn’t the first time.

Hovering as he is, balls clamped in a toothy prison, it’s like Elaine finally hears it all, processes her children and their proximity, finally gets it without the soundproof padding of Elvis’ thighs. She responds accordingly. Instead of abandoning their tryst as he expected, like a ninja geisha, she simultaneously grabs his cock and bends him backwards between his cheeks into her mouth, while raising her foot for Elvis to muffle his impending scream around some perfectly manicured toes.

To a chorus of wailing youngsters and one very admanet eldest son who sounds like a shell-shocked veteran encouraging the green troops to pull back, Elvis feels the persuasive suction of Laney’s mouth around his throbbing head, a flick or five to his weeping slit and he’s giving into her efforts, biting her toe to keep silent and smacking at the shower curtain in an attempt to stifle the need to move with his release.

Elvis shakes to the floor with an exhausted splat as his orgasmic loss of reality gives him a blissful five seconds of escapism where he lays, cheek down in the swirling shower drain, thanking Jesus and God and the Holy Spirit for his wife.

Elaine surfaces from beneath him with the invigorated gusto of a woman satisfied with her work, pulling herself out from beneath her man’s inert form only to be hit by a toy whale that’s been hurled over the curtain and onto her wet head -a last little defiance by a growling Jack who is getting tugged out by Jesse. An impressive throw, one Elvis is responsible for helping Jack perfect with the football many a summer’s night on Graceland’s lawn.

“Oh you silly thing!” she shouts with a laugh, “If any of you sprites are still in here, make yourselves useful, hand me those towels on the countertop.” she adds as she leans over Elvis, straddling him to turn off the tap, sticking just her hand out the curtain and making grabby motions with her fingers till the feel of fuzzy cotton meets it. “Thanks, sweets.”

“Why’re you so short mama?” Rosalee’s voice asks and Elvis groans beneath her on the floor.

“Cause I’ve been playing with sea creatures.” she explains without missing a beat and Elvis’ slick back starts heaving beneath her from suppressing his laughter.

“Oh.” Rosalee accepts it with a sniffle, having spent many hours in the tub or hot tub on her knees, the better to help her toys swim around.

Elvis rolls over beneath Elaine’s straddle and smiles at her with eyes still crossed from going to the grown man’s neverland. “Alright Rosalee, you run on now we’ll be out in just a minute. Promise.” he speaks up.

“And swimming?” she begs as she retreats.

“Well, uh, we’ll talk about that over breakfast.”

Elaine makes a sad face at the realization he’s not going to let himself go back to bed after causing so much heartache in their little people. “S’ok.” he insists, reading her mind and patting her thighs.

Hearing the latch click and the silence of privacy restored, Elvis clasps her by her neck and brings her face down to his, kissing her passionately, licking at her tongue and the traces of his spend on it. “You sure know how to love a man, Tink.” he murmurs, clinging to her warm body as the shower tile turns cold.

“All I ever wanted was to learn to be the best for ya.” she whispers, sweet and gentle.

“Born the best.” he insists, “The rest was just…a bonus.”

She brings the towels she’s been balancing out of the wet, onto his chest, and sitting up they rub each other dry, soft smiles and drowsy affection making them clumsy and open.

They stagger upright together and Elvis throws his towel around her and she throws hers around him and they’re cocooned in terry cloth this way, standing in the dripping shower, snuggled together and nipping at each other’s lips.

“How’s my lil friend.” she asks, sneaking a hand between them in the damp warmth of their burrow and cupping his harmless, shrunk little appendage.

“He’s good, he’s real good.” Elvis giggles, his cheeks turning pink, “Gentle with him now, he got wrung out by a cruel, lecherous gal.”

“He sure did.” Elaine grunts satisfactorily and it’s the most masculine sorta sound Elvis has ever heard her make, full of smugness and a dirty, gritty edge he can’t quite believe came out of his woman, his woman who is so polished and elegant most times. As if to underscore this departure from demure normality and diminish it all at once, Elvis feels her hand move again beneath the towel before an electrifying sting slices up his spine and down his leg from his freshly smacked ass.

“Laney!” he cries again, utterly aghast and pink as a baby and she can’t stand it anymore, standing on tippy toes to neck him some more, vigeorusly smashing her lips to his as she yanks the shower curtain open with her free hand

She steps out while Elvis lingers and bends down to retrieve Jack’s sodden whale plushie. He may wring the poor creature out more violently than necessary but it makes his wife titter.

“God! - I love you.” she insists, surveying her man as he steps out, his wet hair dripping in a boyish mop down his forehead and his lips kissed and bitten puffy pink and his cheeks bunched in a grin despite their bashful blush and the soft accumulation of fluff and good living filling out his chest and swelling his belly just that little bit. “Sometimes I think it’s gonna kill me, gettin’ to enjoy you, getting to look at you so much. Feels indulgent somehow, like you oughta be rationed to a gal, the same way you’re dosed out to your fans in little bits, one movie a time.” she laughs at her own silliness and he shakes his head shyly as he tucks his towel into a covering around his waist. “One day they’ll find me keeled over from palpitations brought on by starin’ too long.”

“That’s what the obituary’ll say,” Elvis snarks, “but you and I’ll know the truth of the matter, that you’re a lil squirrel who likes her nuts so much she don’t take time to breathe. Mark my words, that’s how you’ll go if you keep this appetite up.”

“Then I hope they accuse ya of manslaughter, right after.” Laney grins and he stalls with his comb in hand, raised to coiff his hair back, waiting for the punchline, “Because I don’t wanna be up there without you for too long.”

“Laney!” he repeats for the upteenth time this morning, but this time it’s hushed and his lower lip wobbles with emotion and his eyes swim, touched by the sentiment. Clearing his throat he adds, “I still wanna uh, sometime -yeah, uh sometime do that thing you were t-t-talking about in the w-water.”

She makes a puzzled face as she wiggles into a tiny pair of shorts Elvis bought her last month. She’s fit as hell, and he’s envious of it, and has to admit Jack’s overdue weening did serve one purpose at least, it thinned her out like nothin’ else coulda.

“Play handyman or-or whatever.” he blushes and turns his face away as he hangs up his towel, aware that they haven’t the time to linger over this with the kitchen possibly on fire and his children eager for a swim. “Ya recall? -what you were sayin’? Me uh, playin’ a handyman or plumber or, uh, whatever. Come visit ya.”

“Oooh that,” she goads playfully wrapping her arms around his belly once more, chin in his shoulder blades, “you wanna swing by Graceland and fix a pipe or two, find the rich and spoiled Mrs. Presley wasting away in her gold cage, rich but wanting in the worst ways? Hmm?” she runs her finger down the shell of his ear and it’s flaming hot to her touch, he must be red as her nails in the face, “Wanna take her on the table and give her what her posh movie star husband can’t? Wanna do that, huh Naughty?”

“God y-yes.” he stutters, head thunking against the wall in desperation at the mere

concept.

“Wanna make a movie of it,” she whispers into his ear, “like those ones Thumper and I made? Wanna make a movie so Elvis Presley has to sit and watch it later, hmm? Watch his wife get taken by a workin’ man?”

“Nghhh…” he growls smacking the wall, overwhelmed by memories and prospects.

“I see, well, that’s settled then.” Elaine murmurs before stepping away from their embrace, flicking his bare butt one last time as she laughs, “Only you would get the hots for cuckolding yourself.”

