#they are just a lil kid still wanting to be soothed to sleep
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Why the FNAF puppet loves the music box,,
#myart#chloesimagination#comic#fnaf#five nights at freddy's#fnaf fanart#henry emily#charlie emily#charlotte emily#the puppet#the marionette#fnaf pizzeria simulator#fnaf 2#I’m sorry every comic recently with Charlie has been angst#but I got this idea and legally had to do it#the idea the puppet is soothed by the music box#is because it’s a music box Charlie use to listen to#makes me sniffle and sob#makes me lose my lil mind#but it makes sense to me!#they are just a lil kid still wanting to be soothed to sleep#she was a gift
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fix your head
pairing; perv!stepbro!rafe cameron x fem!stepsister!reader
warnings; stepcest, smut 18+ only, fingering, p in v sex, somnophilia, free use kink
a/n; just been having brainrot abt stepbro!rafe so here’s a lil drabble/thot abt him! (yes i am insane)
A rough palm presses to the small of your back as the covers lift, a chill twining around your suddenly exposed skin that has goosebumps raising even in slumber. You whine, brows scrunching as lax fingers loop around his wrist and you twist further into the sheets. Your eyes open and desperately try to acclimatise to the darkness of your bedroom, but all you can decipher is a looming silhouette that begins to crawl on top of your slack body.
"Shh, shh," Rafe soothes. His breath is hot against your prickling face. "'S just me. Go back to sleep. Just g'na fix your head a little."
"Mm, okay." You settle once you realise it's only your stepbrother, eyes fluttering closed once more. His touch immediately has your pert nipples hardening, the soft sheets beneath you enough stimulation to make you squirm even in your half-asleep state.
Bruising fingers curl around your hips, lifting them until your back arches and your face smushes into the pillows beneath you; he makes light work of your panties, pushing them to the side as his big palms knead the fatty flesh of your bum.
A finger sinks into your weeping hole and you gasp, pushing back into the touch as he curls it just right to rub over your g-spot. Your gummy walls contract at the newfound pleasure and an arm flies back in seek of purchase against Rafe's wrist.
"I know, I know," he coos, slipping in another digit and picking up the pace until the delicious friction has you stifling moans into the sheets. "Keep quiet for me, kid. Wouldn't want your mom finding us, would we?"
The feeling of fullness is gone as quickly as it appeared and you're still for a few moments, features crumpling in vexation.
"Don't get bratty on me now, you little shit," he chuckles, watching as your face falls once more when he lines his mushroom head up with your drooling entrance. You garble and gasp as your cunt parts and flares around him, fluttering walls hugging him and moulding to the shape of his curved cock.
Fingers splay against the base of your neck, effectively silencing you as he starts to rock his hips; fingernails dig into the delicate flesh there and you whimper, tears tickling at your waterline as he presses you further into the pillow to keep you quiet.
"Got this pussy trained f'me, haven't I, kid? Attagirl, nice and quiet for me."
He twines an open palm into the length of your hair and tugs to reveal your blissed visage, watching with rapture as your expression changes the more he toys with you.
You squeak as he reaches down to pinch and roll your swollen clit between two fingertips, teeth baring into a growl when he clasps a merciless hand over your whining mouth.
"I told you to be fuckin' quiet, slut. Too much of a whore to take it nicely, hm? Too ungrateful?"
You shake your head vehemently, tears pooling at the base of his fingers as his thrusts pick up speed, head of his cock kissing every spot inside of you until you can't think of anything but how good he's making you feel.
He wrenches his hand free and you sag like dead weight, a punched breath of air expelling from your lungs with every cruel rut of his hips.
"There's my girl," he croons with a wicked smile, satisfied now you're fucked too dumb to do anything but drool onto the pillows beneath you. "You just, relax, kid. I'll be finished with you soon.”
#rafe cameron x y/n#rafe cameron fic#rafe cameron blurb#rafe cameron fanfiction#rafe cameron fluff#rafe cameron smut#rafe cameron drabble#rafe x y/n#rafe x you#rafe x reader#stepbro!rafe#stepbro!rafe x fem!reader#rafe cameron x fem!reader#rafe cameron x female reader#rafe cameron x kook!reader#rafe cameron x you#rafe cameron x reader#rafe cameron x smut#rafe cameron imagine#rafe cameron#rafe obx#rafe smut#outer banks x reader#outer banks x you#outer banks x y/n#outer banks fic#outer banks fanfiction#obx smut#obx drabble#obx x reader
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Sleep talking, sweet talking
For the @strangerthingswritersguild demogorgon daily prompt 'Love is love'
Ao3
"S'in the drawer." Steve mumbles, "with the... s'with the bear."
Eddie blinks awake, squinting over Steve's hair at their little alarm clock. 3am.
"Nn, no, s'are my french fries." Eddie sits up a bit, Steve doesn't talk in his sleep often, but when he does it's always a golden opportunity to ask him ridiculous questions, and Eddie's not one to squander opportunities. "He wants tots."
"Sure, everyone likes tater tots, hey Stevie, who's your favorite kid?" He asks this one every time, he rarely gets the same answer twice in a row.
"Lucas," he says.
"Why is Lucas your favorite kid Stevie?"
"S'got a Nintendo." Eddie has to bite down on his lips hard to stop himself from laughing. Thankfully Steve sleeps on soundly through the little wheezes that escape.
"He does indeed," Eddie says when he has better control of himself. "What do you want for your birthday, baby?" It's coming up after all, maybe he can get some extra ideas.
"Mmm rocket ships."
"Is that right?"
"M'gonna be an astronaut."
"Sounds good, Stevie, you better make room to take me with you though." He says, with a smile in his voice.
"Inna suitcase."
"Sure, sure, very comfortable. Hey honey, what kind of animal do you think I am?"
"No they'll eat all our cake." He mumbles, so Eddie rephrases.
"What kind of animal would Eddie be, Stevie?"
"S'a raccoon. Lil- lil raccoon hands, lit'l raccoon man." He croons, and Eddie smiles at him indulgently, he's cute, and Eddie is going to tease him mercilessly. "Feral lil... jus'a lil guy."
"Yeah, that tracks, bet the eyeliner helps huh. Would you still love me if I was a worm baby?"
"Mm? It's green."
"It's important, Stevie." He sing songs, trying to get his attention when he doesn't get a response, "Steeeeevie, Steve, sweetheart, baby, love, daaaarling."
"Mm?" Steve questions, face mashed into his own arm. There're creases in his skin from his pillow, his hair is a birds nest, and there's a veritable lake of drool just in front of him where it's pooled off the edge of his bicep onto the fabric. It's gross. He's beautiful.
"Would you still love me if I was a worm, Stevie?" He asks again.
"Mm'yeah," Steve sighs out, smushing his cheek against his arm harder.
"Really, just like that?" Eddie snuggles him carefully closer, pulling him onto his own pillow where it's dry, "what if I was all slimy and ugly?"
"Mm'nah, Robin says." Steve says, matter of fact.
"Robin says?" He prompts.
"All th'time."
"What does Robin say, sweetheart?"
"Love s'love." Eddie can't help himself this time, the laugh bursts out of his chest, bright and loud, startling Steve awake.
"Wh- Eddie?" Steve groans, pushing himself up groggily, "s'going on?"
"It's nothing, love, I'm sorry," he soothes, bringing Steve's head back down onto his chest this time. "I'll tell you in the morning, okay?" Steve blinks at him, eyes half open, assessing.
"Okay," he agrees, going easily and rubbing his face into Eddie's chest. There'll be drool there by morning, Eddie can't find it in himself to care.
"Goodnight, Stevie." Eddie says, kissing his hair, already thinking about where to buy Steve a toy rocket ship and the ugliest raccoon plush he can find for his birthday. "Sweet dreams."
#steddie#my fic#kikidoesfanfic#eddie munson#steve harrington#stranger things#stranger things writer's guild#demogorgon daily#fluff
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Mockingbird
Simon “Ghost” Riley x F! Reader
Summary: Your little baby girl has started to run a fever, & only Simon can give her the comfort she needs
A/N: So a lil fun fact about me I’m actually a Mrs. Riley (no I’m not kidding) & those photos made by the incredibly talented @ave661 have made my baby fever kick in so badly especially when hearing people use “Baby Riley” & seeing all the men my husband is serving with currently put their little ones in the cutest baby gear isn’t helping it 😭
Warnings: none
Two days. You hadn’t gotten a full nights sleep in two days. Your breasts ached from not being pumped consistently & your little one wouldn’t latch due to the croop cough that been making her feel miserable. You had contacted the pediatrician to see what you could do to help your wailing baby. Since the croop was common in babies all you could do was give her medicine & try to soothe her. Her cries were starting to make you emotional. You felt her whole body tense as she coughed. Tears started to fall as her cries echoed off of the walls of the nursery. Today Simon was coming home from a training exercise, & thankfully he was the one thing that without fail could soothe her.
You had just given her some medicine & the taste really upset her.
“I know my sweet girl,” You told her. “Let me turn on the nebulizer.” You flipped on the little machine that was shaped like a giraffe, a baby gift you were now thankful for. A steady stream of steam came out & you sat down in the rocking chair facing her towards the steam. Through her crying you hear the cough starting to break up. The sound of the door opening made you sit up more & you hear him taking off his combat boots.
“Love?” He said as he walked up the stairs.
“I’m in the babies room.” You replied. He walked in still in his combat pants, & uniform t-shirt. “She won’t stop crying baby, I don’t want to do.”
“Give her to me love, I’m in need of some daddy daughter bonding time.” He said. Your daughter immediately stopped wailing & cooing in the arms of her father. Her little arms reaching for his face. “You missed your daddy didn’t you?” He asked her. Her little hand wrapping around his index finger. “Come on love let’s let your mummy rest & let’s take a bath.”
“Thank you,” You mouthed to him & turned off the humidifier. You gave him a kiss & then walked into your shared bedroom. Your body felt instant relief as soon as you laid down. Slumber consumed you very quickly & you fell into a deep sleep.
Simon had taken your baby girl into the bathroom, & started a warm bath for her. She let out a wicked wet cough, & her whole body shook with each one she let out. He placed her in the bath & by the look in her eyes Simon could tell it was providing comfort for her. The steam from the water lingering in the air mixed with washing away the thin layer of sweat that came from the fever soothed her.
“I bet that probably feels better my love.” He said as he started to wash her sandy blonde locks. Her eyes rolled to back of her head as he massaged the baby shampoo into her scalp. He took the empty cup beside him & filled it with the water from the tub to rinse out the shampoo. Her eyes started to close & her mouth was slightly open admitting little snores. Simon smiled at his daughter, she was the most precious thing in his life (other then you of course.) He was first initially apprehensive about being a father, but after she was born he couldn’t imagine not being one. She was fully passed out in the baby bath tub by the time he went to drain the water.
He wrapped her small little body in a warm towel & brought her into the nursery. Gently he laid her down on the changing table & started to apply some lotion to her body. His large hands massage it into her skin making her smile in her sleep from the relaxing sensation. He gently tugged on her chubby legs stretching her. Simon read it once in a baby book that it was good to stretch your baby out to help with their flexibility & he’s done it every night he’s home. Usually she’s wiggly & he has to hand her the lotion bottle to stay preoccupied but she was tuckered out.
He applied some baby powder to & put a nice clean fresh diaper on her. She was started to breath heavier from the cough. Her little body started to stir & he turned on the humidifier for her. He pressed her small frame into his chest. Her little face was smushed up against his chest. A little bit of drool started to pool onto his chest. He sat down in the steam with her & her little body wasn’t trying as hard to breath. His large hand that held her to his chest started to rub small circles on her little back. Once she was fully relaxed again he placed her in the crib. He reached into the crib & placed her favorite pacifier in her mouth. She immediately took to it & he ran a finger over her flushed cheeks.
“Sleep tight my sweet girl.” He quietly said & turned on her night light. After he took a shower himself washing away all the grime & sweat from the strenuous training exercise he endured he crawled into bed with you. You felt his body eclipse you as he laid down. Slowly you turned to face him eyes still heavy. He pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead. “Go back to sleep my love she’s all settled.” He softly whispered. You laid your head down on your pillow, & he did the same letting sleep consume the both of you.
#call of duty#cod imagines#ghost call of duty#ghost x y/n#cod masterlist#cod modern warfare#cod mwf2#simon ghost x reader#simon riley x y/n#simon riley x you#simon riley x female reader#ghost simon riley#simon ghost riley#ghost x reader#ghost mw2#ghost imagines#simon ghost x you
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morning was made. | bang chan
ᦈ pairing — bang chan x reader
ᦈ genre — fluff, established relationship
ᦈ word count — 1.6k
ᦈ this was posted on ao3 loooong ago and i forgot i never posted it here lol. wrote this in 30 mins as a warm-up to get back into writing so it might be a lil over the place sorry ㅠㅠ no plot whatsoever just vibes in chan's arms
♬ now playing: morning was made (hush kids)
When you wake up, there’s a koala by the name of Bang Chan hanging off you.
The sun has barely risen, but the sky is painted a light blue which tells you that the morning was about to come. You blink blearily, barely even awake, but the puffs of Chan’s warm breath on your neck tickled and the grip he had on your waist was getting just a tad bit too tight.
“Chan,” you groan quietly, wiggling, but his hold on you doesn’t budge. If anything, it just tightens.
Chan grunts at your constant prodding, lips already pursed into a pout even though his eyes are still squeezed shut. His curls brush against your cheeks when he moves even closer.
“Chan, oh my god,” you laugh, slightly more awake now. You rub the sleep off your eyes, mentally planning how to escape from your boyfriend’s death clutch. “Baby, you gotta let me breathe.”
You manage to wiggle an arm free, using it to slide your hand through Chan’s hair and scratch at his scalp while continuing your calls. You were hoping this was enough to gently wake him up, but it seemed to do the opposite, because Chan just snores. Loudly.
So with no other option left, you tug. Hard.
“Ah!” Chan yelps, jerking his face away from your neck, yet his arms still don’t move an inch. He whines, eyes squinted. “Ow, Y/N, what was that for?”
You bite back a smile at his puffy face. “Let me move, please. I’m sure we’re both stiff from being in the same position for so long.”
You had both passed out early in the evening last night, exhausted after a day’s worth of activities. It was rare that the boys had a day off, much rarer when they could spend it with you, so you all made the most of it and jam-packed your day yesterday.
And as much as you all wanted to stay awake, the boys had a schedule today, and you were kind of dead on your feet. So by 9 pm, the lights were out, and you and Chan had crawled into each other’s arms and slept like babies.
But your early bedtime didn’t seem to be enough, because Chan stubbornly refused to open his eyes, even as he pushed his head into your palm. You soothe the pain in his scalp with the pads of your fingers when he whines again, and you apologize quietly with a kiss to his cheek.
This finally gets him to move though. Chan lies on his back, arms slipping away from your waist so he could stretch. You copy his movements too, mostly stretching your now free limbs, but you yelp when Chan pulls you back in his arms with a simple tug to the wrist.
