#by being boring and anxious and generally just not enough

[rainecreatesstuff]

idk man I just wanna be loved

[slowlydifferentbluebird]

An unforgiven mistake - Le Sserafim Western AU - Part one

A big shoutout to @mechaknight-98 who managed to push me outside my comfort zone and explore a new genre, more action focused. I can say I was able to not reveal the main interest till maybe the end of this first part. Let me know what y'all think about It🫂

Fort Hybe, 1860. It's another warm day in the base built in the West of a country that in the future was going to be one of the powerful in the world. Every resident of the outpost is carrying out their duties: patrolling the area, building guns, selling every type of goods. And what about you? As every morning, you were going toward the office of your superiore, the general Kim Chaewon, eager to discover and complete your assignments. "Good morning, general", you greeted her, performing the military salute. "Mhh? Oh, it's you, cadet. Yeah, morning or whatever", she casually replied, while looking out of her window, before walking towards the desk to read some papers. "You arrived at the right moment, I have the perfect task for you: an hour ago our soldiers captured an unknow individual who was acting suspicious, according to the reports. Bring her to Captain Yunjin to be interrogated and then come to report to me at the end", she ordered, lazily, yawning and looking to her pocket watch. "Yes, ma'am, I will do my best", you enthusiastically nodded. You really were trying your best to impress the general, you were not the greatest lover of this militar life nor you were the perfect soldier, but the huge crush on your superior was enough to make you choose such an hard path of life. You really would have fought a war for Kim Chaewon. And even if your limits were evident, despite her forever cold look, you managed to obtain her reliance; sure, you were still the lowest grade of the whole forth, but Chaewon still preferred to assign a big majority of duties to you among all the other people at her service. "Don't get too worked up tho, I'm sure it's nothing. Probably someone of your idiot comrades was just getting bored and decided to abuse his power and ruin the day of an innocent citizien", she explained, sighing and going back to the window, a sign that you could go.

After leaving the office, you went to the fort jail, where the majority of the cells were occupied by drunkards and petty thieves. After taking the cells keys from the prison guard, you walked up toward the room where "the suspect" was being hold. You were for surprised when you realized that behind the bars was not some loud woman or scary man, but just a really young and pretty girl, looking all confused and scared. "Uhm..are you the suspect arrested this morning?", you asked, scratching your chin, more puzzled than the girl in front of you. "Yes...but...I have not done anything, I don't even know why I am here", the girl with a really pale skin answered, barely holding back her tears. General Chaewon was right once again: there was no criminal to question; sure, she was not a familar face, but you really doubt that she was being a menace for anyone, the poor girl was terrified. "Don't worry, I'm sure it was made a mistake. I'm sure nothing will happen to you. What's your name?", you talked with a soft tone, crouching down to be at her level and reassure her. "I'm Kazuha, I live outside the forth", she replied, slightly less anxious in front of your kindness. "Well, Kazuha, even if I believe to your innocence, I have still to bring you talk with one of my superiors. It's just a formal procedure, probably you will be free in less than half an hour", you cut the ropes around her wrists and helping her to get up. There was really no need to keep her tied.

On the road towards Capitan Yunjin office, you kept reassuring Kazuha, that was slowly gaining trust in you. Just a few more steps before arriving to the building...when you felt a cold item on the back of your neck, and you could be not wrong about it, it was the barrel of a gun. "Let her go immediately, motherfucker", an aggressive voice ordered to you. "Do it or I will make jump the brain inside your dumb head", she added, pressing the barrel against your skin. "Let's calm down, this has to be a big misunderstanding", you stated, putting your hands up in the air. "Misunderstanding my ass, you are the bastard who arrested my sister for nothing", the angry woman shouted at you, slowly starting to pull the trigger. "Sakura no! You are wrong, this person was helping me out after listening to my story", Kazuha quickly stopped her sister, revealing the truth. "Is that so?", the woman called Sakura asked to her sis, who immediately nodded with ardour, eager to avoid her savior to be killed. "Fine, but my sister won't follow you inside that place, she's coming home with me", she declared, putting the gun down and grabbing Kazuha arm, ready to leave the fort. "And instead you're going nowhere", a familar voice interrupted the conversation. Now that your neck was free from the danger of being shut down, you were able to to look back and being hella surprised by two facts: Sakura, Kazuha sister, was incredibly beautiful. She was not tall or gigantic, but she was fit enough to run for miles and, most important, she had this powerful aura. Every part of her outfit was black: the boots, the top, the vest, the pants, even her cowboy hat. You would have been another couple of minutes to admire her, but the second fact was a bit more relevant in this moment: now was her turn to feel a cold feeling behind her neck. In fact Chaewon had her rifle pointed. "General, how did you know I was here?", you asked, surprised to see her outside her office. "The captain complained that you were late wth your task, and I know how much punctual you are. I just knew something happened, so imagine my surprise in seeing my favorite cadet being menaced by this scumbag", her tone went from daring to dangerous real quick, the will of revenge in her eyes. "No miss, please, it's not what you think", Kazuha, once again begged, her nerves really being tested that morning. You sighed because you know you had some explanations to do.

"So, are saying me that the general tried to save you from miss Sakura that was trying to save miss Kazuha because she thought you were the one who erroneously arrested her sister? What a fucking mess", Captain Yunjin exclaimed, summing up the whole misunderstanding, with the head between her hands. You simply nodded to confirm the whole situation. "Well shit, somebody has to be punished for this mistake...but it's nobody of the ones present in this room", she sighed, letting herself fall on a wooden chair. "Are we forgetting that this fool was about to kill our cadet?", the general Chae reminded pointing to the woman with the cowboy hat. "It's not that deep, General, I was about to resolve the situation anyway", you tried to calm her, minimizing everything. "I don't remember asking for your opinion, cadet, stay at your place", the general immediately scolded you, kinda hurting your feeling in that way. "General, with all due respect, maybe the newbie isn't completely wrong. I'm not saying that we should her let her go without any measure about her actions", the Captain suggested and when she saw the eyes were on her, she continued. "You two own an house and a piece of land outside the fort, right? Well, I propose that our problem-solving recruit can stay with them to check the situation", she offered as solution, but immediately Chaewon seemed to have a problem with it. "Absolutely not! I won't let the newbie stay inside the house of this crazy bitch?", she protested animatedly, slamming her hand on the table. "How did you call me? Also what are we supposed to do with that weakling?", Sakura bursted out, overturning her chair in the heat. "Sis, calm down. Maybe it's not a bad idea...a couple of extra arms can be helpful in this season", she calmly said, holding her sister arm. "Let's all calm down. Miss Kazuha is right, it's not a vacation, the mission is not just about checking the situation, but also helping the sisters with whatever they need. And General, I get your worries, but the also the cadet need some experience outside this place or the promotion will never come. Furthermore we're not abandoning anyone, we will send daily agents for a report", Yunjin immediately managed to bring the peace back, her solution looking now really sensible and rational. Chaewon hated to admit it but Yunjin was right, and yet she was still annoyed, so she just walked out, stomping on the floor. "Tsk, I guess it's fine for me, whatever will put an end to this ridicolous farce", Sakura puffed, rolling her eyes back. You really weren't sure about this measure, but it was more an order than a request. You sighed and got ready to the new adventure.

An hour later you were outside, all your important stuff gathered in a knapsack, with the two sisters. "Well, you took your time", Sakura commented, while finishing to saddle her horse, Kazuha already on hers. "Who am I going with?", you asked, your tone torn between kindness and authority. "No chance in the world you're coming with me", Sakura coldly replied, looking away. "Fine, I'll go with Kazuha then", you shrugged, directing your body towards the youngest. "What? No, hold on, you're not touching my sister...ugh, whatever, come with me, but you better keep your hands at their place.", the older sister immediately changed her idea, basically pulling you towards her "pet". Finally you managed to finally move. The style of horseriding of Sakura was like hers: unbridled, wild, unruly; more than once you risked to fall having nowhere to hold yourself, only your military training saving your bones. Sakura really didn't want to see again that General bitch, so after yet another risk of falling, she took your arms and placed them around your waist. "For fuck sake, stay still! No weird movements or I'll use you as fertilizer", she screamed, getting red in face for the sudden contact. You did as requested and really were surprised to feel her firm abs, your fingers tracing them on their own and for some reason the cowgirl said nothing about it. In the meanwhile Kazuha observed the scene from the side, giggling amused.

[sk3tch404]

Late Night Hanma Blurb

A/n: Thought abt this during an itty-bitty road trip today. Smoker Hanma does smth to the chemicals in my brain. Forgive me for any lengthy bad writing. I've had a long day and I just wanna yip yap about one of my fav crazies 🙇

CW: Hanma can give two shits about your lung health but chooses not to when he feels like it, intimidation, threats of forced drug usage, sometimes forced participation in violent activities, thoughts of lovers suicide/murder(?), and whatever other yappin I put in here.

Hanma who smokes a fuck ton and doesn't mind giving you the good ol' second-hand effects of it, but absolutely detests you doing it on your own.

He snatches the stick from your mouth and holds it up and away from you with a small grit in his teeth. Hanma glares down in some curiosity but clearly squints in irritation.

"The hell is this? Don't tell me I'm being a bad influence on you now. If I catch you with one of these again, I won't let you off the hook so easily. You got it, Y/n?"

When you retort, telling him it's no different from when he does it and it is your own choice whether he likes it or not, he merely scoffs with a tilt of his narrow head. Throwing down the cigarette, the sound of his sneaker stomping and scraping it out against the pavement echos through the air with an annoying presence. Shuji demands the rest of your stash with a looming stare that can only put you into a state of sinking discimfort.

"Come on, don't be stubborn. Ya know, if you wanna do it so bad, why don't you try the whole pack? Mine too since it's a shitload better than that cheap stuff."

Reluctant on suffocation and early lung cancer, you begrudgingly hand over your smokes to him. Hanma smacks down on the box with an evidently loud shot of noise and slides it out of your palm--- pocketing it. He stretches out narrow smile as he leans down towards you.

"See, now it ain't so hard to listen."

He's still ticked off by the fact you think you can do whatever to your body without his permission, but since Shuji is so generous, he'll let you learn from your mistakes. See, he can be nice.

Don't test him though. Next time you're caught defying his selfish wishes, he's beating you down with degrading language and probably also beating whoever was involved. The convenience store employee that sold you the cigs, vape, or maybe even chewing tobacco? Yeah he's taking out his held back frustration on them. Bro is jumping over the counter and tearing their shit up.

Avoiding him because of his brutal and honest-to-God psychopathic personality? Now that's just cruel. Shuji is dragging your ass by the back of your shirt and pushes you to his motorcycle. The leopard print on the back of the bike makes you wanna barf every time you see it, but you got to keep it down if you wanna have enough energy to deal with him. He'll take you out no matter where you are at in that point of time and make you remember who he is; who you think you're messing with.

"Y/n, how many times do I have to tell you? Aim for the nose. That's easy for amateurs like you. Actually, lemme show you how to really deliver a jaw breaker-"

Yeah, he'll show you just how bad it can get with some random thugs on the street. You should be grateful with how gentle he's treating you. Instead of ending up with facial fractures, you have nice dates and thoughtful gifts. He's even teaching you a few tricks. How lucky can you get?

"I'm all done. Shit, I'm starved. Let's go grab a bite to eat, kay?"

Hanma thinks the only way you'll ever keep paying attention to him is if he keeps you and your actions in line. If you go off doing your own thing, his usually unmoving heart can't just stand there and watch you slowly leave him. Despite the negativity be brings into your life, he actually gets really fuckin anxious when he doesn't know or understand what you're doing. It's so troublesome how you make him feel. Yeah, being bored as shit is bad, but seeing you, the only thing that could ever bring him down to his knees unwillingly, slip away with nothing but disdain for him? Fuck no. He won't accept it. Shuji would rather kill you and then himself than have to bear the strange feeling of pain, or what other people call heartbreak, by his lonesome self.

Should he ever say he loves you, that would be the point of no return for the both of you. His hands have you tight in his clutches. No way out, no way back in for anyone else.

[2smolbeans]

Yandere Asmodeus x Cupid Mc

A/N: This was unedited and scrambled. I might add on to this in the future- but for now this is just some brain rot lol. If anyone wants to add on or use this idea for themselves, feel free! Just give me credit ^^

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Cupid! Mc who would spend centuries doing their duties as a cupid, walking amongst the human world and influcing the feeling of love amongst people.

Cupid! Mc, who was the cupid of Eros, often pondered if demons could ever fall in love. Love is a natural feeling, whether it be platonic, romantic, or familial - so could the worst of the worst feel something genuine like that?

Cupid! Mc was curious when they heard about the exchange program for angels, demons, and humans to get along. Maybe they would get to meet new creatures alike!

Cupid! Mc, who decided to apply to the program out of pure wonder if a creature who was neither angelic, demonic, or human could join the Royal Academy of Diavolo.

Cupid! Mc who often found themselves the main attraction of the school. Somehow, always finding a group of demons staring at them with malicious intent.

Cupid! Mc who somehow found themselves befriending a group of incubi and sucubi. It was eye-opening meeting a bunch of beings who were the polar opposite of you. Regardless, they helped you around while they bombarded you with questions.

Cupid! Mc, after staying in devildom for years, would eventually be introduced to the king of lust himself, Asmodeus. With the personification of love being in hell, of course, the personification of lust would come along.

Asmodeus! Who would rush at you with exciment, stating how he's it's been a while since he's encountered a cupid and asked how your goddess the "Bitchy jealous Aphrodite" was doing.

Asmodeus! Who would always stick by your side, claiming how a dove like you should be careful in hell. Generously offering to be your tour guide while he showered you with companionship.

Asmodeus! As the king of lust, was surprisingly modest with you. To your surprise, he was in no rush to get in between your pants but rather trying his hardest to keep his reputation with you on a good note.

Asmodeus! Who you soon got to know as a close friend was a selfish individual. Casually sleeping with those left and right while breaking hearts along the way simply because he was bored.

Cupid! Mc, who doesn't expect much from the avatar of lust just simply accepts him for who he is. They don't understand why lust is so tempting for someone.. Regardless, they simply turn the other way and continue to treat Asmodeus as a friend.

Cupid! Mc, who begins to find themselves closer with Asmodeus. No longer seeing them just as the avatar of lust - but a trustworthy friend they could gossip with and someone to go to advice.

Asmodeus! Who is conflicted about how he feels about Mc begins to question them and their relationship. After all, someone always wants something..

_____________________

"Why are you still here with me? I'm not trying to be pretentious or anything, but..I'm..Well y'know? Isn't that enough to drive you away?"

"No..Not really. I mean I know what you are, and I know what you've done. You can't help it! It's just who you are"

"W-Well, yeah..I guess. But you're okay with that?"

"Ruining people's lives, preying on innocent people. No. Of course not! But, you've been good to me, and I think that's the best you've done. Why? Aren't you usually like 'Oh! Well they deserved it!' Or 'Meh, sucks to be them'?"

"I mean yeah! They were asking for it. It's not like I directly ruined their lives. They came to me first! But you..Aren't you disgusted of me?"

"No, actually not at all. I get it. We're similar actually. Constantly chasing a high that only someone can give us..Yeah?"

"Yeah..You..You get me"

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Asmodeus! Who gained a new perspective about you eversince that conversation begins to feel..Anxious about you. He's never felt this way, and he hates it. He's never felt so insecure about his relationship with someone.

Asmodeus! Who begins to scratch at his skin whenever he sees you talk amongst other demons. Jealousy..He's never felt it before with others.. Why was it with you?

Asmodeus! Who wants to get rid of this awful feeling, sleeps around with whoever he can find. Trying to distract himself from you plauging his mind. But no matter what, it never helped..

Asmodeus! Who slowly loses his mind whenever you speak your mind. When was the last time someone spoke to him without wanting something? If you were to leave, would he ever have that again?

Asmodeus! Who slowly reveals his ugly flaws around you. He's slowly falling at the seems with his alienated feelings towards you..

Asmodeus! Who finally snaps under the pressure of his internal struggle decides to do something about it. His solution? Keeping you locked up until he figures out what you are to him and what he wants with you.

Asmodeus! Who sweetly smiled at you, wrapping his arms around your waist while cooing those words that seemed to mush inside your head.

Asmodeus! Who had successfully lulled you inside his room keeps you locked up in a nice set of chains.

Asmodeus! Who reveals himself to be a desperate and emotionally starved demon, whines for your attention and affection. Threatening to clip off your wings whenever you ignore him, blaming you for bewitching him to fall in love with you. That's what it was, right?!

Asmodeus! Who after pulling you into a kiss realises what you are to him. You're more than just a typical hookup or 'partner'. You were someone he genuinely loved. Which was embarrassing him to admit since he always believed:

"Love and lust cannot mix. Literally, I'm not capable of it. No matter how much someone treats me good, unfortunately for them, I won't fall in love. Hell, I don't think I've ever had an actual butterflies in my stomach crush for anyone!"

Asmodeus! Even though obessed and greedy for your attention- it is pathetically starved for your approval. He won't push any moves on you, but he'll constantly shower you with kisses, self care, and gifts just to see you contempt!

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(Annd that's all I have. I'm too sick to write anything else. But I have a lot of thoughts about these two! So I'll add more in the future)

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[stardew-shitposterino]

The Bachelors and how they’d react if you asked them to start a family

Same old same old. This post is inspired by @babiebom 's post about the bachelor/ettes and how many kids they’d have :3 I’m not really a person who is too keen on children and being a housewife, but I can’t deny that the thought of a picture perfect family does warm my heart, girlies. Enjoy 💅🏻🍼

Some answers are gender specific. I hope to anyone playing the game as a same sex couple that you can look past that 🙏🏻

Sam:

-he’d be boots the house down in total shock

-don’t get it twisted, he is ecstatic, but damn he didn’t expect it to be this soon

-of course he is excited about every life stage of his potential little ones, but he can’t wait to have someone he can teach how to skate

-„really? A-and you’re not joking or anything? RAD!“

-maybe he is a bit too excited as he‘s definitely ripping his pants off his body as soon as the message sunk in

-„Oh you didn’t mean we should start it right now? Sorry my bad 😅“

Sebastian:

-he is happy but can’t really show it

-anxiety is kicking hard rn

-it’s not that he doesn’t want this, but he has so many worries, after all he had lived through himself

-he definitely needs some time to think about this

-„Y/N, I’d really love to have this with you one day, but please give me time to adjust to this. It’s a lot for me to process.“

-he will eventually open up about it and you agree on not rushing things. If you’re an opposite sex couple, you agree on starting a family once you’re pregnant. No planning, just living and if it happens, it happens (it probably happened after like 2 months after you had the talk lol)

Elliott:

-„Heavens, Love! What wonderful news. I’ve been waiting for this moment. This will be the start of our legacy!“ (excuse me bruuuhh this is how I imagine him talk lol)

-he had heart-shaped eyes if you haven’t noticed

-as much as he loves the romance and allure of being a childless couple with a world to their feet, he can’t kick the idea of being a wholesome dad raising a curious child with his wonderful partner

-he emphasises on not rushing things as he doesn’t want you to feel pressure. He knows how stressful your job is so he doesn’t want you to feel overwhelmed though you proposed that idea first

-you can bet your ass you went to bed after that talk 👀 WHO SAID THAT 🤨

Harvey:

-he is a blushy mess thank you and amen

-he‘s so anxious but also so excited

-no way you actually proposed this to him. He actually accepted his fate as a childless bachelor

-but here he is, finally getting the happy little family he always wanted

-but it isn’t smooth sailing with him, oh no. You can bet your ass he has to calculate everything through before he feels comfortable enough starting to bring this wish to reality

-you know, you earn a shit ton of money but he is anxious ok. He needs to KNOW the child won’t end up homeless with nothing to wear once it’s here

-“Oh this is all so new and, I-I don’t even know how to say it without it sounding wrong. I just can’t grasp that this is happening. Pinch me so I know I’m not dreaming”

-you didn’t sleep with each other that day but a make-out sess was in it. A wholesome one to say the least. This man is wholesome in my books 📕

Shane:

-the only thing missing here is that he fainted and fell to the floor after you popped the question

-say WHAT NOW?!