“Anything involving rearrangin’ your guts on a table gets me hot.” he mumbles defensively and Elaine smirkes at him with a promise in her eyes as she makes her way past him. He snags her back to him briefly by a finger in her back pocket, “Hey you,” he says adently with his hand cupping her jaw, “I love you too. I love you somethin’ fierce.”

~~~~~

“Daisy!” Jack’s voice warbled with betrayal as he entered the kitchen, “You didn’t!”

“Daisy!” Ella chimed in, whirling around from the stove to survey the kitchen table and her demolished stack of pancakes, “There was enough there to feed uncle Jerry and us besides!” she cried out as her little sister swallowed down the last of her syrupy goodness with a shrug,

“Oh, oh Daisy, oh my, that’s gonna -that’s gonna bite ya later.” Jesse sighed as he pulled up a chair and pushed around his abandoned, now cold and half eaten single pancake on his plate. “Your stomach’s gonna kill ya, Mae Mae.” he explained to a remorseless Daisy Mae.

“I was hungry.” she defends as Rosalee sullenly takes a seat next to her twin, “Sorry Rosalee, I shoulda saved one for ya.” she conceded but Rosalee shook her head.

“I don’t feel like eatin’ anything.” Rosalee moped.

“Why not?” Ella turned again from the stove, affronted for the reputation of her irresistible pancakes. “I’ll put blueberries in them and everything for ya!”

“I’m not hungry!” Rosalee repeated close to tears and her little chestnut bob swayed with her head shake.

“What happened to you?” Daisy grunted.

“Daddy got mad at me.” she whimpered.

“No he didn’t.” Jesse sighs, settling Jack into a seat by the scruff of his t-shirt, “He’d just told y’all not to come in and you disobeyed. He ain’t mad. He’ll be right as rain in a minute, hold tight.”

“He sounded mad! He sounded sad!” Rosalee’s tone grew in emphasis.

Jesse pinched the bridge of his nose and stared at his empty plate as Rosalee’s whimpers grew from just that to outright crying. “No, no look it’s-“ he glanced over at the stove to his twin who was industriously cooking another batch but not fast enough to circumvent Rosalee’ meltdown, “it’s like, when we all used to sleep in the big bed,” he chose his words carefully for optimal grief assuagement, “you know how some mornings you thought daddy was cryin’?”

“Yeah.” her little voice was garbled by snot.

“Yeah but he wasn’t, was he?” Jesse pressed his point, “He was just tryin’ to hold in his laughs so he didn’t wake you, while mama or Ella was ticklin’ him.”

“Yeah.” Rosalee cracks a small smile.

“S’like that.” Jesse reminded, “He ain’t sad. You ‘member how he’d start bawling when we started ticklin’ too?”

“Yeah.” Jack smiled in reminiscence of mornings when they’d all pile on top of Elvis and tickle him while Mama held his shoulders down. “But I know you don’t tickle people in the shower.” Jack fired back with six year old conviction, “Elvis hisself told me it wasn’t safe.”

Before Jesse was forced to choose between explaining further or else sullying his daddy’s reputation for safety ethics in the shower -or in general- the man himself and Mama breezed through the door, hair wet and as smartly dressed as always.

“Alright, alright, kids what’s groovin’ huh?” Elvis barreled in like his kitchen was his stage and topics of tickling and sadness were shelved, much to Jesse’s watery eyed relief, though he couldn’t quite meet his mama’s eyes when she scootched past him with a kiss to his head on her way to the sink. “Hey you I’ve got a present for you.” Elvis addressed Jack before plopping a very sudden and deformed whale plushie on the boy’s plate.

“Thanks a lot Elvis.” Jack muttered.

“Look on the bright side Trouble,” Elvis laughed while reaching down Jack’s back to grab a handful of his jean’s waistband, “all ya had to do was wait fifteen minutes and now mama’s got your glass o’water and your pancakes’ll be cut in triangles. Imagine that, patience.” and with that laughing admonition Elvis hefted Jack out of his chair by his waistband and proceeded to jostle his second born son in the age old manner often referred to as a wedgie. It even made Rosalee laugh and Jack hiccup from something they all suspected was enjoyment, although the kid would never admit it. “Alright, everyone alive and well? No fires?” He took stock of the place and found it comparatively tidy -little wonder as the kids didn’t have time to wreck anything, too busy knocking on his door. “Ella Bug those smell amazing and- Daisy, why’re you actin’ put out?”

“M’fine.” his daughter protested even as her face was folded into the identical sorta scowl that sold him a lotta records back in the early days.

“Is everyone mad at me?” he balked.

“No, she just ate fifty pancakes while everyone else was… busy.” Jesse cleared his throat. “Should enter her in a contest.”

“Oh Daisy, no!” Elaine swiped back her black curls and knelt by her, “Is your belly hurting?”

“Startin’ to.” Daisy was forced to admit through clenched teeth.

“Lordy, Mae Mae, that’s impressive,” Elvis murmured as he took his seat and, in a well worn routine, opened his arms and lap in welcome to a still sniffling Rosalee who catapulted into him, “what got into you?” he marveled as he tucked Rosalee into a snuggle and peppered her now glowing face with kisses.

“They were very good.” Daisy insisted and Ella beamed with pride over the stack of freshly made ones she carried to the table.

“Bet they were.” Elvis praised, tongue poked through his teeth laughing, “Glad ya enjoyed yourself at least.”

“Come lay down sweetheart, here on the couch.” Elaine led her to the adjacent wicker lounge. “Get you some ginger ale or something. Heavens, girly, the appetite on you!”

“Are you gonna eat with us, daddy?” Ella spoke up timidly as she took her own seat, the rather novel concept of her daddy at morning breakfast and the pride she took in her own cooking warring to make his verdict overly meaningful to her.

Elvis stared for a moment at the heaping piles of fluffy goodness with its melting pad of butter and sparkling syrup trickling to the plate as Jack voiced the very worry he had rattling in his head:

“That’s a lotta carbs.”

The whole table’s racket of pancake stabbing screeched to a halt and Elaine fumbled the glass bottle of ginger ale she had retrieved from the fridge to the very ground in her shock. “Jack!” she chatsized with more vehemence than the little stinker had ever elicited from her in his life, “Why on earth would you say a thing like that?”

Jack shrugged, although the combined weight of his family’s horror and Elaine’s blazing eyes made him timid, “It's just what the Colonel said. Last night. To daddy.”

“And why would you ever wanna sound like that good for nothin’ scallywag?” Elaine cried, “We appreciate a good appetite in this house, plenty of folks don’t have what we’ve got and we’re not about to thank the good Lord for his generosity to us by listenin’ to the worn out gimmicks of a corpulent glutton. Carbs! Maybe he should count some carbs-“

“Laney, laney.” Elvis moderated her with a shushing wave of his hand and she stilled, pinching the bridge of her nose in that way Jesse had learned from her and clipping over to Daisy with grief stricken eyes she hid behind her ire.

“Sorry.” Jack croaked while giving his mother the stink eye even as Jesse in turn glared at him, “I said I was sorry?”

“There’s nothin’ to be sorry about Jack.” Elvis insisted, eyeing his strangely cold wife as she tended to Daisy and got her a preemptive barf pan. “You were just statin’ nutritional facts and if you’re gonna be a scientist one day, your interest in ‘em will serve ya well. Now Ella, dish me up some a’those sticky carbs, won’t ya?”

Ella beamed and quickly stacked up a steaming pile on her daddy’s plate, presenting a blushing cheek for his kiss just as Daisy lost her battle with the bellyache and puked into the bowl Elaine held for her.

“Well that’s an appetizing sound.” Jesse pushed his plate away with a joking grimace and he and Elvis shared a silly moment that almost made Jesse forget about the shower and his subsequent vow never to look his daddy in the eye again.

“Poor Mae, Mae,” Elvis sighed, stabbing his pancake and making a show of chewing it obnoxiously for Ella’s benefit.

Elaine couldn’t help but smirk, even as she dabbed at Daisy’s mouth with a cloth, amused that her man was moaning louder over pancakes than he did from her attentions in the shower.

“So,” he spoke up as he scarfed them down, “what’s this about swimmin’? Hmm? For the record I never promised anythin’ of the kind but, loathe as I am to award bad behavior,” and here he gave Jack a pointed look over his poised fork, “since we’re all together, why not?”

“Really? Really?” Rosalee screamed so loud in his ear he shook his head just to get the ringing out.

“Oh daddy, it’s gonna be so fun! You there! Oh yes yes yes yes!” Ella was spinning in circles, having gotten out of her chair at some point to celebrate.

“Mhmm,” he hushed them and went on, pushing his plate away, “is it swimmin’ you’ve really got your hearts set on?”

“Well, no- we just wanna be with you.” Rosalee admitted.

“What? No! We wanna go swimmin’, just us and mama-“

“Jack, please hush up.” Jesse begged.

“See I was thinkin’,” Elvis rose above his six year old’s sharp remarks, “we could certainly go swimmin’ but then again, ya can go swimmin’ most anytime, near anywhere. But ya know what ya can’t do?”

“What, daddy?” a hushed chorus of anticipation went up from his little audience, even Daisy showed interest as Elaine doted on her.

“How would you Tiddlywinks like to fly ‘round in a helicopter?” He asked with a brilliant grin.

“No way!” Jesse nearley fell out of his seat and his eyes filled with excitement.

“Yes way, perks of the job, boyo.” Elvis sat smug at the head of his table as his children gushed around him in a frenzy of anticipation, Elaine watched their adoration with a pleased smile, praying only that he wasn’t going to be the lone pilot. “Now who’s glad daddy works for that ‘corpulent scalliwag’, huh?” he goaded and Elaine’s smile turned brittle as the kids laughed and cheered.

Elvis eyes met hers above the den of kids clearing plates and his sober, cobalt stare put her right back in her place, a place that more and more had little or nothing to do with his creative processes and business deals - a far cry from the production and artistry that first brought them to together. She bit her lip and walked the vomit pan back to the sink, receiving a wide berth from the little revelers as she did. “Alright well, help your mama with this mess and get yourselves sorted.” he clapped, “We’ll leave, soon as we’re ready. Gotta go brush my teeth.” he rose from the table, his hasty exit unnoticed by any save Elaine who postured herself to be in his path as he turned to go into the master bedroom,

“E,” she murmured softly as he brushed past and he didn’t stop, but she knew he was listening by the tilt of his head as he went “while you’re at it, be sure you don’t accidentally brush your tonsils again, silly man.”

This loaded tease met with a titter of laughs by the couple clueless kids who overheard it and this time it was Elvis’ face that grew brittle, his step halted and his lip was close to sneering as he lowly rejoined,

“If you know ‘nother silly man who can get you a helicopter ride, an all expenses paid for vacation to Hawaii and satisfy your particular tastes, then be my guest Elaine, you tell him how to brush his teeth.”

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

If you’d like to be tagged in this particular series please drop a note below. I’ll admit I’m disorganized and have trouble keeping all the requests sorted when they’re scattered, what I do check regularly are the requests in the notes for chapters -and I do manage to get those added. So, if you’ve put in a request and I’ve failed ya, or if you’re new and would like to be added, please pop a note below. Xoxo

Taglist:

@eliseinmemphis

@prompted-wordsmith

@ab4eva

@foreverdolly

@powerofelvis

@butlersxbirdy

@crash-and-cure

@elvisabutler

@heartbrake-hotel

@stylespresleyhearted

@thatbanditqueen

@crazymadpassionatelove

@myradiaz

@ash-omalley

@arianatheangelgirl

@steph-speaks

@burningloverdoll

@angelface-555

@lookingforrainbows

@missmaywemeetagain

@coolgirl462

@kingdomforapony

@18lkpeters

@richardslady121

@from-memphis-with-love

@lillypink

@artlover8992

@pennyroyalcreep

@notstefaniepresley

@ellie-24

@renaissingle

@waiting4brucewayne2adoptme

@presleyenterprise

@marriedtopresley

@ashtag2887

@dkayfixates

@vampireindistress

@ashtag6887

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

@obsessedvibee

@peskybedtime

@goth-cowgirl-03

@stephthestallion

@fav-fanficssss

@loving-elvis

@honeyorangess

[saltygilmores]

Thoughts While Watching Gilmore Girls, 3x8, Let The Games Begin. Part 7 (It's Been A While)

Last chapter was posted May 11th. Apologies for the hiatus. The vibes need to be just right to create these things. You can read parts 1-6 and everything else in my pinned post. On the last episode of TWWGG: "After Lorelai (Rory) exits the (Yale) interview, one that was seemingly a success, she immediately turns to Richard to chew him out for springing the interview on her last minute and not giving her time to prepare. That is more than fair coming from Rory, to be quite honest. And I’m glad to see her standing up for herself." Lesss gooo. Lorelai hauls Rory into a cab. They arrive home at night, even though it was blazing sunshine a short distance away at Yale. Rory asks Lorelai if they can not talk about college for 2 days and she agrees and everything that just happened is brushed aside and forgotten. Kidding. After a brave display of defiance towards Richard moments earlier, Rorynow expresses her guilt for not towing the line for Mommy. Mommy was right. Mommy is always right.

I....you know...forget it.

I think I should cross off "Lorelai and Rory eat at Luke's without paying" from the Bingo Card. Bringing outside food into his establishment? That's just rude. Luke could probably send Jess to college with all of Rory and Lorelai's unpaid checks and stiffed tips.

Saying it outloud isn''t going to change their unethical and frankly downright criminal behavior, Lucas. You know this.

Or at least a bag of Doritos.

Why hello, my sweet baby darling. I'm ready to Cmhrrrh.

Oh, Is "studying" what the kids call tonsil hockey these days? Run like the wind Rory! RUNNNN. I just have this good feeling Rory is totally not going to blow this sacred opportunity to have unsupervised makeout time with Jess or anything like that. Never, in the kingdom of The Queen of Blue Balls. Lorelai and Luke watch as Rory runs after Jess to "Study". Wink wink nudge nudge. Then a few seconds later without a shred of irony or realization, Luke tells Lorelai how he told Jess that as long as he lives under his roof he's gotta keep his pants on.

You're off to a ripping start already.

Lorelai is being rational? She's not running after them? "It's okay"? She's pulling the "They're teenagers, they can kiss in the dark" shit for Jess and Rory like she did for Dean? I'd say "Fetch me my fainting couch" but I know it's all a big fat farce, Lorelai is full of shit as per uszh, and my fainting couch is in the shop.

Settle down, Lucas. You're going to have a stroke one of these days. Or steam is going to come out of his ears like in a cartoon. Or he'll snap and go on a killing spree.

I've never seen two grown adults who weren't in some kind of strict religious sect have such near anyeursms because their adult children want to kiss each other. What are the odds Luke Danes, the varsity athlete, was much sluttier than Jess when he was 18? Probably pretty high. Cross off "Do as I Say Not As I Do" on the Episode Bingo Card.

Pretty rich coming from Ms "Also Has Run Around All Over Town Looking for Jess and Rory" and "Ms. Run Around All Over Town Looking For a Gumball Machine Bracelet"

I can rely on Lorelai being insufferable in every episode, but when Luke is insufferable too I pray for the sweet relief of the end credits. I hope in his Cockblocking Quest of Glory, that he trips on something. Or loses his hat.

Smoking against a gas pump. Living dangerously. I don't blame him for having a bit of a death wish, to be quite honest. Luke should be more concerned that Jess is going to cause an explosion that will level Stars Hollow into a parking lot than him rounding first base. (Where the hell did Luke go, by the way?)

Whatcha thinkin aboutt?

That was such a good HUH. *pets his sweet head*

*gnaws on the drywall* SUCH A GOOD KISS. I have no words. Okay, That’s a lie, I do have words but I ran out of space so I will see you in part 8 for the thrilling conclusion (which is: Rory ruins this precious moment by abandoning Jess and chasing after Dean) Oh god. I just skipped ahead and there's a Lorelai Couch Speech at the end too. Mind if I join you for a cigarette against the gas pumps, Jess?

[steviewashere]

Trans Eddie Munson WIP

There's always demand for some trans ftm Eddie Munson content. And today I offer the first section of my wip fic.

I'm hoping to have this whole fic finished by the end of the first week of March, we shall see. But I thought that I could focus on trans Eddie Munson and Steve Harrington works during the month of March. If that's something people are interested in.

CW: General Dysphoria, Referenced Minor Character Death, Deadnaming (him figuring things out)

🏳️‍⚧️—————🏳️‍⚧️

There’s something about her body that Elizabeth Munson can’t quite put her finger on. Something different and wrong. Maybe…Maybe wrong is a strong word, but that’s what it is, she supposes. She had soft areas on her body that she often glared at with disdain. The curves and small pouch of fat at the bottom of her tummy. Which, she doesn’t hate all that too much, her mama told her about how that pouch is protecting her. That it’s meant to keep her insides safe. But she still, very much so, wants it gone. Wants a lot of herself gone. Her long hair, curly and wild—like her mama’s, but it’s prettier, and gentler less ill-fitting on her mama. She wants what her period is giving her to be shunned to another realm. The breasts, as her mama calls them, her smile all nurturing and sweet and doting. But they make shirts sit weird, and they’re kind of heavy, and they remind her too much about having babies. She doesn’t think she wants to have kids, not in the way she was made to have them. That doesn’t feel good to think about, either. Her fingers are long and narrow. Which, they aren’t too bad. Useful to learn the guitar with. But she looks at them and believes that they aren’t what her eyes are meant to see.

She finds herself admiring boys a lot. How they often don’t have to think about their body, unless they’re playing sports. They make her chest hurt. Like a quick staple in her skin. The boys in her school have short hair, first of all. Tidied up, shaved cleanly on the sides, high tapered and shaped nicely to their heads. Boys have lean bodies with defined muscles. They have flat chests and flat tummies, for the most part, and big feet, big hands, thick fingers.