He slides an arm under your neck this time, pulling you close by the shoulder. Weak as ever, you melt into his embrace easily.
Chan sighs after a while, eyes still closed. “W’time issit?”
“Early.” You lean up to press a chaste kiss to his cheek, to which he makes a noise at and snuggles closer. “Back to sleep.”
Chan makes an incoherent noise as a reply, and you watch fondly as his breath evens out in just a few minutes. Soon enough, he was back to snoring.
You envied that a bit, though. Once you were up, it was hard to get back to sleep. Even when sleep begged to pull you back to dreamland, your eyes still droopy, you didn’t want to waste the day, especially right now when getting a moment alone with Chan felt like it could only happen once in a blue moon.
So you were content to watch the rise and fall of your boyfriend’s bare chest, his steady heartbeat heard clearly from where your head was resting against his pec.
This, you think faintly, will always be better than a good dream.
But in the end, you still doze off. Chan’s warmth was lulling you to sleep, and you were helpless to the comfort that he provided. Your body was too relaxed to not succumb to the shackles of sleep, because you knew that here, in Chan’s arms, you were safe. There was nothing in the world that could hurt you and take you away from him right now.
When you wake up again, the sky is yellow, and you are still in Bang Chan’s arms.
You sigh, too content and warm and happy in your position. But you could hear some bustling outside— most likely Minho who tended to wake up early on days with a schedule— so you knew it was time to get up, no matter how much you wanted to stay in bed.
Chan’s grip on you was looser than it was last time, but it was you who didn’t want to move. You were far too comfortable and the kitchen was too many steps away and preparing food was going to take too long, but then-
Pots bang outside. Silence, then a muffled argument. You hide a snort in Chan’s collarbone.
Yeah. It was time to get up.
Speaking of Chan, he continues to snore away, legs tangled in yours as he clutches you to his chest. With a sigh, you gently squirm out of his hold, pressing a kiss to his chest as you begin to sit up. You stretch your legs with a groan, mentally preparing yourself for the cold now that you didn’t have Chan basically burritoed around you. You set a foot down on the floor, ready to leave-
-but then an arm wraps tight around your waist, dragging you back down on the bed with a tug.
Chan huffs against your neck. “Where’re you goin?”
You startle. “Have you been awake this whole time?”
“Nah.” Chan mumbles, but then pulls back to look at you suspiciously, puffy eyes narrowed. “Why? Were you doing something suspicious?”
“Yes,” you snort, but don’t elaborate further. Chan squawks when you try to get out of his hold again, and you half-groan and half-laugh when he refuses to budge. “Yah, let me go. I need to cook breakfast. Our kids are gonna wake up and start throwing tantrums soon.”
It’s silent for a moment, and you would have thought Chan had fallen back asleep if it wasn’t for the smile you felt pressed against your skin.
You blink. “What?”
“Our kids?” Chan repeats, and you flush a bright red.
“Yeah, well-“ You splutter, caught off guard. “Ou-our kids are gonna starve soon if you don’t let me out of this bed.”
Chan just shakes his head, messy hair flying everywhere. “Minho’s old enough to cook now.”
“And Minho’s going to break down this door and drag you both out of bed to help him cook if you don’t get up in the next minute!”
You and Chan startle at the voice just outside the door, unmistakably Minho’s. You both gape at the door.
“Were you just standing there and listening to us, you creep?!” Chan exclaims, and Minho scoffs.
“I was on my way to wake you so we can eat, but I had to stop and listen first lest I open this door to see your cock and balls-“
“Okay!” You scream, interrupting Minho before he could go on any farther.
“Two minutes!” Minho shouts from outside the door, banging it on twice for good measure. “And no funny business! Keep your dick in your boxers, Bang Chan!”
You feel your face heat up as you hear scandalized shouts from outside— a sharp “it’s six am! Six! ” from Jeongin, a cut-off “He’s getting some this earl-“ from Hyunjin— and protests from the others who have woken up as well.
Chan buries his squeaky laugh against your neck, shoulders shaking with laughter. You shove at his chest with a groan, though the corners of your lips are quirked.
He barely budges from your shove, but he pulls you close again like you’ve been separated. “Our kids are awake, it seems.”
“Awake and already this annoying. Let me go, Bang. I need to shove some food in their mouths to shut them up.”
Chan surprisingly relents at that, turning around abruptly and clutching the blankets to his bare chest. Cold air crawls up your arms, and you miss his warmth almost immediately.
“Fine.” You feel and hear Chan’s pout despite not seeing it, and you try in vain to suppress a grin. “Leave me here. Cold. And alone. I could die, you know. I guess you want me to die.”
You laugh, curling behind Chan’s back and sliding your hand up his chest, relishing in his shiver. “Come on, you big baby. Get up in five minutes and wake your other kids up. Long day ahead of you.”
You slip away after a prolonged kiss to Chan’s cheek, squeezing his bicep as you get up. You’re just opening the door when Chan says something unintelligible, making you halt.
“What was that?”
“Ours.” Chan repeats, and your heart skips. “Our kids.”
Though you knew he was teasing you for the slip, you still see the tips of his ears redden. The smile that blooms across your face this time can’t be stopped, and you’re positive your face is just as the same shade of tomato as his is, but you still tap the doorway, teasing.
“Five minutes then, daddy. Our kids are waiting.”
And like any unfortunate event, Hyunjin chooses to pass by at that exact moment, freezing in his tracks when he processes what he just heard. Your mouth snaps shut, and you close your eyes as you pretend the Earth swallows you whole. Chan peeks from behind the blanket and starts laughing.
“Oh my god. She does have a daddy kink!”
#bang chan x reader#bang chan scenarios#stray kids x reader#stray kids imagines#bang chan fluff#skz imagines#cottoncandy#storiesatsea#i luv chan. like n reblog if u luv chan#posted this on his bday last year 🥹#bang chan imagines
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Slashers' Werewolf S/o
school is crazy
BACK TO MY LONG POSTS
THIS IS A NWLNW BLOG!! WOMEN DNI
Poly Ghostface
Along with the various Ghostface killings theres been another bit of murder
"Animal attacks" the news said
You just avoided the news because of it before yall dated
After a while of dating you told them about the whole werewolf situation
They didnt believe til they saw it
You were quite docile with them
They gave you the nickname, Wolfy
Mainly Stu uses it but yknow Billy does too sometimes to tease you
Youre surprisingly docile while in wolf form
Well around them atleast
You mainly just follow them around which leads to you being apart of the whole Ghostface thing
Billy hates the fur so much. Stu doesnt mind it though
Yes theres dog toys in Stu's house for you
It surprisingly works
Stu's parents aint home often but whenever they are and you're transformed they hide you in his closet or bathroom
Billy gives good massages if you complain enough about the after pain of shifting and all that
Michael Myers
Yall were in the penitentiary for... different reasons
You both escaped at different times and eventually you ended up a tattered mess infront of Michael's lil house place
He wouldve killed you if he didnt see you turn from a werewolf thing to a human
Hey he recognized you! You were that patient who escaped a bit after him!!
Michael doesnt know how to feel about the werewolf thing
Yea youre enjoyable when youre a human but as a dog thing?? He usually jusy puts you outside
One of these times though you got hurt and he stopped doing it💀
Carries you around in both forms. Very strong man
Hates the fur hates the fur
*sprays water at you to get off the couch*
Jason Voorhees
Jason was never allowed any pets as a kid
Not saying your his pet but in your wolf form he treats you just like a dog
Yall definitely wrestle. HES A STRONG LAD HE CAN TAKE IT
He wont make you hunt trespassers or anything if you dont want to (Depending on how well you can control yourself when turned💀)
Gives the best massages when youre sore from shifting hes so gentle with it🫶🫶
Will hold you like a baby
You hurt him on accident once and never lived it down😭😭
Your fur feels nice to him
Will steal a brush from a trespasser to brush you out
Will lose his shit if you accidentally walk into a trap
Vincent Sinclair
Youre used to waking up in random places. Ambrose was the place this time
Vincent saw you turn from wolf to human and wanted to keep you around
HE THINKS ITS SO COOL OK
He wants you to be a model for him but thats near impossible bc you never sit still
Please dont eat the wax statues😭
You arent allowed in his work room when transformed. Youre usually outside tho when you are so it dont matter too much
So you hang around Lester and Josie on those nights
Or he calms you down to where you sleep
Likes laying on your fur
Hates the slobber hates the slobber
Has many drawings of you🫶
Bo Sinclair
Acts like he hates that you transform
But he loves it and gives you so much affection in wolf form (you remember it all but dont tell him)
He hates the fur as well
"QUIT CHEWIN' ON MY HAT Y/N!"
Theres a dog bed in his garage
Like yea you always curl up next to him but still its there for you
Would prefer if you hunted some runaway victims but yknow you dont gotta
Will fold if you did puppy eyes at him
Lester Sinclair
Loves you so much
You're Jonsie's bestie
Mainly feeds you roadkill to keep you away from eating the wax statues😭
talks about you so much to his brothers
Youre great for collecting roadkill but you scare the travelers alot
Treats you like a big dog but knows your boundaries
Def gave you the nickname Puppy
Learned how to make tea to soothe you after you turn back
Bubba Sawyer
YOURE A WHAT??? HOW THE HELL DID YOU END UP IN TEXAS
You woke up in a basement with blood in and around your mouth and a large man infront of you in an apron or something in fear
Bubba (and nubbins) had to convince Hoyt to keep you
Loves your abilities so much
Nubbins or Choptop usually try to rough house with you
You shed so much especially since its FUCKING TEXAS
Hoyt literally hates it so much
"GODDAMNIT THERES FUR ON MY SHIRT!!"
Gnaw on the bones of victims why dont you
Hoyt calls you mutt sorry😭
Bubba loves your fur
Just loves to ruffle it
Thinks your sharp teeth are really cool
Does not know what to do when youre in pain or sore from shifting back
Thinks your dying ngl and panics so much
He eventually understands youre sore and tried to give you massages
Thomas Hewitt
Near same thing to Bubba. HOW THE HELL DID YOU END UP IN TEXAS
Never allowed pets as a kid so when you just lay on his lap as a wolf he loves it so much
Doesnt mind the fur too much
Just tries to keep it away from the food
Monty has locked you outside in your wolf form multiple times and Tommy boy literally loses his shit
Monty is a hater
Luda may loves you though
Finds petting you therapeutic
Doesnt mind the slobber or anything
Gives you limbs of victims sometimes to gnaw on
Billy Lenz
Been literally stalking in your house for a while so he knows
His calls have more dog jokes in them calling you Puppy/doggy instead of piggy
Has barked at you
You kinda knew he was up there after the second time you shifted and heard him being... well him
You intimidate him so much hes so inlove with you
Smells your fur like alot
Theres saliva in your fur and a good amount is from him💀💀
You bit him once so he bit you back
Grabs your tail and ears alot to be annoying
Brahms Heelshire
Was also never allowed pets as a kid
Is scared at first. He knows werewolves as scary monsters that eat people! You wouldnt eat him right??
Eventually gets used to it
Cuddles his head against your chest
Your fur feels so nice to him
Ngl he just treats you like a dog?? Like how he treats the rats ngl
He'll give you food and then gently pat your head
Jesse Cromeans/Chromeskull
Jesse didnt believe in that stuff until you
Dont lick him on the head omfg💀💀
You shifted at work once and it scared everyone
Bro was just like "Aww my boyfriend🥰🥰"
Will trim your nails. Even if youre trying to go against it hes going to trim them
Enjoys brushing your fur
Preston hates how you always end up growling at him when hes around
It makes him look bad infront of his boss😭😭 (good)
Thinks youre an angel compared to him. Youre literally throwing bodies around and mauling them?? Nuh uh
You cant get him with puppy eyes no you cant (Yea... you kinda can)
Also sprays water at you sometimes
You have your own collar
Asa Emory/The Collector
Youre basically his pet so like yea you have a collar
Spooked him when you first turned like what?? people dont usually do that???
Hates the dog hair so much like omfg
Youre a guard dog now
Your job is to chase down any victim on full moons
Studies you
Watches you transform and takes notes
Has a notebook just about you
Asks you alot of questions before and after shifting
After his lil studies he will give you massages and somewhat pamper you ig
#slashers#slashers x reader#slashers x male reader#michael myers x male reader#michael myers x reader#thomas hewitt x male reader#thomas hewitt x reader#poly ghostface x male reader#billy lenz x male reader#billy lenz x reader#billy loomis x male reader#billy loomis x reader#stu macher x male reader#stu macher x reader#jason voorhees x male reader#jason vorhees x reader#chromeskull x male reader#chromeskull x reader#jesse cromeans x reader#jesse cromeans x male reader#asa emory x reader#asa emory x male reader#bo sinclair x reader#vincent sinclair x reader#lester sinclair x reader#brahms heelshire x male reader#brahms heelshire x reader#brahms heelshire#jason voorhees#bubba sawyer
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AYO THE MOMMY ASKS GOT ME IN A FLUFFY MOOD!!
(Tw:pregnancy, labor & delivery)
Ok first things first. You tell him you’re expecting a lil’ baby, he 1) cries. And 2) panics because he doesn’t know if he’ll be a good father and 3) ultra panics because he deals with bioweapons, mutant causing viruses and other biological nightmares, what if that shit passes onto his kid???
Dude is WIRED for weeks until he finds out that the baby is healthy. No weird biological mutations at all. Just a baby. (Side note, kinda sad, he misses the first ultrasound photo because of a mission and probably cries)
When you start showing a baby bump, he absolutely gets thrown in love all over again. He always loves his s/o but something about seeing them round with HIS baby just flips a switch in his head.
First time he feels baby kick? He’s amazed. He’s never felt anything like it. He’ll start kissing your baby bump and probably crying. (I can imagine he cries a lot during your pregnancy. Probably more emotional than you tbh)
When you go into labor, he does a good job at pretending to be calm. He’s internally screaming, panicking and feels sick the entire time, but he doesn’t show it. He holds your hand and lets you squeeze it as much as you need. The dudes been shot, stabbed and smacked by monsters, he probably doesn’t even feel it if you crack a finger.
When he hears his babies first cries, he lets out the shakiest, sob and laugh ever. It’s a noise of relief, pent up fear, and happiness all at once. The sight of the baby getting put on your chest is permanently seared into his mind. I’m talking core memory.
And when he gets to hold his baby, another core memory is created. Seeing their lil nose. Their lil face. Hearing their lil cries. Again, he cries too.
Leon demands paternity. At least a month to be with his s/o and child. What’s the government gonna do? Fire him? He’s one of their, if not, THE best agent they got. They fire him, they’re down a fucking legend.
I’m gonna say, I feel like Leon is so….in a honeymoon phase, he completely disregards himself for you and the baby. You need to sleep and heal after giving birth, so Leon takes 100% care of the baby until you’re physically able to. The problem? He forgets to sleep at all, and damn near passes out after like, day 4.
He catches himself, so the baby ain’t hurt, but the dumbass at first goes “man….i need to sit down. Maybe get some water” but the moment he sits down he clocks the fuck out.