-no way. He probably heard it wrong. You didn’t just ask HIM to have YOUR children… no wait the other way around. This is what that question did to his brain lol

-or generally having kids together. He isn’t opposed to adopting because he fears the kids will inherit his messed up brain so taking in kids that are in need of a nice, welcoming home doesn’t sound bad either

-but no wait wait back to the topic; he’s a MESS

-he always wanted children and a family in general, the very boring ass white picket fence fantasy is what he longed for but kind of accepted that it’s something he cannot have. Well guess what…HE CAN

-“wait…did you- and you mean with me? Or is there someone else I should know about? Ok sorry bad joke. But you mean it?! Really? A little sibling for Jas🥹”

-just know this burly man started crying a river of joy tears. But once the tears dried and it kicked in 👀

-“ok if we want this to work out we gotta get to business 😎”

Alex:

-like Shane, he waited for this moment

-just he isn’t anxious like some of the others, he straight up jumps for joy lol

-“BABE NO WAY! I’ve been waiting for this!”

-he is a happy crier tho. Expect him to cry a little but in a good way

-but also expect him to propose the question of having a lot more kids in the future. He wants a football team of kids. But the amount is still negotiable of course (you gave him the “spouse stare” which made him go down a notch lol)

- he will babble about what gender the first kid might be, what he’d do with them depending on it and how he’d get them the smallest grid ball jerseys you’ll ever see because “LOOK THEY ARE SO TINY”

-like some of the others, he might be a bit too eager to start the baby project. Even if you can’t conceive yourself, he will live out that fantasy. You prepared yourself for this because it was very much predictable lol

[thefangirlfever]

The studious type (a Miguel O'hara fanfic, 18+, MDNI)

Summary: Boyfriend Miguel helping you relax during your finals week.

Tags: F/M, afab reader, College AU, established relationship, smut, oral sex (F. receiving), Miguel being a munch (because I can), use of condoms, masturbation, thigh riding, PIV penetration, fluff, soft Miguel O’hara, a bit of dirty talk, aftercare

Note: Finals are not the only thing coming… Very self-indulgent. My first time trying this format, hope you like it.

I am too tired and I don’t have much time, so please, accept this blurb instead of a real story ToT

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Saying that you are anxious for your upcoming finals is an understatement. You keep on pulling all-nighter after all-nighter, taking micro nap sometimes, eating only instant noodles… Finals are really taking a toll on your physical and mental health. And it shows. You also start to get tired and more susceptible.

This doesn’t go unnoticed by your boyfriend, Miguel. Not only does he notice all of this but he also tries to help you as much as he can.

He also has to think about his own finals but that doesn’t stop him from texting you every day, making sure you’re eating enough, taking some naps and just to check on you in general. He is not really prone to public displays of affection or such things but he cares. And his way to show it is by his actions, as small as they may seem.

The two of you also had shared study session. It didn’t matter that you had different classes and majors. You would just keep helping each other, exchanging glances from time to time… And each time Miguel would feel you close to falling asleep, he would either tell you to rest or wake you up with a gentle nudge, depending on the time of the day.

Always brings your favorite snacks to make sure you have eaten at least one thing.

He doesn’t say it but you really amaze him. You’re always motivated, determined to do your best no matter what. One would even call you a perfectionist but that doesn’t bother him. He is really supportive of you in everything you make. You got a presentation? He’ll gladly listen to you as if he was your future audience. You could be talking about something he knows nothing about and he would still be 100% invested in your speech, asking questions afterward… You want to write a phd thesis? He got your back. You want to spend more time than it’s necessary on a paper because the topic matters to you? He will proofread you.

Needless to say, you gladly do the same for him. In fact he likes when you ask questions about what he is working on. And it’s actually endearing to see him geek out about things like dark energy, quantum physics and other things that would usually bore you to death.

After every study session, he walks with you to your bus/ subway station. You usually don’t talk much since you are both tired. Sometimes he would take your hand and slips his fingers between yours without saying anything about it.

Always texts you to make sure you did get back home safely.

You can be sure that the last day of your exam (or a few days after if his finals end later), the two of you will have one of your usual date nights.

Depending on how tired he is, he would either cook something or order take out. If he cooks something, you always make sure to bring something of your own. Even if he tells you that you don’t have to, he always ends up eating what you bring because he is a sweet tooth.

You’re usually too tired after finals to do anything else than just sitting on his couch, watching a movie the two of you probably already watched a hundred of times but that doesn’t matter. There’s something comfortable in what’s predictable.

And every part of this evening is predictable. From you falling asleep while the two of you cuddle to him gently playing with your hair in order to keep you awake. If it’s cold outside, you are wrapped under a warm blanket that covers each of your limbs. His hand that holds your waist slowly drifts to your thigh and draws lazy shape over it. He is not even thinking about it; it has become a habit of his.

Just like the way you nuzzle your face into the crook of his neck while wrapping your arms around his shoulders. Was it the most comfortable position? Not. Did you care? Also no.

The night would usually end with Miguel having to carry you to bed since you passed out on the couch.

NSFW content ahead

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But sometimes the night would take an unexpected turn. All these days and even weeks spent studying had left the two of you filled with pent-up sexual frustration. And no alone time was the same as the intimacy you guys wanted.

You’re sitting on Miguel’s lap in front of the TV, but none of you are really paying attention to the movie at this point of the night.

He is too distracted by the scent of your hair since your head is so close to his face. His fingers playing with the locks of your hair are not enough for him. He has reached this part of the night where he wants more. He kisses the top of your head in an attempt to test the waters, see if you’re in the same mood.

He would make it look like it’s nothing, or an accident but the two of you know each other too well. After the third kiss, you understand what he has in mind. And you’ve been thinking the same thing all night long, if not longer. These last weeks have been nothing but frustration and you’re more than ready to give in.

You lean further into his embrace, clearly indicating your will to go further. You do this in a nonchalant way, as if it was nothing but he noticed the way your thighs brush against his and how you rest more of your weight near his crotch region.

The hand that was on your lower back supporting you slowly snakes up along your spine until it rests on the back of your neck. His free hand drifts toward your thigh to draw lazy shapes over it. But this time he is deliberately thinking about the moves he makes. His fingertips brush over you as if it was an accident once again, it’s barely a flicker.

The back of his fingers drag along the curve of your thigh, running over your skin until he reaches your knees. He repeats this movement over and over before gripping your thighs more intently. His fingers dig into your flesh, making you feel very aware of his presence behind you. He would usually use his thumb to draw small circles on your inner thigh, eliciting a trail of goosebumps all along.

While the two of you played this little game, you never look at each other. On your side, you still pretend that nothing’s happening, keeping your eyes on the TV but still pushing yourself more against him. He can feel your chest presses against his, your hair brushing his chin and at some point, you’re practically just sitting on his groin.

As the evening goes on, Miguel’s hands get bolder with his actions. He squeezes your thigh from time to time before eventually bringing it under your shirt, avoiding the spot you want him on on purpose. His warm touch on your stomach makes you squirm on top of him. The way your hips shift doesn’t help with his growing erection and his hand on your neck keep you in place, holding you in a careful but firm way.

Without saying a word, his fingertips dance their way over the curve of your belly. He makes sure to trace over the folds of your skin, of every roll on your tummy, to just explore and take in the softness of your belly. He can’t wait for the moment his face will make contact with it. Your skin is too smooth to resist it in his opinion.

You’re a blushing mess at this point and you don’t dare looking at what his hands are doing on you. Your breath gets a little more shallow with every stroke of his on your stomach. He leans closer and brings his face to the crook of your neck, nibbling your skin while making fun of you for not being attentive to the movie playing in the background. When he sees how flustered your are, he decides to act upon it.

“Got something else on your mind?”

You just nod your head and tighten your grip on his shoulder. But he has other plans for you. The hand behind your neck now grabs your waist and makes you sit still over his bulge. Your eyes are on the TV and your mind is on Miguel’s body.

His fingertips brush over your crotch, making you squirm more. Your butt rubs against his crotch and he can’t hide a smile this time. His fingertips barely tap over your crotch before his middle finger rubs over your slit. He then rubs two of his fingers over your groin, pushing his fingers against the fabric of your pants, rubbing his fingers in circle… When he gets too frustrated by the fabric covering you, he asks you if he can just take it off.

“Wanna feel you closer, muñeca...” That’s what he would usually whisper into your ear before kissing your earlobe. You can feel his warm breath, his voice almost shaking with desire as he toys with your zipper. A nod of you and your pants are pulled down your thighs. He doesn’t wait for you to remove them fully or even take off your underwear. His eager finger keeps rubbing you over the fabric of your panties until a damp spot appears in the front.

You lost the count of time as the minutes pass. You’re making a mess of yourself, rubbing yourself on him and when he finally pulls down your underwear and his hand cups your sex, the two of you let out a low moan. His fingers find their way through your bush and he rubs your labia, waiting for you to let him know when you’re ready to take him.

You bite down your lower lip and completely leans back against his body. He wraps his arm around you, holding you tightly and making sure you’re comfortable. Miguel then kisses your cheek. He rubs his nose against your skin, kisses your jawline before nuzzling his face in the crook of your nick, kissing and lapping at your skin.

The movie has already come to an end and in the silence of the room, your moans and Miguel’s heavy breath are the only thing that can be heard. His hooked fingers stimulate your clitoris and when you get comfortable enough, he starts thrusting them in and out of you, almost scissoring you.

He then brings his attention to your clitoris, rubbing it in slow motions. He can feel it throbbing under his fingertips and that makes him moan against the skin of your neck. His warm breath raises all the small hair on your nape and you’re getting hot and bothered. His words aren’t helping either.

“I’ll be damned if I don’t taste you before the end of the night. Been craving this pussy of yours for day now...”

When he catches you trying to relieve yourself of all the tension, he whispers “What are you doing?” There’s no anger in his voice, just pure astonishment. “You know you could just ask…”

The mischief in his voice doesn’t go unnoticed by you. He likes seeing you this needy and you can feel it. Your body writes on top of him and your shoulders slouch down when you whisper his name. You know what he wants to hear and you finally surrender when the teasing gets too overwhelming. “Please, Miguel…”

Your needy voice gets him to smile again. He leaves an affectionate kiss on the back of your neck before pulling his fingers out. He wouldn’t mind having his way with you here and there but he has more self-control than that. He gently kisses your shoulder before lifting your body up.

He usually carries you to the bedroom, helping you lay down the bed while the two of you undress. When your clothes are discarded on the floor and he is busy looking for the box of condoms in his nightstand, you take a good look at him. You watch his figure being drawn by the shadows in the room and your gaze lingers on his back. From his shoulders to the small of his back, your eyes trail down his spine. You smile when you see his back dimples and he catches you staring.

With a cheeky grin on his face, he gets back on the bed. You’re expecting a kiss but his lips land on your stomach. His face rests against your skin while he kisses you all over the smooth surface of your belly. Maybe it’s the scent of your lotion. Maybe it’s the way he can feel your breath catching up. Maybe it’s how close he is to your arousal and can literally smell it… he doesn’t know exactly what makes him love him love this moment but he never gets tired of kissing you there.

Of course he has to taste you after that. Each of his kisses send an electrifying feeling to your body and you can feel yourself growing more aroused. When he starts eating you out, you wrap your legs around his head and this feeling immediately gets stronger.

One of his hand holds your thigh while the other keeps teasing you. His fingers keep thrusting in and out of you while his tongue focuses on your clitoris, sucking and licking. When he feels you close, he keeps his pace steady, focused on only one thing. You. Your thighs quivering around his face, your hands holding his hair, your soft moans… He has waited too long for that and when you finally relax and release all the pressure inside you, he growls against your lips.

He quickly wipes your juice off his chin and gets up. His body towers over you, watching the aftermath of what he did to you. His thumb rubs over your sticky thighs and with his free hand, he brings his cock closer to you. You can see the red and swollen head of his member rubbing against your clit while a few moans escape his throat. He throws his head backward, his shoulders quivering as he feels himself growing more impatient.

He is still careful when he penetrates you, using a tad of lube to make this easier. And the fun part is that he gets to tease you more while rubbing it over your entrance. You wait patiently, at least you try, with your hands gripping the sheets while he gets you prepped up.

Everything feels worth it as soon as you feel him moving inside of you. He keeps his pace gentle, making the moment last as longs as possible. You’ve both been waiting too long for this for it to end too soon. Your limbs are entangled over the sheets and he melds into you. You brush away a few strands of hair from his face and he leans his cheek into your palm. His lips place a few kisses on your hand and even your wrist.

You both make sure to never break eye contact, reading on the other one’s face his emotions. He can see from your red cheeks and parted lips that you enjoy this moment. With one hand on your cheek, he leans closer and kisses the tip of your nose before whispering sweet nothings to you. It could be about how he likes your scent, your eyes, or even how good you feel wrapped around him…

Your hands travel down his back that you were admiring earlier and grabs his butt cheeks firmly when he starts to fasten his pace. You keep guiding him with not only your expressions but also your words. When he gets closer to his release, his shoulders lock tightly and you can feel every muscle on his body flex.

He is not really vocal in this moment and usually a few groans let you know that he reached his climax. However he likes hearing your small whimpers while your body writhes and arch under him. He watches you reaching your orgasm with a content smile before kissing your forehead, telling you how good you were.

The two of you stay in bed a few minutes after this moment. He doesn’t usually pull out immediately after, letting you feel him inside of your walls as his member gets back to its usual size. Even after that, you’re still locked together in a tight hug. He knows he will have to let you go at some point but for now he just wants to keep you inside his arms as long as he can.

The aftercare can vary depending on your mood. If the two of you are in a good mood or still feeling playful, you keep exchanging a few kisses. Miguel’s fingers keep running over the curves of your body, especially your stomach and your thighs. On your side, you like letting your fingers run down his spine until you reach the small of his back. Your fingers then brush against his skin in slow circles. He both loves and hates when you do that. You know he is very sensitive down there and he can’t hold back a few moans.

Some days he would help you get into your pajamas while kissing your shoulders and the back of your neck. You don’t speak that much these days but the silence is not awkward. It’s rather comforting. His fingers run down your hair and he can’t help but take in the scent of your curls. He watches you detangle your hair after a long day of work. This has easily become one of his favorite rituals of yours. When you’re done, his fingers run smoothly down your hair and he watches you in awe braid it, helping you when you ask for it. You can be sure that as soon as your nape is exposed, he will kiss it gently.

It usually doesn’t take long for the two of you to fall asleep after this. His arms are wrapped tightly around you, even though he knows you will probably move too much during your sleep for it to be really useful. But he doesn’t care and you nestle yourself against him.

==========================================

Note: This was supposed to be really short but I got carried away ToT

Thansk for reading.

[precious-little-scoundrel]

As Requested: The Birth of Jesse and Ella

From the Sarge and lil Mama Universe

Warnings: pretty darn fluffy and sweet with the exception of descriptions of birth and labor, along with what might be considered disturbing inclusions of period typical insensitivity towards women’s wishes during labor and mention of a husband stitch

Word Count: 5k…a blurb was requested, well, uh, sorry about that

With excerpts from:

October, 1958 Memphis

Birth was awful, Elaine had always heard it, been cautioned of it, had the warning dumped like ice water on her motherly ambitions. You want a lotta kids? -just wait till you have to push a single one out. Elaine had expected it to hurt worse than anything she ever imagined but somehow, she thought it would feel more natural than this.

The pain was terrifyingly foreign and without a single cessation to get on top of it, the contractions put broken bones and smashed flesh to shame, and the helpless urge to do something was a floundering and aimless desperation that filled her with anxiety so strong she could barely breathe from it. The nurse cupping the gas mask to her face smiled down assuringly and Elaine hated her for it, the gal was so sure all would be well when everything in Elaine’s body rebelled against the drugged misery, the flat back, stirrup strapped contortion the doctor had locked her body in and left her at.

She thought it would at least feel natural. Like pulling a tooth. Like taking a man. Like all the other painful rites of passage that women surmounted generation after generation.

But now, near puking from pain and cuffed like a psych prisoner to the bed, no distraction save the flicker off the fluorescent bulbs above her, Elaine felt a wrongness and a betrayal she never expected.

She’d been so agreeable to going to the hospital, never thought otherwise. The army had been accommodating enough to let them return to Memphis and everything, and here she lay giving birth in the same ward she was born in. It should have been sweet. She had assumed it would be and it had been non negotiable with Elvis, things were to be done properly for his babies, and she had no comparison to cause her to object.

Elvis lost his brother in a twin birth, a home birth, and nearly his mama too. Things had to be done properly. What else was his money for?

Elaine hadn’t thought to object. What else was there? Primitive squatting in the woods somewhere? She was a decent, suburban girl, she had passed through a successive graduation of establishments throughout her life, preschools and proms and community services and now she was at St. Joseph’s pushing out her first child in a condoned, sterile, proper facility. Elvis, cheated of such all American properness by his upbringing, often praised her teasingly for being “such an upstandin’ lil citizen”.

Somehow the pride didn’t manage to fill her this time. Just the wrongness of it all. She tried to think of Elvis in those first hours, how anxious he must be having been kept out of the room, how happy she’d make him by presenting two healthy children at the end of her feminine ordeal. She refused to accept the thought for anything going wrong. Women were made for this, and she had assumed a miraculous sort of sustenance and wisdom were given them during.

Laying rigid and wracked with pain on scratchy white sheets -Elaine had never felt so alone, not a shred of Divine motivation or husbandly encouragement left in her exhausted heart. Becoming frantic as the ordeal wore on, she found herself begging for some assurance, more than those spinster nurses and bored physicians could provide her. She begged for her mama, she begged for Dodger who had told her they’d do nothing more than torture her “in that big ole place.”

No visitors are allowed, Mrs. Presley -she was denied each time.

Dodger, as usual, had been right. And Elaine demanded she be let in. She was sure that her husband and his grandma had stayed in the waiting room, they weren’t far.

Bring Minnie Mae in -she was Elaine Presley, wife of Memphis’ own Elvis Presley, and if they denied her she’d ruin their hospital's name.

Bring her Dodger, she needed Dodger.

Dodger came in, in low, slung-back heels and a dress that was fashionable three decades ago, wrinkled bony hands and thin, hard set mouth. Elaine thought she’d seen an Angel.

“What do you want?” Dodger grunted down at her.

Elaine whimpered and shook her head, entirely unsure, she’d just wanted comfort or direction. “I thought you’d know what to do.” she explained in a wheeze.

“You push ‘em out.”

“I can’t.” Elaine sobbed, she physically didn’t feel capable of doing anything but enduring. She really had thought she’d be able to participate in her own delivery.

“What’s gonna make ya?” Dodger asked.

“I can’t do anything like this.” Elaine cried, yanking at her restraints.

“Wanna stand up?”

Elaine was startled at the suggestion and through the fog of pain and gas it sounded like a rebellion of sorts. She hesitated. “Maybe.”

“You ever shit layin’ down?” Dodger put it ever so delicately in clearer, enlightening terms. “No one can ‘nless they got the runs. Baby’s head ain’t no runs, get up.”

Dodger had yanked the straps off and threatened to use the forceps on the objecting nurse. She stood Elaine up with a yank to the girl's arms and spun her round till she was facing the bed, feet spread apart and hands on the bed, head hanging low and her back heaving in breaths now the position allowed her to breath. She’d taken Elvis this way a hundred times, nothing to it -you just hang your head and tilt your hips and breathe through it till the cock didn’t feel so big.