Why did she have to come out looking like herself, she often wonders. Why couldn’t she have meaty muscles and hair all over the place and a deep rasp in her throat? How come she’s gotta smoke cigarettes to achieve the voice of her dreams? Why does she even dream about having a different voice, a different body, even a different name?

When she stands in front of her mirror, much like she does this morning, much like she does every morning, she sees an imposter cloaking her soul. If monsters exist, she believes that they have wrapped themselves around her bones, mutilated themselves to be human flesh and skin toned, and they inhabit her brain. 

Her fingers comb through her hair for the thousandth time, frustrated beyond belief. She can’t make her hair look good or normal or right. 

In a feeble attempt to make some sense of herself, she wraps her palm around her heavy head of hair, tugging it back behind her ears, above her shoulders, and imagines herself without it. What she’d look like. All rounded facial features and pouty lips, her mama’s eyes and her daddy’s crooked smile. Wraps her free arm around her chest, pushing and prodding around until her breasts are practically as flat as they can possibly be. She steps back from the full length mirror of her bedroom, the portal to monsters and Narnia and Wonderland, and sees it for what it is for the first time: A simple bedroom mirror.

Because there, in the reflection where her body once stood, is a little boy with scraggly arms and a chubby little belly and knobby knees. A little boy who’s mama doesn’t know how to cut hair all that well, maybe settles for a bowl cut each time, and each time he thinks she did a great job. A little boy who’s freshly twelve years old and doesn’t want to go to his first day of seventh grade, where the other kids will mock him. This little boy who seems to smile.

And she realizes, dropping her hair in haste at the rapid knocking on her door, she is not a girl. No, not at all.

Elizabeth Munson is a boy.

————— Boys act tough. Boys are rowdy. Boys are stupid creatures.

Elizabeth mimics them as well as he’s able. He still hasn’t figured out his name, not yet. But he knows how to growl and retort. Can take up space with big gestures and act all bothersome at the prospect of sitting like a lady. He can do all kinds of things.

But the one thing he hasn’t been able to do yet? Shake the sensation of his heavy hair.

He goes home one afternoon after a difficult day of school. Where he got called pretty and ugly and chic and darling. Shoved into lockers and teased for not wearing makeup. For stealing his daddy’s flannels and covering himself up, like he doesn’t want to be seen. He sneaks into the bathroom and finds his dad’s shaving kit.

If he can’t go somewhere and request for his hair to be cut a certain way, then he’ll just have to do it himself. He’s not sure how to successfully do it. But he begins with snipping away the ends. Up to his ears. Cuts off his bangs all choppy like. Drags the razor across his scalp. The tufts of hair falling to his shoulders. His naked shoulders. His naked torso still shining like dull copper in the mirror, heavy breasts and curvy waist and slim shoulders.

He shakes himself off like a dog.

And when the razor is unplugged, repackaged, put away for nobody to find. He takes himself in.

There in the reflection, is a…person with a shaved head. He throws on a t-shirt. And sees, truly, a little boy with his mama’s eyes and his daddy’s nose and unruly little scars from being shoved into things at school. 

But he sees a boy. Or the outline of a boy. He sees the imprint, the footprint in wet sand, an initial carved into a tree. Then he thinks about his introductions. About going, “I’m Elizabeth.” The grimace that brings to his face. He holds a hand out to the mirror, his reflection almost mocking his movement. And rolls some names off of his tongue.

“Hi, I’m Allan,” he starts. Maybe he should be named after his father, but that doesn’t taste all that well. Another Allan Munson would be the end of the world. If being a boy in girl’s skin doesn’t kill him, then being the appendage of a criminal would. And he’s already had plenty of close encounters.

He takes a deep breath. “Hi, I’m Sam…I’m Sammy,” he tries. His mama’s name is Samantha, so maybe he should go after her. But if she was considered a hippie basketcase to the rest of Townsend, Tennessee, then he will, too. By default. Seems like maybe going the family route won’t work in his favor.

“George,” he shoots. “Georg—ie.” That’s another option. He wants a nickname.

Elizabeth garners Eliza and Liza and Beth and Bethany.

Allan gets Al. Samantha is Sammy or Sam or Mandy.

But he can’t, for the life of him, think of a single name that fits like a spoonful of ice cream in his mouth. Can’t find something sweet, maybe a little sophisticated. Something that rolls. A name that would be easy for himself to remember. Or one that a person could hear in passing, maybe think he said something else.

What about famous artists?

“I’m Jonathan, but I prefer Johnny,” he mutters, thinking of Johnny Cash. He shakes his head and resets on his feet. “John, but I like Johnny.” John Prine is on his mind for that one. Flaps his hand to get rid of the ache from holding out for so long, drops it to his side, switches to the other. “Woody,” he whispers, but that’s not right either. Woody Guthrie has that.

He sighs. Never in his life did he think finding a name would be so hard. Briefly, he wonders how his mama did it. How she remembered his birth name even after heaving and laboring for hours, coming out exhausted and bloody and sobbing. God, he hopes he never has to experience this again. But, knowing his luck, he may as well start making lists—who else in his life may want a new name? Seems like he’s got plenty to pull from the recycling bin.

Holding out his palm again, he thinks about Eddie Van Halen. Thinks about fast music. Thinks about music that bonds him to the floor, that thrums his heart, that boils his blood. He imagines playing to sold out crowds, being called out to the stage. The crowd cheering, voices a concoction of screaming and wailing. “Ed-die! Ed-die! Ed-die!” They shout.

“Eddie,” he murmurs. Looks himself in the eyes. Big and brown. Just like his mama’s. Thinks of her holding his head. Kissing his temple. Folding the collars of his shirts, helping him tie his shoes, teaching him to brush his teeth. Of her saccharine voice like honey on the shell of his ear, sticky and golden.

Her lips to his sheared hair. Holding him by the shoulders. Her eyes watering from pride. Whispering, “You make Mama proud, you hear me Edward? My little Eddie’s gonna make Mama proud.” 

Thinks of her body not ravaged by illness, her tummy fluffy and her arms full, her hair still long and tickling his neck. Thinks about the day she called him to her arms, announcing that she was sick, but that her biggest accomplishment—the thing she’s most proud of—was that she had a wonderful little kid. A brave kid. A tough kid.

“A precious little stone. ’T’s what you are, baby,” her voice had lilted. That Tennessee drawl to her bottom lip. Her nimble hands, just like his, soothing the ache in his sides, showing him how to take care of himself. Where the pads were and how to get blood out of clothes. Of her applying mascara, but nothing more, because less is more. He thinks of her hands on his cheeks. Murmuring all sweet like, “You were almost a baby boy, you know that? How funny that would’a been. But, you wanna know something, angel?” And he had nodded in her hold. “I would’a named you Edward. Cause you are the guardian of my heart. My heart is yours. And you are my heart. And whatever you do in this world, baby, I will be right there with you.”

Her voice against his cheek, kissing away his tears. “I’ll be right here,” she whispers, tapping his heart. “And no matter what you do. No matter who you are. Where you end up. You will always have my heart, my pride, my joy.”

He thinks of her at the end of her life. He’s nearly twelve years old and he’s feeling all too awkward about himself. She holds out her palm. And he takes it. She squeezes, murmuring, “Never change your heart, angel, never change your heart.” Her breath gone. And him, that ache and her palm, but those words being all that was left.

“I’m Edward Munson,” he introduces to the mirror. “But you can call me Eddie, if you’d like.” And yearns like a sunflower in the middle of winter.

🏳️‍⚧️—————🏳️‍⚧️ More to come later, but here's your first serving.

[thegirltony]

update

hey sorry it’s been a minute. things have been kinda crazy. idk. my mom says she’s worried about me. she thinks im not eating enough. or like leaving my room enough. it’s not that i don’t want to. i just have no reason to. i have no reason to.

i can’t keep going to school. i’m tired of the lights, the people, the stares, the everything. but maybe i’m just tired. i’ve also stopped sleeping i guess. i can’t keep dreaming. i hate falling asleep, there’s no control in that. every time i close my eyes i feel like i’m dying. i am dead, aren’t i? my dreams are just little tastes of hell, coming up and reminding me of what lies ahead. what i deserve.

there’s either nothing, or dreams. i don’t know which is worse. i shouldn’t hate the nothing, it’s nothing. but the not being conscious, not being in control, scares me. or i dream. i dream and i dream and i dream and i dream. i’ve tried doing the tricks to be lucid, but they never work. i just see . you know. it’s the same one every time. she keeps looking at me, wherever i am. i wake up, drenched in sweat, then i see her again. i wake up so many times in those dreams. i can only tell if i’m awake if my stomach hurts. the hunger is the only thing keeping me alive. but i can’t complain. i really, truly can’t.

i’m either in bed or the bath. i close my eyes and pretend i’m back at the lake. in the dreams, the lake rebirths me, cleans me. but i step out and i’m dirty again, it’s back again and it’s all over me again. she’s all over me again.

sorry if i’m being cryptic. these few weeks have been hard. tal was right about needing an outlet, i guess. when hasn’t she been?

there is so much wrong with me its almost hard to count. i don’t know why i feel like this. why i keep feeling like this. this is also so embarrassing and cringey and god so middle school. every single thought i have makes me want to rip my fucking head off. i hate living like this. i hate living in this body. i hate this body. my legs are short and fat and stubby and i have the most disgusting kankles. my fingers are short and meaty. my boobs go off in different directions and my nipples are ovular and so fucking big. my neck and chin are full of fat like my face where my eyes are so far apart. my nose is obtuse and bumpy and my teeth are crooked and yellow. and god my stomach. its so fucking large and round and disgusting and im a 33 and i used to be a 29 and now look at me. like a 29 is even good. and i want to blame this all on my birth control or growing up or whatever but does it even matter. i look like this. i walk around and talk and eat and exist like this. people look at me like this. or maybe they don’t.

it has to be my fault. there isnt any other way. i want to move away from everything and go to college and start over but i know that i’ll miss you. i don’t want to fade away from you. and i know i already have. thats the worst part. i know its too late. i know you’re gone.

[otakween]

One Pound Gospel - Volume 2

I forgot to mention the format I'm reading this in. This manga is super duper out of print. Since I don't want to spend hundreds of dollars tracking it down physically, I downloaded some scans of the first Viz release. It's so old that it's a "flipped" manga (left-to-right). Also, instead of chapters it's broken into parts with like sub-chapters, but maybe that's how it was originally, not sure. I'm just numbering the chapters as I usually would to avoid confusion.

Ch. 10

Kosaku gets challenged by a boxer from his past, Taro, who holds a grudge against Kosaku for knocking his teeth out.

If Taro's a waiter now, does that mean he's no longer a pro boxer? Are non-pros allowed to challenge pros? Or maybe he's still a pro and working at the restaurant is a side hustle lol.

Kosaku has to get even skinnier than before and I guess I'm supposed to find his suffering funny? :/

Ch. 11

Taro kinda hot (even tho he has no teeth lol). His face is definitely different enough from Kosaku's, but I feel like they have the exact same hair. Kinda a feathered look.

I guess when you have no teeth you can wear cool fantasy dentures (vampire teeth), an advantage I'd never thought about...(not that I want to lose my teeth, but if you had no choice, might as well have fun!)

They show a chart with all of the weight classes in this chapter. I was surprised to see how minimal the differences are between the classes. Why is it so granular?

What does it mean to be a 6 rounder vs. a 10 rounder? I'm guessing it means you're so skilled you could last up to 10 rounds (but it could also end sooner than that??)

So Taro is a pro boxer out of spite. Very anime of him.

What is that manga reaction when someone gestures in shock with their hand like this 🤟Where does that come from??

Ch. 12

Oh look, it's the same joke about Kosaku overeating again. Hardy har har.

"Lamb who strays so easily from the light" is such a nice way to color things lol. I can see why people seek religion for comfort. (I can also see why people can be terrible people and still consider themselves in good standing with the G man).

Needing to gain weight quickly can be just as detrimental as needing to lose weight quickly. Are boxers okay?

Ch. 13

Yeah, fat definitely means something different in the boxing world. Them calling Taro a "whale" was wild. He looks very average.

Kosaku finally shows some restraint for once. I guess the other workers at the gym have better tactics than the coach (do those dudes even have names? lol).

Ch. 14

Ohh so Taro can't gain weight fast because he has no teeth. I missed that connection.

They really just keep telling the same "if you promise him steak, he'll win the match" joke over and over again. Kinda feels like Popeye eating his spinach or something.

Not winning a fight for 4 years is pretty crazy. I'm guessing money comes from ticket sales? After that long you would think people wouldn't want to pay, but I guess plenty of sports teams have had long losing streaks.

Ch. 15

Omg Sister Angela without her habit hype! She cute, I like her really short bob (a rare style for the cute girl in a manga. I feel like that's how you know this was illustrated by a woman).

Finally we get a little more focus on the romcom half of the story and some acknowledgement of Angela's position. (Is being a nun a job? I guess it's more like, a calling).

All the nuns ganging up on Kosaku was funny, new opponent seems entertaining too (his gimmick is that he looks really tough but is actually a coward).

Ch. 16

Kurusu is really cute, I'd choose him as a romance option in a dating sim <3 (the way his eyes are drawn reminds me of Mob Psycho)

It was refreshing to see Kosaku acknowledge that he's been dumped. I have a sneaking suspicion he won't take no for an answer though. Alternatively, it might be Angela who snaps when she realizes she misses him. We shall see.

Ch. 17

So Kosaku ends up being able to focus on his training more when he's not thinking of Angela, but then he relapses into his food obsession again, so not much has changed really?

Kurusu getting into fights because he looks tough...I feel like I've seen this trope before. Toradora maybe?

Apparently "Abbess" is a title, not a name. I was pretty sure that was the case, but was unfamiliar. I guess their was a Mother Abbess in the Sound of Music.

Ch. 18

Awe, this chapter was cute. Mother Abbess pulling the whole "you know, I was quite a looker in my day," the kindergarteners helping Angela hide, and Kosaku comforting being gentle with Kurusu in the church <3 All nice moments

The dream at the beginning with Angela being tormented by a devil Kosaku made me laugh.

Ch. 19

I'm glad Kosaku lost, even though it's clearly just to prolong the romance drama. Kurusu needed the W more ;w;

The coach saying "You like rituals? Try harakiri, loser!" had me laughing. Savage.

I only consciously noticed in this chapter that Sister Angela is the only nun who isn't inked in black (her habit is left white). She's an anime MC for sure lol

The nuns cheering on Kurusu while simultaneously not understanding how boxing works at all was cute

[1111jenx]

Heirs of Cosmos™ series

— Priestess of the Moon ☾

❝The air, unlit before, glows with the light of her golden crown, and her rays beam clear, whensoever bright Selene having bathed her lovely body in the waters of Ocean, and donned her far-gleaming, shining team, drives on her long-maned horses at full speed, at eventime in the mid-month: then her great orbit is full and then her beams shine brightest as she increases.❞ — Greek Homeric Hymn to goddess Selene

The long due post is finally out, I have always praised the Moon signs so many time before yet had never have the chance to discover the houses in which she resides in. Today is that day. Enjoy loves:)

Check out Part I — Muses of Mars or my work on the Moon in the signs from my masterlist

➊✶In the Ancient days, all kinds of names and symbols were used to honor the Moon. Among them are Cynthia, Isis, Lana, Selene, Artemis, Proserpine, and Soma. Due to the Moon's acknowledged influence on the moment of birth in mythology, she is pictured supporting her mother as she gives birth to Apollo. As a result, she is accountable for a variety of digestive system and intestine-related diseases, including colic, asthma attacks, measles, and convulsions. The soul embodies and embraces emotions and sentiments such as passions, desires, and feelings.