The baby cries and he wakes up again, but this time, it’s you holding the baby, cooing and soothing them. The sight alone makes him emotional again.
I just have a lot of feelings about dad Leon.
-angsty anon (enjoy another thesis)
AWEE YES DAD LEON THOUGHTS! I know you sent me this a little while ago but I still wanted to answer because I absolutely love thinking about Leon becoming a father and how devoted and protective he becomes. Bye, I'm going to cry.
Leon gives me the impression that he will be anxious throughout his partner's pregnancy. He'll become more overprotective if he isn't already, and the hovering habits will start to show very early on. He'll be attentive to your needs, but will almost smother you out of concern. Asking about whether or not you took your vitamins, if you slept enough, if you needed something from the store, if your cravings were satisfied.
Sometimes it does annoy you, but it's really just the influx of hormones pumping through your body. You reassure him constantly, reminding him that he's a good partner and he's doing enough, and you know his worrying is a good thing because it means he cares that much.
I also see him wanting to be nearby constantly, like a shadow, and Leon is just always there. He doesn't let you do any of the labor at home, he wants you to focus on sleeping, eating well, and being healthy. The last thing he needs is for you to be stressed out or unhappy because he knows that isn't good for the baby, and he also doesn't want to piss you off because he's been warned about how cranky a pregnancy can make someone. He does the laundry, cooks, cleans, helps you out with your nesting and always has a reassuring hand somewhere on your body, mostly on your lower back.
He's there at every appointment no matter what, he's not missing it for a second. But if it's really a hassle and he has to go on a mission, which you support and fully understand, he'll tell Hunnigan to keep a close eye on you or for a close friend to go with you during your appointment. He just wants to make sure you're not entirely alone.
Once your belly expands and his T-shirts no longer cover most of your body, Leon is all over you. There's something about seeing you so full, waddling into the kitchen and looking into the fridge for a snack that makes him smile and happy. He's also the type to always want to have a hand on your belly, even in his sleep, and likes to run his thumb over the dark line that goes all the way down your abdomen. I like having this headcanon that whenever the baby moves too much and is kind of giving you a hard time, he puts a soft hand over your stomach and gently talks to them until they calm down. Leon has this natural calming presence that is very much needed during your pregnancy, and you tease him about how your baby will be attached to him the moment they're born.
But oh the moment you go into labor? It's all hands on deck. He's been prepping for this, reading books on pregnancy and childbirth, wanting to be your rock in the process but when you tell him your water broke, his mind doesn't work. He'll be the type to say "Don't panic!" as he's panicking and you have to remind him to take the hospital bag he's prepared months in advance.
The birth itself is a harsh and grueling process, but Leon helps you see it all the way through. He does not leave that hospital room, doesn't let the nurses kick him out, and stands his ground as your advocate. You're both scared at the thought of welcoming a whole new life into this world, and he's right next to you, holding your hand and whispering words of encouragement and praise in your ear.
Leon hates seeing you scared, hates seeing you hurt, but it really is all worth it the moment he hears that shriek of a baby's cry fill the room. It's the most beautiful thing he's heard, he doesn't care if the high pitch of the violent scream makes his ears hurt. For the first time in months, he feels like he can breathe again.
Seeing this bundle of joy all wrapped up in a pink blanket and pink beanie makes him cry, that new baby scent he's heard so much about before fills his nose and his chest aches from so much love. He doesn't need to verbally tell you that he's proud of you, that he's happy, that he loves you. It's written all over his face and from the way he can't seem to take his eyes off his daughter, he knows what this different kind of love feels like.
Leon Kennedy is a selfless guy, and every time he glances at his baby, he sometimes sees flashes of Sherry when she was younger or even Ashley when he went to go save her in Spain. It's not necessarily a bad thing, but that same urge to protect this life with every fiber of his being comes in full force.
He thinks he develops a new level of fear and paranoia, taking over damn near every duty that was involved in raising a child. He wants to help you recover, allowing you to get your sleep and your physical strength back as he takes care of your baby girl.
He does everything at the expense of his physical health. He can't sleep most of the time and wants to be ready for when his daughter cries at 2 am until his lack of sleep starts to beat his ass after two weeks. Sure, he's on parental leave to help you out and to bond with his child, but you often find him fast asleep in the rocking chair, neck craned at an awkward angle that will irritate him later on. You come towards him and wake him up, his body jolting awake and ready for whatever threat comes his way until he blinks and sees you.
"Is she okay?", he says groggily, dark circles around his eyes and his hair an unruly mess. It was sweet seeing how the first thing he wondered about when he woke up was his daughter.
"Yeah, she's alright, still asleep. You should go to bed baby, I can watch her", you tried to get it through to Leon that he needs to rest too, not just you and your child.
"I could use a nap", he caves, standing up with a groan and rubbing the back of his neck the way you expected him to. Despite being half asleep, he gives you a sweet kiss on the lips and walks out of the nursey. "Wake me up if you need me", he mumbles before leaving the room entirely.
You don't wake him up, not for a couple of hours at least so the migraine that's pulsing in his head wears off. Leon doesn't care if his body goes on complete shutdown, anything you both need, he'll be there ready to do whatever is necessary to make your family dynamic function.
#ovaryacted asks#leon kennedy x reader#leon kennedy x you#leon kennedy drabble#leon kennedy imagine#leon kennedy fluff#leon kennedy#leon scott kennedy#leon s kennedy#resident evil#resident evil fanfic#resident evil imagines#resident evil drabble#ovaryacted thoughts#ovaryacted drabbles#girl dad! Leon#I'm emotional#₊˚⊹ ♡ ─ angsty anon
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Hi, I was hoping I could get a genshin and HSR match up if they're still open? I use she/her pronouns, and I have a romantic preference for men. I'm a big time introvert and not one for small talk but I always try to be polite and kind. I've been described as being too sensible by multiple people but I will also laugh at some of the dumbest stuff. My hobbies include writing, drawing and cooking, generally I like anything creative. I hope this is okay and that you have a lovely day!
A/n: I really hope you like my answer! I just thought that someone who can understand and appreciate you would fit so much more better than the opposite ♡
FREMINET
@ awww look at those two introverts in love ♡
@ understands you all to well. You want your peace and quite? He'll leave you to yourself and lets you draw, take a nap, read or whatever.
@ greatly appreciates if you'd do the same, but only really rarely. He does enjoy your company a lot! You bring him internal peace. Just having you sit beside him while he works on a new project really gives him motivation.
@ psst, he wants to show off, just a little ;)
@ takes you diving with him! I hope you're not scared of the ocean tho- if you are, he'll guide you through it. He never lets go of your hand, even if it means that he will have a constant blush on his face and butterflys in his tummy. If you really are way, WAY to scared tho, he would obviously never force you. You two just walk by the shore collecting some seashells!
@ and if you love/like the ocean, he would shyly ask you if you wanna join him. Like everytime he would ask you. Or at least if you wanna wait for him by the shore.
@ LOVES LOVES LOVES to see your drawings, if you wanna show them that is. He can also draw yk, so someone who shares the same talent would also mean for him to share his supplies. Dw, take them without asking, it's a relationship after all.
@ and if you want you can make designs for his toy projects for the kids!
@ Is just as sensitive as you, maybe more, maybe less. But what is definitely a fact, is that he will comfort you nonetheless. Depends on how you wanna be comforted tho. Bit i think his style would be, have a cup of tea and let it aaaall out. Vent on him, he can listen well.
@ the twins think you two were meant to be-! Really supportive of you two.@ And Father is just as happy, she can't show it, but you're part of the family now sooo...you better not hurt her boy :)
DAN HENG
@ well--if you love writing, you're prefect with dan heng cause he loves reading-
@ would understand if you don't want him to read your written pieces, but would feel very honored if you would show him. Even just a glimpse would get him to praise you.
@ if you do show him--damn he would unintentionally correct your grammar or phrasing. Not that he shits on your grammar, its just-idk how to describe it he means it really nice but in dan heng style it comes off more as cold
@ and the corrections of your phrasings are just ideas on how to change things or make it more interesting. He probably read more books than the whole astral express crew together, like easily.
@ thats why he would get it if you don't wanna show him---he's aware lol
@ BUT! what he would do 100% and nobody can stop him, is reading to you ♡
@ lay in his arms and relax. Let his soothing voice lull you to sleep~ And if you wanna read on your own, do that, he'll wait for you to turn the page.
@ would also 100% discuss what you two read afterwards lol. Like a lil bookclub
@ he can actually cook, very well too. But he always says his skills are nowhere near yours, even if you deny it, he stands his point.
@ gracefully DEVOURS your food and asks for a second plate ♡
@ oh look, someone who also hates small take, yay. You two were so awkward at the beginning of the whole relationship. The beginning of the whole meeting each other for the first time too!
@ it was definitely him who took all the first steps. Even more awkward cause....he only knows the most things form books cause he has no real life experience-
@ made the mistake of asking March-the things he went through just for you-you better be greatful (jkjk)
#genshin impact#genshin x reader#quimichi#match up#genshin impact x reader#freminet x reader#hsr#honkai star rail#hsr x reader#honkai star rail x reader#dan heng x reader#dan heng#freminet
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Touken/Kanetou family HCs constantly on my mind:
Ichika usually wakes up before Kaneki and Touka, as most children do, and in the mornings, she will climb into her parents' bed and snuggle up between them. She'll sometimes bring a toy or two and play with them, whispering their dialogue. Half-awake, Kaneki usually pulls her into a hug, and Touka will poke and tickle her until she starts giggling. They'll sometimes groan about wanting to sleep in more, especially when she climbs over them when getting onto the bed, but they can't deny someone so cute and lovable.
Ichika tries coffee one time as a child, and it leaves her scrunching up her nose and sticking her tongue out, saying "ewww". It leaves Touka a lil hurt and taken aback, and Kaneki comforts her, reminding her that no child really likes coffee. She nods solemnly and tries to take the coffee back, but for some reason, this upsets Ichika and she begins to cry. There's no real solution here, that's just how kids are.
When Ichika's younger sibling is born, (a boy, I like to think), she has an unreadable expression the first time she sees him. She says she's happy, but Touka and Kaneki can't tell if she's telling the truth. Touka is more confident that she'll adjust, recalling her own experience, but Kaneki worries still. Then, a few sleepless nights later, they come across Ichika reading to her brother, who had been crying moments before. Kaneki often reads to her before she goes to sleep, and now she's doing the same for her brother, stumbling over the sentences and rubbing her brother's tummy to soothe him. It works, and Kaneki struggles not to cry.
#tokyo ghoul#touka kirishima#touken#kanetou#kaneki ken#my writing#kaneki x touka#kaneki ichika#headcanon#kaneki family#fluff
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Poppins (Epilogue)
18+ only! Minors do not interact!
Warnings: graphic sexual content, unprotected sex, language, oral sex (f rec), dirty talk, impact play, etc, happy tears, idk
Thank you for sticking with Poppins and all the heartbreak that came with it. I hope we can all breathe a collective sigh of relief and acknowledge that this was the only ending that was right for our dear characters. I love you all and thank you for going along for the ride with me❤️ ps- I didn’t expect to post this until tomorrow so it’s very lightly edited, forgive me
Josh’s warmth is what wakes you. His weight carefully hovering over you; chest pressed against your back, mouth humming along with tiny, breathy sounds as his lips travel the curve of your jaw.
You nuzzle further into the pillow, which feels a little too warm under the muted sunlight filtering into the room for your liking. You’ve never been much of a morning person.
Slowly though, he and Lil are changing that. Their sunny dispositions mirror one another’s and feed off of shared glee as they happily greet each new day. It is nothing short of infectious.
It’s difficult to be grouchy in a home filled to the brim with their lovely early hour enthusiasm.
“Time to open your eyes, sleeping beauty.” His voice curls across the shell of your ear, low and slow. You know that voice all too well.
“Better slow your roll, Joshua,” You mumble, eyes closed, body still heavy with slumber, “She’ll be awake and climbing into bed any second.”
“She’s been awake, sweetheart.” His lips are kissing love into your hair, lungs breathing you in deeply. “We read outside on the swing, and shared an apple. I fixed her hair pretty and helped her get dressed, and then Grandma came and whisked her away for a birthday girl breakfast. It’s just you and me.”
A smile flashes on your sleepy lips, stealing his heart away, “All that without me?”
He drops down against you a little heavier, a delicious weighted blanket of a man. “We decided to let mama sleep in. You looked very peaceful.”
Mama, mommy, mom when she’s exasperated…every iteration makes your body flush with maternal devotion and pride.
It had been over a dinner of pasta and salad when she’d first called you mommy like it was the most natural thing in the world. Picking at her plate, fist clutched around her fork, shoving a cherry tomato around, she’d explained how uncle sammy had made her angry that afternoon.
“I told him I wanted to hold Rosie’s leash,” she’d lamented. “But he said I’m too small to hold it at the dog park because she tries to run. I’m not too small though, mommy, I’m not!”
Josh had soothed her with something you hadn’t really heard through the blissed out ringing in your ears, cleared his throat, and excused himself.. You’d found him leaning over the bathroom sink, blinking tears away.
“Josh, I didn’t…” you had stumbled stupidly over your pitiful explanation, “I didn’t ask her to call me that. I’d never do that. I’m sorry, I understand why you’re upset….”
He’d turned on you so quickly you’d taken a step back in surprise, “Upset? Are you kidding me? I’ve never been less upset in my life. I don’t think I can even remember the definition of the word right now.”
Words kept in whispers, lest she overhear, he had pulled you into his arms, chin hooked over your shoulder to keep you close as he spoke, “I’ve waited such a long time for my little girl to have that moment that she just had. To be able to talk to her mama about her day while pretending to eat her vegetables. You belong here, sweetheart…you always have.”
What always stands to you about that moment of tears and whispers in the bathroom, of all places - what you think will always make you smile the hardest when you remember that night, is the fact that he never once asked you how you felt about it. He never asked if it had made you uncomfortable. Never questioned your love for Lily, he knew. He knew.
And now here you lie, cozy under the covers with your beautiful Josh pestering you with adoration and kisses, while the incredible little human being who calls you mommy shares a birthday breakfast with her grandmother.
“All alone,” Josh hushes into your ear, breaking the spell of innocence clouding your head. “Just me,” he leans up on his elbow, making room for his hand to slip beneath the sheets. “And you.”
“Joshua Michael,” you scold lightly, parting for him when his fingers begin to walk up the inside of your thigh, “You’re an insatiable pervert, you realize…a deviant.”
His giggle, huffed and sultry, somehow parts your thighs even further. “I’m not the one spreading my legs like a whore. I’ve barely touched you. Naughty girl.”
A shiver shakes your spine, driven by his words and the fingers he’s now sweeping over your panties. He is sunshine and light, love and laughter, all wrapped up in a gorgeous package that can switch on a dime and drench you in filth.
“I also happen to love it when you middle name me…” he confesses, circling your clit just to listen to you sigh. “Makes me impossibly hard.”
As if to prove himself, he grinds his cock into the small of your back, smiling against your cheek when you whimper.