This she knew. “Ok, ok, it is better.” she agreed even as a scream tore out of her at the burning stretch down below.

That stretch had been Jesse’s head, although in the midst of agony and Bureaucratic chaos, Elaine didn’t know anything beyond fiery stretching and a gush down her legs. His little noggin almost hit the floor he slid out so lanky and tiny, no sooner had she register a modicum of relief from passing her first child than the doctor berated her.

“Almost hit his head, this is why we labor in beds.” he had said and she could have gnawed his balding head off his scrawny neck for using the word “we” when he’d never felt or ever would feel what she had just endured. “She’s torn, a lot actually, going to be a mess to clean up later but I guess it will help the next one.”

They took Jesse and they wiped him clean as his first cries sounded somewhere behind his mama, Dodger’s hand still pressed firmly to her lower back as Ella used his newfound vacancy to make an effort herself. Elaine struggled and twisted, trying to catch sight of her son.

“I want my baby.” she gasped, “Y’all give me my baby.” she stood straight with an effort that even Dodger tried to prevent. “I want my baby!”

“You can’t hold him now-“

“Give him to me-“

“Elaine honey,” Dodger shushed as gently as the old bird knew how, “you’re too weak, can’t push and hold. Let ‘em put him on the bed. Put him there, right in front of ya, yeah, that’s it, so you can see him. Just do it, ya pinstriped idiot, it’s her kid, ain’t it?”

When the nurse laid Jesse down on the sheets, he was a dark haired, swaddled little thing in a bloody towel. Tiny but not so shrimpy for a twin, he was red and purple all over with the puffiest little face and the juiciest little lips and a tiny nose and eyes that squinted shut in tears. His cord was still attached to her, hanging off the bed between her legs, the tether not yet cut. Elaine felt it to be the specialist moment in the world, that one right then.

Oh it’s an unaccountable thing, that rush of gratitude and relief when your first born is laid on you. Violent love surges after it, quick as a tidal wave, as a tiny hand still covered in your blood pats your skin to learn you from the outside this time, the only person who’s ever done it opposite from all others. It's immeasurable the strength that frail little being gives you, to push once more, to bring out another life after it, a twin to reunite the Trinity.

“My son” Elaine acknowledged the gift through the agony, her sweaty forehead against his fuzzy one, watching his brave little face take in the lights and sounds and pain of this life she’d given him with a wonder that steeled her as she braced and pushed again.

Ella was easier, in the way someone at the brink of their worst feels no exacerbation of their agony. It was every bit as bad and every bit as tiring, doubly so with one already done, but this time Jesse lay there with an oxygen cannula taped to his fuzzy cheek and watched his mama huff and grimace above him, her hips cradled by Dodger’s boney hands, and in between the increasing spams, Elaine gasped adorations and babbled welcomes to him. After a short time Jesse snoozed in his little cacoon, and his peacefulness was more calming than any breath coaching the staff could give her. She matched her breaths to the rise and fall of his tiny chest and soon enough when she felt between her legs, there was the furry little head of his sister.

This time the doctor was prepared and had a nurse knelt to catch Elvis’ Presley second child. Little Ella came out the opposite of Jesse, no trouble at all with her petite head but a decent belly and buttox in the little girl gave Elaine a brief bit of grief before she popped out entirely.

Ella may have been caught in the safe hands of a registered nurse but Elaine had no such luck. No sooner was the rush over and her impediments pushed out of her body than she staggered backwards and landed flat on the floor, her legs giving out. Dodger’s shins caught the back of her head and saved her from splitting her skull on the tile but it was a brutal jarring nonetheless and it cemented a terrified horror where Elaine felt that she was entirely neglected in a room full of people sworn to help her.

Dodger, bless her, cursed up a storm at the accident and knelt beside the poor girl, doing her best to gather Elaine up as blood and fluids gushed freely between her legs.

Elaine felt like sobbing. Soon she fully was and remained so as the Doctor and two nurses hefted her onto the bed as gingerly as they could, profusely apologizing to Mr. Presley’s new wife. Jesse was placed on her chest and Ella, after having the cord snipped and washed, bundled and had her foot stamped, was brought over, too. Elaine laid there on her back again, eighteen hours after she had first begun and did her best to hold them as the sugar crash and blood loss made her teeth chatter and limbs tremble.

“A healthy five pounds both of them,” the doctor beamed with the satisfaction of a man who had accomplished a hard day’s work, “although the boy has a couple points on the girl.”

They were perfect, they were positively perfect, that’s what Elaine tried her best to focus on as her bearings came back to her and tiredness drug her limbs down. They were perfect and they were here. “Dodger,” she addressed Grandma in a thin voice, not even bothering to send her request to the staff, “would you go tell Elvis they’re here? Tell him they’re perfect.”

“He can’t come in yet, dear!” The head nurse protested, knowing the mulish young man would be forcing entry as soon as he heard.

“Why not? It’s over.” Elaine sighed.

“We’ve got to clean you up!” The nurse was scandalized, “He mustn’t see you all disheveled like this, it can very negatively effect a man, seeing his wife rumpled and brutalized by the birthing process. It's ended some marriages.” She warned and then added, “And you must be stitched first.”

“Then could we please -do it?” Elaine asked, “I’d like to see my husband and I’d like him not to worry any longer.”

“Y’all clean her up,” Dodger motioned, “and I’ll go fetch him.”

They were applying ice towels to her swollen eyes to reduce the evidence of weeping when she left. They sat Elaine up and they checked her pulse and blood pressure and her temperature. All was well, or as well as could be hoped. All except down south with her house, Elaine chewed her lip anxiously and clutched little Jesse harder for comfort as the doctor inspected her, rather like Elvis had done when proposing. Except Elvis was always so tender and he worked his touches up from gentle to firm, never went right in and spread torn petals apart without a care. Elaine bit her lip and figured she’d been awful enough to the staff, harsh and stubborn, a rebel in so many ways and now her ordeal was over, it would be best to resume the proper attitude she’d been taught.

So she was meek, and she was obliging and grateful, and she tiredly agreed when the doctor said she’d need stitches, the same as any other tear to the flesh. And when, lamp beaming at her nether regions and needle in hand, the doctor told her he was going to add one extra little stitch for her husband's enjoyment, Elaine assumed it was a medical formality. After all, he didn’t ask if he could, he said he was going to, and doctors only do what doctors must. She had her babies now, and anything required to have more must be done.

Sat up on stitched and taut flesh, pillows stuffed behind her back and her face scrubbed into immaculate freshness, Elaine put on her widest smile for Elvis, not a hard thing to do with the gifts in her arms. It turned fully genuine as her man burst through the door only to stall and moderate his intensity the minute he realized he had arrived. Elvis looked bewildered, eyes wide as saucers and his long legs stumbling to a halt as the door thudded behind him in Vernon’s face, assessing every bit of equipment inside and potential threat before his eyes landed on the bed that held his new family.

Elaine could hear his intake of breath from across the room and her grin now threatened to split her face.

“Those our babies?” he asked hoarsely with a shaking finger, not making a single move to come closer. Like this whole ordeal had him so shaken he didn’t know which way was up or down.

“Yeah baby, they’re ours.” Elaine had to force her smile closed to talk, marveling at his timidity, the awed look on his face and the reverent little shakes coursing up his body like he was about to go up Mount Sinai and meet God. “Come meet your children, Elvis.” she whispered, framing it in a way she hoped would remind him he too belonged in this room, he was head of them all, their protector, their provider and perhaps most importantly, the architect of the dream that brought them into being. “They wanna meet their daddy, keep lookin’ around and fussing like they know someone’s missing.”

He gave her a look of reproof for fibbing to spare his feelings before one of the babies came to their mother’s rescue and let out a pitiful, newborn wail. Elvis flinched at the sound, drawing back into himself for a brief moment before the cry was repeated and his instinct to soothe dominated his tentative fear.

“See, I told you!” Elaine grinned as she pulled down the blanket little Jesse was swaddled in and showed his puckered face.

Slowly, with light footfalls and a hand running along the bed for support, Elvis drew closer until he was beside them and Elaine saw his face light up with more overwhelmed joy than she’d ever seen on him before, just as his eyes filled with tears in an instant.

“Oh Laney,” he put his hand to his mouth unsteadily, “you done good mamas.”

She did her best to scoot her legs over without wincing and nodded to the vacated little space on the bed. “C’mon Elvis, they don’t bite. Not yet.” she whispered, casting a glance at the nurse who was peddling soundlessly in the far corner, back turned and utterly discreet, waiting if she were needed at any moment.

“I’m jus’ worried ‘bout breakin’ ‘em.” he confessed, gingerly sitting down beside her, his eyes never wavering in their metronome bounce from one child to the next and back. “They’re so little, so fragile lookin’ and -a-and they’re so pink, baby, look how pinks and fluffy they is.” Elaine thought his wide-eyed, rosebud mouthed awe was rather identical to the faces he was admiring and understood his shock, pretty things take the wind out of you. “I-I-I was so damn scared of touchin’ you, you’re so lil and gentle a-a-and they’re even littler!”

“I’ve never seen a more tender man, you’ve got fingers so delicate they could undo a knot in silk thread.” Elaine disagreed, “You should feel their cheeks, even softer than they look.”

Elvis swallowed hard, screwing up his courage before he raised his hand from where it had been wiping sweat off on his pants and brought it dried and shaking to gently run along the curve of Ella’s tiny face.

He little out a little gasping laugh. “Angels, they’re gen-u-ine angels.” He pronounced softly after rubbing his forefinger along Jesse’s tiny nose. “Ain’t nothin’ made me happier than I am right this minute.” he realized and Elaine’s heart clenched in gratification for the success of all her labor. “God took away one, gave me three back.” he huffed in a breath and realizing he needed a handkerchief, pulled his hand back, looking around in the white sheets like one would appear. The kindly nurse took pity and brought one over wordlessly, Elvis was a little shocked to find her present, not registering her existence in the room before, (as was she to meet Elvis Presley wordlessly with a proffered tissue) but he took it gratefully.

“Would you like to hold one of them, Mr. Presley?” she asked after having given Elaine some water as Elvis still sat where he’d perched himself and stared like he was looking into a portal.

“C’mon daddy.” Elaine whispered, nudging his stiff leg with her foot, “they wanna meet their daddy.”

Elaine suggested Jesse be the one as he’d eaten most recently while Ella was having some trouble latching. The nurse took Jesse from his warm little cocoon at Elaine’s side, and brought him around the bed to his daddy, who carefully formed a cradle with his arms and the nurse deposited his son there.

“Yeah, give me my boy.” Elvis nodded through parched lips and shuddered as he felt the tiny weight of his child settle in his arms, tiny head cradled to his chest. “Hey buddy,” he whispered, head reared back and expression a little frozen, like he was either holding something very dangerous or something very good that could be taken back at anytime, “sorry bout all the racket in there.” he referred to his pounding heart right beneath Jesse’s pink ear, “S’just that I’m so glad to meet you. Been waitin’ so long.”

Elaine watched them happily, exhaustion and satisfaction turning her complex feelings into the most rudimentary emotions and thoughts. “We made these.” she marveled and thought she heard the nurse titter for a moment, “Does everyone say that?” She asked her with a laugh.

“Not uncommon.” The woman agreed bashfully, “Me and my man did. Couldn’t stop saying it.”

“Absolute miracle.” Elvis protested, growing bold enough the thumb as Jesse’s cheek as he held him, “We made ‘em alright, strangest thing, the way I’m holdin’ something that’s half me and half you!”

“Made duplicates just in case.” Elaine added her joke and they both laughed.

“Sweet Jesus I think he just cracked a smile.” Elvis’ laugh was suddenly cut short as he wheezed in fascination.

“Babies usually don’t smile until much later.“ the nurse soothed gently but Elvis interrupted with an adamant-

“-well it appears that my son is extra smart, ma’am.” He grinned down at his boy with an immense amount of pride at his good humor which reminded him of his pride in Elaine and his eyes flitted up to hers and locked there. “You know I love you, Tink, but I-I-I- d-don’t think you’ve got the vaguest notion h-h-how grateful I am to you right this minute. You’re makin’ dreams come true like a goddamn fairy. I-I-I can’t say enough I-I don’t got words for it I just -I’d die for you, girl, and you and our babies ain’t ever gonna want for nothin’, I swear it.”

Elaine had never trusted another human being more in her life than she trusted this young man sat on her bed, about as young and lost as herself but so determined that she hadn’t a single choice or doubt except to believe him.

Ella began to fuss and the nurse asked if she wanted to try feeding again, no doubt the baby girl was hungry and Elaine agreed. “Here, Mr. Presley, I’ll take the little boy so you can go.” she helpfully held out her arms but Elvis clutched his precious bundle like she was gonna take him permanently. Elaine was reminded of a story Miss Gladys used to tell her about baby Elvis and a prized sack of bananas.

“I-I-I don’t wanna give him.” Elvis settled for this moderate expression of his sentiments on the subject.

“But sir -your wife needs to nurse. I'm sure they’ll extend the visiting hours for you, no need to worry on that account.”

“Oh I’m not leavin’ for that ma’am.” he clarified breezily, “I hold eatin’ in mighty high regard and I’d like to see to it my daughter finds her footin’ in it, ya see.”

“But-“ the nurse was rather astounded at this simple logic and in torn loyalties she turned back to Mrs. Presley in concern “-wouldn’t you like some privacy, ma’am? We’ll have to…uncover you.”

Elaine looked at her a little puzzled before assuring softly, “I don’t mind, he’s seen me before.”

The nurse colored at this modest statement that spoke so much and Elvis wasn’t sure if she was taken aback at their comfortableness around each other or at the suggestion of The Elvis Presley and his little wife making babies. Half the nation were obsessed with what they did behind closed doors and Elvis eyed her suspiciously lest she turn into some sorta fascinated personage. She didn’t though, she allowed Jesse to remain with his father and, rather more delicately than necessary, helped Elaine with Ella’s latching.

There had been dribbles of milk that Elvis had seen before Elaine gave birth, but it was nothing like the profusion that poured out now, so much sustenance that Ella’s tiny throat made great gulping sounds as she drank. Elvis, much to the nurse’s horror, was fascinated by it and soon found his old boldness, scooting himself up till he was sat beside Elaine in the narrow bed and could support her elbow while watching. The nurse was made more uncomfortable when the new father took to whispering a thousand different thanks and endearments into his young wife’s ear, and sweet as it was, the aggressive smooches she answered him with were of the sort the nurse was usually of the assumption led to more. But not with this couple, they swapped affection easily, too easily, and shared sentiments and compared their two children for the next hour, pointing out features and guessing at characteristics until the nurse quietly took her leave, stumbling into a barricade of men outside waiting on their boss.

“You should sing to them.” Elaine suggested to him once she’d gone, when Jesse wouldn’t stop fussing when it was his time to burp. “They’ve heard it for nine months, worked with the kicks every time.” she recalled and Elvis smiled sheepishly in reminiscence that those little kicks he’d once poured his heart out to were now little souls laying in his arms with his features printed on them.

At the first swooping and softly sung words of ‘My Father’s House’ by their daddy both babies stilled and their little slits of eyes searched restlessly until they found his face and they stayed staring at him until their violet, paper thin eyelids fluttered closed in sleep.

————————————————-

|| Excerpt from Mrs. Presley and Other Living Martyrs:||

“There was a narrow window in the door he’d rather uh, rudely let slam behind him,” Billy Smith would later recall with a smile, “and you best believe the whole lot of us were pressed up to it trying to get a glimpse of them inside. We were all real excited about the babies and we knew Elaine was a champ but it’s one thing to think about it and it’s another for her to do it and be alright after. We were all worried for her, last time we’d been in this hospital it had been with Gladys. So we were all crowding the window and Vernon and Mr. Phipps were actin’ like teenagers with their elbows jabbin’ at each other for space but this one time the grandpas seemed to be actually jokin’ about it. Granny tried gettin’ us to leave ‘em be but it wasn’t like we were disturbin’ them none, they didn’t mind us one bit and it was the sweetest thing watchin’ them pass a baby back and forth and they were gigglin’ so much one minute then cryin’ the next. EP was an absolute mess, he was so happy. They looked like a couple of kids clutchin’ a candy haul they stole and figured someone was gonna come along and say they were too young for ‘em and had to give ‘em up. Just two kids really, two kids with a couple of babies they’d made. Not sure they’d ever had such a normal moment in their lives, not since he got famous, at least. They stayed like that for a couple of hours ‘till Elvis realized he could have some fun introducin’ his new kids and so he came out the door holding little Jesse above his head like he was the damn Prince of Memphis. The whole hallway was jam packed with folks who were visiting their hospitalized relatives, loitering staff, all sorts, everybody havin’ heard she was here delivering, and the whole place erupted when he brought the baby out, said that him and his sister were well and Miss Elaine was in fine shape. That applause must’ve been real gratifying for Mrs. Presley.”

Ten days were encouraged for the new mother to stay in the hospital but after five Elaine found herself anxious and uncomfortable away from her home and she begged Elvis to make the staff let her come home.

“Elvis was never more besotted with Elaine than when she was pregnant, and it only got worse when she’d just popped out a kid and was holding it and asking for something.” Joe Esposita wrote, “She talked him into making them send some staff to Graceland and letting her out early, and she swore she’d let him carry her up and down any stairs for the next week. So, after he made her sign a drink coaster that said as much, he went and charmed the administrator into sparing a doctor and four nurses to come live at Graceland for 10 days. We later learned the staff had flipped coins to see who got to go, everyone was so eager to see the famous couple up close. ”

Five days after delivering, Elaine got her wish and was wheeled out of the maternity ward in a wheel chair and down the hall to the elevator, a pristine and glamorous figure with a baby swaddled in her arms as her handsome husband strode by her side, wearing his uniform on leave as suggested by the Colonel, and carrying a precious bundle himself.

In “TLC: The Presley Way” -Marie Presley’s documentary of her family’s life- Ella recounted having often heard from her mother the story of Elvis preparing her to leave for home.

Ella recounted: “She would often tell me about how daddy had come up to the room with all these bags. He’d already brought so much stuff over during her stay, they had to haul literal baskets full of possessions and gifts and stuffed animals out of her ward back to Graceland when they moved out, it had been like a hotel stay, collecting so much. But he did come up that day with these pretty pink bags and he was so excited, he tore the tissue paper out himself and showed her this absurdly fluffy white coat he’d bought. It was way too heavy for October but it was a little chilly out and it gave her the perfect excuse to wear it. It was made out of arctic foxes and was the fluffiest, most expensive, whitest thing you’ve ever seen and it hid her swollen figure perfectly, made her look like an angel in the press pictures. Mama said he also brought a little makeup kit, and there was hairspray and curlers and combs in the other bag, and daddy sat on her hospital bed while she was in a chair and he carefully painted her face. She always loved telling about how sweet and careful he was about her image, she said she had felt very humiliated and out of control during the labor, and it was like he was putting her back together, making her familiar to herself again, crafting some dignity back. And -you’ve seen the pictures, she’s perfection, her makeup is flawless and he had swooped her hair back from her face so she’s glowing. Even tied it back with that little ribbon, it’s just so much, I mean -she looks like a doll carrying out smaller dollies from the hospital. And of course later the female press would slam her for making something as hard as birth and children look like dollhouse props but like a lot of things, they didn’t realize it came from love. It came from daddy caring about how she felt, how she wanted to be presented, they both had a lot of pride and were complementary in that way. She had just delivered twins and was about to meet half of Memphis on the curb before going home. Can you really blame her for letting her husband make her up? Can you blame him for pouring out his pride in what she’d done through his art?”