✶「 Due to its proximity to the Earth's surface, the Moon is the principal conduit through which the sun's vital energy reaches the Earth and everything on it. The Moon, like the planets, has a latitude because it veers north and south of the ecliptic. When the Moon is powerfully placed in traditional astrology, a strong body with short arms and legs and fat hands and feet can be generated. The eyes are greyish or beaming in appearance, and the face is round and tends toward the paler side regardless of one's ethnic origin. Due to the Moon's mutability, it has a caring but variable personality that can become indifferent or timid when other planetary forces have a negative effect on it. Lunarians usually lead restless, gypsy lives but secretly yearn for a more stable, family-oriented existence. As a result, they struggle since they are so perceptive of outward judgments. They are prone to sorrow, whereas the Moon is phlegmatic, chilly, damp, and prone to mood swings. The Moon collects everything that comes to it from the other planets' aspects, both harmonious and otherwise. Moon in an angular house with a favourable aspect is a strong predictor of success. Jupiter and Venus in a favourable aspect to the Moon can be a considerable aid in acquiring and enjoying the joys of the material world. Astrologically, a square or opposition to Saturn can significantly increase the intensity of the Moon in a horoscope. It's critical to note that the Moon adopts the personality of the sign in where it is positioned, and hence it's critical to recognize this. A negatively aspected Moon, according to traditional astrology, is a sure omen of poor health, particularly during the first seven years of life. However, in this circumstance, further considerations must be made. The Moon exerts a great impact over mediumship, spiritism, psychometry, and so forth. It's not difficult to see why the Moon has such a profound effect on the Earth and everything on it. The Moon represents the negative, feminine, mother aspect of all existence, whereas the Sun represents the positive, masculine, father aspect, which corresponds to the spiritual side of all being. Thus, the Moon's effect is greatest during youth, when that form-side is emerging and when the form-side, in the middle of everything else, attracts our attention the most. That is why it is critical that we see the Moon as the foundation of all that is physical, as evidence of this may be seen on a daily basis. Everywhere we look in nature's kingdoms, we witness her hand at work, both constructing and deconstructing the systems that make them. 」

✶Priestesses of the Moon through the houses:

THE FIRST— Individuals with a moon in the first house or a moon conjunct the ascendant are really interesting. The first home is an angular structure, indicating its significance. In a person's chart, angular houses are prominent. They pierce to the core of your being. Planets in angular houses will have a greater influence on the formation of "you" and the demarcation of your path. Individuals with the moon in the first house may be more susceptible to disease and have a paler complexion. While the moon is in the ascendant house, you exude a great deal of "yin" energy. You have a keen sense of perception, are sensitive, and caring. A moon in the first can result in psychic dreams, particularly during your childhood, and will continue to do so only if you have developed that capability. Additionally, it denotes someone who is receptive to energies and hence frequently exhibits empathic tendencies. Additionally, you are likely to resemble and inherit prominent qualities from your biological mother. In traditional astrology, a moon in the first house is considered as a strong connection between mother and kid. A moon in the first house may also indicate a maternal ancestor with intuitive or psychic abilities. You are, nevertheless, a romantic at heart, and you must exercise caution not to romanticize reality. Those with a moon in the first house are superb storytellers, would make excellent journalists, and are highly intuitive.

THE SECOND— The moon has an effect on our emotional intelligence and our ability to use other people's mood indicators to forecast their thoughts and behaviours in order to effectively navigate a social interaction to our advantage. The moon governs social intuition. In that sector of life, the luminary's position in a natal chart will bring social intuition and improved emotional intelligence. In the second house, you have an innate ability for earning money and amassing resources. A moon in this house could indicate someone who is skilled at stock trading. You possess an innate, unexplained sense for money, wealth, and investing. Numerous notable individuals who are renowned for their extraordinary command of finance, economics, and fortune frequently have their Moon in the second house. The moon in the second house also indicates a connection to the land and natural resources, whether through science, chemistry, an awareness of the earth, animals, or work in earth-related disciplines. Moon in second house people find security through material comforts, they need to be materially secured to feel emotionally secured. Suffer a lot with the idea of love as they may find it hard to share sometimes, however, they are very equal partners and will go above and beyond to make sure they get even.

THE THIRD— The third house is a cadent house, indicating places in which we must grow, improve, and go from vulnerability to strength. The third house is ruled by Mercury and the element Air. This is where communication and intelligence reside. It will assess your cognitive abilities and subsequently your ability to convey your thoughts to others. Additionally, it has historically been the location of siblings and early childhood. A moon in the third house adds imagination, creativity, and an emotional propensity to your interceptions. Additionally, there is a fair balance of logic and passion here. You do not make decisions entirely on the basis of logic or reason, nor do you make decisions solely on the basis of emotion. You discover a perfect synthesis of the two. In traditional astrology, the moon signifies the mother, or the maternal influence on a child. The third house is the house of siblings. With the moon in the third house, you may have had a sister or sister-like figure in your life who nurtured you in the same way a mother would. Additionally, we see a mother or mother figure who is vested in your child's education in this scenario. Third house Moons usually have a strong tie to their early childhood or people surroundings their early childhood, whether its family members such as siblings or neighbours or teachers from when they were young, moon in the third strongly feel connected to that part of themselves. Their emotions when run free can be a bit confusing to grasp, but underneath it all, they are still a kid with their emotions if not properly handled, can go spiral without help.

THE FOURTH— Due to the fact that a moon in the fourth house was traditionally connected with land ownership, estates, and inheritances, such an individual would be interpreted as descended from a line of landlords or land owners, and you would have been born into a family of reasonably high social standing. The fourth house moon is seen in modern astrology as a strong indicator of a solid, satisfying home. You could be more introverted, preferring to stay at home, placing a high premium on family, and having been raised by an emotionally supportive mother. Having said that, the fourth house is a Water house, as is the moon. As a result, emotional sensitivity may be heightened in this area. You were born with extraordinary intuitive abilities, a spiritual temperament, and an incredibly loving, sensitive, and empathic heart. Because your relationship with your mother has instilled in you a sense of security in your vulnerability, you are more likely to accept your delicate, sensitive nature. Individuals with this placement may be very attached to their hometown or their community. They have a deep love for where they have grown up but if badly aspected, will leave the town as soon as they can. If well aspected, these people are loving, emotional yet are very intense and find it hard to control their emotions at times.

THE FIFTH— Because the fifth house is associated with vitality, your moon in this house may emerge in one of two ways. Let us examine both. You'll be able to determine which of these categories applies to you. A moon in the fifth house initially manifests as energy in the form of physical force. Here is someone who possesses an innate passion for athletics, sports, fitness, physical health and nutrition, as well as topics relating to physical body fine-tuning. The second manifestation of the moon in the fifth house is vitality in terms of creative ability. Here is someone who values art and culture. This is someone who can lose themselves for hours in an art museum or a display of historical artefacts, someone who adores and respects everything that human creativity can create. A fifth-house moon is typically associated with a parent who has multiple children. It's difficult to identify whether this applies to you as a mother or to your own mother, and it will vary according to the fifth house moon sign. A moon in the fifth house can also represent someone who has more than one child or, conversely, a teacher (and thus, that "many children" energy flowing through). According to astrologer William Lilly, the natal moon in the fifth house was a sign of fertility/virility and fruitfulness for childbearing. A moon in the fifth house can indicate someone who is all over heels in love with love. You are emotionally invested in the concept of romance. It may take some time for you to redirect the energy you invest on transient romantic relationships toward more productive and creative endeavours. Moon in the fifth house denotes artistic ability and inventiveness. When a romantic mind and a magnificent imagination come together, you have the makings of an incredible storyteller, whether through music, dance, visual arts, or writing. A moon in the fifth house may also signal that you develop codependence in romantic relationships, wanting to "rescue" your partners rather than allowing them to develop naturally.

THE SIXTH— The sixth house is ruled by Mercury and the element earth. It is the house that most accurately reflects our everyday life, the mundane, our daily tasks, labours, and jobs. Additionally, here is the location where information about our physical health, body, and wellness is stored. Due to the fact that a moon in the sixth house can create significant emotional tension in daily life, mental health is often a worry when the moon is in the sixth house. With the moon in the sixth house, there may be a tendency toward worry, despair, sadness, feelings of ennui, social isolation, or excessive emotional tension; these are all areas to be mindful of. Given the moon's association with the mother figure, we see someone growing up with either a single mother, a working mother, or a mother who was so absorbed in routine, tedious, daily work of some kind that she lacked the time and energy to give to you. As a child, you shaped yourself into a helpful, useful person by watching your mother's huge responsibilities. You went above and above to assist your family. As a result, you will develop into an adult who strives to assist everyone in every aspect of your life, whether at work or at home with your family. A sixth-house moon is typically associated with someone who is seeking to have it all. You're aiming to be too many things to an insufficient number of people. You must develop the ability to say no, to establish yourself, and to maintain your composure. Standing up for yourself is tough for you as a result of your childhood experience of constantly feeling that people are so busy that you must be quiet, avoid making a greater scene, and attempt to be helpful. However, such youthful conscientiousness results in adult apathy. You end up allowing others to trample on you, particularly at work. If you want to advance in your work, you must develop assertiveness. Be aware of burnouts and poor health.

THE SEVENTH— The seventh house is the alliance house. A moon in the seventh house indicates that you require a connection, that you require love, and that you require fulfilment. You rely substantially on your partner in your home relationships. This may be a trait passed down from your mother, who was likely highly reliant and dependent in her marriage or relationships, whether consciously or subconsciously—most likely subconsciously. Much of your emotional life revolves around relationships and your one-on-one interactions with others. In traditional astrology, men with a moon in the seventh house are supposed to seek mates who remind them of their mothers. Women with a seventh-house moon are more inclined to adopt a maternal position in their social and romantic interactions, and they are frequently excessively caring and attentive. In general, a moon in the seventh house implies an extremely empathetic bond between you and your life partner. You are capable of sensing and comprehending your companion's thoughts. Unfortunately, it is usually impossible for you to distinguish between your partner's and your own emotions—they become entwined within you. Your mate is embedded in your psyche. If there are no oppositions to the moon, the odds of marriage and social success are great. However, if there is an opposition to your moon in this house, which means a planet is exactly 180 degrees away from your moon, you may lose your sense of self-identity if you enter a particularly significant or deep romantic relationship. If not enabled by romantic relationships, they can be extremely codependent on their friends. They are hopeless lovers therefore they don't fall for just anyone. Picky with their feelings and partners.

THE EIGHTH— Those with a moon in the eighth house are considered to be more prone to intense emotional catharsis during key times in their lives. Here, we may be witnessing a more challenging and emotionally draining upbringing. Your relationship with your biological mother may be challenging. Your mother may have been a highly emotional or emotionally volatile individual, which had an effect on your psychology. A moon in the eighth house may indicate an underlying sense of unease that is difficult to overcome as a result of childhood traumas of not being sheltered or properly nourished. On the other hand, those with a moon in the eighth house may encounter a favourable turning point in their lives during their mid-to-late thirties or early forties. A moon in the eighth house can also indicate occult, paranormal, or supernatural happenings, traits, or abilities traceable to your maternal ancestors. Moon in the eighth may have an imposter syndrome and can get extremely uncomfortable in a crowd if they fail to grasp a sense of familiarity. They dislike changes deep down but they welcome it and understand how it is inevitable. They fear looking weak and may consider love to be their poison. Once in love, they keep giving and giving and giving until there's nothing left. They gate-keep their heart and emotions a lot and only show this side of them to a trusted few.

THE NINTH— Individuals with a moon in the ninth house are more inclined toward religion, philosophy, and mysticism. Moons in the ninth house have amazing psychic or spiritual experiences or intuitive dreams that warrant further study. Regardless of whether you pursue higher education through traditional institutions or not, you will always strive to engage in high-quality independent study. You are naturally curious about the world around you and will regularly engage in self-study to have a deeper understanding of it. Consider going abroad If you have a moon in the ninth house, you may enjoy travel or exploring civilizations that are extremely different from your own. Regularly practising this brings you closer to the possibilities and spiritual knowledge you want. Traveling and immersing yourself in other cultures will assist you in gaining the intuitive and spiritual insights you seek. Exploration and expansion will have a significant impact on your destiny. In traditional astrology, the moon represents the mother, while the ninth house represents our ideals, thoughts, and convictions. As a result, a moon in the ninth house may symbolise someone who inherited a significant portion of your cognitive processes and personal beliefs from your mother. Your spiritual perspective on the world is greatly influenced or acquired from your mother's side or maternal ancestry. A moon in the ninth house can also symbolise a mother who migrates from one culture or civilization to another, the culture or society in which you grow up.

THE TENTH— The moon has an effect on our emotional intelligence and our ability to use other people's mood indicators to forecast their thoughts and behaviours in order to effectively navigate a social interaction to our advantage. The moon governs social intuition. In that sector of life, the luminary's position in a natal chart will bring social intuition and improved emotional intelligence. The moon in this house indicates a significant potential for using social intuition to advance in your profession or career path. Always go with your gut when it comes to job or business decisions. You will always be correct in your instincts. By utilizing your social intuition ability, you can amass public favour. You'll have a lot of success if you get involved in public ventures. A moon in the tenth house represents an influential mother figure in your career and personal development. This could indicate that your biological mother or maternal lineage are descended from prominent social and economic figures in your family history. We see a mother who will very certainly have a significant impact on your ability to mature and make career choices on your own. Perhaps unintentionally, your career choices are influenced by a desire to live up to your mother's lofty standards. A moon sign in the tenth is typically associated with a strict mother figure who pushed you to be the best version of yourself she believed you were capable of being. There is a great deal of outstanding achievement going on here. A moon in the tenth house may signify a mother who shaped who you are and your future objectives significantly. Your perspective on achievement and success, as well as your approach to achieving success, are highly impacted by your mother's genetic heritage. Additionally, you may realize that your subconscious definition of success is greatly influenced by your desire to please or remove yourself from your mother figure. In either case, the mother figure has a significant impact on how you define success. However, this plot takes a slight detour if and when an opposition to your moon occurs in this house, such as a planet that is exactly 180° immediately opposite your moon. If your moon is in opposition to you, this may indicate a significant career change in your adult life. Planetary oppositions to your moon sign in the tenth house may throw a kink in your career objectives, but even if you are surprised initially, all will work out for the best.