“Listen to you,” he sounds mockingly sympathetic, “you’re very whiny, and so soon. Why, baby? Are you wet? Is it all slick and hot right here?” He presses at your panties a touch harder, “Would my pretty girl like to cum?”
“Listen to you,” you turn the tables, reaching back to drag your nails against his scalp. “You’re being very dirty. I think you’re feeling whinier than I am. You just hide it better. Isn’t that right, Josh? You’re just eager to fuck me all filthy and nasty in this big empty house where no one can hear, aren’t you? You want it, don’t you?”
He’s rocking into the swell of your ass now, fingers sliding over you, pressing satin into your folds, tapping at your swollen clit, teasing teasing teasing.
“Yeah,” his breath pants over your cheek, hard and quick, “yeah I fucking want it…and so do you. Cotton candy cunt is just begging for me, soaking your sweet panties, crying for cock. For my cock.”
Cotton candy never fails to make you weak, he’d called it that the first time he’d made you see stars, pressed up against the door that now stands open because there is no one here but the two of you.
His fingers have sneaked into your mouth, and you can’t seem to repress a prayer of his name as you suck and lick at them.
“Shh,” he hushes, so cocksure and sexy, “don’t talk with your mouth full.”
“Give it to me,” you pull away, longing for it to sound like a demand, but it slips off your tongue like the plea that it is as you reach back, trying to fight your panties down from your awkward position.
“Wanna taste you first,” he yanks your underwear down for you. “Want that beautiful pussy in my mouth, right in my fucking mouth,” with you bare enough for him to sink his fingers into the globe of your ass, he cracks a swift smack against it. “Tell me you want me to lick you. Tell me you want to cum pretty on my tongue.”
Your body is writhing now, twisting feverishly in a futile attempt to roll over and rip your nightshirt off all at once.
He’s having none of it, “I said fucking tell me,” he spanks you again, harder this time, groaning when you cry out, saturating the room with a needy, wailed moan.
“I want it, baby, please,” oh, how easily he can reduce you to a quaking, begging fool, not a thought in her head but Josh. “I want your mouth. I want to cum for you. Make me cry, Josh, make me fucking cry…make me cum.”
He growls out as his teeth drag over your cheek, and then your eyes are struggling to focus on the ceiling, head spinning from being flipped over without warning.
“Make you cum?” He’s taunting you now, kissing his way down to your breasts, making love to your nipples with his devious mouth. “Make you cry? Now why would I want to make my sweetheart cry?”
A soft bite arches your back away from the mattress, “Josh, baby….”
“Josh,” he whispers, tongue traveling the valley between your tits, “Josh, baby, don’t you sound meek? Like the prettiest wallflower who just wants to feel good…my sweet, sweet, sweetheart. I told you to fucking tell me…”
You know what he wants, and so you give it to him. “I want your mouth on me. I want you to lick me,” your hand fists in his hair, pulling him from your breast. “This, right here,” now you’re pinching at his plump, velvety bottom lip, fingertips pushing in to say hello to his warm, wet tongue “my pussy wants it so bad. Wrap these pretty lips around my clit until I make a mess.”
His face is buried between your legs so quickly you have to blink your way out of confusion. Just as quickly, you’re gripping and tugging at his curls, hips rocking up into his kiss while you beg him to stroke his dick while he devours your cunt.
“Yeah?” He mumbles, heavy and hot, into your aching flesh, “You want me to touch my cock while I eat this gorgeous pussy?”
“Yes, yes, yes…” you fall away into nothing sounds, mewling and keening into the morning light. A grunt as he shakes his face back and forth tells you he’s given you what you’ve asked for…and the sounds that chase that grunt shove you closer to the edge.
“I’m gonna cum…I’m gonna cum so hard,” it’s but a breath, you don’t know if he’s even heard you until his fervent nod answers back, save for the moans muffling from between your legs.
It is a warm wave that explodes over you as though you're the jagged, rocky shore. At the crest of it, you bolt upright, cradling his head against you as you pump your hips in time with your throbbing pulse, groaning like a jezebel until the walls drip with your sobs.
He doesn’t pull away until you’re pushing at his forehead and gasping for reprieve. When his breathtaking face resurfaces, it’s pink-cheeked and shining with your release.
“I’m fucking covered in you,” he crawls up, running the back of his hand across his mouth, mussing the soft hairs that perch above it. “Do you have any idea how fucking good you taste?”
He’s shoving and kicking his pants away as you pull his lips to yours, savoring your cunt and his need, all over them.
“Fuck me,” you’re clawing and pulling at him, hands flying about without care or thought as he bites at your collar bone.
“Yeah?” The tip slides, swollen and warm, against you, nudging at your quivering clit. “You want this? You want me to stuff your snug little cunt all full of me? Fuck you wide open?”
Your teeth are clenched and grinding though your reply, “Yes, fuck me…I want it, Josh. Give it to me, give it to your girl.”
That lazy drag against your center continues, “Think you deserve it, sweetheart? Does my baby deserve my cock this morning? Have you been a real good girl? Pout sweet, yeah? Make me want to give it to you.”
You turn your eyes soft, wide and wet, “Don’t you want to give it to me? Haven’t I been so good for you? Came pretty on your tongue just like you asked.”
A weak sound, something akin to a whimper, ripples out of his chest as he presses into you, gentle and slow. “Maybe you deserve just a little, huh? Don’t you, baby? Maybe you deserve just the tip, hmm?”
“Yes,” you lie, “Just the tip.”
He’s a liar too, and you both know it the second he slips inside.
“So fucking warm, sweetheart,” his mouth sinks into the crook of your neck, as he continues his relentless teasing, slipping just the silky soft head in and out of you “So fucking tight. Perfect, wet pussy, pretty and pink, greedy…all mine.’
“Yours,” you nod, pulling him in with your heels dug firmly into the base of his spine until you’re deliciously filled with him and rolling against his body like a glutton.
“Oh, you think you’re just gonna take what you want?” He sounds so sure of himself, but you can feel the resolve leaching from his frame, “Squeeze my cock with that needy cunt, then, sweetheart. Show me she loves it with a filthy little hug, dirty girl.”
You clench around him with a whine you wish you could say was purposeful, for as well as it works. The second it escapes your parted lips he’s pounding into you. Pressing into your lower stomach with a flattened palm and a hitching, “You feel me right here? You feel my cock right here, baby? So deep…fuck, so deep.” Fucking your body into the mattress as you claw at his shoulders, and gnash into his chest savagely.
“That’s it,” he grits out, huffing the words out between cruel snaps of his hips, “Tear into me, sweetheart. Make it fucking hurt. Harder,”
A growl, so reminiscent of a wild animal’s call, bursts forth from your heaving chest as you bite and suck at him, and it only serves to make him fuck away at you faster, deeper.
“Come on and cum for me,” his fingers are wrapped around the nape of your neck now, shoving your mouth against him. “Bite, baby, fucking bite. Hard. Do it.”
Sinking your teeth into his alabaster skin you let go, pulling away without weakening your grip, leaving a raised, purple and pink constellation in your wake as you shudder and convulse beneath his weight…calling his name, howling and shaking as those tears you’d begged for finally streak over your temples to chase each other into your tangled hair.
He’s lost it above you completely - cursing and grabbing at you wherever his wandering hands happen to land, his beautiful cock twitching frantically as it spills inside you. Filling you up, wet and dripping, as you both search for sure footing.
You haven’t all the time in the world, and surely you waste far too much of it staring at each other with his hands cupping your face - at last, he rolls to his side, curling himself around you until you feel safe and sound.
“You’re obscene, you know that?” You smile up at the ceiling, watching the fan as it swirls lazy circles above your heads.
“Oh yes, my love, I know,” he sighs, brushing a lock of hair from your face, “I make no apologies. We should shower.”
You nod, half sad to see it end, and half elated to get a move on for Lily’s big day. “Let’s shower, then I’ll run and pick up her cake. It won’t say Elizabeth this year, I can assure you. She’ll be in therapy over that for years,
Joshua.”
“Yeah, yeah…” his grip sinks into your ribs, tickling you gently. “Can you believe she’s five today? Five! I hate it.”
“I hate it too.” You nod, solemnly. “Talk to the science department on campus, tell them we need an anti-aging device or something.”
A laugh bursts out of him, dragging one out of you alongside it, “I’ll get right on that. Jake’s gonna be here around one, I told him his job is to blow up balloons. It’ll keep him quiet.”
“I bought a helium tank.” You remind him, toying with his fingers.
“He doesn’t have to know that.” His lips peck a quick line along your cheekbone. “I think he really might like this one. It’s getting kinda serious…well, as serious as Jake is capable of.”
“The girl he met in Lansing?” The jealousy that once might have lived inside your question is nonexistent. “Is he bringing her?”
“No,” his fingers tangle back around yours, “said today was Lil’s day and he wouldn’t draw focus from that. You know how he is.”
“He loves her so much,” now you’re choking up, but it’s because of Lily, not because of some errant territorial claim. Jake isn’t yours, and he never really was.
“That he does,” Josh nods and then tugs at you as he rolls off the bed and onto his feet. “C’mon now, sweetheart, shower time before the two most discerning women in our lives come back and discover us in a compromising situation.”
You follow after him, leaving the twisted sheets behind you, asking if he’ll wash your hair.
He turns around, eyebrow hooked like you should know better as he adjusts the water temperature. “Of course I’ll wash your hair, baby. I’ll take care of you. I’m always going to take care of you.”
Taglist: @gretasintrees @greta-van-chaos @celestialfauna @s0livagant @groggyvanfleet @kiszkathecook @brokenbellz @llightmyllovee @doodle417 @seventieswhore @jake-kiszkas-smirk @weightofdreams-gvf @imdepressedaf1996 @alisonwonderland29 @gretavanfleas @jakesgrapejuice @gretavangroove @sparrowofthedawn @xserenax-13 @tbagggvf @obetrolncocktails @jakeslovehandles @poofyloofy @70sgroupielovr @heatmyfleet @age-of-nyahh @sammiboo162 @gretasmokerising @spicedandicedtea @jakekiszkasleftnutsack @saoirsemaeve @mywickeddivinity @thelvnternskeeper @paintmyhouse @tripthelightfandomtastic @tripthelight-fanfic @mckenna4 @sarakay-gvf @theweightofjake @thewritingbeforesunrise @joshsmama @sammysvanfeet @rhythm-of-space @highladyofasgard @jordie-gvf-admin @calumspretty @sad1lynn @demolitionndann @gvfpal @starcatcher-jake
#greta van fleet#greta van fleet fan fiction#greta van fleet smut#greta van fleet fic#fanfic#greta van smut#greta van fic#gvf fic#josh kiszka#jake gvf#josh gvf#gvf josh#gvf smut#gvf#josh kiszka fanfiction#josh kiszka smut#josh kiszka fic#jake kiszka smut#jake kiszka
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WRITING MASTERPOST
i saw a couple of these and decided to make this with my fics! (updates whenever i post one onto ao3)
SPIES ARE FOREVER
the room, it echoes clear (with words we choose not to hear - tatiana-centric angst
MCYT
rose-gold painted nails - lizzie painting mumbos nails
would things be easier if there was a right way? (honey, there is no right way) - treebark coffee shop au, multi-chapter
oh, cassiopeia, let your stars collide - redstone snap stargazing
that warmth an evening brings - zombiedogwood fluff
wait, you can see me? (ah, so it talks!) - dapper duo halloween fic; mumbo accidentally summons a spirit in a graveyard
i’ve got two left feet, so i just smile politely - mumpearl slow dancing
i’ve got kisses to soothe your soul - scottpulse fluff
i will ruin you (i’ve sworn by it) - post desert duo cacti ring, grian beating up scars corpse, set in third life
worth it - impdarity fluff, them spending the weekend hiking together
kiss them, you fool - lil drabble of treebarkb in a d&d au, martyn-centric
the sound of your own thoughts are what keep you up at night - zombiesymmetry hurt/comfort. cleo-centric, set during hermitcraft 10
steady, steady, you know when you’re ready - skizzscottpulse ice skating together, sorta modern au
‘cause all i’ve ever wanted is here - poly mounders eating breakfast together, set during secret life
slow dance under stormy skies - empires flower husbands slow dance in the rain
you take me in your arms, and suddenly there’s sunlight all around me - treebark hadestown au (ft ethubs and scar)
the last thing i want is to look like a fool - scottpulse hurt/comfort, set in secret life
sometimes all you can do is say goodnight (and tuck your demons into bed) - multi-chapter; set in limited life, pearl getting nightmares about the end of double life (ft. watcher lore)
among the wildflowers and the lilies sleeping by the way - third life flower husbands angst, scott missing his days with jimmy before he became a red life
in the darkness and the howling, i’ve caused his drowning - an in-depth version of the treebark decapitation scene
i love it when you look my way - flower husbands fluff, jimmy making a flower crown for scott in third life
he wants me (to be loved) - ethubs hanahaki, set in last life; bdubs-centric
why don’t you sit right down and stay and make me smile? - gempearl on a picnic date
it’s daunting to explore, but i want more - false joining last life
we creep up on extinction - cleo-centric, hurt/comfort, set in secret life
kiss your fingers forevermore - femslash treebark fluff, set in third life
meet the kids - martyn + clockers family dinner, zombiewood, set in limited life
DOCTOR WHO
they’re right outside the door (and they don’t know) - tenrose + donna in a weeping angels situation, rose-centric
THE GLASS SCIENTISTS/J&H
“Oh, captain, let’s make a deal!” - jekyon mer au, multi-chapter
Suddenly Uncontrolled (Something is Taking Hold) - transformation scene for the jekyll and hyde musical, verryyyy old)
MY OCS
‘cause i’m six feet under nearly (and i don’t have anyone) - zombie apocalypse au
all these years without you (and your voice is still a symphony) - a crackfic filled with angst about sentient instruments that fall in love sometimes
Adieu, My First and Last Love(s) - a songfic with its plot told by mitski songs, multi-chapter
SWEENEY TODD
Macabre - Swenett (one-sided, sweeney and mrs lovette sharing a dance after the former discovering the identity of the beggar woman; VERY old)
MISCELLANEOUS
It’s Like Slang…From England - crackship with some many fandoms that ive lost count of (fem johnlock helping regina george solve a murder mystery)
#last added to 11/8#gempearl#ethubs#treebark#zombiewood#the clockers#trafficblr#trafficshipping#doctor who#tenrose#jekyon#jekyll and hyde#sweeney todd#sweenett#ocs#writerblr#the glass scientists#tgs#pearlescentmoon#scott smajor#martyn inthelittlewood#inthelittlewood#rendog#tenth doctor#bdoubleo100#the life series#scottpulse#ao3#flower husbands#mounders
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Hoodie
Summary: Natasha Romanoff sacrificed her life for her daughter. Now living with the Barton’s, y/n asks Clint a difficult question.