Along with tender care and as much provision for her comfort as possible, it would be Elvis Presley’s last gift to his wife before he left for Germany less than two weeks later.

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

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

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[ghostchems]

infernal - terzo x f!reader - part two

art by the lovely @stainedlilac

author’s note: part two is here! been stewing on this for about a month now. 18+! mdni! i just think that infernal terzo is so pathetic and delicious, i want to eat him up. part one is here. ao3 link. about 5.4k words :) let me know what you think! this really feels like it is something special to me.

~~~~

You didn’t sleep well the night before. Maybe the satanic imagery you had been sifting through or Mr. Golden Bachelor’s general creepiness had gotten to you. Or maybe it was the constant flow of ideas and plans that flooded your brain on how to fix up his dismal mansion. It had so much potential. Whatever the true reason was, you spent most of the night tossing and turning, unable to get comfortable or relaxed enough to get deep sleep. Then again, at least it was different from your nightly twelve hour depression sleep. You aren’t sure if that’s a good thing or a bad thing.

The drive back to his house goes rather quick and even though you have only driven there once, you feel as though you are on autopilot until you reach the end of his driveway. You can’t help but feel anxious. This is your first full day as his employee and you don’t even know what to expect. There is still the uncertainty creeping up into your thoughts that this might not work out anyway. If anything, it makes you feel just a tiny bit less nervous. Just a tiny bit. You grab your back from the front seat and sling it over your shoulder, taking a moment to stare at the quiet, foreboding home in front of you.

The door is unlocked. You take a short moment to decide whether or not you should knock but since you are an employee, you decide to walk right in. The house seems more quiet than the day before and for a moment you wonder if Terzo is even awake. Then you hear soft sounds coming from next to the sitting room. You make sure to stay silent as you walk toward the sounds, keeping your bag slung close to you so it doesn’t make any noise. 

“I miss you… you know that, right?” There is a hint of sadness in his soft voice. 

You quickly determine that whatever conversation he is having is private and you definitely do not want to listen to more of it, especially since you don’t know him that well. You try not to make a sound as you take a few steps backward, then you turn fully around scurry on to the dining room.

Terzo doesn’t remember Hell. He gets flashes of images and gut feelings of pain every so often but other than that it is a big black hole in his memory. When he first arrived at this house, though, he noticed a peculiar rotary phone in what is now his office. He assumed it came with the house… until it started ringing. After initially ignoring the calls, he eventually picked up only to hear shrieks and growls, sounds that brought back the hazy memories of hell to the forefront of his mind. He began to grow bored of the calls but the voices started to grow clearer over time. 

One of the voices ended up being Omega’s.

Omega had been banished to Hell by the Clergy for being a distraction. Little did they know, the ghoul had been the one who held Terzo back from complete insubordination. Once he was gone, Terzo went off the deep end, becoming more and more disobedient to the higher ups in the clergy, ultimately ending with him being dragged off stage and removed from power. 

He was unsure if they came into contact while he was briefly deceased. Omega wouldn’t give him a straight answer on the subject no matter how much he pressed. He also would not explain to him what the hellphone is for. Even with Omega not really giving him any answers, he was always glad to hear from him, even if sometimes it hurts.

“It’s not the same without you here. It hasn’t been.” Terzo leans back in his chair and props his feet up on his desk, toying with the phone cord. 

“I know.” Omega’s true voice is much different than his earthly one. It’s low and barely perceivable by the human ear and yet it stings.

“I have hired someone, though — an assistant. I think maybe they will help spruce this place up.” Terzo pauses for a moment, then gives a soft sigh. “And maybe be fun to play with.” 

“You must be lonely, bello.” Omega rumbles and Terzo can’t help but offer a quiet groan. It has been a while since he’s heard any kind of compliment, let alone one from Omega, his former flame.

Terzo hums in response then lets comfortable silence fall over the conversation. He always hoped when he would pick up the phone it would be Omega but every time it was… well, difficult to find topics of conversation. They are both stuck in their own personal purgatory. Which only leads to one place in Terzo’s mind…

“So…ehhh, what are you wearing?” He purrs into the receiver and is met with more silence followed by a “click”, disconnecting the call. Terzo slams the phone down on the receiver with a growl. The nerve of Omega to hang up.

He leans back in his chair, the sound of the leather squeaking beneath him until his eyes fall upon a lone joint right next to his computer. He smiles widely at it as he snatches it up, lights it with the tip of his finger and brings it to his lips. The smoke fills his lungs as he inhales deeply and holds it there in his chest. Terzo has always been an advocate for the Devil’s lettuce but he definitely uses it more now that he has been forcibly retired — mainly because there isn’t much else for him to do. 

The familiar haze begins to fall over him, a nice feeling of relaxation and sleepiness causing him to rest his head against his desk for just a moment…

The next thing he knows, he’s waking up with his cheek smushed against the top of his desk. Terzo groans quietly, rubbing his head before he realizes it is now the afternoon and he hasn’t seen you yet today. He lazily climbs to his feet and shrugs off his robe, leaving him in his sweats. He figures it’s high time the boss made an appearance but hesitates for a moment as he eyes the half-smoked joint.

You’ve spent the morning organizing and packing up the many odd books in his collection. There is one that has caught your attention, though. When moving some things around it dropped and opened, your eyes immediately snapping to it as if it was calling out to you. Your hand hovers over the page, eyes focused on the image on it. A man with his face painted and similar robes to the ones you’ve seen on the photos you’ve gone through stares back at you. He looks angry. You let your fingers brush over the text beneath the portrait. 

Papa Emeritus the Second took the Ghost Project soaring to new heights. Despite this, he was still removed due to failing to overthrow governments and churches. His younger brother (by three months) took over after him. 

You lift the book and walk back to the table, waiting to sit down before  turning the next page. His eyes stare back at you, familiar mischief shining behind them. 

“Naughty girl.” Terzo purrs from the doorframe, a sleepy smirk stretching across his face. His cheeks are flushed and the whites of his eyes are bloodshot. His smell is distinct and your brain crashes once you realize that he is stoned. You take in his messy hair and half-lidded eyes before your eyes drift to scar on his neck. It’s jagged, the scarred skin raised in a pronounced way and it is a lighter color than his olive skin. You don’t want to stare but an overwhelming feeling of despair creeps up your spine. There is something wrong with the scar. It looks deep and like whatever kind of wound it came from was incredibly painful. You almost ask what happened but then your gaze drops–

His gray sweatpants barely hang onto his hips and it’s obvious he has gone without underwear today. You would feel like this is incredibly inappropriate if he wasn’t looking at you with such a seductive grin and all thought of his scar has now vacated your mind. Terzo lazily strolls up to the table and snags the book out from in front of you. He claps it shut and tosses it to the other side of the room.

“You are not here to be nosy, puffetta.” He purrs as he leans against the side of the table, his eye  fixated on you. “You are here to organize and ehhh, be tidy.” Terzo giggles then takes a seat on top of the table in front of you. 

“I wasn’t being nosy, I was being curious.” You quip but immediately feel some anxiety — you still don’t know Terzo that well and talking back to your boss isn’t something you wanted to do on your second day. The anxiety fades as he dramatically rolls his eyes and scoffs but he can’t hide his smile. “Besides, a lot of these books have a distinct look to them… kind of hard not to be curious.” You push one of the leather bound books in his direction. Terzo scoops it up and then leans back on the table until he is laying down, his hairy chest just in front of you. He opens the book to look at the title page.

“Satan and YOU: A guide to converting to a blah blah blah…” He snores and drops the open book on his face, pretending to be asleep. You blink at him but find yourself grinning; this man is a goof. Terzo peeks at you from over the top of the book, his mismatched eyes looking right through you.

“Okay, okay. They at least look cool. You could always display them, you know.” 

“Display?” He slips the book off of his face, placing it on the table next to him and brings his hands up to rest underneath his head.

“Yeah, do you have any bookcases or shelves or—“

“I’ll think about it, mio toppolino.” Terzo muses then slowly sits up and gazes down at you. “Let us see what snacks I have.” He swings his legs over the edge of the table and hops down to his feet, a hand resting on your shoulder and then tugging lightly at your shirt to follow him. You get up and follow close behind him, your eyes fixed on his strong back and shoulders, admiring the proportions of them to his waist. 

Still, your gaze starts to drift back to the scar. How is a scar like that even possible? It’s evenly spread along his neck, fully connected even though it is jagged. What could have caused it? The more you look at it, the more you think maybe it’s some kind of edgy tattoo. He was the lead singer of a dramatic rock band, after all. All of your thoughts fade when he turns his head, looking back at you to make sure you are there and gives you a smoldering glance. 

Where was this charm yesterday? Maybe it’s related to the weed.

“Do you smoke, puffetta?” He purrs as he starts to open cabinets above the counter, one after another with most of them being empty. You settle yourself against one of the counters.

“Sometimes.”

“Want some now?” 

You raise your eyebrows slowly at him. You are on the clock and he is offering you marijuana. Sure, this has happened to you in a corporate setting but it was more like “here, have some edibles to take when you get home”, not while on the clock.  

“I’m okay, thanks.” 

Terzo gives a small shrug then continues to go through his cabinets before finding a lone box of cheerios. He stuffs his hand into the box and starts to munch on them while he stares off in your direction. It’s awkward but you are grateful to spend some time “getting to know him” even if he is high out of his mind. Your initial assessment of him still stands though — he is a mess.

“Do you need groceries? I can put in an order to be delivered.” You pull out your phone.

“Oh, si!” He hops off the counter and hurries over to you, box of cheerios in hand. “Could you get me some doritos?” Terzo is right next to you now, his chest nearly pressing against your shoulder as he peers at your phone screen. You open the app and hand it to him.

“Pick what you want but… I mean, I guess you should pick some actual food and healthy stuff, not just snacks.” 

Oh, how cute. Terzo’s eyes widen, his cheeks turning red and he has the overwhelming urge to grab you and pull you in close to him, to tell you that you’re his now, that he’s never letting you go. He knows he can’t, it would be too much too soon but he wants you so badly. And how adorable is it that you are concerned with him eating healthy? It’s only the second day and he can’t get enough of you. 

“I will be sure to get some… strawberries.” Terzo says with a giggle and starts to scroll through the local grocery store’s offerings. He focuses on the screen in front of him and the pictures of potential snacks while you wander away from the counter. The kitchen is a dark teal with light marble counters but barely anything on them. There is a small bar area with stools that look like they would fall apart if you sat on them. You figure he doesn’t do much cooking or entertaining guests. A large bay window captures your attention, showing the sad state of the backyard.

The yard is covered in brush and fallen branches, the grass overgrown and dead. Brick walls line the yard with a short iron fence along the top of. Both could use some attention.

“You have a pretty big yard.”

“Mmm?” Terzo looks up at you with wide eyes, the corner of his credit card in his mouth. He quickly finishes typing in his credit card information into the phone, keeping his eyes on the screen. “Whaff?”

“Your yard, it’s nice. Have you thought about getting a landscaper to fix it up?” You lean against the side of the window. Terzo’s gaze flits up to you and he messes with the phone in his hand.

“I believe this is why I hired you, eh?” He saunters towards you, wiggling your phone in his hands. “To help make this place live-able.” Terzo stops just in front of you and hands you your phone, his fingers lingering on yours.

“But don’t you have any ideas for what you want? Like a garden or something?”

Terzo visibly recoils, his brows knotting and his lips pressing into a thin line. “A garden.” He whispers then gazes out of the window for a moment. “My older brother was more of the gardening type. I ehhh… don’t have much of a green thumb.” He holds up his thumb and smiles weakly. How badly he wants to take his thumb and press it inside your mouth while he forces you to your knees in front of him and —

“Well, we can always start small with some tomatoes or something.” You give him a kind smile and he all but melts. He hums in agreement and steps in closer, hovering just beside you, your hands nearly touching as he gazes out into his overgrown yard. Never has the thought even crossed his mind to go outside let alone having a garden. But having a garden with someone? Terzo brushes his arm against yours, trying to be slick about it but failing. He hadn’t realized how touch starved he is until he feels your warm skin against his. 

“I should get back to it. Uhh… your food should be in, like, twenty minutes, Mr. Emeritus..” You say after checking your phone, eyes flitting up to his as you take a step back. He is squinting at you, the corner of his lip twitching. “Mr. Papa?” You try again and he audibly groans.

“No, no. Call me Terzo, per favore.” 

“Okay, Terzo. Food will be here soon.” You walk back into the dining room, leaving him alone in the kitchen. Something is buzzing inside you. Curiosity, you think, or at least that’s what you’re telling yourself. Were you flirting back with him? Yes, the answer is yes. The vibes are certainly different than those you were hit with the day before. You are no stranger to getting some attention on the job, having work crushes in the past that never really amounted to anything (by design, of course), but this is different. The setting is so intimate and half the time so far he is hardly wearing clothes.

Unpredictable. He is unpredictable.

The rest of the day is smooth with Terzo floating around the house, always making sure to stay somewhat close to you to see what you’re doing. He has a different snack each time and offers you some which you politely decline. By the time the end of the day rolls around he’s gone, probably asleep somewhere. 

You feel it was a productive day. Leaves crunch beneath your feet as you walk from the porch back to your car, your backpack slung across your shoulder. There is still some stress bubbling up in your stomach. You think about how you’ve seen so many colors of him already and it’s only the second day. 

You wonder what Terzo you’ll be getting tomorrow.

***

Terzo can’t get enough. His face is buried between your legs, his mouth and tongue working you over as he groans and pushes further into you. He digs his fingers into your thighs and ruts his hips against the mattress. The taste… your taste makes him moan, nearly whining for more and more, his cock leaking and pulsing with each lap of his tongue. He feels invigorated, finally tasting you and putting his expert skills to good use pleasing you. 

He is hardly holding on, his cock throbbing and he frantically grinds against the mattress and sheets, the tension building in his abdomen and leg muscles. Terzo swipes his tongue sloppily along your folds, desperate for you and your taste. He tries to stay composed, to stay in control but it’s all too much and he comes undone, your name on his lips —-

Terzo’s eyes open and he realizes that he’s been sloppily sucking on the corner of his pillow. He lifts his head and eyes the damp pillow, then rolls over to find that he came in his paints. A guttural growl rips from his lips as his fingers dig into his sheets, then angrily tears right through them with his sharp nails. He is so impatient, so needy for you even his dreams are cutting to the chase. 

But he knows he still needs to bide his time. It’ll be all the more delicious that way. Doesn’t mean that he can’t be a little bit cranky about it, though. 

Terzo peels off his briefs and tosses them across the room, landing in a pile of dirty clothes off to the corner. He lays in bed naked for a moment, his mind wandering back to what his mornings used to look like. They weren’t so different than now, starting off with him alone in his room but he would at least have people fawning over him and following him around all throughout breakfast and his duties. He used to enjoy the quiet time on his own when he could get it but now…

But now all he has is you. 

He swings his legs off the bed and slowly pushes himself to his feet, shuffling toward the bathroom. The bathroom is black marble throughout with a shower and bath in one corner and another clawed, golden bathtub in the center of the room. He turns the hot water on for the bathtub, and only the hot water. Ever since he came back from Hell, he could withstand scalding heat and is unable to enjoy his baths any other way. Terzo skims his hand along the surface of the hot water, his thoughts far away as he watches the tub fill. 

Him and Omega used to take baths together. Sometimes they ended up being a couple of goofs, playing around with bubble bath and other times, it was the start of a rather long night for the both of them.

He slips into the tub and sinks down into the scalding water until everything is fully submerged except the top half of his face. Terzo glares over the still water, his gaze settling on the golden faucet. Anger and frustration bubbles up inside of him, the overwhelming feeling of being so isolated taking its toll on him. 

It’s not fair. He did more for the Ghost Project than any of his brothers. As if the power didn’t go to their heads at all… as if the power isn’t going to il Cardinale’s head right now, and yet Terzo was the one who was punished and humiliated for it. He growls from beneath the surface of the water and his hands drift up to grip onto the sides of the tub. 

At least he isn’t dead.

Terzo tries to remind himself of this but sometimes he thinks maybe he would be better off reaping the benefits of being the Morningstar’s mouthpiece in Hell with his brothers. Maybe he would be able to see Omega and the other ghouls that were banished after he was removed. 

His eyes refocus on the bath and he notices that water bath water is now boiling around him. Terzo yelps and scrambles out of the tub, slipping a few times before making it onto the cool marbles floor. He looks down at himself, water droplets glistening on his perfect skin and he is shocked to see that he is totally fine. His eyes drift back to the tub, the water now still but murky. He grabs a towel and dries himself off, keeping a watery eye on the tub as he makes his way to the bathroom mirror to embark on his usual morning routine.

Moisturize. Apply face paint. Stare at himself while naked. He flexes his muscles, his gaze falling over his body as he moves to highlight each area. He’s grown a bit of a pouch of a stomach but it doesn’t bother him too much — he’s not twirling or running around on stage anymore, he’s earned a little bit of pudge. Terzo can’t help but slip his hand down to give himself a few lazy strokes, the thought crossing his mind of you seeing him naked for the first time, as if you haven’t seen enough already. 

He runs his free hand through his soft, damp hair. Terzo has been lazy lately, letting his hair dry however it feels like. Sometimes it came out in nice waves but most of the time it stuck up in all directions and also somehow fell into his face. He feels different about today, though. He grabs his product and starts to style it, taking the time to make sure it’s perfect. His hair has grown longer than he’s used to with it curling behind his ears and at the top of his neck. He does it best to smooth it down. 

His reflection looks weary but reminiscent of how he used to appear onstage during the beginning of his reign. Terzo’s grip on his half hard cock tightens, a grunt spilling from his lips before he tears his eyes away from the mirror and lets himself go. He strides out of the bathroom and slips on a fresh pair of briefs. 

Terzo is feeling a certain way today. He wants to look good… maybe because of you. He saw the way you looked at him yesterday, how your eyes wandered over his body and your cheeks grew rosy. His lips quirk into a grin as he thinks about it. Or maybe he wants to look good because he wants to feel good. He opens his vintage armoire, his gaze flitting over  The fanciest loungewear he has and he’ll wear it for you, a plush black smoking jacket with a golden collar and gold detail that goes down to his knees. 

He ends up back in front of his mirror, admiring himself in his smoking jacket. Despite being pleased with his appearance, the anger and frustration still boils deep inside him. The hoops he had to go through just to get attention these days… the way he now has to tiptoe around getting what he really wants from you when before he could just have it. He is touch-starved and hasn’t fucked in quite some time, the fact he was buzzing just from brushing his arm against yours, that ever since you started (two DAYS ago) he hasn’t been able to stop thinking about taking you, tasting you, fucking you, to the point that he came in his sleep. 

It’s pathetic.

Another growl rumbles up from his chest and he finally leaves his bedroom, assuming that you should be here by now.

His assumption is correct. It is nearly lunchtime now and you’ve been diligently cataloging and boxing up the remaining memorabilia for most of the morning. You feel a little bit lighter, a little bit more comfortable in the job, even though you know your responsibilities will most likely change once you are done with the dining room. And from what happened yesterday… you are looking forward to seeing Terzo and wonder where he must be. Maybe still sleeping?