THE ELEVENTH— Our emotional intelligence is influenced by the moon. Based on the position of your moon, we may deduce how you emotionally engage with others and how you use your emotional intelligence to navigate social situations. Due to the moon's historically maternal association, the social intuition you develop is typically a reaction to your bond with your mother. In that sphere of life, the moon's position in the natal chart will bring social understanding and heightened emotional intelligence. In the tenth, your intuition enables you to negotiate social interactions successfully. You can achieve incredible popularity in clubs, society, politics, or important organizations. You work well in teams and have the ability to develop into an inspiring leader within a team. Let us begin with the positive. A moon in this house indicates someone who understands how to use words and speech to influence and persuade people to experience the emotions you desire. You'd make an excellent novelist or storyteller. On the downside, such authority enables emotional manipulation, which is why, whether you realize it or not, there is a part of you that thrives in politics. Even if you dislike politics, if you pursue civic participation, you will discover that you are quite effective at it, rapidly ascending to the top because people adore you, are emotionally attached to you, and find you charismatic. Individuals with natal moons in the eleventh house, such as yourself, usually develop an emotional attachment to communal concerns and are fervent supporters of a certain social or political movement. A natal moon in the eleventh house may indicate an individual who is deeply invested in activism or who holds strong convictions about critical problems. A moon in the eleventh house typically indicates someone who can emotionally influence people, motivate them to action, growth, and positive transformation through their emotions. You stimulate people' emotions. You possess the ability to affect people's emotions and motivate them to act for social change. The moon in your eleventh house bestows to you a loving, caring, warm, and kind aura that draws others.

THE TWELFTH— As a luminary, the moon is completely dark, illuminated only by the sun's reflection. The moon's brilliance is a figment of the imagination. The glow we see is simply sunlight reflecting off the moon's surface, similar to how light reflects off a black mirror. Certain occult practitioners employ a black mirror as a divination and scrying tool in order to gain insight into the unseen. When the moon is in the twelfth house, it functions as a black mirror, making divination and scrying possible. In this instance, we're dealing with an introvert who values alone. You'd rather be alone. You look inward, into your inner dark mirror, rather than outward, seeking truth. A moon in the twelfth house can indicate childhood isolation or loneliness. It could mean that you had lucid or prophetic dreams as a youngster but were discredited or disgraced when you told your parents about them. As a result, you learned to withdraw and avoid disclosing your darkest secrets. Because the moon is related with our moms, it is possible that your relationship with your mother influenced your introversion and proclivity for seclusion. Additionally, prophetic or lucid dreams may be inherited via the mother's genes. A moon in the twelfth house signifies someone who leads a solitary existence. This also implies that you were discouraged from having prophetic dreams as a child, and as a result, you may have learned to repress such inner scrying purposely. Their emotions are unique and they may continually go into social burnouts.

This is the end for my second post for the Heir of Cosmoss series:) I hope you guys enjoy this quick read and please leave any questions you have down below🤍 Sending you guys the best vibes ever!

love,

saint jenx🪐

© 2021 Saintz Jenx All Rights Reserved

[sammyboyimagines]

stay gold

Pairing: Billy Hargrove x Plus-size!Reader

Summary: Even the strongest people can feel weak sometimes. And Billy will do anything to convince his plus-size girlfriend that she is not what everyone tells her she is. If he has to teach someone a lesson, so be it. 2k words

Warnings: mention of abuse, insecurities, mention of weight, fat-shaming (only a couple sentences), swearing.

//hi! I am so glad this was requested, I have been dying to do a Billy fic and I have also been dying to do a plus-size fic. As a plus-size woman, I am tired of seeing the insecure plus-size trope so I tried to emphasize that the reader is not always insecure because everyone has insecure moments! This is my first Billy fic so I'm really sorry if his demeanor is out of character! ALSO, I can do a part 2 with smut if anyone wants it? Maybe some rough stuff?

Billy always had an eye on you. Even when you weren't dating him, you found that his eyes were always glued to you. It wasn't sexual all the time. Once in a while, he'd catch himself staring at your round ass in your tight jeans as you walked in front of him in the hallway. It drove him crazy when he'd see you talking to a guy that wasn't him. But he mostly had his eyes glued to you so he could protect you. He knew you could handle yourself. A few times, he had watched you punch a guy square in the jaw because of a comment he made. It only made him like you more. You were never too insecure about your looks, and it drove him mad…with lust and love.

It took Billy a while to gather up some courage to finally ask you out. You figured it was a one-time thing since most guys in Hawkins weren't the most public about dating larger women. You didn't mind, of course, you had your eye on Billy for some time too. You admired how he cared for his sister. You'd talked to him before, but going on a date with him made you see a completely different version of Billy. He was caring and very charming, something he didn't really show other people. He even offered to pay for your meal.

Now, a year later, you were still going strong. Billy had been working on his family issues. It was your senior year, and you only had a few classes with Billy. Your short one-hour classes with him kept you going through the day. You had a few people teasing you in your other classes where Billy wasn't present. For the sake of the people teasing you, you decided not to tell Billy. If you told him, you knew he would go off on them.

It wasn't like you to hold anything back from him. Billy had secrets himself, so he immediately knew you were hiding something. "Sweetheart, something bothering you?" He was sitting next to you in science class. He held your hand, something he often did to ground you when you got lost in the swirling thoughts in your mind. He scoots his chair closer to you, his thigh touching your own large thigh. The image of your leg being larger than his made your heart drop in your chest. "It's nothing, Billy. Just a little worried about a test." you squeezed his hand and beamed at him. Billy knew you better than anyone. He places a hand on your knee.

"You know, you're a really bad liar." He smirks, his strong arms rotating your chair so you were facing him. The embarrassment of being caught in a lie made your face flush a little bit. You'd known Billy for a year, but his intense gaze was enough to make you squirm.

"I don't want you to get mad, okay? You have to promise me you won't explode." Billy knew you were insecure sometimes, and he tried every second of every day to make you feel like the gorgeous woman you truly were.

He also knew how upset you got when he couldn't control his anger. That's why he worked on it for months. He didn't lash out nearly as much. In his mind, he perceived you as an angel. You saved him from a bad place, saved him from himself. Without such a strong woman helping him take care of his anger issues, he'd be dead right now. Billy wasn't the best with words, so he showed his gratitude in many other ways. Mainly in the bedroom.

"I promise." he was lying, of course. He'd protect you at all costs. You were his girl. If that meant beating up some assholes in your honor, so be it. He knew you could handle yourself, but it never hurts to have some extra help, right?

"There's just some guys teasing me. I know you said that I should teach them a lesson, but have you seen me? I can barely give a class presentation!" he rolls his eyes and chuckles. "What, why are you laughing?" you didn't find the situation very funny at all.

"You're just so oblivious. Are you listening to yourself at all? I've seen you with people daily. What happened?" Billy knew you better than you knew yourself sometimes. "I don't know. Can we just drop it?" you knew what some people thought of you, and it hadn't affected you in the slightest. Until Billy was brought up.

"No, you know what? We're going to talk about this after school, okay? I want to make sure I don't have to hurt someone." Billy assumed this was about some asshole calling you something. He was thoroughly confused about why it affected you now.

He admired your strength, you knew your worth and it was his favorite part about you. Billy truly loved everything about you, including your confidence. Your body was just a bonus. He adored every part of your body, and he wasn't shy about showing you either. In any public setting, he'd always have a hand on you. Mostly because he loved the feeling of your soft plush skin in his hand, but also because it gave him a chance to let everyone else know you were his.

After school, you walked to Billy's car. It was cute how his eyes lit up as soon as you were in his field of vision. He finished his cigarette and pulled you closer, his large hands wrapping around your waist. Billy loved PDA, he was all for it. He pressed a kiss to your lips, the soft gesture made you practically melt in his grasp. "You ready to talk, sweetheart?" his voice was gentle as he leaned against his car.

"We're still at school. Can we go home?" Home was usually your house. Billy didn't like being around his parents, specifically his father, so your house was a spot for him to be himself. Your parents worked, so you had the whole house to yourself most of the time, which gave Billy plenty of time to have fun with you…

"Uh uh, we're talking right here so I can take care of the asshole who did this to you."

It truly hurt him to see you so broken. Even though he had only said it a few times, he loved you more than anything. He loved how strong you were, you were his rock when he was going through hard times. Billy didn't give a damn what you looked like. He loved your plush thighs pressed against him when he cuddled you, your soft stomach being a perfect spot for him to lay on while worshipping your stunning body.

"It was your friends, they said: she doesn't deserve Billy, she's a worthless pig next to him. He doesn't love her anyway." you were paraphrasing, but Billy still got the memo. You felt his hands detach from your waist. He was beyond furious.

"Give me names, baby. I'll take care of them. Y/n, I swear they are idiots. I don't want you to listen to a single thing they said, okay? You are gorgeous. I don't care about your weight. It doesn't matter." Billy tried to keep his composure. The anger boiling up inside him made it hard for him to think clearly sometimes.

Normally, you'd take care of this issue yourself. You'd slam their locker closed on their fingers, flip them off, etc. Billy understood that even the strongest people can feel weak sometimes. You'd helped him several times.

Like that time when he came to your after a fight with his father, he cried on your shoulder for an hour, unable to form the words "I love you". You held him for what seemed like hours, attempting to cover up the bruises forming from his father hitting him. You weren't expecting anything in return, and it made Billy feel like he had found the one. He always admired the fact that you were so kind to him when you didn't have to be. He never told you he had loved you that night, but when he showed up the next day with flowers and snacks…you got the message.

So, you gave him the names and before you could say anything else, he was walking back into the school, his fists balled up.

Billy wasn't the type of person to say "No, you're not fat, you're beautiful." because you were a bigger woman, and he absolutely adored you in every way. He'd rather adore you than try and sugarcoat it. He knew it was backhanded to say that phrase, because you were beautiful no matter what the number on the scale said. In fact, he threw away your scale ages ago, not that you used it much anyway. Billy was good at making you feel loved. It was like he knew exactly how to make you feel comfortable in your own skin.

The doors to the school burst open as Billy stormed out, his mullet hair slightly touseled from the assumed conflict. You knew better than to intervene when he got into his protective mood. It did feel good to get some kind of revenge, and Billy was more than eager to get revenge for you.

He stopped at your side, his fingers wrapping around the belt loops of your jeans. "It's been taken care of, sweetheart. Has anyone told you how good you look in these jeans?" He pulled your hips closer to his, your stomach pressed against his. "Listen to me, doll. I love you more than anything or anyone else in this damn town. Who cares what anyone else thinks of you or me? They're jealous that we're made for each other. You're so fucking perfect. Nobody in this town deserves you. Hell, I don't deserve you, sweetheart."

No matter what your conversation was about, you always knew one thing: Billy would never lie to you.

You could feel tears begging to spill over as Billy held your body close to his. You could feel the heat coming from his body. "I love your body, your thick thighs, your stomach.." he sighs. "I think about you all day- dream about being between those pretty thighs of yours." He pressed a kiss to your forehead, his cologne filling the air around you made you lean against him.

"The best part about you isn't your body. It's your smile, your personality. It makes my day. Don't listen to what anyone in this town says about you. They're assholes from a town full of losers. Once I save up some money, we'll leave Hawkins. I'll get a good job and we'll be out of this shithole. You are amazing, baby. Don't you ever forget it." He held the side of your face in his hand, his eyes scanning you for any sadness.

"Don't forget it or I'll have to remind you again." He slapped your ass and smirked when you let out a laugh. "What do you think, should we go home so I can show you what you deserve?" his hand pressed into your back in an attempt to pull you impossibly closer, giving him the perfect view of your boobs from his point of view.

"You know how I feel about this shirt, doll. Are you teasing me on purpose?" he whispered in your ear. You'd be lying if you said you didn't feel butterflies. Billy was very charming when he wanted to be. "Let's go home." you couldn't deny you wanted him.

//okay! done! I can do a part 2 with some smut if anyone wants it! I wanted to make the reader not be an insecure plus-size woman because there are so many of those out there, so I tried my best to imply that the reader is a strong confident lady. Plus size people, you are all beautiful and deserving of the best things in life.

[gainerbf]

The One Part V

CW: WG, FFA/BHM Relationship, Feedism, Male Feedee, Female Feedee

June 1st, 2020

The Pandemic Break

Covid. It has changed the world. I actually hate writing this part of the story because of ptsd. I despise the year 2020. I hate covid-19 more than I hate anything. This stupid disease robbed us of more than we’ll ever know. The most important thing that was taken from us? Time.

Time had been taken from Eddie and Sydney. Due to the pandemic, they were forced to stay apart for the 1st 3 months of the pandemic. Even worse, Sydney’s camera on her phone was broken and Eddie didn’t have any way to video chat so they could only voice chat on discord or talk on the phone. Sydney was worried 24/7.

Sydney: Are you eating enough?

Eddie: Yes babe.

Sydney: Are you sure? Do you need some money for food?

Eddie: No babe.

Sydney: What if I called over a pizz-

Eddie: Syd…stop. I’m eatimg more than enough.

Sydney: but but but…

Eddie: 8 eggs, a pack of bacon, 3 cinnamon rolls, 2 glasses of whole milk and a bowl of cereal…that was just breakfast babe. Don’t worry. I’m eating.

Sydney was relieved but felt useless. She wanted to feed her man. He was close to 300 pounds but Eddie wanted to tease her by not telling her how much he weighed.

Eddie: We’ll weigh in when I see you

He would reassure her.

Eddie: You might faint when you see me…

He would tease her.

Sydney: This stupid pandemic, I miss you so much Eddie.

Eddie: I miss you too Syd. Not much longer now. Looks like next week we’ll be able to meet up and finally hang out.

Sydney: Thank GOD

The week past and things started to open up on a moderate level. Enough to where Sydney and eddie could go and have a picnic.

Sydney arrived about 20 minutes early to set everything up in a nice secluded spot. She brought Eddie’s favorite lunch. A big foot long sub with all the fixins. An apple pie. Some ice cold lemonade and some chocolate covered strawberries. She was finishing up when she heard his voice.

Eddie: Well aint she the most beautiful flower in the field today

Sydney went red and turned around…

Then Sydney got light headed and fell to her knees. Her jaw hit the floor.

Eddie was big. Really big. Like well over 300 pounds big. His belly was peeking out the bottom of his shirt. His legs were definitely too big for his maxed out shorts. He grew a beard but you could see how round his face had gotten…he was even eating a candy bar as he approached.

Eddie: Well…give me a kiss baby girl.

Sydney jumped into his arms and they fell into the grass. She landed in a pool of fat and wanted to swim forever. They kissed for a long time. It was well overdue.

Sydney: You uhhh…

Eddie: I know. I’m really fat.

Sydney: It’s so hot I might explode.

Eddie: I don’t know why but ever since I met you it’s like my metabolism tanked and I couldn’t stop getting fatter.

Sydney, smirking: I have magical powers 😌 these hands are made for stuffing cute fat boys

She pinched his big lower belly.

Sydney: Well. Hope you brought your appetite. I prepared a big spread for you.

Eddie: Thank god, I’m starving

They sat and ate and enjoyed eachothers company. Yet, Sydney just needed to know. She wanted to know just how big Eddie really was.

Sydney: So..

Eddie: So?

Sydney: How much?

Eddie: How much what?

Sydney: How much weight did you gain? You were 280 last time I saw you. What’s the new number?

Eddie laughed for a second then got a little flustered.

Eddie: Oh my god 280? Yikes babe I kinda ballooned

Sydney was getting very hot and bothered now

Eddie: How about I give you 3 guesses

Sydney: 400

Eddie: Oh my god babe I’m not that big what the fuck 😂

Sydney: Ok maybe some other time. Hmmmmmmmmm. 310?

Eddie: Higher.

Sydney let out an unholy noise when he said that

Sydney: 320?

Eddie: 314

Sydney stood up and walked to a nearby bench. Eddie was confused. He got up and sat next to her…which wasn’t a great idea this bench was STRUGGLING.