Word count: 462
Pairings: Little/kid Reader x Clint Barton / Daughter reader x Natasha Romanoff
Just pure sadness tbh<\3 (lil fluff tho)
Warnings: Death(no details just talk of heaven/afterlife)
————
“Uncle Clint?” Little y/n’s sleepy voice called out to her mamas best friend“Yeah darling?” Clint asked “Did mommy hurt when she left us?” Silence fell upon the pair. Clint had hoped these questions wouldn’t arise until later but although y/n was only 6, she was a smart little girl. She didn’t fully understand death yet, but she knew mommy wasn’t coming home.
“No kiddo, she didn’t hurt” Clint spoke, breaking the silence. The crack of his voice matching those in the walls “What happened when the angels came for her?” The little redhead asked. Clint sighed. He didn’t particularly believe in heaven and hell, nor did Natasha, but he had to provide some comfort to his niece. He didn’t like to lie, but how could this little girl understand that her mommy fell off a cliff on a different planet? Maybe heaven wasn’t that far of a reach.
“Well” Clint cleared his throat “mommy had to lay down, because she was tired, and then she closed her eyes. She got to see all of the beautiful things in her life, so I bet all she saw was you” a small giggle came from y/n “when she opened her eyes again, the angels were there and they told your mommy that she had to go with them” “So she could became and angel too?” Said y/n “Yeah” Clint continued “so they picked her up and carried her to heaven, where they gave her her wings. So she could come back down to see you…as an angel. You know she’s always watching over you, and she’s always with you” “I know she is” y/n spoke, sleep beginning to gather in her voice.
“Do you still see her?” Clint asked “Sometimes” the 6 year old said with eyes half closed “what if I forget about her?” “Oh sweetheart, you’ll never forget mommy, none of us will. We’ll keep talking about her and visiting her in the woods where she rests” Clint glanced over to y/n’s closet “you want mommy’s hoodie tonight?” The little Romanoff nodded. Clint passed the young girl Natasha’s favourite hoodie. A grey zip up one, with a cat sewn on the front to cover the hole Tony had blasted through it while testing his new suit. Y/n instantly latched onto the fabric, bringing the sleeve to her mouth to gently suckle on. She curled right up into it and inhaled what little of Natasha’s scent remained on the piece of clothing. She was immediately soothed and fell asleep moments later. The spitting image of how Natasha used to curl up next to her when she was a baby.
“Sleep tight y/n” Clint whispered. He walked to the window, to draw the curtains. And there he saw it. A shooting star. Natasha. He smiled.
————
This one hurt :(
- Astara🩷
#natasha romanoff#natasha x daughter!reader#clint barton#clint x reader#little reader#marvel#post endgame#vormir#natasha x little!reader#black widow#avengers#marvel fic#clint x natasha#nat x reader
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~ Stitch ~
A Sarge and lil Mama fic
Warnings: 18+ dealing with the trend (and still sometimes practiced) vaginal modification postpartum of stitching a woman’s vagina tighter than natural, ostensibly for the husband’s pleasure but achieving nothing more than tightening the entrance alone, causing pain and complications to the woman’s natural ability to expand and retract when necessary. The smut and descriptions may give some of you the heebie-jeebies, you have been warned. On the upside we have fluff and babies and Elaine being a boss and pussy inspections, more lactation kink, reunion sex and Elvis deep diving into sup-space which neither of these ill informed babies have any clue about. 🥂
Summary: after her trip to Germany and the arduous treck through the airport, Elvis and Elaine settle down for their first evening reunited
“Traitor,” Elvis growls at the headboard as the heated, writhing kiss he shares with his wife causes the damn thing to bonk obnoxiously against the wall like a damn tattle tell.
He and Elaine have stopped and started, stopped and started this, their first attempt at intimacy since she landed today in Germany, about five times already. Elvis has begun to think maybe they should play the old married couple and just roll over and sleep, hope for better things in the coming days. The knowledge that they won’t be having a house to themselves for at least a couple weeks, that their hosts–a superior officer and his kindly wife–will be putting them up until Elvis can find a house of his own with a gate and security close enough to base to make him feel confident in putting his family there makes him want to punch something. It really is generous of them–the officer and his wife–to open their home and by god he’s glad he doesn't have to sleep in barracks away from Elaine, but laying in a plush bed with his long-missed wife needy and ready beneath him and only communal walls and a creaky bed keeping him from his duty… it’s maddening.
“W-we could–against,” Elaine is trying to get out a contingency plan in between kisses, trying to harness her logistic prowess again and again but forgetting her train of thought each time she presses her lips against his. She’s missed him, didn’t even realize how much, but holding him and being held and kissing like it’s the only thing that’ll keep them alive, it’s got her yearning and happy and it’s shockingly natural. Watching him defend her earlier, nearly feral in protectiveness, has her warmed and thrumming. She thinks he may have had the right idea, married life with kids brings out a harmony between them she never saw before he gave her this.
She could grow to love this man, truly love him, not just be enamored. She thinks she’s in danger of it now with the way he can’t help but shower her in praise even as he jerks and pumps against her as they kiss. But he’s been so patient and so insistent that they do this properly, that he must ascertain that she is all healed up enough to take him. He’s decreed an inspection is necessary first but can’t stop kissing her long enough to look at the goods.
He’s boyish in that way, can’t decide where he wants to be. Compact as his wife is, her beauty is still spread out enough he worries he’ll miss something in her eyes when kissing her breasts or something with her gorgeous calves if he’s face first between her thighs. It frustrates and soothes him all at once, being stretched atop her, it makes him huff and growl and writhe.
The headboard bonks traitorously again.
He pulls away, glaring at it before looking over at the crib holding the sleeping babies. It’s been quite a day. First hauling ass with no notice from base to the airport, that arduous trek through the press to their ride, hauling ass back to Frankfurt with his family, introducing Elaine and the babies to every fellow private who managed to snag a leave and be at his officer’s house when he brought her back, dinner and games and small talk while sat in wet pants, pandemonium in trying to situate rooms, and then, then finally being alone. Just them. His little family. Alone to haul bags around, change diapers and nurse again, comfort jet lagged infants, strip out of his uniform, brush his teeth and collapse.
It wasn’t really the twins’ fault it took so long to settle them, they fed off the hectic atmosphere and Elvis may have been at fault for being unable to put them down for longer than a minute at a time, always picking one or both back up to study them and babble to them and kiss their fuzzy heads. Being a father required a lotta luggage and a lotta energy and once his babies had fallen asleep he laid on the bed inert beside Elaine, bathed in yellow lamplight beneath a whirring fan, exhausted but never happier.
She had turned her head to him sleepily, a little shy again and whispered softly,
“Hey you.”
“Hey you,” he had grinned and kissed her nose.
It made her laugh. He liked making his wife laugh so he kissed her again, then she kissed him. They kissed each other. The headboard banged against the wall, the slats creaked and through the wall he heard the unmistakable shuffle of their hosts settling into their respective twin beds. Though, by the resuming silence, it would seem that the worthy couple had chosen to read tonight instead of make starving, violent love to each other after three months of separation.
Elvis then groaned and wove his hand deeper into Elaine’s hair, tilting her just right and trying his damndest to devour her. He had shifted up for leverage and–BONK.
“Goddamn it!” he whines this time.
“Wall, the wall!” Elaine gasps out her solution before an insistent and wet tongue can stifle her again, “We could, ya know…against the other wall.”
“You wanna move the bed?” he asks, “Gonna make a whole lotta noise, gonna wake the babies and besides, their eldest daughter is in that room,” and he points at the opposite wall in question. In the dim his long lashes cast a dramatic shadow against his cheekbones as he blinks in confusion down at her.
“I meant just, ya know, against it,” she pants below him, lips puffy and eyes dark in the feeble lamp light. “You could take me against it. Standing, like you did that time…”
It’s funny, two babies made, married nearly a year, and yet there’s a shyness remaining in the sheer mention of that incident in the Fort Hood lavatory. He feels himself twitching at the memory and worries he might have another accident at this rate.
“Ok,” he whispers, suddenly a little shy too, and pulls away, goosebumps forming on his bare arms without the heat of her embrace. “Wanna, wanna inspect ya first, though.” He lays down the law despite looking rather unimposing standing there in tented boxer briefs and ruffled hair.
“No really, Elvis, I’m ready,” she insists, but he gently grabs her by the ankles and hauls her playfully around in the bed until she’s facing the lamp and its bedside table, the silky fabric of her night slip riding up her thighs.
“I’ll be the judge of that, lil mama,” he gives her an admonishing look and she grows meek and pink again and bites her lip like she did on their wedding night.
He hits his knees and peppers kisses up her calves, hauling her by the backs of her own knees to the edge of the mattress, hooking a leg over each shoulder. The feel of his bare back beneath her legs is homey and exciting all at once. The silk pooling between her thighs is quivering with each heavy breath she takes and he feels little tremors going through her, of excitement, he hopes. He kisses the baby soft skin right above her kneecap soothingly.
“You alright?” he asks, just to make sure.
“Yes, it’s just,” she pants and can’t seem to keep her eyes on him, like it overwhelms her when they lock eyes, his breathing so close to her throbbing heat, “it’s just, I-I’ve missed you,” she tells the blurry blades of the ceiling fan.
“Missed you too, so damn much,” he groans, pressing another kiss higher this time.
He takes a thumb and forefinger and grips the silky hem, he wafts the fabric up and the smell of her hits his nose, making his mouth dry out and then water uncontrollably. He wants to kiss and suck and slurp her up, but he’s got a job to do.
He left her in Memphis torn and stitched and raw from pushing his children out, it’s the least he can do to make sure his sweet little kitty is as patched up as she assures him it is.
Elvis Presley is neither a braggart, nor is he burdened with false modesty, it’s the God’s honest truth that he knows Elaine’s pussy, short as their marital bliss has been, better than the frets on his guitar. He thinks he’d know, just instinctively know, if something were amiss. But it’s a little hard to concentrate, to recall specifics of this pink oasis when she’s letting out little gasps of pleasure at his prodding touches and the sticky feel of her wetness clings to the pads of his fingers as he spreads her open. He’d wrung himself dry enough to the thought of her he almost feels like he’s rereading the bible after a long tour, spiritual transportation. She’s so wet down there, downright dripping for him, and that’s ever so pleasin, but there’s a tenseness to her folds as he drags his calloused fingertips below her entrance, where she tore, that he doesn’t like one bit. Maybe just skittish, but he isn’t satisfied with the dim lighting.
“Elvis, please please keep on, I’m goin mad up here,” she begs as he stops his little rubs and swivels to grab the lamp.
He yanks it off the nightstand, making a racket with the cord trialing and the lampshade toppling off and he doesn’t get why she freezes at the noise until remembers: they have babies. He crouches there between her thighs, bare bulb lamp in one hand, his other spreading her open as he awaits her verdict. After a minute of no rustling or whines from the crib she relaxes, her head falling back to the mattress again–all clear.
“Elvis, baby…” she sounds so needy it’ll drive him mad, and it comforts him some.
“Patience woman, patience,” he teases.
It’s different down there, somehow. She looks healed but it’s in a taut, stretched, angry pink sorta way he’s not sure he likes. Not sure he likes at all the way the flesh doesn’t give round her entrance like it oughta, like he taught it to. But she lets out a resounding moan at the breach of his thumb into her channel, and teased beyond her last vestiges of obedience, she rocks against his digit and he watches her suck him in, then spit him out wet and shiny in the stark lamplight. Over and over, deeper and deeper, humming happily as her slick starts to coat her taint and thighs in its excess. He adds another finger. She bucks up, taking him with a hiss.
“You been puttin’ your fingers up, like I told ya?” he doubts it a little, except he had heard the squelching proof of it over the phone.
As had the rest of the nation, he recalls with a scowl.
She mistakes it for displeasure aimed at her and is quick to swear, “Yes E, every night.”
“Good girl. And the coke bottle? How’d that go?” he inquires, finding it easier to abstain from sinking balls deep in her if he plays this like a role, pretends he’s not got any more business with her but examining her.
“It…burned a little,” she admits, tentative to give him any more information that might prolong her mulish husband crouching between her legs with a lamp stuck up in her business. “But it got better, as ya talked me through it, made sure to tilt my hips like you showed me, made it easier. Sorta felt like the first time all over again, honestly.” She admits the last bit softly, “And it got good, after the first bit of burn. Really baby, I’m all fine,” she insists, leaning up on her elbows to watch the way he contemplates her little house, blue eyes dark and earnest, his childish mouth ever so firm and burdened.
She wants to wipe that look away, she wants that gasp-inducing first thrust, she wants to feel him twitch and throb inside her again, she wants to watch him forget his manners and his mama’s teachings and take her like a savage, spewing worship from his mouth all the while.
She wants him. Some of this comes out verbally and he’s only a man, he’s persuaded. The lamp is clumsily put back in place and his lips, once headed for her own, dive between her legs, no longer able to hold out.
It’s clumsy, his slurping, sucking, nibbling attack down there, but that’s not to say it isn’t skilled. Elaine winds her hands into his army-cropped hair and hangs on, unabashedly chasing his nose and lips and tongue, smearing the evidence of how much she missed him all over his beautiful face. Kneeling as he is, and she laying sideways on the bed in her pursuit of his mouth, the headboard is not the culprit, rather her ever increasing moans and cries are, her lips bitten cruelly to try to stifle them but she can’t help it, it’s too good, he’s too good to her.
Her thighs crush his cheeks, puckering him up like his cousins enjoy doing to goad him, and he sucks and sucks, managing a finger fuck while he’s at it, and then there’s that gush and wail he knows so well as his wife releases onto his wicked tongue.
“That’s it, that’s it oh oh, just a little more I’ve, I’ve got a little more oh, oh baaaaby, oh god, just like tha–”
She’s wailing her pleas and she’s good to him, too. Sounding reverently awed but never shocked as the pleasure lights through her. She knows better than to be shocked by what reactions he can draw from her body, she finds him too capable to insult him by being surprised by any outdoing of himself he might do. He loves her for it, he’ll take the reverence, the trusting admiration that he thinks, hopes, prays might be love in its infancy.
She’s boneless and quaking when he pulls away, leaving one last longer smooch to her puffy little rosebud. Her thigh jerks in response.
She can taste herself in his mouth when he lays atop her again, kissing her soundly as he is somewhat sated by pleasing her but needier still, the throb begging to be relieved.
“Perfect, perfect woman,” he’s mumbling praises, or thanks to heaven for her, she’s not sure which.
She’s too busy running her hands along his back, up his sides, registering suddenly that the plush softness of his ribs is gone, lean, corded muscle in their stead.
“Where are my handles?” she demands, teasing but entirely in earnest, vigorously squeezing his boney sides for emphasis, then in outage she slides her way to his ass, kneading that firmed up muscle with begrudging acceptance, “Has the army taken my love handles, too? Good lord, what have they been feeding you, baby? Or have they not? I’ll make ya a midnight snack after this, I swear, I…oooh.”
Laughing into the crook of her neck he starts to hump her, his briefs beginning to stick and drag against her from the sloppy mess he made of her down there. She whines at the friction, the rough cotton against her freshly kissed petals and tugs the offending fabric down, over the swell of his backside, craning her neck to watch in apprecIation as his thighs ripple and jiggle to kick them off entirely.