When you arrived that morning, a piece of paper was left on the dining room table. It was your resume with incredibly beautiful script scribbled on the back of it: your job offer in writing with a higher salary than was mentioned in the past. You can’t help but wonder if it’s because of how things went yesterday, how you two had flirted and talked for the first time.

You would hate to admit it but he was the last thing you thought about before falling asleep last night. It was the most restful sleep you’ve gotten in a long time.

Maybe this is where you’re meant to be. Still though, you think about the deal you made with yourself a few days ago – sticking around until the first paycheck and then re-evaluating. You had good days at your previous job but that didn’t make you hate it overall any less. 

Critical thoughts dissipate as he enters the dining room, your face going blank as you take in what he’s wearing. He looks dapper – put together even! You blink a few times then clear your throat.

“Good morning.” You croak, realizing that you haven’t spoken for the better part of the morning. Terzo gives a soft grunt in response and he offers a tight lipped smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. 

“I see you have made great progress.” He hums as he stalks around the dining room, examining the boxes and the neatly printed sheets of paper taped to them with the contents of each listed out. 

“Yeah, almost done.” You smile brightly at him, feeling yourself start to warm up just from him being in the same room as you. “Have you given any more thought on which of your books you want displayed?”

Uncomfortable silence fills the room as you watch Terzo’s face turn from indifferent to twisted anger.

“I DON’T WANT THEM DISPLAYED, I WANT THEM GONE!” 

You are knocked back into your seat from the volume of his voice. His teeth are bared and sharp canines almost hang over his lower lip, deep snarls ripping from his throat as he glares at you from across the table. 

“The entire reason I hired you is so you would do what I say and get this shit out of my SIGHT!” Terzo hisses as he slams his fist down on the table, one of the dim bulbs illuminating the room shatters from the mere strength of his voice. You are frozen, seated at the dining room table that is nearly clear of his memorabilia now, your eyes glued to his fiery ones. He leaves you, the door slamming behind him and it feels like the entire house shakes from it. 

You look down at your hands which are laid out on the table, watching them tremble. His voice was so strong, so much so that you thought you could feel it booming in your own chest. It’s terrifying that he has that sort of power and that his mood could switch on a dime just like that. So angry and over what? A question? Still though… you can’t ignore the throbbing ache between your legs. Usually being yelled at terrified you, having been afraid of making mistakes or getting in trouble from a young age, but you’ve never felt this before.

You clear your throat again, trying to calm yourself down but your cheeks are on fire. He looked at you like he wanted to devour you, like he wanted to punish you. You wet your lips and suck in a deep, shaky breath. Your thighs press together and you squirm in your seat as you try to get back to work, organizing a few different variations of white gloves. The thought comes to your mind about what it would feel like if he spanked you wearing a pair of these gloves.

You drop the pair and bury your flushed face into your hands, incredibly embarrassed by the thought.

Maybe you like it when he’s angry. 

Meanwhile, Terzo spends the rest of his afternoon pacing in his office in a panic. He’s afraid he’s ruined everything now. You certainly weren’t going to stick around after he yelled at you like that and he wouldn’t blame you. Sure, there were moments when he was Papa that he was prone to having angry outbursts. Usually Omega would be the one to bring him back down to Earth or if it occurred after he had gone… well, Terzo ended up feeling justified for the behavior, being Papa and all. 

But this isn’t the clergy. He has no protection. He only has you and he could have fucked it all up. Terzo didn’t want to start the process over again of finding someone to help. He only wants you now. He sits on top of his desk and runs his hands through his hair, strands having fallen out of place due to his outburst. 

You have gathered up your things and start to make your way to the front door when the door to his office opens and he steps out. Terzo fiddles with his hands, staying silent until he is closer to you, his eyes focused on the ground before drifting up to your gaze.

“I am so very sorry, mio toppolino.” He sounds quiet, heartbroken, even. “That was inappropriate of me.”

“Oh.” Your grip on your backpack tightens, a blush rising across your cheeks. “It’s okay. Really.”

“No, it is not. It is unacceptable.”

“Terzo, it is really okay. I mean it.” The blush only spreads, covering your cheeks and moves up to the tips of your ears. Your eyes are wide and you can’t control yourself from giggling, trying to cover it up with a couch. You feel insane.

He is staring at you, really staring at you, and his eyebrows knot in confusion. Then, it hits him. You want to play with him. Terzo’s lips stretch into a cat-lick grin, his eyes turning seductive. This is quite the development. He feels his cock jump in his briefs but he remains collected.

“Since you don’t want your stuff displayed, maybe think about if there’s anything you would want in your office. Looks kinda sad without any stuff in there.” You quip before turning to the front door and leaving him standing in the sitting room, watching you go as his hand slips into his jacket and then down his briefs.

[1-800-helltalia]

Nordic 5 body language headcanons

Iceland is a huuuge sloucher, despite his brother's complaints. His upper body leans sideways very subtly, as well, but this is because he has scoliosis. By default, Emil always has one hand on his hip or the small of his back: this boy is the king of back pain. He's pigeon-toed and walks at an average pace.

He slouches even more when he sits, often crossing his ankles. Unless he's occupied with something, he keeps his hands folded in his lap. Emil generally sits really politely; bro is just there. He tends to avoid eye contact, as it makes him uncomfortable, but can tolerate it in formal/serious settings.

When bored or anxious, he'll tap his fingers together. He'll also drum his fingers against a flat surface, but very quietly. What a guy.

Norway stands straight and elegant, one foot in front of the other, his shoulders back but not enough to be cocky. A firm believer in good posture, he's not afraid to correct the other Nordics when the need arises. He'll keep his arms crossed or his hands on his hips, and he treads lightly but quickly.

Sitting down, Lukas will cross his legs, usually resting his ankle on his other knee. Bro can actually sit pretty still with his hands folded neatly on his crossed knee, not moving a muscle. Though he's not the biggest fan of eye contact, he'll use it to get his point across or when he's being serious. Sometimes, he stares without really realizing it.

It's rare for Lukas to fidget. When he does, though, it's more-often-than-not a brisk foot tap. Mathias thinks it's eerie how still he can be.

Denmark stands with his head held high, his shoulders thrown back, and his arms crossed over his chest, though he does have the tendency to slouch when he's tired. He walks a bit faster than average with a swagger in his step, but he's able to stop very abruptly in his tracks, an actual menace to anyone walking behind him.

When sitting down, Mathias is a compulsory man-spreader and leg bouncer. He'll also rest his arms on the back of the seat, if possible. He loves to take up as much space as he can. He's not afraid of eye contact whatsoever, which can be rather terrifying paired with his blue eyes. Please, God, someone get this man some brown contacts.

Mathias also has a bad habit of drumming rather loudly on flat surfaces, much to the annoyance of his fellow nations. Be patient with him, doctors have yet to find ADHD meds that will actually work for him.

Sweden, like Lukas, stands very straight, but will slouch when he needs to accommodate for his height. He either walks very slowly or is near-impossible to keep up with: there's no in-between. He's duck-footed and has a heavy tread.

Berwald is also a man-spreader, though he knows how to stay in his own bubble. As a larger man, he's highly conscious about the space he takes up and tends to be more conservative with it. He usually rests his hands on his knees when he sits. Eye contact isn't very complicated with Ber; if he's talking to you, he's making eye contact. If he's not, he isn't.

If there is space available, Berwald will pace back and forth when tense or thinking. If he can't, he'll resort to less active stims, such as knuckle cracking.

Finland stands with a slouch, too, though it isn't as nearly as pronounced as Emil's. When walking, his pace depends on who he's with; if he's on his own, however, he takes his time, often stopping to stretch. Tino is surprisingly heavy-footed for someone of his stature.

He sits slightly forward with his legs crossed, his hands folded primly on either the table or his knee. In more informal settings, Tino may even tuck his feet under his body. If he's sitting beside Berwald, he'll lean affectionately against him. He uses eye contact when needed, his gaze being the least overwhelming of the Nordics. He's very reassuring to be around.

When nervous, Tino clears his throat a lot. He also stims by bouncing his leg and fiddling with his clothes.

[party-hearses]

pairing: dieter bravo x f!oc x f!reader (no use of y/n)

rating: explicit, MDNI 18+

word count: 6.6k

summary: your girlfriend and her close friend want to give you everything, and more.

warnings/tags: explicit smut, threesome, porn with some plot, breeding kink (heavy emphasis), pet names (baby a million times), alcohol consumption, dom/sub dynamics, sub!dieter, fingering, oral (f receiving), pegging, unprotected piv, squirting, creampie, painful sex (but it’s very consensual), overstimulation, very brief mention of drug use, cliff beasts 6 jumpscare. please let me know if i’m forgetting anything!

a/n: this fic belongs to @nostalxgic and @bastardmandennis; i cannot thank y’all enough for beta reading, letting me bounce ideas around, and allowing me to be depraved about this in general.

“It won’t be weird. I promise.”

You pause, toothbrush in your mouth, turning to face your girlfriend. “Em, I don’t know how it won’t be weird. The whole circumstance is weird.”

She tuts, sliding her hands across your hips from behind, fingers coming to rest at the soft place just below your stomach. “But worth it?”

“Worth it,” you confirm around the flimsy plastic between your lips. She pulls her hands away as you lean to spit toothpaste in the sink, mewling in protest.

“Sorry, baby,” she responds off-handedly, wrist curved, eyes on her watch. “I’m already running late — but I’ll see you tonight?” Her gaze meets yours again, reassuring and tender. “Everything will be fine. He already knows, he already agreed, this is just…a formality.” You watch in the mirror as she waves her hand around the word in the air, the confidence of the action settling the nervous needling in your belly.

You wipe the remnants of toothpaste off your mouth with the back of your hand before turning and stretching upwards to press a quick, chaste kiss to her lips. She’s out of the bathroom and down the hallway before you can make it more, the anxious excitement of it all making your fingertips buzz with desire.

“Worth it, baby! Just remember that!” she calls over her shoulder, the front door clicking closed behind her.

Your Lyft runs late, which you’re sure is a bad omen. Emily chalks it up to shitty traffic in a metropolitan city. You settle on both being right, neither wanting to spoil the night before it even starts. Not with so much on the line.

The restaurant you arrive at is casually upscale, all dark wood, gold flourishes, and the richest emerald green upholstery you’ve ever seen. The hostess leads you away from the bustling room in the front, to a more secluded area in the back, her bored smile not reaching her eyes.

Emily is tucked away in the large, nearly-empty room, alone in one of the grand booths. Relief rolls through your limbs, loosening them — you may be late, but you still manage to arrive before him.

Him — the mysterious entity that holds your future in the very palm of his hands. Emily hasn’t divulged much about him, meeting your questions with shrugs and ‘you’ll just have to meet him’s.

It doesn’t instill much confidence in you, which is why you’ve been so keyed up about the dinner date she’s set.

She anticipates your anxiety, handing you a glass of chilled white wine as soon as you crawl in the booth next to her. Just being near her reins you in, her pressed white button-up molded to the contours of her body, black blazer puddled in a heap next to her.

“You’re looking very corporate-sexy tonight,” you observe, lips pressed together in a slight frown as you pick up the glass. “How was work?”

Glancing up at the ceiling, she lets out a long, slow breath. “Let’s just say I’m happy to be here with you now.”

A smile pulls at the corners of your mouth, the reminder of exactly why you’re here settling low in your belly.

“Hey,” you whisper, tipping your glass in her direction, “cheers to having a baby put in me.”

“That’s my girl,” she grins, throwing back what’s left of her own wine.

You’re on your second glass of wine when a distinct buzz erupts from the front of the restaurant, as if all the energy in the building had burst at once. The same hostess, previously dead-faced and slouched over, pushes her shoulders back and wrings her hands nervously on the surface of the podium.

Knitting your brows together, you crane your neck to see exactly what — or whom — the commotion is all about. You can’t see much, just a pair of hands making animated gestures, multitude of rings catching the light of the foyer.

When the owner of the hands finally moves into view, it’s impossible to miss how devastatingly handsome he is — unkempt, overgrown brown curls framing the golden glow of his skin, a strong, masculine nose and hard lined jaw covered in dark scruff, broad frame under a wrinkled black t-shirt with Siouxsie and the Banshees scribbled across it. Elegantly disheveled, like he’d rolled out of bed hungover to show up at a red carpet event.

And a pair of sunglasses, no doubt designer, obscuring his eyes.

He dips his chin slightly to peer over them, gaze sweeping past the hostess to lock directly onto you. It startles you, the assuredness with which he does it. As though he’s looking for you. A dazzling grin splits across his features, his cheeks rounding with the size of it, never breaking eye contact.

But you do.

“Oh shit, Em! It’s Dieter Bravo!” you hiss, snapping your head back to stare wide-eyed at Emily. She’s watching him, too, but with a different expression — a knowing expression. Her eyes flit to yours for the briefest of moments, her plump lips curled into a shy smile.

“So it is.”

It takes you all but two seconds to put the pieces together, your mouth popping open in surprise when you do. Anxiety builds in your chest, the thought of letting a movie star impregnate you never having crossed your mind.

“Why didn’t you tell me that it was Dieter fucking Bravo? Why didn’t you tell me that you know Dieter fucking Bravo?” You keep your voice low, but sharp. Pulse quickening, panic spreading through your limbs once again, you grab at Emily’s arm.

“Didn’t want you to freak out more than you already were,” she replies, turning to you to brush a tangle of hair behind your ear. It’s gentle, more gentle than you deserve at this moment, allowing the boiling of your blood to settle to a low simmer. You chew your lip, dropping your hand into Emily’s lap to intertwine her fingers with yours.

Your eyes track between the two of them, Dieter’s approach to the table slowed by the hostess and a handful of patrons wanting autographs, pictures, handshakes — some moment of intimacy with a celebrity, some story to tell their friends.

But he keeps his eyes fixed on you, a tender smirk pulling at the corners of his mouth all the while.

When he does eventually reach the table, onlookers in his wake, Emily stands to greet him, but he extends his hands to you, picking your own up from its place on the table.

“Hello, gorgeous.”

His voice is strawberry ice cream with sticky cherries on top. You’ve only ever heard it on movie screens, and hearing it spoken directly to you sends waves of electricity up the column of your spine.

Your hand still in his, he brings it to his mouth, pressing the most delicate of kisses to your knuckles.

“Fucking corny,” Emily mumbles, shoving into his shoulder with the flat of her palm.

He laughs smoothly at the impact, finally removing his sunglasses to expose the warm amber of his irises.

“I’m Dieter.”

“I kn-…I…I’m…” you stutter, caught off guard not only by how much more handsome he is up close, but by how charming he is right off the bat.

“I know exactly who you are, sweet girl.” He kisses your knuckles once more for good measure, placing your hand gently back on the table before turning his attention to Emily.

“Em,” he grins, adoration seeping through the way he says her name. She matches his expression before they air kiss each other’s cheeks, his hands on her shoulders, and you’re all at once taken aback at how intimate it feels.

That same intimacy envelopes you as he slides into the booth, immediately beckoning the server over with two fingers in the air.

“What are you drinking?” His gaze is burning through you again, voice low. Like you’re the only two people in the room. You’re marginally aware of Emily’s fingers stroking the flesh of your inner thigh, too entranced with Dieter to pay attention.

You’ve always been aware of him as an enigma — celebrity tabloids capitalizing on his very public drug problems, interviews labeling him an eccentric artist. Not to mention the infamy of the Cliff Beasts 6-turned-scathing-documentary and his subsequent marriage.

The question falls out of your mouth before you can stop it, some strange combination of star-struck and anxious-enough-to-vomit knocking the sense out of you.

“Aren’t you married?”

He runs a palm over his mouth, failing to conceal the playful smile therein.

The server materializes right then, but Dieter keeps his eyes on you, even as he orders.

“Champagne. A bottle. We’re celebrating.”

Wicked curiosity flickers in the pool of his gaze, waiting to see your next move. The way a predator watches prey.

The only move you make is to look up at him through your lashes expectantly, hands folded in front of you. It’s Emily who quietly thanks the server, sending him on his way. Her own body language is relaxed, back sloped against the tufted material of the booth, thumb tracing aimless circles beneath the hem of your dress.

“So, I get to put a baby in you, hmm?”

Heat blooms across your chest, rising into your cheeks. Emily is as taciturn as you���ve ever seen her, unfazed by how direct the statement is, her fingers crawling higher to ghost the lace of your panties.

You squirm under both her touch and his stare, nodding lamely at the question, heart beating rapidly in your ears.

“I should be so lucky,” he breathes, drawing closer to you, skimming his knuckles over your cheekbone.

It’s sultry, the way he touches you. The way Emily lets him touch you. You’re all doe-eyes and plush parted lips when she tips forward to whisper don’t be nervous, baby, into the shell of your ear.

And you’re not — not anymore.

The champagne comes, nestled cozily into a bucket of ice, at the same time Emily’s work phone buzzes, hard and jarring against the surface of the table.

“Hafta get this,” she grumbles, eyes falling to the screen, voice edged with irritation. Dieter acknowledges her with a tip of his head as she excuses herself from the table, already barking orders at the person on the other end of the line.

The server pops the cork, pouring the bubbly liquid into three glasses, and you feel the vibration of it in your bones.

In any other circumstance, you’d be self-consciously fidgeting with your dress, or reaching for the champagne too quickly, or avoiding eye contact completely. But it feels different with Dieter, natural. Like you’d been here a million times before — like he’d touched you a million times before.

“So,” he prompts, fingers brushing yours as he hands you one of the glasses, “Emily tells me you’re an artist?”

You sip the drink, the bubbles tickling your belly as they settle.

“You didn’t answer my question.”

He gives a sly half-smile, eyes sparking with humor as he leans back to tip his own drink into his mouth. He extends an arm over the back of the booth, and you notice for the first time the solid black triangle tattooed there. He doesn’t say anything when you reach out to glide your fingers over it, just notches his head to watch it happen.

“I’m not married.”

“Oh?” You raise a brow, glancing back in his direction.

He shakes his head slowly, studying you. “Didn’t quite work out that way.”

You say nothing, just sip your drink again coyly without breaking eye contact. It keys him up, you can tell, by the way he downs the rest of the champagne in his glass.

“Figure I deserve to know, if we’re gonna be…involved, in whatever capacity.”

His eyes flash then, pupils nearly swallowing the color around them. Unbeckoned, the server returns to fill your glasses, but Dieter doesn’t even look his way.

“I’ll tell you whatever you want to know,” he breathes, leaning in to diminish the space between your bodies.

You wave your hand in the air in front of you, an invitation. He knows what you’re asking — what everyone asks. He sucks in a deep breath.

“Covid really fucked me up, if I’m being totally honest. Not that I didn’t have issues before…but quarantine really…exacerbated them. And lucky for me, it’s all on tape.” He grins.

Bringing your glass back up to your lips, you consider this. It’s endearing, the way he’s at ease with himself. How he can make a joke of it, but still feel entirely authentic.

“Isn’t it kind of weird, us asking you to do this?” It’s a genuine question, playful pretense dropped.

He shrugs, sipping his champagne again. “I’m kind of a weird guy.”

You giggle, mind made up. Adrenaline surges through you, and you’re almost surprised when you recognize the depth of your desire with it.

Emily makes her way back to the table, shaking her head and typing out of a message on her phone. She stops next to you, finally looking up, eyes darting between you and Dieter.

“I want Dieter to come home with us tonight.”

You don’t need to look at him to know that he wants it, too. That he’s wanted it since the moment he sat down. You drop your hand to his thigh, squeezing suggestively.

“I was hoping you’d say that,” Emily grins in response.

Dieter familiarizes himself with the living room as Emily opens another bottle of champagne in the kitchen. The quick popfizz of the cork excites you, makes you clench your thighs in anticipation. You’re so aware of your body in this moment — the curves and swells, the scorching heat rolling through your veins. The arousal you’ve felt all night is on the very tip of your tongue, threatening to spill over.

He’s looking at your framed photos on the mantle, hands nonchalantly buried in his pockets. He looks so competent, you think, standing on the precipice of this. It’s endearing. It’s sexy.