Eddie: What’s the matter baby?

Sydney: Are you ok with being that big? I feel kind of guilty Eddie. You met me and put on over 110 pounds in a year and a half. What if that wasn’t what you wanted? What if.

Eddie: Stop.

Eddie halted her right then and there.

Eddie: Sydney. Meeting you was the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I don’t mind being this big, not fitting into booths, breaking furniture, outgrowing clothes as long as you love me. If you do, then I’m ok with it. You’re all I care about. If you like me big, then I’ll be HUGE for you

He kissed her on the cheek and cradled her head into his huge soft chest.

Eddie: Now, lets get ba-

Before he could finish the bench broke and down they went. They both sat up and broke out laughing.

Eddie, current weight: 314

Hope you all enjoyed this! I’d love to put out something like this every week but who knows if I can be that creative consistently 😅

[aetheternity]

So sweet, just for me

Synopsis: Just some stories where reader takes care of Virgin! Armin.

Disclaimer: Unprotected sex, blowjobs, Sub Armin and sexually experienced Y/N are all present in this. Minors exit now.

☆☆Just Summer Things☆☆

Sweat coursed down the expanse of every inch of your body. Or maybe it was water you weren't really sure. A set of carefully trimmed nails shivered and shook beside your head, digging into the grimy tree bark. Locks of sun kissed blonde hair stuck to parts of your neck, face and collarbone as you coaxed Armin's breathing down. Forehead resting uncomfortably against the bark and your ass firmly seated against his hips.

"How do you feel sweet boy?"

"I-I.." He panted, pulling his face back a little. Blue doe eyes full of lust and the sweet shine of tears.

His cock currently pressed delicately against your g-spot during what started out as a normal water balloon fight. Between the boys and the girls of course. You guys had all come out during late afternoon, Sasha and Connie started tossing water balloons and teams formed accordingly.

At some point you'd run off to what you thought was a safe zone only to find Armin perched in the bushes. Contemplation etched into his soft features.

"Move slowly ok." You encourage. You were surprised by how big he was sure but the warning was more so this could last for a while.

He nodded where you were still holding the back of his head. His nails cautiously unlatching from the tree moving instead to sink into the fat of your hips while at the same time his once snugly nestled cock began to move. The sweet drag forcing your toes to curl and your eyes to shut. A small exhale cresting off your lips.

A breathy moan fell from his trembling lips as he pulls you in closer. Wrapping his arms around your waist and squeezing around you like a lifeline.

You'd met Armin only two years ago through Jean and continued to crush on him for the entirety of those two years. Until today when he'd admitted to you that he was a little ashamed of being a virgin while consistently having to listen to Eren, Connie and Jean's conquests.

You told him they were probably lying about at least half of those stories but it only got you a small smile. So you decided to do him one better and offer to take his virginity.

It wasn't selfish. It was a win win. He would receive a conquest story to tell and you would get what you'd been craving since you'd first seen him in Jean's apartment shirtless and trying to help fix the messed up drain.

"Feels good?" You chuckle huskily

"Oh my God.." He huffs into your skin. 

His hips worked themselves up a little faster. A slightly clumsy pace forming but he was new at this so you weren't mad.

"Armin slow down baby, I don't want you to get ahead of yourself."

"I-i'm sorry.. j-ust feels amazing.."

One of his hands hesitantly snaked up your shirt. Skittish in the way he palmed at your breast. Though he quickly eased up when you replied to the affection with a little mewl.  

It felt surprisingly amazing for you as well. Considering the situation and the fact that Armin had never done this with anyone. This really was his first time.. What a weird thing to tell people. My first time was at a water balloon fight against a tree.

You hummed when the pleasure started to sit in your stomach. Legs trembling a bit as he pumped inside you a little faster. Any other time you would've just thrown your head back and relaxed, especially since his dick was so perfectly filling right now but-

"Armin, slow down." Your breathing was a little raspy.

He replied with a whimpery moan, thighs shaking against your sides. You reached an arm around grabbing his hips with your hand to slow them. It seemed to catch his attention because those soft doe eyes were wide.

"You'll get to cum baby I promise you, ease up a bit it's not a race." He nodded in affirmation and you smiled warmly.

Silk strands warm under your guided fingers as he pulled all the way out and slowly eased back in. A collective united moan exiting both your mouths. You'd shut your eyes but they worked themselves back open at the almost unnoticeable twitch of his cock head.

Your favorite part.

"Mm baby so close.." You whisper, your lip coming to tuck itself under your teeth.

A small chorus of yes's and little gasps fall from his open mouth. His skin somehow easing out of tomato red and into surface of the sun red.

You pull him close making sure his eyes were open. "I need you to cum for me ok? But make sure no one hears you." You say, and fuck is it gorgeous watching him come undone. Just like you'd imagined so many times before.

The tears once welling in his eyes spilled over like a faucet. Choked moans and harsh gasps worked their way off his lips. One of his hands flew back up to the tree where his nails soon dug the bark clean off. His hips stuttering through his entire orgasm. You were almost worried when his climax ended. The way he went silent except for his wild breathing.

"Armin?"

"Fuck.." He sighed

You couldn't help but giggle. "How was your first time?"

He gasps and rolls his eyes still stuck in euphoria. When he pulls out you take the opportunity to turn around. Working your panties up over your hips and pulling your fluttery skirt back down.

"Please, please let me do that again sometime.." He huffs finally managing words. You bring his lips to yours in a chaste kiss that honestly doesn't last long enough for you.

"Only if you promise to stay my good boy." You reply pulling his shorts up till they rest comfortably on his hips.

"I promise." He remarks, almost too eager. "Oh! Wait you didn't get to c-"

"Hey, where did you guys go?" Armin practically separates from his skin as Connie and Jean round the corner. Water guns tucked in their grasp.

"When did you guys get those?" You asked nonchalantly.

Jean shrugged, "We made the game more interesting."

Connie shook his head running back around the corner as Sasha's battle cry sounded.

"Hurry and get back we need you out there Armin." And with that Jean was gone too.

You picked up Armin's discarded water balloon, placing it in his open palm. "See you out there, lover boy."

☆☆Showing Armin how to do Yoga☆☆

"Why's Armin coming over here so early again?" Sasha asked rolling over onto her side. The bag of cotton candy once perched on her thighs flopping over and nearly spilling its contents.

"To do Yoga!" You replied with a laugh sitting the bag upright next to her.

She groaned dramatically. "But it's six thirty am on a Saturday."

"No one told you to get up with me." You remark, pushing the coffee table to the edge of the room.

She holds her once displaced bag up for you to see. "It was calling out to me." She sighs, hugging it to her chest.

A knock on the door takes your concentration. As you pull it open you call back to her, "Well since you're up, you might as well join us."

"Nope!" She quickly scurries away with a wave of her hand. Cotton candy stuffed under her arm.

You shut the door behind Armin as he stares down the hall that Sasha had disappeared down. Your grin is bright almost devilish as it slowly spreads across your face.

"Seems like it's just the two of us." You mutter, loud enough for him to hear.

You watch as he thickly gulps with a nod. Bite able Adam's apple bouncing but you pretend you don't notice. Your mat is already laid out on the floor but you can't stop yourself from bending over to smooth out the corners. Barely paying attention to Armin until you hear a small cough or maybe him choking it's not very clear.

He's holding his mat in his arms defensively across his chest. Silk strands of blond hair fluttering when he blinks. His cheeks a beautifully vibrant pink.

"I-I wanted to th-thank you.." He says, blue eyes trained where they stared at your mat. "For.. the- um.." He gestures and you can't help but giggle.

"The sex?"

Now his eyes find you. Blown wide as his pink lips part over a word that never succeeds in leaving his mouth. Your feet pat over the floor as you close the distance between the two of you. His cheeks warm under your delicate grasp and you hold his face almost as though you're sure he'll shatter.

"You're so cute, please never change."

You're almost scared it sounds condescending but the soft rosy color trudging up to the tips of Armin's ears says he doesn't agree.

You turn back to your mat with a smile but just before you sit on it you add, "And you never have to thank me for sex, I'd do it with you anytime."

He nods once as if responding to you and then twice as if he's confirming that you did indeed say what he heard. The soft plap of his mat on the floor reminding you of what you were both here for.

"Ok, let's begin then." You take a deep breath, adjusting the scrunchie holding your hair in place. "First we wanna stretch alright, so I just need you to reach up above your head with both hands and reposition your feet."

You demonstrate using yourself and Armin awkwardly copies. Slender fingers curling towards the sky as he slowly relaxes his shoulders. You can't help but let your mind wander a little as a glint of light flickers off the steel rings decorating three of his gorgeous digits.

You had fingered yourself last time the two of you were together and now you were craving him. Wondering what the warmth of just one of those inside you would feel like.

"Spread your legs more." You encourage, meanwhile it nearly has Armin doubling back. "Dirty boy." You tease

You stand in front of him gently kicking his legs apart. Easy enough. And he responds to every bit of your touch like he craved you too.

And well you wanna tell yourself that you had actually had completely innocent intentions when you'd invited Armin over here today. He genuinely had never done Yoga before and you knew Sasha was gonna be here. So yeah, you'd love to say you wanted nothing but to relax Armin in this encounter.

But you couldn't even keep a straight face while thinking it.

"Can you bend your knees a little?" He squats, carefully coming back up. Arms reaching out on both sides as you coaxed him. "A little lower sweetie." You say as his ass hovers inches over the mat.

And oh to be the mat.

You step back until you're completely back on your mat. "I'm sure your arms are tired, you can put them down now." You wave him off and he lets out a smooth exhale. "Feel relaxed yet?"

"A little." He replies with a confident smile.

"Then you're ready for the next part." You clap "I need you to bend over and touch your toes alright."

He shuts his eyes, pretty lips parting over your choice of words. What you wouldn’t give right at this second to be a mind reader. His back arches, ankles locking together as you demonstrated. "Good, good boy. Back straight." You sink your thumb into his black athletic shirt to touch his spine. And he hardens with your touch. "Don't be shy, it's just me." You mutter, breath heavy.

Fuck! Touching his back muscles this up close and personal made you wanna sink your nails into them. Leave lines up and down his soft supple skin as a mark that you'd always be his first. No one else would ever get that privilege. 

"I-I.."

Shit.

"Ok, you can stand."

You pretend not to notice the way he shifts his sweats as he stands. This time you vow to actually stay on your mat.

"You should know this position." Your legs spread on one end of the mat while your hands came down to lay flat near the opposite end. "Try it."

Carefully he gets into the position you're currently doing but not without peaking at your figure. His blond hair dipping towards the mat and you can't help but smile at how cute he looks.

"Now we're gonna slowly curve our bodies down until our pelvis touches the floor." You say, head curving up toward the ceiling. For once Armin has immediate trouble, hips dangling weirdly over the ground. His arms trying and failing to steady himself.

"What's the matter? Wanna try a different position?"

"N-no it's nothing.."

You plop down on your mat, crossing your legs and gesturing for him to do the same and even without his reluctance you already know what's wrong. He slowly but surely rotates his hips, spreading his legs. His hardened dick print on full display.

You don't even try to hide the slow slither of your tongue wetting your lips. You quickly turn your head before crawling your way over to a very very flushed Armin. Sweat glistening perfectly over his pale skin.

"W-wait Sasha!" He panics, his arms flailing a bit as he backs up slightly.

"Shh it's ok, she definitely fell back asleep the second she went back in her room." You reply crawling towards him again.

"But you know I c-can't keep q-uiet. Wh-what if she h-hears!"

Your hands inched past his now loosened sweats to gently squeeze his hardened cock through his boxers. Both his hands flew to his mouth giving you a new gorgeous view of those pretty rings.

His eyes roll unfocused with every sweet glide of your hand. Tears already starting to brim along the edges of his warm eyes.

“Do you always wear those rings for physical activities or is it just for me?” 

“I-I just forgot to take them off..” 

“Did you?” You can tell your smile is shitty. Just from the way his eyes dart away from yours "You've never been blown either have you?" You ask getting back on topic.

"N-no." It's a muffled response but it hits your ears loud and clear.

"Another story for the growing journal then." You tease

You honestly can't help yourself. Lips curving and confining his tip like a vise. Precum salty where it stains your tongue. His gasp bouncing off the wall so elegantly. So fucking perfect. But even though Sasha is a heavy sleeper you were still worried she'd wake up before you finished.

So as much as you wanted to tease.

"Can I pull these down baby? I know your dick wants some relief."

He complies, oddly quickly. And you pull his sweats and boxers down just enough to hug the tops of his thighs. 

And his dick is gorgeous. You hadn't actually seen it before but fuck was it pretty, standing tall and leaking before you.

You inch forward spit dribbling from your lips to be collected in the hand that was working his slender shaft. It had Armin's hips bucking up to greet you. His sweet whines egging you on.

And slowly but surely.... "Oh my fucking god."

It was an adjustment. Not as smooth as you would've liked because of the weird angle but you'd taken a little more than half of his dick in your mouth. A mildly painful fit made up for by the angelic cries of Armin just above you.

"Pl-please.. oh God please.."

He couldn't tell what he wanted to hold, hands shifting to the top of your head, the floor and his rolled up sweats all in less than a minute. You swore you could hear his heartbeat through his chest every time you swallowed his cock again.

You wanted to speed ahead so bad, see him just as flustered as he had been last week when he had his cock buried deep inside your pussy but it was obvious he wasn't going to last long either way.

Disorganized syllables flooding off his lips with the occasional whimper of "thank you" and "yes". His throat heavy with every curse word he knew stuck in it. Breaths quick and uneven as you coaxed him down your throat. Vibrations coursing past your lips to meet his already sensitive sex.

"I-i'm.. gonna cum.. mmm soooo close! Gonna cum!"

His choked breaths fell over your forehead and in the next second he was emptying every bit of his stress into your mouth. Eyes clouded like Armin wasn't even in there anymore. And you drained him of every drop, reaching between his legs to squeeze his balls.

When you pulled off of him he let out a deep exhale. Body still shaking as he looked at you.

"Thank you so much." He grinned hazily

"God, I wanna be as many of your firsts as possible." You breathe out a laugh.

☆☆The one where Eren walks in☆☆

It wasn't often you came back to the same guy. Every now and then you had one night stands and that's all it ended up being. You'd always been fine with that.

But Armin made you stay. His shaky fingers, nervous tongue and tear stained cheeks so oddly addictive. Intoxicating in how innocent he stayed despite having two sexual encounters with you.

And now here you both were having your third in his bed. Bodies melded together in the heat of both your sweat. Eyes fixated on only each other as his head tilted up like a hungry baby bird to pull you back in every time you fled.

And you indulged him as much as possible because fuck he was the cutest thing. Your hands gliding over his back and up to his shoulders to pull him impossibly closer. Spine curving deliciously when he grazed over your g-spot.

"Armin.. there." You breathed

Your free hand slid between your bodies making space for those slender fingers to work over your clit.

"Flick it." You encouraged, he immediately did as he was told earning a moan of approval.

"Good boy." You hum, lip trembling where it curves under your teeth.

The once soft pink of his face deepened with the compliment. A little smile decorating his gorgeous features. Just another thing to add to your growing folder of mental images.

"There honey.. keep going." You cooed over the little whimper fluttering off his lips as you hugged his cock. "You remember that spot right? The one that you hit when we were outside?"

"Yeah.. I think it was.." His hips remained delicate as he slid right into place. One leg up as he slotted his cock inside you. Heat pooled in the lowest depths of your stomach with the hesitant prodding of his tip to your g-spot. Eyes curving up to yours for further instruction.

"Mmhm that's it.. hit it a little harder ok."

It was all sorts of clumsy but he rammed your g-spot full force. An apology made its way to his throat but eye contact and the choked gasp that left your mouth soon proved it wasn't needed. You spread your legs a little further for him and he grabbed your waist smoothly working your hips over his dick.

"You're doing so well." You giggled taking a hold of his face. "And you're holding out much longer this time."