If she were to be perfectly honest, Elaine thinks his butt does look magnificent. She might be forced to concede at gunpoint that it looks even better than it did when she first saw it on the wedding night and spent a delightful amount of time petting it, entirely unaware there was more to conjugal duties than kneading the swell of her beautiful groom’s flank. She pets it, for old times sake she tells herself, and it serves to bring him closer, his slick cock already gushing precum like a fountain and nudging at her like a thing possessed.
“Wall?” he pants, his voice starting to grow gruff in need.
“Yes, yes!” She hooks her heels around his hips and hangs on by his neck as he staggers upright, towards the opposite wall, managing not to stub a toe on the crib.
“I love you,” he swears into her gasping mouth as he grinds her against the wall, bumping her button with every upstroke.
“I love you,” she insists back, just as she had every phone call these last three months, separated by an ocean.
“Can ya–” he begs.
“Yeah.” She understands and reaches between them to line him up, excitement plain in her sparkling eyes.
That look of hers fires him up and he thrusts inside, gently and slowly as intended but almost forced to be so by the unrelenting ring of her entrance. It’s odd, it’s ungiving and tight and he’s missed her and she is warm and wet and tight and oh no–oh fuck, she looks like she’s in agony, her hands coming to slam down on his shoulders in a bid to push him away.
“Oh dear god,” she whimpers out and it’s a genuine plea for relief, no flicker of pleasure or curiosity anywhere on her precious face, just crumpled agony and he feels himself wilt slightly before he can even manage to pull out. She sobs as he manages it, every dragging inch of him feeling like sandpaper against her entrance. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry just let me try–” she sniffles, short staccato little sniffs of resolution, bravely trying to reach between them again.
“Woah, woah no, it’s ok, my love, it’s ok, oh god, shhh, shh,” he holds her against the wall as she trembles, little hiccups jerking her body from the lingering shock of that unexpected horridness. “That weren’t right, was it?” he observes, confused but mostly sick over that look of agony on her face. “Wasn’t right at all.”
“No, it wasn’t, but I–”
“Shhh,” he insists, pushing at the back of her pretty head till she lays her cheek down on his shoulder, allowing him to just soothe her for a minute, running his hands down her strong back and over the gorgeous globes of her ass, just swaying his hips to an inaudible tune, a gentle rocking against the wall.
Sideways he sways, never a thrust, never a motion that might spook her and he can feel her starting to relax again in his arms. She begins to pet him, his neck, his shoulders, his collarbones, his arms, his face. Casually, then with curious purpose, like she did their first night when he realized his mother knew more about what he needed in a wife than he ever suspected. For as he had laid there beneath that daisy fresh girl that was the newly minted Elaine Presley, she had petted and stroked his body, told him he was beautiful, showered him with praise that tumbled from untutored lips, oblivious that such things were often considered too feminine for a man to allow for himself to hear or enjoy. It had chained him to her for life, and she hadn’t even a notion of its potency.
His pretty little wife who’s not so fresh now but no less impressive, who’s petting him now and who had to do so very much more than he ever anticipated since marrying him. Now this… pain. They’re owed a break. They’re owed it.
“We’re gonna be ok, ya know that?” he whispers to her, it’s a mantra he’s told himself every night, “We’re gonna be ok, just gettin’ tested s’all, and we’ve got blessin’s by the dozen already, we’re not forsaken, jus’ a little roughed up. And I’m here now, and ain’t nothin in this world gonna separate us again.”
She pulls her head up from his shoulder, cheeks red from the violent reaction and then the pressure of his shoulder. It makes her eyes look a little puffy and young again, he finds he likes, can’t help but grin back as she grins at him, her hands scritching at the buzzed hairline at the back of his neck.
“I’ve missed you,” she informs him again, although this time there’s more there and he dutifully perks up to catch the undercurrent of meaning she seems to be lacing in those simple words. “I’ve missed the way you promise,” she says, leaning forward to brush his lips with her own, soft pecks and presses, “the way you remind me God’s on your side.”
“Our side, baby,” she’s got to understand, he’s got to make her understand this union right here was written in the book of life.
She uses her hold of his hair to tip his head back, his neck bowing and strained, he staggers a little from the wall, “Then who can be against us? Hmm?“ She recites while beginning to leverage herself from his shoulder into a grind along the front of him and that, maybe the scripture, maybe her earnestness, maybe her hunger–it does something for him, and he ends up staggering back into the bed. Making an awful racket as they both land heavily, panting and squirming, thumping the headboard against their hosts’ wall. She begins grinding herself furiously on his half mast cock and he lets her, encourages her, his hips meeting her part way and sliding himself perfectly through her folds again and again until she’s shaking apart above him for the second time, and his balls remind him they’ve been forced from the brink once already.
“Whew-eee!” she cheers in a hushed, shivering little celebration as her aftershocks recede and the lewd sound of her lubing up his cock with her pleasure slowly comes to a halt, along with her grinding. “Right, a pallet, is what I’m thinkin’,” she states, suddenly hopping off her perch with renewed vigor and seizing the quilts and beginning to tug them to the ground, arrested only by the lump of meat that is her husband’s blood-deprived brain and body. “Up up, this’ll help us keep it quiet,” she explains and clumsily, through a fog of watching Elaine traipse around in a silk nighty with her soaking, bare snatch hanging out quite prominently, he sees the light and complies, getting up. Manages to contribute and toss a single pillow onto the now neatly crafted pallet at the foot of the crib.
Oh god, he’s about to violate their mother right next to them. Oh hell, this was not part of the fantasy, somehow in his dreams, there were always children in her, but he hadn’t thought of what that would mean for making more with some outside her. Graceland, he assures himself, Graceland is big enough to hold the football team promised and for him to take her in plenty of abandoned little corners and nooks. It’s just this damn Army life and the shared room and, wait. Which one’s that? Goddamnit he doesn’t even know his own kids apart yet.
“Oh no ya don’t!” Elaine threatens, on her knees amongst the blankets already, objecting to the way little Elvis begins to droop again. She eyes his cock like she can glare it back into hardness and usefulness..
“I-I-I think one of ‘em’s lookin’ a’ me,” he shudders, less from the feel of her hot mouth now surrounding his cock and more from the idea that the image of this act is quite visible to his owl eyed infants through the slats of the crib.
Elaine pulls off with a wet pop, and unconcernedly peers through the slats at her babies, hand still working on him–against him, he thinks. “Oh Ella does that,” she explains fondly, “funny little thing sorta flutters her lashes in her sleep, forgets to close them all the way at times.”
Oh god, it’s his daughter. His poor, sweet, innocent daughter–is this how Mr. Phipps felt when Elvis took Elaine off his hands and carried her upstairs after the ceremony? Someone will one day come for Ella, and he’ll murder them, plain and simple. It’s decided. “S-so she’s asleep?” he begs.
“Dunno, try smiling at her, if she smiles back she’s awake, just drowsy.”
Elvis, perhaps through the strong fortification of his ancestor’s blood running through his veins or the few Hollywood acting lessons, manages to smile down at his baby girl, even as he hisses and jars the crib with his grip as Elaine swallows him whole again.
Ella smiles back.
“I-I-I can’t do this, oh god she’s watchin’!” but his knees are buckling, in existential crises and pleasure, as Elaine rubs and mouths at his balls.
A goddamn natural, that woman.
“There, that’s it,” Elaine coos to him as he falls into the cradle of her hips, “there we go.”
“Elaine, I–” he goes to look through the slats, now at ground level, but she places a hand on the side of his face like a horse blinder.
“Don’t look at the crib baby, please,” she cajoles, “They haven’t any idea what any of this is. But you do have a wife on your hands that’s missed you so much she’s resorted to puttin’ coke bottles up to ease the ache.”
She’s spittin’ straight facts and he tries to gather his energies, to focus on the fact Elaine is laying there beneath him, her soft thighs clamped around his hips as if he’ll run away, a breast right there beneath his cheek…he wonders if they’ve got milk in them again.
“M-maybe turn the lamp off?” he suggests, so very conscious of his progeny’s eyes on his ass.
“You're below eye level, Mopey,” she giggles, a patient eye roll accompanying it and his traitorous cock twitches at that, “So just, stay down, hmm? Besides, watchin’ your face is my favorite part!” she pleads with him, peppering his cheeks with persuasive kisses.
Yes, yes he recalls that it’s her favorite part. It was so unsettling that first night to be looked down upon with such marveling awe by a virgin girl riding his cock that he’d flipped her over and took his little bride from behind, like an animal, lying through gritted teeth that it was better for breeding that way. He likes to think he’s grown up a little since then. He thinks he at least ought to try.
“Alright,” he concedes and she’s a gracious victor, happily bringing him down to lay every inch of himself against her, the floor hard and unyielding beneath her back but the blankets cozy around them. “I don’t wanna hurt you again–” He brings up the obvious, hoping but unsure that her second orgasm may have loosened her up enough.
“It was just the angle, the angle was off,” she assures him, wriggling like an eel beneath him in her uniquely squirmy way of trying to ease her hunger, it’s adorable and he’s missed it an unbearable amount.
He grabs one of her arms to pin her still, taking himself in hand and dragging his tip through her utterly soaked folds. Her face looks so excited again, like a kid waiting for a present at Christmas–and it’s the fact he’s done this to her, turned the pretty and promising Miss Elaine into a hungry cock-wringer that has him collapsing onto her, into her, his puffy cockhead nudging into her with instinct and no finesse. Her little ring is so tight it burns his foreskin going in and he thrusts hard to get past it, to make that stupid burn stop and get himself tucked in where it’s warm and spongy and giving and fuuuuck, he’s missed her and–she just bit his shoulder to stifle her scream. It has the unfortunate effect of making him jerk deeper, despite his overwhelming sense that he shouldn’t, that he was right, that something about this isn’t ok. Something isn’t right at all.
“Don’t-don’t, don’t pull out.” She frantically halts his movements with a hand to his butt, forcing him to stay in as far as he’ll go and he thinks maybe he read her wrong, that it was a scream of pleasure she stifled, but there’s no mistaking her trembling rigidity and the wet tears he feels on his cheek.
“Baby, this ain't right,” he firmly declares, making to pull out.
“Oh for god’s sake please don’t move! Please, please I can’t bear you moving,” her voice is thick with suppressed anguish and, helpless, he stalls, obeys her, guiltily feels himself twitch and swell from being kept inside.
The male mind is a callous bastard, he thinks, bitterly. “Talk to me, darlin, talk to me, please tell me what’s goin’ on, whatcha want me to do–I’ll do anythin’ just, just talk to me,” he begs, his voice wavering.
“I’m ok, I’m ok,” she insists like the lying, foolheaded, brave darling that she is, “Just gotta get used to it again.” She lets out a deep breath she’d been holding since he first plunged in.
“I dunno, mamas, this seems awful bad. I not lick ya enough?” instinctively his hand moves down to where they’re joined, teasing her little bud persuasively but it just makes her clamp down harder on him and he hears her sob out,
“God no, please don’t make me do that,” she begs, referring to the natural way of a woman clenching on her man’s cock as if it were torture.
He’s had enough, enough of trembling and holding himself still while she cries in the shade of the crib, blocking out the yellow lamplight. “You’re tellin’ me you put a coke bottle up juuuuussst fiiiine but this is unbearable?”
“Alright, alright, the coke bottle hurt!” she admits, still keeping her iron grip on his ass and every time he goes to pull out she looks so pained it stops him, “It hurt, but I was pretty revved up with the way you were talkin’ over the phone and the doctor had said it would be bad the first few times after and we just gotta keep on and-and you’re a damn sight thicker than a coke bottle!” her remonstrance builds in heat and vulnerability as she goes on but he latches onto one thing in particular.
“Doctor said it’d be bad?” he asks, genuinely unsure of himself now. Breaking in a virgin is one thing, this is entirely unexpected.
“Yes, and that it would hurt but just to keep goin’… I thought I’d be able to, to take it or, or at least not be so wimpy about it–I want, I want you to feel good! It’s supposed to feel good, does it feel good, baby? He said it’d be like a virgin all over again.”
She looks so scared yet so expectant that it sends a chill down his spine, he can’t tell why. It feels–strange, and not like a damn virgin, not like it at all.
“Baby,” his voice cracks, can’t help it but he clears his throat even as his forearms start to shake from the plank he’s holding above her, “what’d he do to ya down there?”
“He stitched me.” She’s puzzled, “You know I tore–”
“Yeah, yeah, what was he talkin’ ‘bout virgins for?” His own voice is rising in panic at the idea that some Memphis fuckwit quack has officially ruined his new wife, “This is worse than that, ain’t it? Wasn’t so bad poppin’ yer cherry that ya screamed on me, ever, did ya?“
“No,” she whispers in defeat, agreeing that this is much, much worse than the wedding night, “He said he’d put an extra stitch in to make it tight for you again.” She looks so lost, so confused and hurt by his anger that he thinks he sees her flinching from his scowl.
That won’t do, won’t do at all, he lowers himself fully atop her, his arms giving out and he holds her close buried to the hilt as he nuzzles the tear tracks on her cheeks, trying to get a hold on himself, to be what she needs right now.
“You listen to me, darlin, you listen to your husband real well, ok?” he whispers into her ear, dragging his lips along her temple and her panicked shakes subside, “There ain’t nothin wrong with ya, this ain’t your fault, but there ain’t a thing about ya that needs fixin’, or tamperin’ with in any way, you hear me? You hear me, Elaine? You’re goddamn perfect, just the way God made ya, don’t you let no fuckin pervy sunuvvabitch make ya feel less for anythin’, aright? A man can have a child or he can have a woman, I wanted me a woman, I made me one outta ya and there ain’t nobody gets to take that from me, ya hear?”
“Yeah, yeah, I hear ya, I’m sorry,” she grits out, bitterly frustrated.
“That wasn’t my point,” he whispers, firmly gripping her chin so that she’ll meet his eyes, “my point was that you ain’t got nothin’ to be sorry for, baby. Nothin’ at all. You’re a champ.”
“You’ll, you’ll do it, right?” she whispers urgently.
“Do what?”
“Break me in again?” she urges, squeezing his biceps encouragingly, “I want more! I want more babies and I want it to be good again!”
“I-I-I think you might need a doctor for that–” he balks, truly miserable and at a loss as to what to do, compounded by the fact he’s been so damn lonely for her these passed months that now he has her, he feels like his guard is down and all that strength he needs to be the man of the family is just–hemorrhaging into the sheets.
“Elvis.” He’d recognize that tone anywhere, he’d recognize it half dead and already resigns himself to the fact he’s gonna do whatever it is Elaine’s about to tell him he’s gonna do, “Elvis baby, ya made a lot of promises, and I made a lotta sacrifices, and we’re gonna keep ‘em, alright? And all it requires from you is to use the tool God gave ya and open me back up? Alright? And don’t be a pansy if I bite your shoulder next time,” she teases, squishing his cheeks together fondly, “I pushed two children out of my body, I can take little Elvis. I can, c’mon, I want ya to move, try movin again.” And she digs her heel into the plush muscle of his arse for emphasis.