“Dieter.” His name leaves your lips as a purr, low and sultry. There’s a smirk pulled across his mouth as he turns to face you, as his eyes rove over your flushed form, as he closes the distance between the two of you.

The atmosphere in the room is thick, a heady electricity buzzing in your ears as he drops next to you on the couch, solid thigh pressing into yours. It doesn’t take more than a moment for him to take your chin between his thumb and pointer finger, angling your face to him. His lips ghost yours, a barely-there kiss that makes you pout and chase his touch.

He laughs, a sweet, gentle laugh that makes your blood spike, and you press your mouth to his hard enough to bruise. He reciprocates by running his hand down your body to grasp your thigh, dragging you over top of him. He nips at your bottom lip, begging for entrance, and you let him devour you, kissing you like he’s waited too long to do so.

There are fingers at your neck, sliding up into your hair to fist at the root and tip your head backwards. You mewl, lips abruptly torn from Dieter’s, but Emily’s quickly replaces them, licking into you attentively while Dieter laves kisses across your collarbones.

You can feel how hard he is beneath you, and you grind down onto him, searching for friction — for relief. He catches on quickly, canting his hips up into you, wordlessly encouraging you to take, take, take.

“Let’s get you out of this dress, baby,” he groans when it’s too much, cradling your ass with his hands tight enough to him that he can stand, to carry you into the bedroom.

It’s hard to keep up with who belongs to which touch — Dieter’s calloused fingers grip your thighs from beneath, wrenching them apart, your dripping sex on display. He’s on his knees, wedged between your splayed legs, while Emily’s deft maneuvering of the hard peaks of your nipples is familiar, her tongue against the column of your neck keeping you grounded, present.

She’s sat back on her haunches, muscular thighs making a home against your hips, allowing you to slope back against her body. Her head is dipped to the hollow of your neck, but you know her eyes are on Dieter — on the way he kisses the soft space just below the round fullness of your tits, the way he nips at the tender flesh of your ribs and belly.

You can’t help but reach out and card your hands through the length of his hair as he kisses further down your body, pulling back just slightly when he gets to your glistening cunt. You feel Emily grin against your skin, still watching.

“She wet, D?”

“Soaking,” he mumbles, before licking a broad stripe through your folds, eyes hazy. His arms hook beneath you, fingers curling so his rings press indents into the softest parts of you. He holds you to his mouth, the thick chain around his neck and coarse mustache scratching against your silk skin.

It’s overwhelming.

Dieter circles your clit with his tongue expertly, drawing it down every few strokes to taste the salt of your slick. Your head falls back against Emily’s shoulder, quiet moans punctuating the sound of his mouth against you.

His tongue snakes into you, the sudden intrusion making you gasp and grind down against the lower half of his face. He hums in approval, arm stretching across your body to pin you down, to hold you still. You tug on a handful of messy curls, fingertips catching deliciously against his scalp.

His hums take the languid shape of groans, and you feel him rocking his hips down into the mattress, searching for some sense of relief with the friction.

“Use your fingers, D,” Emily growls, in a voice you’ve never heard before. A different kind of thrill winds up your limbs, digging its tendrils into you as her mouth moves down to meet her fingers, drawing your nipple taut between her teeth.

At her command, he unwraps his hand from your thigh to nudge a thick finger against your opening, still lapping at your wetness with his broad tongue. You’re nodding and mewling and clenching — please D, please — so when he grants you an extra finger, stars burst behind your eyes. He presses them all the way in, crooking at an angle that makes your hips cant upwards desperately.

“So tight,” he mutters, dragging the rough tips against your velvet walls again, finding that place deep within you that makes everything feel fizzy and hot.

“Good boy,” Emily purrs around your pebbled nipple, and Dieter moans against you, eyes fluttering shut.

“Say it again, Em.” His words are mangled, lips suctioning to your clit, gently toying with the sensitive bundle of nerves.

Emily giggles darkly, a taunt if you’ve ever heard one.

“Not until you make baby cum all over your fingers.”

Dieter’s eyes flash open, locking onto yours from his place between your legs. The warm amber of them is alight with lust, eclipsed by the blown-out black of his pupils.

The urgent need rolling off his skin turns you inside out, makes the muscles in your abdomen pull taught. You feel as wrecked as he looks, the soft edges of an orgasm swirling into focus in your core.

“Gonna cum,” you manage, the words edged out by your quickening breath.

“Cum for D, baby,” Emily implores. “Cum for us.”

Dieter can feel how close you are, too, given the way he pumps his fingers into you with a new ferver, one final suck of his mouth tipping you over into oblivion.

Your cunt clenches around his massive digits, head lolling into the crook of Emily’s neck as the waves of pleasure overwhelm you. She skates her fingers up the delicate line of your neck to grasp your jaw, wrenching it up to press your lips to hers, swallowing every moan that you emit.

Dieter fucks you through it, flattening his hand against your abdomen to prolong his ability to gather the slick that pours out of you on his tongue.

“Good boy, Dieter,” Emily repeats the praise between kisses, “very, very good boy.”

He draws his fingers out of you, growling as he raises his body and sucks them into his mouth. You watch, Emily’s tongue massaging hot against yours, as he savors the taste of you on his skin. Your slick shines wet on his cheeks, glitters in his facial hair.

You rove your gaze over the entirety of his hulking form, hard muscles and soft belly, kneeling at your altar. Ready and willing to give you the one thing you so badly want, without hesitation.

Emily peppers kisses down your cheek and jaw, allowing you to turn your full attention to Dieter. The lingering aftershocks of your orgasm intensify as he drops his hand to the base of his cock, the head flushed dark and dripping pre-cum when he squeezes.

He looks like heaven.

There’s a smirk pulled across his mouth as he bears his weight back down on his arms, crawling up the bed to hover over your pliant body. He ghosts his knuckles across your womb, dipping his head to press kisses down the other side of you.

“Can’t wait to see you round with our baby, baby.” Emily murmurs, her gaze flitting up to Dieter’s hand on the place below your stomach, the reality of it settling into your bones.

It’s all consuming, the sudden need to have Dieter buried to the hilt inside of you — to give you a baby. You mewl, a pathetic, broken sound, grasping his wrist to drag his hand back down to your aching sex.

“Mmm, needy little thing, aren’t you?”

Emily hums in agreement, hands grasping at your hips from behind.

Dieter cups your mound in his large hand, raising his head to meet Emily’s eyes.

“Can I fuck her, Em?”

She tips her head to the side, pressing a final kiss to the sensitive skin of your throat.

“Hmm, I don’t know, D,” she teases, nosing the soft cut of your jaw. “What do you think, baby? Has he earned it?”

You nod enthusiastically, needing, needing, needing, elevating your hips to rock your core in Dieter’s hand.

“Okay, baby.” She turns her gaze to Dieter again, reaching out to trace his plush bottom lip with her thumb. His eyes are glassy, chest rising and falling raggedly. “Can’t cum til I say, right, D?”

“Yes, Em.”

She pushes her thumb into his mouth, his lips wrapping around it obediently. She bites down on her bottom lip, and you can feel her pulse pick up from where you lie.

“Sit up, baby,” she suddenly directs, easing you forward. Dieter follows, backing up onto his knees, wrapping his arms around your form to keep you pressed against his chest. He smells like sex and smoke and you, and it’s intoxicating.

Before you can fully process what you’re doing, you’re wrapping your fist into the curls at the nape of his neck, dragging his face down so you can taste yourself on his lips. He reciprocates immediately, licking into you with such intensity that you both nearly stumble over.

You wrap your other arm around his neck, his own tightening in their embrace around you. It’s secure — so secure that you don’t feel Emily slip out from her place behind you.

Dieter’s mouth doesn’t leave yours as he guides you down onto your back, nudging your legs apart with his knee. He only pulls away to glance down as he grasps the base of his cock, notching himself against your slick entrance.

“Wait, D,” you whine, pushing feebly against the solid plane of his chest. “Wanna be on top.”

He draws back, eyes searching yours.

“Are you sure? It’s…I’m…I don’t wanna hurt you.”

“She can take it,” Emily cuts sternly from somewhere behind him. “She’s a good girl. She’ll take whatever you give her.”

He knows better than to question further.

Reaching backwards, he pulls one of your legs around his abdomen, and you follow by doing the same with the other. He slips a massive arm behind your back, and in one swift motion, he’s flipping you both over.

He settles his mussed halo of curls on the pillow, maneuvering your abdomen to situate your cunt just over the length of his cock. You roll your hips forward, catching his tip against your swollen clit. A ribbon of light unfurls down your spine, tightening around it when he groans from low in his throat.

You flatten your palms against his chest, anchoring yourself as you rock against him a second time.

“C’mere sweet girl,” he rasps, planting a thick hand against your hip to poise his leaking head against your entrance.

A tangled pant escapes your lips as you finally sink down onto him, the sumptuous sting of the initial stretch waning into an insistent throb.

“Fuu-uuck, baby,” he gasps, “you’re so tight.”

Neither of you move for a moment, each adjusting to the other, the walls of your pussy clenching around him.

Emily drops behind you, kneeling between Dieter’s legs. Her hands slide down your sides, one grasping at your waist to encourage you forward, to make you move, the other stroking wicked ministrations at your throbbing clit.

Dieter grunts out a strangled noise, his fists balled in the sheets beneath him. Emily tuts, removing her hand from your side to grip his wrist, placing his palm over your breast. She pushes her fingers over his, a silent direction to squeeze.

He obeys, lifting his other hand to caress the full roundness of your tits, drawing his fingernails over the peaks of your nipples. You shiver, goosebumps rising over the span of your arms and thighs.

You’re moving against him faster now, his cock hitting athe deepest parts of you. It’s so much, you’re so full, and the tight circles that Emily rubs across your clit send you spiraling to the edge.

Emily can feel it in the way your back arches against her, can see it in the way you tremble over Dieter’s cock, can hear it in the way your breath hitches and soft, breathy moans punch the air between you.

“Baby’s gonna cum, D. Look how good you’re doing,” she coos. “What a good boy you are.”

He clenches his eyes closed, focusing on anything but how your tits feel in his palms, on the heavy drag of his cock in your soaked folds.

“D,” Emily directs, leaning across you to dig her fingers into his cheeks. “You know better than to close your eyes.”

His fluttering lids pop back open, expression pleading, jaw slack. But Emily angles his head so he’s forced to look at the way he’s splitting you open, how the soft pads of her fingers are undoing you.

And you break, then, throwing your head back and bearing down on Dieter’s cock, fast and hard. Your orgasm washes over you, stars bursting behind your eyelids. Dieter growls, low and animalistic — primal.

“Again.” Emily’s voice is gruff in your ear, her fingers relentless at the apex of your thighs.

“I…I don’t think…” you start to stammer, but she hushes you by leaning in and pressing her tongue into your open mouth.

“Again,” she repeats when she pulls back.

Your moans shift into broken pleas, high-pitched and desperate. Dieter pulls at your hard nipples, rolling them between his skilled fingers. He’s groaning, too, eyes half-lidded and chest flushed.

It’s all so much, your body tightening more, more, more, hypersensitive from not having come down yet.

“You like it, baby? Like bouncing up and down on his cock? Like knowing he’s gonna cum so deep inside you?”

“L-like it, Em. Like it.” You mumble, vision deliciously blurred, words meaning nothing to you.

“Love seeing you cock drunk and babbling. It’s the only way I’ll let him give you a baby, baby. If you let him fuck you stupid.”

Dieter’s fucking up into you now, your own body no longer capable of being in control. His movements are sloppy, erratic, arms wrapped around your waist for leverage, but hitting every part that you need him to. Emily’s pace on your clit is grueling, tears pricking at the backs of your eyes.

But you’re cumming again, strangling Dieter’s cock with your convulsions, slick streaming out of you, pooling in the cradle of his hips. Fat, salty tears roll down your cheeks.

Emily finally drags her fingers back, smearing slick across your hip, skating them up your body to deposit them in your mouth. You suck obediently, obscenely, eyes closed. She laughs lowly, delighted at your capitulation.

And then she’s gone, her footsteps receding across the bedroom floor.

It takes everything in you to stay upright, Dieter’s weighty arms and warm chest an alluring invitation. But you know you’re not done, the grand finale within tasting distance.

Dieter shifts, loosening his grip, slowing his movements. Allowing you both some reprieve from the overstimulation, a chance to catch your breaths. He doesn’t stop completely, however, rocking up into you deliberately — almost sweetly.

It doesn’t last. You hear Emily return, her steps stopping at the threshold of the door.

“Look at our pretty girl, Em,” Dieter babbles, fingers splayed across the globes of your ass. He drives up into you again, hard, using his hands to spread you apart from behind at the same time. Putting all of you on display — your stretched open cunt, strained against his length, and the delicate ring of muscle just above — for Emily, who smirks from her place in the doorway.

You look over your shoulder at her, eyes hooded and chest heaving, your breath catching when you see what she’s sporting — the black harness and pink strap that you’re so accustomed to. You swallow hard, unprepared.

“O-oh. I didn’t know…”

“S’not for you, baby,” she chuckles, gesturing towards Dieter with her chin. You watch, mesmerized, as she runs her hand over the length of the toy, as commanding as you’ve ever seen her, while striding across the room.

Dieter whines when he sees it, his hips stalling against you, eyes practically rolling back in his head at just the idea of it. It would be pathetic, if it didn’t turn you on to see him so needy.

Emily comes to stand beside you, skating the tips of her fingers up the notches of your spine. The neon toy bobs suggestively between you, and despite your heavy limbs, your mouth waters.

She flattens her palm against the small of your back, effectively crumpling your lithe body against Dieter’s chest with little effort. He whimpers in your ear, cock flexing against your walls at the sudden change in position.

But he’s impatient, and Emily is persistent.

“Up,” she commands, tapping his thigh twice before moving to stand at the end of the bed. He obeys, rolling your both over gently, depositing you on your back, pressing reassuring kisses to your neck and collarbones.

“I got you,” he mumbles knowingly into your sticky skin, before Emily grasps his thighs from behind to drag him down the length of the bed.

You yelp, a giggly, surprised kind of yelp, as his grip pulls you with him, cock still buried in the furthest reach of you.

He’s kissing you again, tasting you with a different kind of urgency, while he hovers above you on all fours.

“You’ve been so good, D, giving baby what she needs,” Emily soothes, voice dripping with lust — with authority. “Now it’s your turn to get what you need.”

His body stills, save for the pounding of his heart against yours, his forehead dropped to rest on the slope of your shoulder. His heavy breath punches near the base of your throat, a hard swallow as you hear the cap on the bottle of lube click open.

You watch Emily through your lashes over the incline of Dieter’s back, his hips raised in perfect alignment to her imposing cock. She squirts the slippery liquid on her hand, and Dieter’s body quivers at the noise — at what he knows is imminent.

The way she jerks her hand up and down over the toy sets a fire in your belly, and you can’t help but arch beneath Dieter, your vigor renewed at the sight of it. You so badly want him to move, to buck back into you, to fuck you until he cums.

Emily smirks from where she stands, dripping the lube over the curves of Dieter’s ass, and you feel his jaw tighten against you when she does. It’s followed by a dark giggle as she trails her fingers through the slick, spreading it over every part of him.

“Ready, D?”

He hums in affirmation, a desperate, splintered noise that rolls across your skin. A plea.

She slips one finger inside him, all the way to the knuckle. He responds in kind, his hips jerking into you, a guttural moan crawling from his throat.

“Enough?” she taunts, pumping in and out of him the same way he’d done to you.

His hips keep rhythm with her, and the relief pooling low in your cunt makes you want to sob.

He shakes his head, mouth moving to capture your nipple, laving his tongue against the peak of it.

“Say it, D.”

“More,” he growls in response, muffled by the flesh of your breast. “More.”

Emily inserts a second finger, and he keens, driving into you with more force than he has all night. You squeak, wrapping your arms around his shoulders to steady yourself, the warm metal of his chain heavy beneath your fingers.

His hips snap against you relentlessly, almost painfully. Your lashes flutter against his sweat-damp curls, and in one swift moment, Emily removes her fingers to be replaced by the toy.

She pushes all the way into him, grinding against the meat of his ass when she reaches the hilt. His body arcs, hammering into your already-used pussy with such power that a choked sob catches in your throat.

Tears swim in your eyes again, streaming down your cheeks only when Dieter hooks his arm under your thigh to press it up into your ribs. Your calf rests on his shoulder, and the position stretches you open more than you ever have been before.

“Mmm, perfect, D,” Emily approves, voice faltering. “If you really want to put a baby in her, you need to cum deep.”

He grunts in agreement, his breathing shattered and sharp. You can feel the way Emily thrusts into him as he thrusts into you, and it’s all at once too much.

Heat swirls in your cunt, tight, tight, tight, snapping as Dieter’s groans grow louder in your ear. Seeing him come undone sends pinpricks of intense pleasure over every part of your body, and you think you brokenly whisper the words gonna cum into his hair.

He pounds into you hungrily, encouraged by the way your pussy pulses around his thick length. It’s all you need — your cunt spasming, devouring, taking, as another orgasm rips through you, stealing the air from your lungs. Everything following is a white static.

Dieter isn’t far behind, his thighs shaking between you and Emily, torn between the push and pull of giving and receiving deliciously.

“Need to cum,” he finally cuts, voice tight. He doesn’t stop, but Emily doesn’t stop either, still slamming into him as hard as he does into you.

Emily doesn’t hesitate in her response.

“No. Not yet. Need to make baby cum one more time.”

Those words cut through, a knife through the fog.

“I can’t, I can’t, I can’t,” you cry, fingernails digging into Dieter’s muscular shoulders, at the same time Dieter cries out.

“Please, Em,” he begs, voice cracking through the air in the room. “Please.”

“One more,” she directs, hands gripping Dieter’s hips, guiding him back onto her length. “You can, baby. You can.”

You’re sobbing now, knee pressed into your chest, spread open, split in two, stuffed full.

“You can, baby, you can,” Dieter echoes in your ear, his own voice just as desperate — strained and thick. “Cum for me. Let me give you a baby.”

And you do, melting beneath his solid body completely, tears dripping down your temples into your hair. It overtakes you entirely, slick gushing from your aching cunt, soaking both Dieter and the sheets beneath you.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Dieter spits, and you can taste the urgency in his voice. “I can’t…I need…baby, you’re so fucking tight.”

“Ask for it, D.” Emily smirks, knowing, too, that he’s well past the point of return.

“Pl…please. Need…need… to c-cum,” he chokes, thrusts brutal and frantic.

“Cum, then. Give baby a baby.”

Immediately, Dieter’s entire body tenses, tight as a bow string, before he’s fucking into you with reckless abandon, arms flexing, primal growls ripping from deep in his chest. He presses his open mouth to your shoulder, teeth scraping your buzzing skin, as thick ropes of cum spill inside of you.

Time slows as it happens, your awareness of every pulse and clench of his cock heightened. There’s so much of it — flooding your pussy, gushing out around his still-hard cock, dripping down the curve of your ass.

For what feels like an eternity, the only sounds in the room are three rugged, matching breaths.

“Good boy, D,” Emily finally gasps, leaning forward to ruffle his curls affectionately. “You did so good.”

He mumbles something against your skin that you can’t make out, but sounds a lot like thank you.

Your head is still swimming, the bittersweet throb between your thighs persistent.

Dieter finally pulls out, delicately, easing his frame down next to yours.

“Okay, baby?” he mumbles into your ear, and you think you nod.

Your eyelids are heavy, so heavy, body overwrought and sensitive to the touch. But you don’t pull away when he nuzzles into your neck, lips grazing the tender flesh there. The pads of his fingers slide back and forth over your womb a few times, a mesmerizing movement that lulls you half to sleep.

“Sit up,” Emily whispers, rousing you just enough that you let her guide your malleable body to a sitting position. “Arms.”

You obey, eyes still cloudy, raising your arms over your head so Emily can pull a t-shirt down over your exposed body. It’s too big, and smells too much like Dieter, to be your own. The material puddles in your lap, and Dieter fists the hem to tug you back down to him. He’s all soft sighs and kitten licks when you capitulate, open palm tugging your hips flush to him.

Then the mattress bows, Emily climbing on the other side of you, sandwiching your body between the two of them. She gently clasps your cheeks, angling your face towards her so she can press her mouth to yours reverently.

“Tired, baby?”

“Mmhmm,” is all you can muster, your limbs still liquid.

Dieter presses his forehead to the contour of your shoulder, warm breath fanning your dewy skin when he speaks in a whisper.

“I should go.”