"Y-yeah but I'm almost there.." He sighed, fingers working at your clit a little faster. Right in time with the faster tempo of his hips.

"Fuck, you feel soooo good." He drawls

His lips parted, eyes flying north. You hugged him a little tighter as his chest pushed you up and down with each thrust. The once gentle drag of your nails now much rougher. As you let it slip just how much you were enjoying this.

Let your mouth fall open for the words circling your brain. Stomach heavy as Armin fucked you with intention. You brushed beads of sweat back from his face. His hair going up with it, clumping together atop his head.

"Mm gonna cum.." He moaned, head lolling with the intensity of his full body tremor.

"Hey Armin-"

"Eren!" Armin nearly shot up as Eren pushed the door open with zero warning.

Armin's free hand stayed on your clit completely stagnant. Tip twitching inside you, he didn't even have time to cover his mouth. Moans and whimpers pouring out from his still parted lips. Every bit of your fifteen minute effort now seen and heard by Eren who stood in the doorway with a raised eyebrow.

"Hey Eren.." You greeted, pulling your hand away from your upturned lips. Meanwhile Armin's face is buried deep in your shoulder blade. Where you already assumed he'd be staying for the next hour.

"Uh huh.." Eren replied, slamming the door shut. "Mikasa, he's busy let's go!" You heard him call as his boots clicked down the hall.

You don’t say a word till you hear the front door open and close, “You ok?” 

“Any chance Eren didn’t hear that?..” He whispered 

“Not in hell or on Earth love.” 

‘Then no..” 

[katsukikitten]

Part one. Master list for plus one can be found here.

Just a nice fic I decided to write for fun. Please enjoy!

Asshole!

He was nothing but a huge, giant fucking ASSHOLE for the entire two years the two of you were dating and he decides NOW is a good time to break up with you?

Two days before your cousin's wedding and over TEXT MESSAGE?!

That fucking asshole.

He knew how you felt. Exactly how you felt about going alone to your cousin's wedding after your family begged to meet your boyfriend and teased you for "probably making him up." Which hell, he may as well have been made up considering how absent he was in the relationship. Using work as an excuse to come home late but forgetting to turn off his snap location when he showed up at the bar.

So you did what any rational woman in her upper twenties would do.

You drowned your sorrows in booze, tonight red wine as it was the only thing around, and you scrolled through your socials in hopes of distracting yourself from your suffering.

Alas the devil that is Instagram only amplified your sadness and irritation. Showing couple after couple, your friends on hikes kissing on the mountain top, kissing in the flickering light of candles at a fancy dinner or, worst yet, getting proposed to. The video showing her in hysterics screaming, "YES I DO I DO!"

And it feels terrible to feel this way. Especially about your friends, the people you love and want to support, still it stings. You hadn't told anyone about the breakup, you weren't even sure your friends even remembered that asshole's name.

A teardrop lands on your screen, magnifying all the magical lights of the led beneath the glad. You wipe away the tear and with that the feed refreshes. A new post has come in at the top, Res Riot's official account.

Kirishima stands with a fat white cat in his arms. He dwarfs the animal with his large stature that looks larger as he still has his Red Riot gear on. The caption reads something along the lines of "missed my precious baby."

Red wine is a dangerous thing as your body acts on its own. You go to his page to hit the little arrow to DM him. Typing out and backspacing your message as you struggle from the booze, you decide to say fuck it and use the voice memo feature. Before you know it your sniffling voice is playing back to you after you've hit send.

"My ex broke up with me before this stupid wedding. It's in two days and my family is going to roast me big time when I show up alone. They think I made that asshole up. I don't know why I'm even in your dms. Your account is probably run by some dick head who can't even capture your kindness. I guess I'm here cause my first thought seeing you on my timeline was Red Riot has always been my hero…"

Ugh totally fucking cringe.

There is no surprise as you see the three normally ominous dots pop up, probably his social media manager about to ask you to stop your "advances" as Kirishima is too busy to date and he'd hate to block you or some other bullshit.

But there it is a surprise to see a little bubble with the play button and some vertical lines in various heights. It takes your sluggish brain a moment to realize you've been sent a voice memo. Odd. Your thumb smashes the screen faster than you can think and a deep voice rumbles through the speakers of your phone.

"Actually I run my official and personal socials. And I'm sorry to hear about your ex doll. He sounds like a real ass. I'll be your hero, I'll go with you to the wedding."

Your heart stutters, no way, no way in HELL this was Red Riot. You had read about the horror stories before or pervy account managers taking advantage of women who so desperately wanted to talk to their hero.

Hell, it's happened to Dynamight plenty of times.

You swallow quickly but the bile rushes up your throat. Not just from the anxiety of a possible con but from drinking an entire bottle of wine with nothing on your stomach after months of sobriety. Quickly you stumble to the bathroom, abandoning your phone on your bed. You barely make it in time to praise the porcelain Gods before you fall onto your back. Looking up at the light in your cramped bathroom, the orb doubles and spins as you feel the Earth turning on its axis. You curl into your side using your bathmat as a pillow as you drift off into sleep, totally forgetting about the voice memo on your phone.

As you sleep peacefully on your memory foam bath rug, Kirishima settles into his nightly routine. One giant hand grabbing strands of long dark red hair into a towel while another sits snugly around his Adonis belt and the thick, black happy trail that follows up the center of his abs before spreading out onto his chest. He tosses the towel over the open door of the bathroom before sitting in his favorite armchair with phone in hand. Diamond, his beautiful white cat he rescued a few years ago, jumps onto the arm of the chair, purring loudly when Kirishima's free hand scratches her ears absentmindedly.

He chuckles to himself as he realizes exactly what he's done. Acting on a feeling instead of logic all because he heard a "damsel in distress." Starting off his rare vacation with spontaneity starting with an impromptu date with a stranger. He really isn't sure what you look like and it's obvious your handle doesn't have your real name in it, just PrincessPeach with some random numbers at the end. He takes the time to scroll through your profile. Seeing pictures of food, of many sunsets, a friend's dog that guest appears often, your own cat and plenty of strays.

It takes him a while before he sees a photo of you. His heart stutters in his chest as he looks you over. Laughing with a friend, soft lighting from strings over head that blur like little fireflies. Your smile is wide, half hidden by your hands as your eyes seem to smile with you. Sparkling as if they held stars.

For a moment Kirishima forgets how to breathe, it isn't until Diamond jumps down from the armchair does he inhale. He smiles softly to himself before he drops his towel, puts his phone on charge and promptly falls asleep in his bed.

Kirishima rises before the sun even has a chance to filter through his blinds. He sighs softly, getting up to a sitting position disturbing a fluffy white ball that lays beside him.

"Mmrow." Moon stone eyes blink slowly as they look at the mountainous man hogging the bed.

"I didn't mean to wake you sweet baby." He says softly, going to pet the soft white fur only for her to get up stretch and give him her butt before plopping back down.

"I know, mean ol' daddy woke you up too early again." He says softly, his hand falling onto her back before he rises from the bed. Fishing for his running shorts, socks, headphones and shoes. He makes his protein shake, leaning on the counter as he drinks it, looking at how you read, or better yet, listened to his message but still no reply. It was late and there was a small slurring of your words, he figures you've passed out. He just hopes you're okay.

His run goes as usual, up before anyone else unless they were the normal avid runner. Passing by the usual array of people. An old man holding onto his youth by jogging through his daily five mile morning run, Kirishima knows he runs another five in the evening while the sun is setting. He hopes he can embody some of this man's commitment when he is older. Then he passes a middle aged woman, who gives him the biggest smile as she pases, jogging backward to send him a wink before plowing ahead. Occasionally he'll see a running group or a few teens training to be heroes, they always ask if they can run his route. "It's long." He always warns in a kind, warm voice. They assure him they will be fine so far only one other person could handle his 12 mile morning run. A young woman in her second year of hero courses at UA. Since then Kirishima put in a word with his boss and so every time internships roll around she's in the office.

By the time Kirishima is rounding back towards his high rise apartment, the city begins to stir. Slowly waking as men and women in business suits rush towards the train, parents flinging open the doors or curtains fussing at their children who cling to an extra few minutes of sleep before school.

This was always his favorite part of the run, not because it was almost over, oh no it was because he had a chance to glimpse at everyday life. Of nine to fives, of school hours and after school hangs outs at snack bars or the library.

What most would call the mundane but Kirishima would never call it that. It's why he worked so hard to protect it.

Diamond greets his sweaty form at the door. Glaring angrily with her moon stone eyes. Tail swishing before she goes to the kitchen by her bowl. Waiting impatiently.

"I'm not late, sweet cheeks." He coos, and she glares, "I know I know. You're hungry now."

He opens the fridge, gets out the highest quality food there is and places it on her dish, sure to keep it all in the middle or she'll claim her bowl was empty. He added a splash of water too since the weather was starting to get hot.

He sucks down a water or two, demolishes a protein bar and then heads to the apartment gym.

A few hours roll by and without hearing from you yet his worry over your well being begins to cloud the forefront of his mind. He pauses his music, picks up his phone and talks out a voice memo.

A loud DING echoes from your room and around your skull as you rise with a throbbing headache.

"Fuck." You hiss to yourself grabbing at your head as you shakily rise to your feet. Yanking the handle of the faucet to drink from the stream before looking at yourself in the mirror.

"Ugh." You grunt ignoring your swollen face and eyes, yanking the mirror door open to snatch at the bottle of aspirin. Swallowing THREE extra strength pills before slamming the door shut and turning off the faucet. You make your way towards your bedroom, more than ready to sleep the rest of your day away. Grabbing at your phone to charge it you see the push notification of an Instagram message from Red Riot.

The fucking Red Riot.

Internally you scream before it bubbles up your throat and escapes. You fumble to unlock your phone before looking that it's a voice memo.

Mortified you realize you sent one too. And first at that.

"Fuck MEEE!" You plop onto the bed. Nervous this second voice memo is probably about how you're a weirdo or something as you relive the memory of asking him to be your plus one.

Hesitantly your thumb hovers over the play button before you find the strength to press the cool glass. A soft thunderous voice plays out.

"Good morning sleepy head. I haven't heard from you yet, I hope you're okay. Be sure to drink some water and eat something greasy. Trust me, late nights with Denki and Bakugou taught me something. Since the wedding is tomorrow I'll need a picture of your dress for the color and style so I can match you Sweet pea. Contact me soon so I can know where to pick you up."

Did he… did he just call you SWEET PEA? Your heart pounds in your chest before it registers he's asked for your dress color and lowkey asked for your address. This couldn't be real. It sounded like Kirishima, his voice familiar from interviews you've watched but it very well could be a prank. Defeated you hit the small microphone and reply.

Kirishima hears a sharp DING in his headphones over his music as he finishes his set. He wipes the sweat from his face on his shirt giving the few people in the gym a lovely view of his sweaty and thick torso. One woman trips on the treadmill but it goes unnoticed by Kirishima. He pauses his music and hits play on the little memo. Your beautiful yet groggy voice comes in through his ear buds causing Kirishima to bite his lip. It causes such a flutter of butterflies in his stomach he has to listen a second time to actually hear what you said. Although he understand, he cannot help but feel hurt by your reply.

"How do I know you're not just some pervy guy using Kirishima's Godly looks to prey on unsuspecting people."

Your phone chirps at you from the bed stand and you growl reaching for it. You had hoped your message would have been clear. An unspoken of you know they're a fucking creep taking advantage of their PR job.

"What can I do to prove it to you, Sweet Pea?"

You hate how that cute nickname sends your heart into a somersault and your stomach in delightful knots. Still your doubt pulls a harsh tut from your lips before you reply.

Kirishima doesn't need his phone to alert him that you've messaged him, he's been looking at his screen for far to long without having to restart his set. He listens to your voice as if it were music.

"Fine, you wanna prove it to me so bad. Take a picture of yourself shirtless with the word 'Sweet pea' you love so much and send it to me. No photoshop I know what my favorite hero looks like!"

For over an hour you don't hear back and you figure you showed that perv.

But now you can't sleep so you nurse a water, door dash a "greasy" breakfast all before cranking your shower as high as it can go. Your phone dings and you try to ignore it. You really do but as the saying goes curiosity killed the cat. Opening the message you see a classic guy mirror selfie. Kirishima is clear as day in the photo, his large hand pointing to his bare, hairy chest where sweat pea is scrawled in his adorable handwriting. He winks at the camera as his kissable lips wear a dangerous, almost cocky eyes travel down his bulk following his happy trail that dives under a pair of black shorts, the best part of the view getting cut off by the vanity. At first you try to rationalize that this was fake but damning evidence was sitting on the vanity. A fluffy white cat in a diamond and ruby encrusted collar sits on the counter giving her owner an odd look.

His cat Diamond that everyone knows he loves and adores. Slick begins to collect between your thighs and especially so after you listen to the voice memo that comes through shortly after. His normally friendly and soft voice comes out a bit dark, husky as he says in a playfully annoyed tone.

"Now send me a picture of that dress, Sweet Pea."

[chubbology]

A Little Incentive

prompt: someone skinny grows chubby on their partner's good cooking and insistence they eat well

From the tempting smell of bacon and syrup that wafted into the room, I knew she’d outdone herself this morning.

“I made breakfast,” she stage-whispered to me. I grinned and turned over in bed, feigning sleepiness even though what I really wanted was to sit right up and take that plate from her hands.

Then my stomach growled and she laughed.

“The others are jealous,” she said. “But I told them they already had a habit of eating breakfast. You’re the one I need to hammer it into, by any means necessary.”

I took a deep breath and sat up in bed, pushing hair out of my face. “Consider me incentivized.” I took the heaping plate of breakfast food that she pushed at me, then the fork, and started into the chocolate chip pancakes, which were half soaked in syrup. Also on the plate lay bacon, eggs, hash browns, a muffin, and…

“French toast sticks, too?”

“As a reward for finishing all your exams! I know you like them.”

I thanked her. She poked my side and smiled fondly at me. “At the beginning of this semester, you would have said this was too much. I hope you know that it makes me the happiest girl in the world that you’re eating properly now.”

In response, I took a bite of extra crispy bacon and groaned in pleasure. As she got ready for the day, I considered her comment. Eating properly. She and I had different definitions of that, or used to at least.

My first two years of college were hard. Working part time, taking hard classes, dealing with an awful roommate. I barely took care of myself. I thought eating properly was eating at all. But then I met her and we hit it off, became friends and then more than friends, then moved in together with a couple more roommates just barely off campus. All the while, she made a point of showing me each day what eating properly meant to her: big meals cooked in the kitchenette or piled onto plates in the dining halls, snacks throughout the day, and never forgetting dessert. It kept her chubby, but she didn’t mind. I certainly didn’t.

“Bye!” I called out as she left for her last day of exams. She seemed confident about how hers had gone so far. Me? Not so much. I was never a good test taker.

I finished my plate down to the crumbs. I went and leisurely washed the dishes. I had pretty much nothing to do today. From the silence coming from the other bedrooms, I knew I had the apartment to myself, too. I could go outside, but it was too hot. And like hell I was going to go to the library again until I absolutely had to. There were always video games, but I stayed up late last night staring at screens, trying to forget my poor performance on my own last exam of the semester. I felt burnt out on everything.

I blinked in confusion when I realized I’d opened the fridge. I closed it. I literally just ate, so I don’t know why I’d…

The next three hours, I spent back in bed. Looking on my phone, resting my eyes, worrying about exam results, and tugging on my pajama pants. They were tight because I was so full. Eventually I decided to do something productive, starting with a shower. Maybe I could drive to a café or something, hang out there.