“Did you just kick me like a horse?!” he cries, aghast, his dignity outraged.
“Maybe.” she smirks.
“I should get some oil or–” he dithers.
“I’m sopping wet down there, that ain’t the problem.” She shakes her head, pushing at his chest to get him to plank above her again, despite the fact he can tell this whole procedure–for it hardly feels like making love so much as it feels like surgery–has made him a bit floppy inside her. “You just gotta tear it open,” she explains emphatically and in a tone so brave he gets queasy.
“Fuck baby–” he whines, the memory of her shaking in pain not at all distant, despite her new found courage.
“You had no qualms tearing me before!”
“That weren’t the same!” he protests adamantly over that rather roughly disposed of hymen.
“Elvis, darlin, please move, just try it, for me. For more babies, please, come on.”
He props himself up, a pathetic little distance between their bodies as he has no intention of actually leveraging himself into her with any force and the idea of being far from her, even by a few inches, is rather unbearable right now. He comforts himself with the notion she’s seen him crying dozens of times before, and it never seems to put her off taking him.
It’s not quite as awful, that first drag out and push back in, he’s soft and shrunken inside her and the hopeful quirk of her eyebrow tells him she feels the improvement, too.
“That's it,,” she encourages as he goes in again, swaying over her in gentle little lunges as she holds her legs apart by the knees, her precious face contemplative as he continues, braver little stabs that she refuses to wince at.
He can’t seem to firm up. And she knows why. It’s the owl-eyed infants observing from the crib beside them and the thought of hurting her and the guilt in his heart and those hateful, hateful thoughts that take up residence in his head when he hasn’t someone to spill them to.
“I’ve missed touching you,” she whispers, letting go of her legs to draw his face down to her, that face that has become so darling, nearly talking into his moaning mouth as she begins to recite all the things she loves and misses about him, “I’ve missed reading together at night, missed coffee in the mornings and prayin’ in bed. I’ve got all those magazines you marked up with the crib sets, they’re in my, oh, my uh, my suitcase, and I’ve got all those color swatches still laid out on the desk, just as you and me and your mama left ‘em–OH!” He’s hardening up inside her, his mind back home, back to the life that they barely had a chance to build but that he has clung to these three, lonesome months. “And the way you defended us outside the airport, you’re so strong, so, so oooh–”
“I’ve missed you.” His voice shakes and he sniffles, snotty and guttural in the crook of her neck, “Missed it all so bad I wanted to die some nights.”
“I know, I know,” she coos, firmly focusing on his heartache and not the terrible pain growing between her legs as his desire mounts and his hips begin to move in earnest, his cock hardening and stretching her just as she asked, just as is horribly necessary for this life they want to grow into being. “But we’re here now, your family is here, you feel us don’t ya? We’ve gotcha, we’ve oh, we’ve gotcha, that’s it, that’s it, oooh.”
There’s something awful happening down there, a tearing or a ripping or a god knows what as he throbs and jerks inside her, and her sob comes out despite her best efforts. He stills again immediately, his head flung up and his eyes warily studying her as his mind comes back to the here and now. She can’t have that, she can’t. It’s got to be done, and she’s the one in this new family, for better or worse, who does the job when it’s too awful for the rest to stomach. He’s a tender fella, her man, sensitive and intuitive to the point of terrifying, and she thinks it’s not so great a sin to deceive him on occasion if it’s important, if it’s in the cause of taking that sensory burden off him, once in a while.
“I missed you so bad I just had to come see ya, I knew my boy needed me.” She gives an alibi for her sob but he seems cautious to buy it, until…
…until she remembers that dazed and transported face staring up at her in his uniform as he drank from her mere hours ago…
It’s unfair, but Elvis Presley has never fought fair and his wife reckons it would be dishonoring to differ from him. All's fair in love and war, her darling idiot had once quoted to her, and she decides he’s not fully silly. All is fair, surely, she thinks as she makes a consciously alluring motion to knead one full breast, then the other, not missing the way his eyes flick back and forth from her face to her breasts in a desperate attempt to stay focused. Each glance downwards to the leaking nipples becoming more and more prolonged, her face forgotten as she kneads out a little trickle. She sees him instinctively wet his lips and she feels his cock twitch violently inside her, brushing up against that secret place he found on their housebound honeymoon, and she lets out the first truly pleasured moan of this session.
Stock still though he is, he’s breathing so hard watching her grope herself he sounds like he’s run a marathon. He gets these odd looks on his face at times, like he’s a different person or there’s a different mind up there on occasion when they’re making love. She isn’t sure what it is yet, but he becomes suggestible, terribly, terribly lost during it, and almost frighteningly confused after it. She wishes to learn him better, to know why and where he goes in these bouts, how to make them nice and sweet for him, instead of confusing and shameful as he seems to think. To learn him she must be with him, and engage with him, and the first part she has accomplished. She’s on a bedroom floor in Germany with her husband. Check. Now for the engagement, now for him to start plundering her so passionately he forgets anything but them, them, them.
“Come on, sweet boy, come on an’ taste me,” she whispers, swiping a trickle with her fingers and bringing it to his wobbling lip, then pushing inside his gaping mouth and over his tongue, sliding along the smooth muscle until he whines and clamps his mouth shut around her finger, sucking like more will come.
Like a dog with a bone, a baby with a pacifier, she leads him mouth first, down to her breast, making the transition from fingers to nipple seamlessly. He latches on, he sucks, his arms flinging out to grip her shoulders in a crushing embrace as a shake rips through him so powerfully she’s certain this is somehow something more, she just doesn’t know what yet. Loathe to jar him from his ravenous, moaning, close-eyed sucking transportion, she holds him close to her chest and leverages her hips up, taking it upon herself to be the one to wring him dry. The noises of him sucking, the lewd smack of their sticky hips and the complete control she has in this moment–despite his position above her, over her, in her–is so strangely delicious she finds herself gasping in arousal from the dynamic alone, the pain beginning to subside. Strangely, cooing to her husband like he’s a child as he joins in pumping her full, spurred on by each swallowing gulp and filthy encouragement spewed by his wife’s lips, is actually damn exciting. Elaine would have thought she would find such a thing burdensome, lonely, maybe even a little frightening to be left alone in charge while her husband descended into a mindless, titty sucking, hip pumping inseminator. But oddly, she finds herself squirming up to meet him joyously, thighs burning with the force of her efforts to impale herself, gasping almost as loudly as he is at each vibrating moan he sends through her breasts, the strangest of promises and assurances babbling from her own lips.
“That's a good boy, that’s it, just like that, oh you’re so good to me, so perfect, so pretty, gonna give me those babies if you keep that up. That’s it, use those hips for me, I-I-I’m never gonna let you go, never gonna let you outta me ever, you’d like that? Hmm, oh oh, yeah you like that, oooh of course you do, of course you do that’s it, you’re almost there aren’t you? Come on, harder baby, harder, whatever y-uh, uh uhn, you need, whatever you neeeed–”
His pace grows brutal and she feels the tear when it happens, a burning, raw fleshed pain following with each animalistic thrust he indulges in after the give of her entrance becomes apparent to his cock, if not his brain. She bites her lip bloody and craves the warm, soothing release of him every bit as badly as this lust blind boy above her.
“Mama!” he begs, wrecked and bent in on himself as he fucks into her like a man and sucks her teats like a babe, “Mama, please, please I need, please can I–”
“Yes, yes, yes,” she doesn’t know what she’s agreeing to but learns right after her acquiescence as his pace falters and the whole lean composite of him bows up and begins to shudder out his release, hot spurts splattering her neglected womb and the thick, sticky trickle of him soothing the torn petals of her entrance. “Oh my, darlin,” she pants, labored and overwhelmed, the feel of him collapsed atop her both heavy and steadying. A comforting weight, her man, all sinewy muscle and long, limp limbs.
She runs her hands along his sweaty back and into his hair and down again, petting and talking to him, though he doesn’t seem aware, he just gives little shakes and mewls atop her, his softening cock finally slipping out as she shifts them to their sides. He seems asleep or unconscious nearly, except for the strong grip his hands maintain on her little frame, the only direction she has to suggest he needs her close.
She can do that, she can stay close. She’s never wanted anything more than that–closeness. How sweet to have found another who needs it as badly as she does. Is that love, she wonders. Who gets to define love, anyway?
She hauls the blankets up higher and ignores the throbbing, wet injury done between her legs, focusing on the way his wet cheek feels against her inner arm as she cradles him, studying this strangely vulnerable man of hers in the yellow lamplight. This striving of theirs took nearly all night, like Jacob and the angel, and the European dawn will be quick to intrude, she knows. Perhaps like Jacob she, too, will carry a limp in the morning, a souvenir of a brush with God. She throws her leg over his hip and draws him nearer, surrounding him as much as she can. She takes Elvis’ slack hand and lays it on her belly between them, watching as his fingers flutter over it even as his eyes remain firmly shut.
“Please, please,” her prayer to the Almighty gusts wet and fervent into his hair, “please take care of us. And bless us, bless us as we try to please you.”
Next thing Elvis knows it’s morning and there is a warm, sizable, but seemingly boneless little thing nudging his chest as he lays there waking up, eyes closed, trying to recall what happened before he took his pills and drifted off, trying to think of the circumstances that would fill him in on what sorta practical joke the boys might be pulling on him this morning. Then that warm, squishy, sizable thing pats him with a tiny, clammy little hand and he nearly bolts upright in realization of his surroundings. Thank God he has decent reflexes or else his sudden jerk would have sent his child flying, all the same they’re both a little startled as he catches his tiny daughter and their matching blue eyes have a staredown in the clear light of day.
“Hey, hey baby girl, sorry I startled ya,” he murmurs as he cradles her, that bizarrely unique smell of baby head breaking his heart and making him fall in love all at once as he kisses her forehead.
At the sound of his voice, the one she’s heard over the receiver day after day while an ocean separated them, Ella’s judicious frown smoothes into a toothless, buttery little grin that matches his own joy in having found each other.
“God, you two are unbearably cute.” Elaine’s gentle voice so close startles him and on further inspection of her position across from him, seated as well on the fluffy pallet on the floor with her back against the crib nursing his son, he realizes he’s lost a considerable gap of time in his memory before falling asleep. “Good morning, sleepyhead, how ya feelin’?” She points her toe and rubs his inner thigh fondly and he feels himself tearing up at the tangible, weighty, ticklish, warm realization that his family is here, they’re really here. This isn’t another dream brought on by some damn good sleeping pills.
Speaking of which–he’s suddenly certain he didn’t take them last night but he slept all the same, and that begs a dozen questions. He figures he’ll be well-mannered and answer his pretty wife’s first, though.
“I-I-I’m over the moon,” he rasps out with a stupid grin ruining his enunciation, his voice coming out scratchy from disuse and an unsettlingly deep slumber. “Feel like I been dead, slept so hard,” he mumbles, taking in Elaine’s rumpled elegance and the angelic portrait she makes cradling Jesse to her breasts and–
–oh God. Last night. What even happened last night? What’d he do to her? What’d she do to him? Did he hurt her? There was so much awfulness and pain and blood is on the sheets now he thrashes in them to inspect his family for damages, and oh god–he really is a selfish boy. The Colonel was right, you can put a ring on your finger and stop wearing a condom but it doesn’t mean you’ve grown up a bit and he–
“Elvis, baby, keep her head up.” There’s that tone again, the one he heard his wife use last night and that he submitted to before he descended into a fog of baby making and tit sucking fuckery, “And don’t panic, everything is lovely and is gonna be lovely and I’ve already spoken with your officer and he said that you’ve got another two hours before you have to be at base. And I was thinking maybe we could have a bite and then go with Dodger to the park or we could stay in, ‘course we could stay in, and you could get to know the babies or–”
She’s got so many options, his little wife, so many suggestions to make him happy, to calm him down, to give him peace. He settles back down beside her on the somewhat cringingly damp pallet, Ella’s head properly supported and he just looks at her. Looks and looks at the love of his life to his heart's content, which he thinks will be the day after never. He’ll be looking at Elaine with as much awe in fifty years as he does right now. He’s not sure how she took care of him last night, but he’s sure that she both did it, and did it cheerfully.
Thank ya, mama, he prays silently.
“You,” he answers aloud, laying his head on Elaine’s shoulder and watching his son grin around her nipple at the sound of his daddy’s voice, “I jus’ want you.”
Meanwhile, two years later…
Sarge Masterlist
I hope you all enjoyed, I love your prompts and screams and thots, never hold back, unleash them freely. 💋🌹
Copious thanks to my darling @prompted-wordsmith for the scheming and the editing and the friendship.
#elvis fanfiction#sarge and lil mama#mine#elvis imagine#elvis x you#elvis fanfic#austin butler elvis#elvis smut
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Rick Grimes x Single Dad Reader
Maybe a new reader and his son (I would say toddler age) make it to Alexandria and reader is very protective of his son and rick offers to house reader and his kid and maybe reader and rick start talk about their past just to find out they both used to be sheriffs and eventually leads to rick and reader spending more time together and eventually they just kiss and confess their feelings to each other maybe some fluff between both their families just having a small dinner.
I'm so sorry that this has been cooking in my inbox like a thanksgiving dinner, I have a MASSIVE writing block. But I honestly love this idea.
Lil bit of warnings: Male reader, fluff, in apocalypse, language, shorter than I thought it would be, lil bit of violence here and there, probably ooc Rick.
Pulling through this entire mess was a hard job. Especially with your toddler son, you never wanted him to go through this. You've always tried your best to keep him safe in every way possible.
You were driving in an abandoned car, your son in the passenger seat sleeping soundly while you drove down an empty road. You struggled to keep your eyes open from the little sleep you've been getting.
You were so lost in your thoughts when a slam and blood was splattered across your car, causing your son to get startled and start crying. You sighed, knowing it was a walker. You picked up your son and placed him in your lap, he clung to your shirt, trying to muffle his cries.
You felt bad for scaring him. You soothed him by rubbing his back, your other hand still on the wheel.
It didn't take long for him to calm down. After a good half hour past, you found a place that apparently was heavily guarded. Walls surrounded it, your eyes lit up.
You opened the door to your car, your child in your arms. You suspected there to be either living or dead people in there. You never know until you attempt.
You found your way to what seemed to be the opening. Some man looking at you, before realizing someone was actually there. Your hand was over your gun like some 1890's standoff. Only risky part was that your son was in your arms, he was only a toddler.
The man opened the gate a little bit more to get a better view of you. "No need for violence." He stuck out his hand in front of him to show you to keep your hand away from the gun.
"Who the fuck are you?" You questioned without hesitation. "Rick, Rick Grimes." He slowly out down his hand. "This is Alexandria." He spread out his arms, representing the giant place within walls. You looked around to see if this wasn't some sort of kind of trick that was going on.
"Come in, ain't safe out here for you or your kid." He pointed at your son. He was right, you gave in.
You walked in, taking a good look to what seemed to be like a classy village. You we're honestly impressed with the place, but Rick walked by your side.