Your eyes fly open, and you’re squirming around to face him, winding your legs into his to cling to him.

“No. I want you to stay. I want you to stay at least until it’s for sure,” you pout.

He cranes his neck to look across you at Emily, unsure how to proceed. She laughs affectionately, brushing away the hairs clinging to your sweat-damp forehead.

“Baby makes the rules, D.”

“Baby makes the rules,” he affirms, dropping his hand between your legs to thumb any stray drips of cum back into you.

[marypaol]

Silver Orbs

Draco x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Anxiety, self doubt, trouble eating, sleeping habits, that’s all :)

Summary: Reader has a feeling someone’s eyes are on her, and she isn’t wrong.

Note: I don’t use Y/N, and thank you all so much for all the forms of support! I was kind of insecure about my work, so thank you!

__

The noises of utensils hitting plates and chatter filled her ears, her eyes settled on the food in front of her that seemed to be getting more and more unappealing by the second. The anxiety that was brewing in her stomach wouldn’t stop, the endless possibilities of her results on the quiz she took in Charms whirling in her brain. I mean, she couldn’t have done that bad, right? She considered herself good at Charms, always seeming to remember the right ways to flick the wand and how to form the words with her lips. But the insecurity was still in the back of her mind, whispering to her that she was going to fail because she second guessed herself. So it didn’t surprise her when she over prepared herself for the quiz; meaning staying up late and studying in the Slytherin Common Room. She couldn’t help it, almost like she had to prove the voice in her head wrong. Telling it she could properly prepare and succeed. It was like a competition; her against anxiety.

Anxiety meaning she couldn’t eat and sleep properly. And it wasn’t like this just because of a simple Charms quiz. It happened with everything really. How Snape would react to her Potion, even though she was really quite good at following the particular directions in the book and the right color was bubbling in the cauldron. Or that one time she had to go up in front of the class to smell the Amortentia; till this day she didn’t know who she smelled, the scent of apple trees and mint still lingering in her nose once in a while whenever she thought about it. She wasn’t around much boys and she when she was she didn’t take note on how they smelled.

Like she would, some boy’s scent in a silly potion was the last of her worries.

What she did take note of is that whenever she was eating, or attempting to, she felt a soft stare on her head, like someone was swallowing her appearance and taking it for themselves. At first she thought it was some silly feeling that was simply another addition to her anxious symptoms, but when the feeling of being watched occurred more than once she found herself looking around. She knew it was someone near her since she felt the stare on the side of her face, eyes boring into her cheekbone like it were the Charms paper she was studying the day before.

This present day as she once again was unable to eat she once more felt it, the soft stare that settled on her. It was almost like a sixth sense, the feeling of someone’s eyes on her, nudging at her chest as a reminder it was there.

She suddenly had the courage to look up, having enough of the uneasy sense but making no effort to find the culprit.

She scanned the crowd, seeing everyone having no issues when it came to nourishment.

It was in that moment that their eyes met, the silver orbs almost impossible to look away from. She knew it sounded cheesy, but out of all the magic in the generations of Hogwarts nothing compared to what she was feeling then. Even when a snarl was on his lips and annoyance on his gaze, she could tell by the way he held it he didn’t want to challenge her to see if she would look away first, but to feel more of what he was feeling. Now that’s not how she truly thought he felt, but it was something she convinced herself of because it made her feel the magic stronger. But as they stared longer- neither of them looking away- the precious scowl slowly dropped from his lips and curiosity filled his orbs, wanting to see what she beheld.

It was only when student by student got up from their seats, bodies filing her view instead of silver that the gaze broke. She found herself swerving her head to and fro, scanning through swishes of green robes to spot the boy again, but he was no where to be seen.

***

She laid in bed that night, trying to break down the occurrence. But whenever she went down a road of reasoning, her mind took over itself and went back to the silver orbs of Draco Malfoy, reminding her deep down that all she wanted that night was to look into them once more.

[pastelvelvett-2nd]

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Post info

♡ Word count: (aprox) 2,299

♡ Post type: x reader

♡ Taste: In Between

♡ Yandere: Harper

! Please read the tags for tws!

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[♡] Next chapter

♡ Plot summary: Harper is assigned to tutor some fellow students for the upcoming exam, and you just happen to be one of them. By the time your first tutoring session ends, her mild interest in you grew to a degree she didn't expect.

♡ Beginning of post note: This is how I imagine Harper's voice to sound like in case you wanted to know lol anyway, I hope you enjoy the fic!

Yandere!Honor Student x Shy!Reader

Days seemed to blur together for Harper, and this day was no different. Reptition wasn't something that inherantly bothered her, she didn't think, but as she glanced outside her classroom window before the bell got the chance to ring for the first time of the day, she couldn't help but feel a twinge of wrongness in her chest. It wasn't even the first time she felt that, really, and she amounted it down to realizing she wasn't doing as much as she could. Harper assumed it was just a sign she should try harder that day, and that she would.

The classroom was almost completely empty, since she'd usually come to class unusually early. A few fellow students chattered amongst themselves in the background, and she'd normally join in, but for whatever reason, she didn't feel prepared to today. A few confused glances showed that they noticed. Maybe they were upset with her? Harper's stomach bubbled in anxiety at the prospect, but apparently, that wasn't enough to motivate her to turn her charismatic self on.

Maybe she felt... Bored? She honestly couldn't tell for sure, but she thought she did. Maybe even empty. Harper loved them, though. Her classmates. The people she'd help every time she'd get the chance to, and feel proud of whenever they would do well on tests or anything else they'd achieve. The elements in her life somehow didn't seem like they were enough for her in that moment. This caused her to feel a mind numbing amount of guilt, because none of them deserved to have their friend think about them like they're a toy that grew to be boring.

Something different would happen today, though. Maybe this something would give Harper enough satisfaction to feel happier. Because of her great track record in academics, she (and a few other students, of course) was given the opportunity to tutor some students for the upcoming exam. She usually helps her classmates with homework and tests, but this could also give Harper some extra credits, too. Now feeling a bit excited at the image of her telling her parents about what she accomplished, she also felt brighter generally. Almost like a switch being turned on, Harper changed from looking melancholic and unattentive to acting like her usual warm, friendly self, and with this new attitude, she went up to talk to her classmates like she usually would.

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She didn't understand it. She really didn't. Harper just finished her first tutoring session with one particular enigmatic student, and her head was filled with thoughts she'd call confusing. She sat herself at the bus stop, looking back at how the whole event went.

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"Hello! Y/N, right? I'm Harper, I'm here for the tutoring thing! Nice to meet you!" Her tone and expression were almost unbelievably sweet, like they usually were. Although you never really talked to the girl much, it was clear she'd always make an effort to make you feel more comfortable whenever you did speak. It never really seemed to work, unfortunately. As warm as Harper was, you could never get yourself to feel anything but anxious talking to strangers. Them being friendly only gave you the slightest feeling they would murder you if given the chance, but you realized that you were just being paranoid. If it's an actually nice person that wouldn't murder people, it would be rather unfair to assume such a thing of them. You could feel her lavender eyes staring you down for a second, making you shift uncomfortably in your seat. Chances were that she probably noticed, considering her smile threatened to fall in that moment. Not wanting to seem rude, you tried relaxing your tense body and nodded your head. "Y-Yeah, that's me. It's... Nice to meet you, too."

While it seemed like Harper had no issues keeping eye contact (maybe overly-prolonged eye contact, if you were to be honest) for you it was the complete opposite. As she sat herself at the empty desk to your right, you couldn't help but dart your e/c eyes all around the empty classroom you met up in, anywhere and everywhere but the girl next to you. She was... Intimidating, you supposed. Harper Martinez always seemed like the perfect person, which was concerning, because you knew there was no such thing. So, you had to assume she put up some sort of front. It was like seeing someone wearing a mask. Just because someone is wearing one doesn't necessarily mean that they're hiding a nefarious expression underneath it, of course. But the fact that the person decides to hide their honest feelings their face portray is enough to make someone feel suspicious. You noticed you weren't really the only one who seemed to think Harper was off for this very reason, but it seemed like she still remained fairly popular and well-liked. ...Maybe you were just overthinking things, afterall? She never did anything remotely mean, or anything, so your suspicions felt a bit unjustified.

Just as you were stuck in your own little thought loop, you heard the sound of scraping to your right, and upon glancing you realized that Harper just slid the wooden surface right against yours. Next came the chair, obviously with her on it, and suddenly you felt even more cornered than before. You had no clue if she realized how nervewrecking what she was doing was. She wasn't easy to read, not like how easily she seemed to be able to read those around her.

"So, I heard you transferred to this school a year ago, right?" She asked, inciting a bit of confusion from you. Ah, right. She must be making casual conversation so you felt less pressure. For some reason, you were assuming she'd go straight into the tutoring, but you supposed she thought it would help the learning proccess along. Or maybe she felt pity for you, you did seem really nervous. You simply nodded your head, not knowing what else to add than a simple confirmation. "Right! Knew it, hehe. Are you used to it here by now?" She inquired with a tilt of the head, seeming to take your lack of involvement in the conversation in stride.

You thought for a moment about your answer, not noticing how she slid herself closer to the edge of her seat so she could be closer to you without making a loud sound like before. If her knee was even a tincy bit closer to yours they would touch, and you surely would've realized then. "I... I think so. It was a bit hard to get used to, though, honestly." Harper seemed to take in your words for a second, brows knitting together in concern.

"I see... May I ask what you were struggling with?" Even though Harper seemed to act casual most of the time, some of the things she said sounded polite in an almost stiff sort of way.

"It was just that... I don't know, I just don't think I fit in great with the people around me. Nobody seemed to like me much." You paused for a second, realizing you should probably clarify something. "I-I mean, that's not really to say I'm popular right now or anything, I think I'm pretty much still in the same situation, only difference is I'm used to it now..." Just as you finished speaking, you realized how pathetic you sounded. Harper didn't seem to look at you with amusement or scorn or anything though, she kept a patient, empathetic expression.

"I see... I hope nobody's bothering you?" Harper asked, to which you pursed your lips in discomfort.

"U-Uh... Not really, no." Your response was given with as much confidence as you could muster, but something about Harper's demeanor clued you in that she didn't buy it.

She was silent for a moment.

"Well... That's good!" Just like that, her expression brightened yet again. "If you ever need help with anything, not just studying, let me know, okay?" You could only stare at her smiling face for a few seconds, blinking in confusion. From someone who you never talked to much before, this was a strangely kind thing to say. As much as you didn't want to be suspicious of her, it still rang alarm bells. But you supposed it was just her being nice by saying it, responding with anything but gratitude would be impolite.

"Haha, t-thank you...! I appreciate that a lot." You smiled as brightly as you could, though surely, it could not rival Harper's.

Not long afterwards, you began studying the subject you had the toughest time with. She was so patient despite how much you struggled through the whole thing, you could swear she was a saint. By the end of the session, you realized just how curious you were about the honor student, and you would lie if you were to say that you weren't starting to feel a bit more fond of her. There was a reason she was so well-liked. She radiated a positivity that was contagious, and she seemed to genuinely be invested in seeing you improve. But there had to be something more to her. You could swear she was a saint, but she definitely isn't. She's a normal human just like you, but she seemed to also be invested in appearing to be perfect.

You were somewhat excited to learn more about this mysterious student, having absolutely no clue how excited she was to learn more about you, just the same. ♡

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Although Harper didn't think about you much before having this first tutoring session, she always felt you were... Somewhat alluring. Unlike the sociable, open Harper, you always kept to yourself, never really speaking to anyone unless it was necessary. She wanted to know more about you out of curiousity, true, but she also felt worried about you. What if you felt lonely, and you just didn't know how to approach people? Although, it was still very possible you wanted to be left alone. You didn't seem to make any efforts to talk to people, afterall, so Harper could just be bothering you if she began hanging by your side. She tried talking to you a few times, but you didn't seem terribly comfortable around her, so she assumed this proved her theory.

Once Harper saw you today, though, she seemed to have quite a bit of a change of heart. There was something about your mannerisms that were just so... Enticing to her, for a lack of a better word. Despite you not sharing that much about yourself, just sitting down next to you for an hour helped Harper get to know you a lot better than she could from short small talk whenever you'd bump into eachother in the halls.

As she stared blankly at the concrete sidewalk, she could list each one of your little habits that she found adorable without any bit of trouble. The way you'd stutter over your words every so often, the softness your tone always carried, even just your posture, a small detail that Harper would never make special note of for anyone else, seemed incredibly cute to her. You always held your arms close to your center, often slouching, almost as if you were trying to make yourself smaller and more difficult to spot (despite the fact there was no one there that could spot your except for your tutor).

In you she saw herself, but not the her that everyone else saw, no, the person she truly was behind a confident exterior. For someone who always put herself in the middle of it, Harper had an intense fear of the world that she could also sense in you. Normally, she'd act much the same, if helping people didn't obviously require you to come up and talk to them.

Although still not knowing very much about you, Harper was sure of it, that the two of you must be kindred spirits. This was someone that could surely wholeheartedly understand her if she were to ever shed any of that perfect exterior of hers. Maybe... Maybe if it could be with you, she could finally act a bit like herself. Her teeth clenched together the second the thought passed her mind. No... Could she really do that? By the end of the hour, you actually seemed more fond of her than when you started. Your tone was naturally warmer, and you actually didn't seem to be afraid to look in her direction anymore. You seemed to already warm up to her.

If you'd like this her she projected... Then she wouldn't be able to change it.

Her daze was broken by the sound of a bus stopping in front of her, followed by numerous footsteps mixing with the voices of some of the individuals those footsteps belong to. Harper instantly got up, and with an empty expression boarded. As she sat herself down at the nearest empty seat, she internally marvelled at how much more she cared about your opinion than anyone elses, all so suddenly.

You, who she never spoke to more than a few words every now and again before today.

You, who she never even thought about too much before today.

You, who seemed so much more special than anyone else in her life. She felt mind numbing guilt thinking this again, because there were friends she spoke to every single day since the beginning of freshmen year and she still doesn't feel a bigger attachment to them than you.

Was she a bad person? She musn't pick favorites, she must give every person in her life equal attention, equal help, equal kindness, or else she would be treating someone unfairly. And suddenly, someone comes around and occupies her mind more than anyone else? It just wasn't right.

And yet, she felt a tug in her chest, telling her, no, yelling, that it was right.

...

Tomorrow she'll see you again.

She smiled.

[karinaesque]

How would the characters in OnS act if their s/o was drunk?

it was @feridsluver idea :P

Ferid Bathory

(he looked so hot during this scene)

— disclaimer: this will be another very amusing experience of his with you

— obviously, since he gets bored very often, every kind of little entertainment could lighten up his day.

— he would suspect that you want to get drunk, but he doesn't stop you from acting on your thoughts since he wants to have some fun with you. (and no, by fun I don't mean the stuff that you're thinking of. he would obviously only do those kinds of things with a consensual s/o)

— Ferid would keep you safe from any danger, except for him.

— He would be extremely careful with you, actually. His attentive nature can be seen in these kinds of situations only with you. Even when you ask to go to the bathroom, he would stay at the door, making sure that you're safe or if you're throwing up, he will hold your hair up and try to ease your situation.

— What kind of things he would do with you while you're in your weak state, purely depends on what type of drunk person you are. Whether you're a drunk person that always spills all their thoughts while being drunk, cries all night from silly things or a completely silent kind of person, he would still try to amuse himself in some form by making you his own personal little clown, for the moment.

— if you're the type that gets all silly during your drunk state, he would definitely take advantage of that. He would start to adore this state of yours even more than before as time passes by. But, you shall not worry, he will always adore every state of yours no matter what

Guren Ichinose

— Guren would surprisingly not dislike your drunk state, as long as you're not the type of annoying person that causes chaos and spills their thoughts every second while being drunk.

— first of all, he would surely try to make you avoid getting drunk. he's a very anxious person actually and since he cares about you so much, he would always warn you even two times before he thinks you might do something bad. but, seems like this time you didn't listen to him.

— He would be worried about you, always asking if you're feeling alright and he will always offer you help when you're in need. Just don't get him dirty and then you will be alright.

— He wouldn't be able to stand it if you cause too much chaos and if your energy rises once you're drunk. He could keep up with you, but after some time he starts to get impatient. It's not like he will get mad at you, but it's most likely that he may scold you a little if you got drunk after he warned you not to.

— He knows that you're smart and mature enough to take care of yourself, but his worries will always be within him no matter what you do. He would try to hide these concerns, yet these feelings can always be visible even to other people when it's about you.

Lacus Welt

— He wouldn't care much about you being drunk, since he knows that you're mature enough to take care of yourself. But, if he sees that you're struggling too much while being drunk he would help you out a little and get you to a cozy place where you can rest until you sober up.

— If you need to be alone, he will respect your wishes and leave you alone.

— When you wake up, you will find him the same as usual, but he might make fun of you a little for drinking too much alcohol.

Mikaela Hyakuya

— Mika would worry about you, but not in the way you think. His concerns would vary depending on the type of person that you are, but no matter what, there will always be the same concern about your mental health and life problems.

— Since he, himself, struggled with sorrow, regret, emptiness and all kinds of negative emotions, he knows the best how mental pain works.

— His concerns would come from his thought that you might want to escape a specific life problem by drinking and trying to forget about it.

— He would ask you various questions about your mental health, daily issues, general discomforts etc. These questions may annoy you, since he won't even tell you what he's worrying about, but he does this just out of affection for you.

— He cares a lot for you and just the bare thought that you could hurt yourself makes him feel worse than ever. Mika would never want to feel the pain of losing his dear ones ever again.

— He would care for you, almost like a mother taking care of her baby. He will help you with anything you want while you're drunk, but he would never leave your side until you feel better.

[maadvillainy]

Haii, I just love johnny vincent sm like, there aren't enough content of him 😭. I was wondering if I could request some hcs of him with a female cheerleader gf. How would he react to people having the hots for his girl 👀

of course ^_^ !

showtime

pairings: johnny vincent x fem!cheerleader reader warnings: swearing

✎ masterlist