After showering and dressing (since I wasn’t exactly full anymore, I figured the tightness of my shorts was from bloating) I wandered into the kitchen for something to snack on. The fridge was always well stocked, and I eyed the rest of the batch of muffins in tupperware. I heard her voice in my mind: It makes me happy when you treat yourself.

What the hell. I took out the container, opened it, and took a bite out of the cinnamon raisin muffin. I closed my eyes. Big and sugary and so good. Better than the first one, maybe, because it had cooled off and I could better taste the flavor. I ate another one. And then I treated myself with a third before closing the lid again. There were still eight left.

I tried putting the container back in the fridge, but something stopped me. Go ahead, I heard her say. You don’t eat enough.

Slowly, I opened the container again and ate two more of the muffins. They were just so good. Then I put the container away, firmly slamming the fridge door and biting my lip. Truth was, she stopped telling me I don’t eat enough months ago.

I went back into the bathroom and took a good look at myself, which I’d avoided doing before. Truth was, my shorts were tight because, thanks to my partner’s cooking and our lingering stays at the dining halls and my new penchant for snacking, I had filled out more than a little. I’d put on my own chub. My shirt clung to my sides, which were soft and rounded (Is that why she poked me?), and upon closer inspection, I couldn’t deny my face looked tubbier, too.

I stood in quiet shock for a while, gently pressing my palm to the outward slump of my belly, its natural shape when I didn’t suck it in. (When did I start unconsciously sucking it in?) After a minute of dazedly contemplating my weight, I rummaged around for a dusty scale and stepped on it with bated breath.

My jaw fell open. My whole face, my neck, my ears flushed red, even though there was no one to see me there, finding out I was thirty seven pounds heavier than expected.

Forty pounds? Almost forty pounds? It was impossible. I didn’t look that much bigger.

But she had always said I was too skinny. So maybe twenty of those just filled me in? And then the rest was…extra? Forty pounds.

The surprise waned after a few more minutes of checking myself out in the mirror. I found I wasn’t as upset as society had led me to think I would be.

I did go to a café later that day. My newfound self-awareness didn’t kick back in until after I got a grande frappe and a scone. At my table, I thumbed the belly that now warmed a small part of my lap before eating and sipping my treats anyway.

My shorts felt so tight after a while, I just unbuttoned them and hoped no one would notice.

I spent a few hours there, reading and browsing my laptop and giving my soft belly secretive, intrigued touches before I started thinking about the six remaining muffins at the apartment. When I got back, I found I was in good company.

“I really did good on these,” she said, swallowing. “Want one?”

I took one, trying to hide my sheepishness. Did she guess it was me who ate the five that were missing? Or did she think it was our other roommates? Did she think…

“You want to get a late lunch?” “I think I need new clothes.”

We stared at each other. She chuckled, “Sorry, what?”

I flushed, tugging conspicuously on my shorts, not quite able to find the words. “Need to go shopping.” I’ve gained almost forty pounds. Forty pounds! My throat constricted.

“Oh.”

I looked up at her. “You’re a good cook,” I said, grinning. Still a little embarrassed.

But now she was a bit pink in the face, too. “Yeah, we should go shopping. Um. You aren’t mad. Are you? I just really like to cook and bake, and you really were too skinny and—”

“No, no! I’m not mad. I—”

Am I going to get fat? I wanted to ask her suddenly, and I felt very warm. I’m always eating these days. What if I outgrow the new clothes I buy? What then?

“I hope you know I think you look good,” she blurted. My thoughts ceased. “Really good.”

Suddenly, I was aware I’ve been sucking my belly in again. Would it be weird if I stopped? Just let it...swell out? I took in a deep breath, then let it all out, not sucking in this time. Her wide eyes fixated on my chubby lower belly.

“Thanks,” I said, trying not to be awkward. “To be honest, I only noticed recently that I look…different.”

Her eyes met mine and she looked very adoring. I’m sure my expression was identical. “Just a little. I was surprised how much your appetite grew.”

“Yeah. You still want to get lunch?” I asked. “Kinda feel like the dining hall.”

Kinda feel like going all out.

I won’t get fat.

Only a little, maybe. Not the end of the world.

“Okay,” she squeaked, as if hearing my thoughts. “Good idea. After all my stupid exams, it’s time to treat myself.”

I wholeheartedly agreed. So we went.

I loved how she looked shyly excited the whole time, as I overdid the second and third helpings. It seemed to make her overdo it some, too. Which spurred me to make it a competition, and there we sat together, overeating like a couple of chubby fiends.

“Still think you’re too skinny,” she taunted me, as we left, already discussing plans for dinner.

*

Thank you to the reader who commissioned this work!

I'd love to write more. Check me out <3 etsy.com/shop/Chubbology

[utilitycaster]

odd observation, you've mentioned before abt how fandom tends to treat Laura's characters a certain way, and i was thinking abt how in a lot of fanart both jester and Imogen are often drawn as smaller, chubby or plus sized, and Imogen in particular has her skin darkened or often is pictured with glasses. there's nothing wrong with that but it's sooo much rarer with other characters. i occasionally see fearne with tan skin but never more than a little voluptuous. even a more burly yasha is rarer than a chubby jester. you basically never see it with male characters. like the preference of fanon over canon is a lot more obvious for some reason.

I haven't seen a ton with Imogen's skin darkened, tbh, but yeah the trend of drawing Jester and Imogen as both very short and very chubby is like...as with the glasses, if you wanted to destigmatize something (glasses/fat people) then why are you all drawing it exactly one way, why does she literally look like she's twelve much of the time when the infantilization of fat adults (or adults wearing big round glasses) is literally part of the problem, and also why was the justification for drawing Jester as plus size often given as "well she's got 16 STR" but Yasha, Pike, and Fy'ra Rai aren't drawn that way (and Imogen has a negative strength score). Like, people managed to understand that Vax and Vex have a relatively similar build but Vax's strength score is literally double Vex's; I am once again inclined to start some kind of program in which people who lift (me) take artists to a lifting gym so they can see what the fuck 16 strength looks like (hint: literally anything other than extremely underweight).

On one level it's very irritating because I like these characters and the constant infantilizing is so contrary to what's shown onscreen, but on another level it's just like...boring and uncreative. It's not quite like when people write Caleb as using tons of wildly inaccurate German terms of endearment, because there's often a palpable dislike for Laura's characters except as a vaguely sentient body pillow for their favorite character among people who do this, whereas I think people doing that to Caleb tended to actually like him, but it's close: instead of the character I actually enjoy and want to see art/fic of, it's a shitty OC largely derived from fanon and it's not even good fanon.

That said there is plenty of good art of Imogen, and I try to reblog the stuff I like, and the same goes for Jester - if you think a trend sucks, support the people who buck that trend and make things you like.

[comfortwriting]

Best friends Brother - G.W

Part 1 of my slow burn mini-series, inspired by and dedicated to @amourtentiaa , want to be tagged? Let me know!

Masterlist, Requesting Rules, Writing Prompts

Part 2

George Weasley x Fem Reader 

About: The Reader is falling for her best mates older brother, she confines in Ron who is already afraid of losing his best friend to the brothers he’s so pressured to be like.

Warnings: swearing, fluff, mention of food and eating, but of angst, George punching a creep.

Walking away from Hagrid’s hut towards the castle, thoughts about the more quiet Weasley twin filled your hazy head - you were planning on shooting your shot, but first you needed some advice and the only person who could do that right now is your best friend Ron - currently chewing your ear off about Hermione and the house elves. 

“She doesn’t know when to stop does she? All the S.P.E.W nonsense, if she brings it up one more time-”

“Hey, do you think George likes anyone?” you asked as cool as possible, trying to contain your nervousness and excitement. 

Although you and George had only spoken few words to one another, he was all you could think about, all you ever thought about, day in day out. You would share sweet glances and looks across the common room in the evening, the beautiful amber glare coming from the flames projecting onto George’s face, making him look like an angel. 

As much as you liked him, you were terrified that he wouldn’t feel the same, that he only saw you as his little brothers best friend - you hated it. 

Ron slowed down from his brisk walk and he continued to stare at the ground “George? As in.. my brother?” 

“yeah” you smiled shyly, swallowing hard. 

Ron could feel his heart flutter, the idea of another person - his best friend - favouring one of his legendary twin brothers over him made him sick to his stomach, he couldn’t lose anyone else, he wouldn’t let it.

He pondered his thoughts, perhaps you were asking for someone else, someone Ron didn’t care about - the desperation in his stomach kept churning to find out. 

“I don’t know” he replied in a huff “we don’t really talk much, why you asking anyway?” 

You went quiet, suddenly finding interest in the scenery as the two of you edged closer to the castle. 

“uh, no reason” you lied, running your hand through your hair. 

For all of Ron’s flaws, he could tell when his best friend was lying - he never failed calling you out for it in the past, you learnt not to play any card games with him - especially when galleons were on the table. 

The two of you entered the loud castle, pushing past students in the hall, making your way to the Gryffindor common room.

“you like him, don’t you?” Ron muttered under his breath, making sure everyone else around you couldn’t hear.

You sighed and made eye contact with Ron, his facial expression even more sour than when he puked up slugs in first year. 

You walked up the stairs and held on to the rail, looking around for the Fat Lady “I suppose I do, I was thinking of asking him to-”

Ron could feel the sweat form in his palms and under his arms, images of you and George being together all the time instead of him flashed before him.

“I don’t know, Y/N, you’re two years younger than him, you haven’t spoken more than ten words to each other.” 

Your heart pained for a moment, your spirits crushing like the ingredients in one of Snape’s potions.

“I just don’t think he’ll like you that much, I don’t want you to get hurt.” he finished, the two of you finally reaching the portrait. 

“I guess so” you mumbled “you know him better than I do.”

Over the next few days you couldn’t stomach being around George, each time you looked into his gorgeous eyes and seeing him smile, caused your heart pain, a lump forming in your throat, and hot tears filling your eyes. 

At first George didn’t notice but when he would wave and smile - only to be ignored, he couldn’t help but overthink; wondering if he had done something wrong. 

It wasn’t just George who you ignored, you kept away from your best friend Ron too - Ron felt like shit but you were away from George and that gave him enough of a clear conscience to sleep at night. 

You couldn’t sleep, you missed your best friend even when he hurt your feelings, you also felt hopeless, the only person you ever showed an interest in wouldn’t even give you a chance.  

“What’s been up with Y/N lately? George asked his younger brother, buttering his toast, causing Ron to almost choke on his. 

“What you on about?” 

George rolled his eyes and swallowed his food, “unbelievable you are, she’s been avoiding you like the plague and she won’t even look at me.”  

“So, did you make up your mind yet?” 

You swore silently under your breath, recognising the voice who called out to you - an attractive and charming Hufflepuff student in George’s year with short black hair kept asking you over and over to go on a date with him in Hogsmeade, each time you said no had failed to satisfy his desire. 

“Uh” you were trying to figure out the best way to tell him to fuck off, but then again, what did you have to lose? “yeah, I’ll be there” you faked a smile. 

Ron watched in the distance and felt relieved, from his perspective, the possibility of you and George seemed incredibly slim to none. He walked over towards you as soon as the lad split, a smile creeping up on his face. 

“Y/N, alright?” he smiled, his hands in his pockets. 

You stared at him, yes you were hurt, but you missed him - he could do much worse to cause a much bigger fall out between the two of you. 

“I suppose” you sighed “walk with me to Transfiguration class?” 

Ron smiled “can do”

“and took your bloody shirt in!” you scolded him, bumping into him playfully. 

As much as you enjoyed visiting Hogsmeade, you couldn’t help but want to go back home and climb back into your warm bed, hiding away from the world - but your habit of trying to see the best in people lead you here - waiting outside Honey Dukes for your date to arrive. 

“Look at you!” he called out, walking over and kissing your hand “ready for the best day of your life?” he grinned.

Best day of my life? with you? I should’ve stayed in bed.

“Sure” you replied, plastering a fake smile on your face. 

The best day of your life wasn’t too bad, you had someone new to talk to, to try and get your mind off things - but your heart couldn’t help but yearn for George. You looked around the shops thinking of the products he liked, disliked, and what he bought for Ron at Christmas. 

Your date had more to blab about himself than get to know you, he held your hand and bought you a much needed Butterbeer - but he talked so much that he didn’t even get round to drinking his own. The more he had to say, the more he tried to impress you, the more you disliked him, making you fall for George even more. 

Finally breaking out from the busy and overwhelming pub and out into the cold, your date stood in front of you with a strange expression on his face. 

“So?” he shrugged

“so, what?” you stared at him, your patience wearing thin. 

The shared laughter between George and Ron came to a halt when George spotted you with his classmate, he knitted his brows together. 

“Why’s Y/N around that plonker?” he asked his younger brother. 

Ron looked at you then back to George “she’s on a date”

George shook his head “he’s an absolute creep” 

The two of them stared, the student took a hold of your hand and tried to pull you in for a kiss, you pulled away and glared at him, trying to not make a scene. 

“Fucking pervert!” George hissed, storming over towards the two of you “Hey!”

George clenched his jaw, his nostrils flared and his glaring gaze settled on on the lad, he bunched his right hand into a fist and swung, everything went in slow motion as George punched him in the face. 

You were speechless, you didn’t know what to say, all you could do was stare and watch the fight unfold. 

“Stay away from her or my foot will rip you a new one!” George threatened him, he turned to you, his facial expression instantly turning soft.

“th-thank you” 

“you don’t need to thank me love, are you alright?” George searching your eyes with his, full of care and concern. 

Your heart fluttered, his voice, him speaking to you sounded like the most fascinating birds chirping, and his caring face caused fireworks in your stomach to erupt into the sky. 

You wanted to take your chance, ask him out and start over but before you could do any of that, let alone reply, Ron hurried over and interrupted; putting you back in your place and making you remember how his brother felt about you. 

“Proper shiner he’ll have in the morning” Ron laughed “sort your knuckles out George, if anyone sees they’ll send a letter home.” 

The fluttering in your heart died down, the chirping of the birds instantly turning into the most dreadful squawks, and the fireworks in your stomach burning out, starving the embers before they could relight.  

“Thanks again” you murmured quietly, flashing George one last smile before walking away, wanting to retreat to your bed and hide away. 

George had to admit, he felt quite hurt that you went back to ignoring him after he had your back the other week - he knew that you didn’t owe him anything, not even an explanation - but he couldn’t understand why even after making up with Ron, you still refused to look at him.

Sitting on the sofa in the common room in your pyjamas, you flicked through your Quidditch magazine and blinked over and over whilst you looked across the page, sleep trying to pull you in. 

“Georgie, I’ve already said-” 

“Shhh!”

Jolting awake, you looked behind you and stared at the twins, long roles of parchment in one hand and a map in the other, you yawned and rubbed your eyes, closing your magazine. 

“It’s okay boys, I’m going to bed anyway.” you yawned again, slowly getting off the sofa. 

Fred and George shared a look, the older twin nodding his head towards you “go on then, mate, I’ll be upstairs.”

Fred walked past you, he whispered a “goodnight!” and went off to his dorm, leaving you alone with the person you wanted more than anyone in the world. 

George pursed his lips, standing around awkwardly before approaching you “Y/N, can we talk?” he asked softly. 

You nodded slowly, the nerves piping up in your tummy. 

“What’s up?”

“You’ve been ignoring me, love” he said softly “have I done something wrong?” 

This was your moment, not to ask him out - but to tell him the truth. 

You pushed your stray hairs out of your face and sighed, the lad of your dreams standing beside you, looking down on you. 

“I have feelings for you George” you admitted, your mouth going dry “and that’s why I have to stay away from you, because I know you’re never going to feel the same.” 

George went quiet, the embers from the fire spreading and making it set alight, the amber tones coming from the flames resting on his face. He smiled for a moment and licked his lips, looking into your eyes.

“Tomorrow night” he whispered softly in your ear “where we first met”

Tag list: @reeophidian @inglourious-imagines @alwaysnforeverfangirl