"I can get you a house of you'd like." He offered. You only nodded as an agreement. His hands gestured for you to follow him, and so you did.
"I got two kids myself." He glanced over at you. "Carl and Judith, Carl's a teenager, Judith on the other hand is nearly your kids age." "This is my son." You didn't bother to even say your sons name to some complete stranger you just met probably just 3 minutes ago.
He didn't seen to mind, he seemed to be chill, not pressuring you. You arrived to a pretty large house, people could easily said it was like a mansion. "Here we are, you can stay here if you want." You didn't overly speak when he said that.
He walked away when you walked inside. The house was nice, your son babbled, making little noises. You softly smiled, you could trust this place if you weren't dead yet. But your son in your responsibility you seemed more protective recently.
A knock was heard on the door, you swiftly turned around, but yet still being careful of your son. You didn't dare to put him down. You looked the person from head to toe, it was Rick. Wasn't long gone was he?
His hands we're on his hips as he waited for you to let him inside. You opened the door cautiously, letting out a hum. A boy that kind of looked similar to him with a sheriff's hat on his head, holding a seem to be little girl. You easily guessed what Rick said was his son and daughter, Carl and Judith.
You stepped out of the way with your son in your arms, still holding him. The 3 walked inside. "Need something?" You asked.
"Just here for a quick chat, y'know, introduction." He had an accent you could easily hear. He leaned against the counter. He introduced his kids to you.
You took a further notice to the hat Carl was wearing. "Where did you get that hat from?" You tilted your head out of confusion. "I was a sheriff." Rick added, you looked at him. "I was too." You nodded.
"Probably from a different city of yours, but yeah." You smiled, making Rick nod. "Your kid looks like you." You took it as a compliment. It was out of the blue but it was a nice thing to get complimented especially in a apocalypse.
Your son babbled once again, looking at you, "What's his name?" Carl asked, shifting Judith in his hands. You finally admitted your kids name. "It's a nice name." You and Carl smiled at each other.
Weeks went past, you soon met ever one there. They're pretty nice people. They knew you as a nice hardworking man that stood like a leader puke Rick. Daryl seems to be a bit off, you didn't seem to mind it at all. You and Rick became good friends. But he seemed to notice something quickly.
"Your son's always near you. Your always holding him, or he's always within' arms reach." "In a shitty world like this yeah. You never know what's to be expected in a world like this." Rick nodded, understanding. "I was like that with my kids, understood Carl kind of liked to be alone. Judith obviously needs to be watched." You both chuckles at that.
"Carl knows how to aim pretty good, so I let him be on his own. Best know how to beat this world." "I'm gonna' be like that with my son." Looking at your child in your arms. You handled kids well. You probably won't let him on his own, but surely let him learn how to protect himself.
"You're a nice guy m/n." He glances at you. You smiled at the compliment. "And so with you." You felt your face get a bit warmer the longer you looked at him. "Uh, I need to go." Rick mumbled.
"You don't need too." You flat out said, making him look at you. "Stay a little longer, please?" You slightly begged.
"What's the problem? You usually never leave this early." You were now standing in front of Rick. "It's nothing." He nearly stuttered. He was avoiding eye contact, his cheeks seemed more red or usual.
"You alright Rick? You look a little sick." You questioned out of worry, setting your son on the chair you were recently sitting in. "It's just..." He paused.
"I know this might be wrong in many people's eyes, but.." He sighed, he couldn't seem to spit out what was on his mind.
"I like you a lot, m/n." He looked at the ground feeling his face flush from embarrassment. You could understand why he was embarrassed but you couldn't but help but to feel hot in the face.
"I like you a lot too, Rick." You smiled warmly at him. "Would you want to come over for dinner at my house, like a little thing between two families?" You nodded and smiled, agreeing to the little 'first date.'
An hour later you arrive to his house with your son by your side holding onto your finger with his small hand.
The dinner that Rick prepared was by all honesty, pretty well made and it was nice to your taste. Your son seemed to enjoy it so he was gratefully happy.
"M/n could I talk to you outside?" You looked up at Rick, who asked you the question. You shrugged and agreed, telling Carl to keep a close eye on your son while you were gone.
Stepping outside into a cool breeze was chilling but you still felt warm by Rick.
"I can't believe I'm doing this.." You heard him mutter, you looked at him confused before swiftly he took a hand to your cheek and a pair of lips were on yours.
You didn't hesitate to kiss back, your heart was nearly beating you of your chest while butterflies erupted in your stomach.
"You're a nice guy yourself, Rick."
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I'm so sorry anon for keeping this request in my inbox for what seems like a year 💀
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was thinking all night of an eskel request, and i think i finally got one! eskel pining for the reader while at kaer morhen for the winter, maybe some teasing from the other witchers? super in the mood for fluff, so if you get around to this, extra cuteness plsss and thank you!
Before the Snow is Gone
A/N: My friend I will ALWAYS be happy to write up your requests. I'll admit that I really struggled with this one for some reason, but I hope I made it comedic and fluffy for you!
Pairing: Eskel X Reader
Words: 1.3k
Warnings: bit of angst and depression (from Eskel)
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Geralt and Lambert poked their head around the frame of the kitchen door as another sigh came from the room. There they watched Eskel look forlornly into the stew pot as he stirred, his eyes and thoughts somewhere far from here.
“Is he still sighing about missing his lover?” Lambert whispered to his white-haired brother, watching as Eskel began rummaging through the spice jars, looking depressed at each and every option.
“He’s been like this for 2 weeks and we’re only a month into winter... Even Lil Bleater can’t cheer him up like she used to.” Geralt said, shaking his head as he watched his brother finally settle on a spice and add it to the pot.
“What are we looking at?” Asked Yennefer's voice as her head appeared between the two men.
“Is Eskel moping again?” Jaskier asked now, his head poking out above everyone else’s.
Geralt blinked as he looked up at his bard. “Jask, you’re shorter than I am. How are you-?”
“I’m standing on a chair…” he admitted as everyone pulled away from the doorway to talk face to face.
“There has to be something we can do. I don't want to eat sad stew again.” Lambert complained with arms crossed.
Yennefer was the first to pipe up this time, “I... think I may have an idea..”
----
Lil Bleater propped herself up on his legs, baaing and begging for attention as Eskel took care of the other stable animals. She huffed when she didn’t immediately get the petting she craved and stamped her feet against him.
“I’m sorry, Kiddo… I guess I’m just not really here right now.” He said as he finally took the time to pause and look down at her frustrated grunts. Another sigh left his lips as he kneeled down to pet her and jostle her horns in a weak effort to play. He knew he wasn’t being any fun lately and he knew everyone else could see it. Hell, Vesemir even tried to have a talk with him the other week, but it had little effect.
He couldn’t help it if he missed you so greatly. He had spent his warmer months being by your side as much as he could. Memorizing your voice, your eyes, and the feel of your hand in his as much as he could so it would all be perfect in his memory when winter came.
But now… now it was only making it more glaringly obvious that you really weren't by his side. That you weren’t truly there to whisper to him in the dead of night when he can't sleep, nor to smile at him as you simply passed by.
“I don't know what I'm gonna do for the rest of the winter, Bleater… it’s getting hard just to get out of bed each morning, let alone go through my chores.” He mumbled softly to the bright-eyed kid. “I’m a witcher, you know? I should be better than this… I’ve faced vampires, and dragons, so-” he paused for a moment as he idly scratched Lil Bleater’s chin. “So why is it so hard to leave...? Even when I know I’ll be back…”
Lil Bleater only quietly baaed in response, trying to soothe her dedicated caretaker, but not sure how. So she does what all goats do best- she chews on his fingers.
Another sigh from the soft-hearted witcher, this time with a small smile, “I Love them so much…” he mumbled out, getting lost in his own thoughts again, until an unexpected voice pulled him back with a snap.
“I Love you too, Eskel.”
He blinked as he heard it. That was… your voice…? That was your voice! It was you! Eskel spun around to face where the sound came from and nearly dropped Lil Bleater back to the ground when he saw you.
There you stood in the open stable doors, wrapped in your warm winter clothes, cheeks ruddy from the cold, and a big bundle of clothes in your hands. Your breath puffed up in front of your face as you dropped your bag and ran straight into his arms.
Eskel could hardly contain his excitement as your beaming face came running into his embrace. “You’re here..! but, how…?” Eskel asked, hugging you tight against his chest and drinking in your scent. Soft kisses pressed against your forehead and your temple as you tried to answer, but you couldn't get your words out past the laughter bubbling from you.
“We thought you could use a visit...” came Yennefers voice as she also drifted into view of the stable doors, followed by Geralt, Lambert, and Jaskier. “You’ve been moping about for weeks now and I figured it's easy enough to conjure a portal,” she shrugged, “I open up another portal Home in a few days, so enjoy it.”
“Geralt, Lambert, and I are also gonna take care of your chores, so you can enjoy your time together.” Jaskier chimed in with a thumbs up and that characteristic charming smile,“and that time starts now, so go on and get out of here! Shoo! Go be gross and in love,” he said, quickly ushering you two out and tossing your bundle of clothes at Eskel.
Laughter trailed behind you two as Eskel led you inside so you could settle down. However, Eskel rumbled with quiet excitement, and as quick as you settled he was taking your hand to show you everything about the keep. From the kitchen to the armory and everything in between, your beloved witcher just wanted to share every part of his childhood home that he held dear on your first visit.
“I missed you so much” You mumbled as you took a pause from reading.
Eskel had finally snuck you away to the Keep’s library at the end of the tour so you two could spend the perfect first evening together. Hot chocolate filled your mugs and your sweet whispers filled the air as you read to him. His head lay tenderly on your chest as he soaked in the warmth of your presence. The fire crackled softly before you and everything was just as it should be.
“I missed you too… I’m glad you finally get to visit after hearing about it so much” he lifted his head to smile up at you, that notch in his lip tugging it into a larger grin. “And we’ll make the most of our time here. I promise. We can do anything you want- build snowmen, ice skate-”
“Even just cuddle up under a blanket to fight off the cold…?” you offered with a shake of your head and a chuckle, “I don't care what we do, Eskel, as long as I can be next to you. We could spend the entire visit cleaning up horse shit and- as long as I don’t get any on my face- then I would still consider it an amazing time.”
Eskel’s chest rumbled with laughter that easily passed through your whole body, “I mean- that can be arranged…”
An even stronger laugh emanated from him as you poked him in the ribs and frowned, “I think I’d rather fall in the lake, Esk. Let’s just take this day by day, okay?” you asked, running your fingers through that lovely dark hair of his. “I love you so much, Eskel. No matter what we do or how far away you are or how hard it is that I can’t see you.”
You smiled as you pressed a soft kiss to his slightly chapped lips,“and I love knowing that I’ll be able to see you again as soon as the first flowers bloom.”
“Oh, Darling,” Eskel smiled, his expression easy and light as his honey-like eyes melted your heart into a sweet puddle, “I’ll be at your door long before the snow is even gone.”
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Taglist: @writingmysanity @open--till--midnight (<3) @dark-academia-slut @madamemelancholysstuff
#eskel x reader#eskel x you#eskel x y/n#eskel x reader fluff#eskel witcher#eskel imagine#Eskel#Eskel fluff#eskel fic#kaer morhen#Geralt and lambert are great brothers#and Yen and Jask are superior friends#tw3 eskel#tw3
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Honestly in the second vivi au (where Steren ends up in vivi’s universe early on in his journey) I think it’s even. Worse for Nerevar and Voryn.
In the first one they meet him and they’re like “????” Concerned about him but trying to awkwardly bond before they get their memories.
In the second one Azura is like “hortator. You and your husband had a child in another world. He had to fulfill the prophecy. He was trying to kill himself so I brought him here.” And they’re a normal level of concerned like “we had a kid???? He wanted to die???? Where is he????” And Azura said she tried to bring him somewhere closer but there was some strange interference and so he’s still on Tamriel just further and to give her time to find him but in the mean time Steren’s parents’ souls will enter them and they’ll gain their memories.
And at first it’s anxiety inducing wondering what he’s like and if he’ll be okay. Telling the guards and people across Morrowind his general features to look for. They’re worried but functional.
And then the memories start flooding back and this is no longer a hypothetical.
Voryn remembers first and he’s inconsolable. His baby—he tried to kill his baby! Their baby! His baby that now wanted to end his own life just to be loved by them but now he’s lost and alone in the world again. What if he tries to kill himself this time?! What if he’s hurt?! Voryn can’t even hold him and know his little star is finally back in his arms and safe because his baby is MISSING
And Nerevar is trying to comfort Voryn and reassure him as he goes through the grief of missing out on their son’s life when he starts to remember too. Little things at first. A slightly different body he had in that world. The night Steren was conceived. How badly he wanted a family of his own—a family with the man he loved. How anxious he was while pregnant and how much he cried knowing he couldn’t keep his little baby. How he couldn’t even name Steren without knowing he’d need to bring him back with him and knowing that if he did Steren wouldn’t be safe there. Remembering sleepless nights not coping well post-partum because all he wants to do is see his son and bond with him and kiss his lil head. Showing up to Kogoruhn in the dead of night just to lay in Voryn’s bed beside Steren’s cradle finally getting to sleep knowing he was right by his son.
And then dying at red mountain. Haunting him. Watching him grow up alienated and alone. Not knowing who his parents were. Not knowing he was Nerevar’s and how much Nerevar loved him. Seeing him get married but still chafing his past and dying from it. Seeing Steren born again and knowing at his core this was his son again, his baby, and not getting to hold him and comfort him. When he cried as an infant not being able to rock him and soothe him or feed him. Not being able to change him or teach him to read or have him ride on his shoulders again.
Having to watch him be arrested and shipped off to Morrowind. Fearing for him. Now memories of this reality and the other one blur as with dread he realizes Steren is stuck fulfilling the prophecy. Getting corprus. Uniting the great houses. Only getting to talk to him once he gets the ring and being unsure if he should tell him everything. Finally confessing as Steren gets his own memories back but not even getting to hold his crying son properly.
Nerevar’s come slower in bits and pieces, a lot while he’s asleep, some while he’s trying to work and quickly he becomes non-functional. There’s too much. Too much grief. Voryn can barely keep it together trying to suppress the grief but Nerevar has lifetimes worth of it and things in that world were so similar yet so different. Sometimes his body feels wrong and he has to bite that instinct back. Sometimes he tries to work and remembers watching helplessly as Steren died in his son’s first lifetime and breaking down sobbing. Voryn had to start using his powers to make him rest or he won’t sleep at all.
When Azura tells them in a panic that vivec has him in Morrowind they are RUNNING. Furiously preparing to depart. Skyrim and the empire try to deny them entry when Nerevar sends word and he tells him “my son is there and if you try to keep me from finding him I will show you just how I drove the Nords out of Resdayn”
They’re so relieved Azura found him. So distraught that he might not be safe. Sometimes they’re both too anxious to sleep. They’re both angry and in grief no one else around them can really understand. Luckily they have each other but they want Steren. They want to see their little boy happy and safe again
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