authors note ❥ I'm genuinely so sorry for not popping this baby out months ago I just genuinely fell uninterested in writing for a bit. I'll try and be better about it 😞 With school coming up it's gonna be hard though, my apologies you guys. 🙏 My requests are still open for those who are interested, I will look at them and I will write them(eventually) but plzz be patient I'm a lazy ho🤕 thx guys! 🩷

・At first glance its like your eyes have been met with an angel. The face of a model stuffed into the teenage cheerleader that everyone had googly eyes for. It wasn't easy being you, and a lonely greaser had to find that out the hard way.

・JOHNNY, spotted staring at you in gym as you cheer. The sweet but loud voice you carried as you cheered. It was intriguing to him. The poor boy couldn't help it.

"Go team go!" You chant with the rest of your pyramid, you weren't a flyer today but you were always so enthusiastic. Johnny's prying eyes were caught on your face, then your uniform. He thought about your voice a lot too. Like his miniature cheerleader up in his noggin. He liked the way you smiled, the way you presented yourself to everyone. You were genuine to who you were, and most importantly you were passionate about it.

・First few weeks of interaction had him freaking OUT. He was so amazed by you he wanted to hold you in his pocket forever. Head over heels and for the most gorgeous, kind and spirited person on campus? Lonely boy had to make a move and fast because there were people scavenging for you and he had to make sure he was first in line.

・Anyways,

・Johnny likes watching you practice. Not because of the way your skirt flows in the breeze when its windy sometimes but because he gets to see you smile and laugh and talk and oh my gosh he just can't.

・Always attending games JUST to see you. In your pretty outfit and your pretty dolled up face he melts!!!!!!!!! Getting pelted by rocks in the stands never felt more worth it.

"How's my pretty baby?" Johnny walks up to you, smiling with a teddy bear and water bottle in hand. You grab the gifts and hug him close. "Great with you here Johnny." You relax in his arms. While drinking some of your water you caress his cheek, kissing his lips gently before being called over again. Intermission was over. "Mm I'll see you in a bit okay?" You smile, squeezing his hand in your own. "Go be beautiful I'll be right here." He grins, pressing a swift kiss to your hand. Literally not long after Johnny is being assaulted with kettle corn, ketchup packets and rocks.

・Likes looking at you. It makes him a little anxious though because you're so pretty he doesn't want anyone stealing you from him or you finding someone else. He knows you could have anyone you want yet you choose him, and stay with him. That reassures him for a little bit before he goes back to freaking out and watching you at all times. (It's endearing but when it goes too far it gets scary, girl run.)

・But he just loves you so much like?? Don't you ever leave that man because he will treat you like a princess no doubt.

"Johnny─you've been staring at me for like...twenty minutes are you okay?" Hes just fucking drooling looking like an idiot as his eyes burn through your skull. He thinks your so pretty bro im not joking around. That boy worships the ground you walk on. He's like─"Yes queen!!! Eat them up queen!!!" He will never get bored of staring.

・Broseph gets insecure :-( tell him u love him or so help me I will😠😠 I feel like he generally has bad self esteem issues deep down. He likes it when you kiss him and tell him he's handsome. He won't do "pretty" because it makes him feel less of a man. But you're just speaking your mind...he is pretty like... He still gets a lil grumpy and hostile but its okay just keep saying he's cool n stuff and he'll be right by you in no time with no avail!

・Big time intimidation game with the rest of your clique, he puffs his chest and stuff but never will that man act on a buff jock. He will definitely kick on Kirby though he don't gaf about that weenie.

・His clique loves you no lie, they think your sweet eye candy and your really nice and funny?? Johnny really hit the jackpot yknow. I wouldn't be joking if I said at least one of them tried seducing you or hitting you up which lead to Johnny demolishing their face against the wooden boards of the fence! Yikes!

・Love u so much... Like I already said this shit but that boy ooof, he's all over you all the time.

"Baby, Johnny!" You giggled as he kissed along your neck and collarbone, exposed by the cheer outfit you wore. He was so gentle but so eager, his lips dragging across your pretty skin so delicately. It was delicious, the pretty boy kissing all on you while you sat there, late for cheer practice, again. He trailed his kisses upwards, landing them up back to your plush lips. "You're so gorgeous sweetheart, makes my heart hurt." He muttered against your lips, leaning in for a another. You were warm all over, holding his face in your hands as you made out behind the school.

・I'm really just running out of things to say because this request seemed similar to the last one.

・Yes it took me fucking months to write this I'm a procrastinator level one hundred and I'm a fat lazy bum.

[islandtarochips]

THE WARRIOR WITHIN (Modern Warfare I Fanfic)

Arthur’s Note: This is a fanfic story about that game called “Call of Duty: Modern Warfare”. There will be some skip forward in this story for most of you already know how the campaign worked (If not, I suggest you should watch it on YouTube to see the WHOLE campaign). So I don’t want to bore my audience reading this. This fanfic story is also a crossover for my mutual OCs and mine! Joining into this mission! I will also be showing the name of the OCs and the owners who own them at the VERY bottom. And also, let me know if I missed anything or did I make any mistakes from here. So I hope you guys enjoy it! Fa’afetai tele lava!

CHAPTER ONE:

~After the Incidents from Verdansk~

It was a disaster. 

Officer Alex Keller and the Marines had already lost the Russian Gas. Most of the marines are also dead because of the Al-Qatala.

Laswell is on the brink in these heavy situations. Already been angered by the General of the Marines. So she can’t ask for their help anymore. Not after what happened to their men from that mission. 

She had already called Price about the Russian Gas and was already planning on striking London. So he’s already debriefing.

But she knows that Price needed more help. Even Alex needed an assistant in Urzikstan to find that missing gas.

So she started to contact the first person that she could think of. To help Alex first.

“¿Hola?” A female voice had answered on the line.

“Officer Martinez?”

“Laswell? Is that you?”

Laswell smiled softly, able to hear a friendly and familiar voice. “Yes, it’s me. Am I calling you at a bad time?”

“No no! Not at all! I just finished talking with Colonel Vargas from a meeting. Why? Did something happen?”

“BIG time. The Wolf had sent Al-Qatala to steal the Russian gas. And they had succeeded. I’m sending Officer Keller to go to Urzikstan to find it but he needs assistant.” Laswell sighs before continuing to speak. “Are you up for the task, Aly?”

There was silence on the line. Laswell understands that there’s a LOT for her to take in. But she REALLY needed help.

“Aly?”

“When do you need me?”

Laswell looked at her phone feeling a bit surprised that Aly agreed to start this mission. “As soon as possible. I’m surprised that you’re agreeing with this.” She heard a giggle from the line. “As long as it doesn't involve the cartel business.”

Laswell chuckled softly. “Well, Alex will meet you at the location that I’m going to send you. So that you BOTH can go over there.”

“But it’s only the two of us that you’re gonna send. Would that be enough?”

“Don’t worry, I’m going to call an old friend. I…hope that we still are.”

Laswell started to walk over to her laptop to type in someone’s name before it showed on the screen. And taking a deep breath. “I’ll let you and Alex know about the situation. Hopefully she’s okay to send some of her Marines to assist you guys. Give me a call when you get there, alright?”

“Of course. But…you sure you don’t want me to help you out with this call? Because…when you told me about your past ‘FRIENDSHIP’ with this woman. Isn't a very good kind of friendship.”

Laswell chuckled softly after hearing Aly’s worried tone. “It’s fine, Aly. I’ll be okay. I have my way of talking with tough shells.”

“Well…if you’re sure, Kate. I’ll talk to you later, ok?”

“Sure.”

“Alright…good luck talking with her, Laswell.” Then she hung up.

Laswell looked at the screen of her laptop as she sighed deeply. Don’t even know if she could call this person or not. But she knows that it’s the world that needs to be saved before it’s too late.

So she took the risk by making a video call. “Yeah…wish me luck.” She mumbled those words to herself.

She waited as her laptop started to ring. Feeling anxious but hoping that this person answered.

Then she saw the call being answered as she cleared her throat. She looked at the woman on the screen with a man next to her. A woman who is wearing a uniform to show her General rank standards. While the man next to her was just wearing any other regular military uniform.

“Laswell. Been a while.” The woman spoke with an unsatisfied look.

Laswell slowly swallowed the nervousness into her throat after seeing this woman on screen. “It has been, General Kalani.”

She saw the man standing next to the General as she recognized the face. “Ah. Rangi Toa. Are you still a Lieutenant or up as General like her right there?”

Hearing a soft chuckle from this man as he started to speak. “Colonel, ma’am. And it’s good to see you again.”

Laswell and the Colonel gave each other a soft smile before Kalani interrupted. “What is it that you want, Laswell? And I’m sure that this call is not about checking up on me. Is it?”

“No…it isn’t ma’am. I just needed help. For your Marines-’

“Absolutely not.”

“But you didn’t get to hear of what else I was-”

“ABSOLUTELY. NOT. Laswell. We’ve already discussed this a few years ago and I’m STILL keeping my words.” Alana said with a bit of anger in her tone. Which gives an awkward and a bit of an uncomfortable look from Rangi. While he feels a bit sorry for Laswell.

“General. Please. The world is at STAKE here.” Laswell begged the General as she started to explain about the situations with the Wolf, The Al-Qatala and the stolen Russian gas. Which annoyed Kalani even MORE.

“Why not send YOUR Marines?”

“We…We already tried that. We’ve lost MANY.”

“Tch. No surprises there. Everything that involves you ALWAYS has a cost of losing MANY.” The General scoffed while snaring her words to the CIA woman.

Laswell gripped her hands into a fist trying not to lash out on her. She took a deep breath before looking down. “Alana…I know in the past…you’ve lost one man. The man which I promise to bring back alive under my guidance.” She continues to speak as she still keeps her posture. “But you can’t just let the past hold you from HELPING someone.”

Alana glared at Laswell through the screen. “Oh. I don’t let the past get to me. But the ONLY person from the past that I won’t be helping is YOU. So I’m sorry. I just can’t RISK it.”

“General, please-”

As the General was about to hang up the call she felt Rangi’s hand touching her shoulder. He gave her a soft look. “General, if I may?”

Alana looked at her Colonel. Seeing he wanted to talk to her about reconsidering. She glanced at the screen where Laswell was at before looking back at Rangi.

He gave her a pleading look which it gave her in with a sigh of defeat. She looked back at the laptop screen. “We’ll get back to you, Laswell.” Then she turned off the mic and the video. Leaving Laswell in the dark.

She started to feel even more anxious about what they’re going to talk about. She needs help and needs answers NOW. The clock is ticking and the enemies are already on the run. With the gas in the wild and the terrorist going to strike in London.

So many things have been going through her mind right now. She was a confident woman but now that confidence has been whipped away. Ever since they lost that gas. She was walking back and forth a little while trying to calmly breathe.

Then she heard Alana calling from screen after a minute or two.

“Laswell? Are you still there?”

Laswell quickly got to the screen as she lay her hands on the table. While leaning forward. “Y-Yes. I’m here.”

She looked at the General seeing her staring into her own soul through the screen. Before seeing her sighing. “I will send you only TWO members of the Task Force.”

Laswell raised her eyebrows with surprising feelings inside of her. “A…Task Force?”

“Yes. The Warriors Task Force but only two will be available. The other ones are on their leaves so I CAN’T bring them back.” Alana explained before started to send info of those two soldiers. To Laswell’s laptop.

“One shall go to London. She’s in Afghanistan right now.” Alana explained before Rangi jumped in.

“But I’m sure it’s not TOO far away. Only 7 hours to ride from there to London. Will that be a problem, ma’am?” Rangi asked while looking through the camera.

“No, Colonel. She’ll be there during a fight scene if the bomb activates. Who is she?”

“Sergeant Agnes Falagi.” Alana answered before showing the photo of a female soldier that has brown hair, brown eyes and light brown skin. Smiling in the picture.

“A demolition expert. It…may not be fitting for the mission that you’ll be sending her to.” Alana looked at Laswell on her screen. “But I know that she can do it.”

Then Rangi leaned down as he smiled at the camera. “They called her blast by the way.”

Laswell thought about it. “Huh. A codename that matches her occupation. Very creative.”

“You can say that my brother has his unique creativity of calling his team.” Rangi said as he chuckled.

Alana smiles a little while looking at him before starting to send another file into Laswell’s laptop. “Before I explained further about our next soldier. Is there anyone else going with yours?”

“Yes. Her name is Alyssa Martinez. Aly is what they call her.” Laswell explained before seeing the file that Alana had sent.

“Alright then. So you don’t mind having a combat medic on their side, right?”

Laswell raised an eyebrow at that question. “A…combat medic?”

“Trust us, Laswell. She may be a medic that deals with injuries but she can fight.” Rangi reassures her.

“I trained her. So she’ll be able to defend the two of your officers and take care of their injuries.” Alana said while seeing Laswell was looking through the info on the screen.

Seeing a woman with brown hair and red highlight color. Laswell saw that she almost looked like Alana. She was silenced for a bit before looking at the General. “General, is this-” “My daughter. Dr. Aelan Kalani. She’ll be going with them. I’ve already sent out an email to her. She’ll respond and will go.”

Laswell started to feel a light weight has been lifted off from her chest. “Ok. I’ll take them. And I’ll explain to them about the situation.” She smiled at them. “Thank you, Alana. I promise this will be the LAST.”

“BETTER be. Now, I’ll let you do the rest. And they better be back in ONE piece. Good luck to you, Laswell.” She hung up on the call.

Laswell sighed with relief. “Thank you, Rangi…” She whispers before closing her laptop and standing up. She walked away while dialing the numbers on her phone.

“Kate?”

“Alex. Aly will be with you in a few hours. We’re also sending ONE more with you as well. A combat medic. Her name is Dr. Aelan Kalani. She’ll be assisting you.”

“A combat medic?” Alex said with a confusing tone.

“I know but trust me. She’s perfect for the mission to assist you and Aly. Alright?”

“...whatever you say, Kate. I’ll accept it. Talk to you later.”

“Talk to you later too.” Then Laswell hung up as she took a deep breath while stepping out of the tent. She looked around to see other marines soldiers were running by or walking by. Doing their patrols.

She looked up at the sky and took a deep breath again to calm her anxious nerves. “I hope this mission will go well…”

Will it?

—----------------------------------

Kahaluu, HawaiiMarine Corps Base

Alana and Rangi were walking through the hallways.

“I can’t believe you talked me into this, Colonel.” The General said with a disappointing tone.

“I…know, ma’am. But Laswell sounded like she REALLY needed our help. And-”

“ENOUGH.” Alana stopped him as she put herself into a halt. Before turning around while glaring at him. “You KNOW the consequences of losing those soldiers outside of our field, Colonel. The PACIFIC field.”

“Yes…I know. But I trust my brother and his team. They’ve been running around, saving lives for how long? Don’t you think that this is an opportunity for them to EXPAND their skills and abilities?” Rangi said as he looked at the General.

“Expanding their DEATH? That’s reassuring.” Alana crossed her arms as she took a step forward to Rangi. “Rangi…I appreciate your enthusiasm for your brother and his team. But I can’t risk it JUST yet. You know how bad the outside world is. YOU’VE seen it, haven’t you?”

Rangi sighed as he remembered about his experienced from few years ago. “Yes, General. But I FOUGHT to survive. Alongside Hōne. HE knows the consequences. And he KNOWS what choices to make. Even though Laswell has been telling him to NOT do it. He still goes for it. To let ME and our MEN escape.”

Alana was silenced when Rangi continued talking.

“You were blaming yourself because of his death and then you blaming KATE for his death. That is NOT the way to honor MY older brother’s death wishes.” Rangi sighed as he stood up straight while looking at his General. “With all due respect ma’am. Your way of GUILT is selfish. I’ve known that. Because I have felt that way ever since I told Kanoa to give that news to our PARENT, to our FAMILY, to our little SISTER.”

Alana kept looking at her Colonel seeing he’s trying to hold back his emotions. “But I didn’t bother to go. Because of my GUILT. The guilt that keeps me from seeing my family. Afraid of what they’ll say to me.”

“Colonel-”

“I’m not finished.” Rangi said as he looked at his General. “General Kalani. Ma’am. I’ve been working with you for a LONG time. And so have my brother and his team. I’ve SEEN how much you’ve changed. In a GOOD way.”

Then he raised one finger up. “BUT. The only thing that you HAVEN’T changed is how you interact with an old alliance or…friend. That causes his death”

Alana has no words. It feels like Rangi had read her so well. Of how she acts, of how she feels and of how she interacts with others.

“Kalani…please. You know what Hōne might say about this. Fesoasoani i taimi uma ia i latou e le tagolima, tusa lava po o le a le leaga o lo latou faamoemoe.”

Alana just stared at Rangi for a few seconds before taking a deep breath. Before she softly spoke, “Always help those in need, no matter how bad their intention gets.” She looked at her Colonel as she smiled softly. “You sure do have his wisdom, Rangi.”

“I learned from the best.” He said as he gave her a soft smile back. “So, are you gonna give them a call or what?”

The General chuckled as she turned around and continued to walk. “I’ll call Blast to go to London. ASAP. Just check my email to see if my daughter responded and explained EVERYTHING to her.”

“Ioe, tina.” Rangi responds before going in the opposite direction. To be Continued…

Chapter Two ->

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

Words: 2445

Characters:

Alyssa "Aly" Martinez (later be Price) - @alypink

General Alana Kalani -> Me

Agnes "Blast" Falagi -> Me

Dr. Aelan Kalani -> Me Rangi Toa -> Me (But it wasn't written) To my MUTUALS! Let me know if you want to be tagged to see the next CHAPTER! I'll be tagging these guys who I asked for their OCs! @revnah1406 @kaitaiga @deeptrashwitch @caelums-fate @welldonekhushi and

@caelums-fate

Hope you guys like this one! Thank you for reading!

[666writingcafe]

The Ballad of A Homeschooled Prince

Diavolo

As MC and Solomon explain the details of what happened on their way to the castle, my heart sinks. The Devildom and Celestial Realm have never gotten along at the best of times, so I'm not exactly surprised that Mammon--and to a lesser extent Asmodeus--went through that kind of experience. But it's certainly not the future I want to live in. I believe everyone has value, regardless of race.

Most demons don't see it that way, though. They think themselves to be superior to angels, and therefore the Devildom should never welcome those of the Celestial Realm.

That's in large part thanks to my father. To say that he hates angels is an understatement. If he had it his way, he'd either exterminate every single one of them or, if he was feeling generous, enslave them for all of eternity.

So, he didn't take too kindly to six of them falling more or less on his doorstep. He wanted to send them away. I insisted that they stay. Once he saw that Lucifer bore my mark, he acquiesced, but not before snarkily telling me,

"If you want to act all high and mighty, then perhaps you should take my place for a while. That will get rid of all your silly ideas, and you'll finally start seeing sense."

And then he pretty much disappeared after assigning the brothers titles, so that put an end to that argument. If it weren't for Barbatos, I'd be doing this entirely on my own. Thankfully he and I are on the same page, and not just because he's subservient to me. He's never particularly agreed with my father's policies, but due to his position as butler, he had to keep his mouth shut or risk severe punishment.

Before I can start implementing any change, though, I have to figure out how to get the brothers acclimated to life in the Devildom, and fast. The normal method of assigning them mentors clearly isn't going to work, and with my additional responsibilities, I don't have the time to teach them much of anything.

That is why I wanted to talk MC and Solomon. Based on what Thirteen told me, they should have some insight that will hopefully help me resolve this issue.

MC develops a nervous look on their face when I ask the question, but Solomon manages to comfort them with a soft smile and nod.

"In our timeline, you had established a school," MC quietly answers. "It was called the Royal Academy of Diavolo, or RAD for short. There was a wide array of courses ranging from the standard fundamentals to more advanced, specialized topics. The school was successful enough that you were able to implement an exchange program across the three realms, and Solomon and I were among the first group of students to participate."

"You're not the only one that wants peace and unity between realms," Solomon adds. "I know it may seem that way right now, but there are other people in the Devildom that feel the same way about the future as you do. You just have to know where to look."

Well, this is rather interesting, to say the least. The fact that there's a future timeline where I'm actually able to make positive changes to the Devildom and prove my father wrong...the idea is simply too enticing to ignore.

But I can't do it on my own.

"Would either one of you be interested in being founding members of this school?" I ask.

"Well, it wouldn't make sense for me to, given that I end up being an exchange student later down the line," Solomon replies. "But MC should be able to as long as they use their alias." That makes sense. Wouldn't want to mess with their timeline too much.

I look over at MC, who takes a deep breath before responding,

"I'm in."

Taglist: @lost-in-time-wanderer, @fuzztacular, @dianedancer18, @sweetbrier2908, @flare-love, @completelyshatteredbrokenmschf, @thunderlightning351, @l3v1chan, @anxious-chick, @5mary5, @expressionless-fr