#i just hope he apologized to jerry | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

lookismfanfics · 11 months

Note

Hii! Hope you're doing okay. May I request some of the characters accidentally hitting their calm maleReader instead of the enemy and now he's getting a huge bruise on where they hit him? thx u

Idk how many characters I'm allowed to choose so I'm just gonna name a few and you can pick..? 😅

Jake / Vasco / Zack / Jace / Vin Jin / Warren / Megumi / Goo

“𝐌𝐲 𝐛𝐚𝐝!”

Warnings: Mentions of violence, fluff, not really fluff though, cursing, mentions of balls.

Jake • Vasco • Zack • Jace • Vin • Warren • Megumi • Goo

Hey anon! I’m doing good, thanks for asking! ♡︎ I decided to do everyone you requested because yes 😩 I also changed it up a little with the “enemy” part. Some of them are petty interactions, and others are full-fledged brawls lol.

𝐉𝐚𝐤𝐞

𝟑𝐫𝐝 𝐏𝐎𝐕 ✧ He was focusing a little too hard.

✧ The same mantra kept echoing in Jake’s mind, urging him on: “keep fighting.”

✧ He was just a little caught up in everything, that’s all—

✧ He was absorbed in hearing the definitive crack of his opponents nose, feeling the warm spew of blood that followed a hit to the ribs, seeing the trail of bodies that followed his path

✧ These suckers were really something. There were so many of them, and they had been harassing this area for long enough

✧ Jake had called out to Jerry to ask “Where is he?” But hadn’t gotten a response

✧ Then there’s a rustle behind him

✧ A sneak attack.

✧ Instincts go: 📈

✧ He whips around, just barely seeing the glint of purpose in his opponents eyes

✧ “Jake!”

✧ He feels the warm contact of hitting a cheek. But Jake isn’t stupid and realizes his fatal error

✧ I mean… who would’ve guessed that the opponent would duck?

✧ “Sorry (Y/N)! Where’ve you been-?” He pants

✧ Honestly Jake has never been more ashamed. He did hit him, didn’t he?

✧ (Y/N) doesn’t seem fazed, he just keeps up whatever he was doing. “It’s fine… I’ve just been around.”

✧ The man is hardly panting… damn you (Y/N). You’re attractive even when you aren’t trying…

✧ (That’s what Jake thinks anyways)

𝟐𝐧𝐝 𝐏𝐎𝐕 ✧ As soon as the fight is over, Jake runs.

✧ His dress shoes slam against what bare concrete is left, avoiding the piles of unconscious and semi-conscious bodies.

✧ He tries not to panic. He has to play it cool, and not throw a fit.

✧ Eventually, he finds you talking to Brad, nursing your busted fists with your back to him. Jake let’s out a sigh, “Pretty nasty hit you took there.”

✧ A playful smile toys at his lips as he observes you. You turn to him, seemingly unscathed, nodding with a small smile, “Uh, yeah. Nice punch Boss.”

✧ He tries not to let the use of formalities affect him too much. (Inwardly wounded)

✧ “Are you sure you’re okay?” He asks, this time with a note of concern.

✧ “He thinks he has a concussion, boss,” Brad interrupts, just the hint of a smile intermingled with his serious tone.

✧ You ignore Jake’s slacked jaw and bewildered look, eyeing Brad tiredly, “So much for keeping a secret.”

✧ “You shouldn’t keep secrets from the boss- or your boyfr—”

✧ “(Y/N),” Jake drags his finger beneath your chin, prompting you to turn to him. “Is that tr…ue?”

✧ It’s not the thought of a concussion that made Jake stop.

✧ It’s…

✧ 😰

✧ “Your cheek… is this the one I hit?”

✧ You nod.

✧ “Well uh~ not to worry you but… it’s bruising just a little~” “It’s fine Jake-”

✧ Apparently he didn’t think it was “fine”.

✧ Jakes brows furrow together as he examines you. With the way his eyes darken and his smiles fades, He looks beyond apologetic; it’s as if guilt seeps into his every movement.

✧ “You don’t have to worry about it,” you smile. There’s not even the slightest hint of anxiety in your voice, but it does nothing to reassure Number One of Big Deal.

✧ “Yeah but you know I will,” he smirks half-heartedly, quickly reverting back to his worried face.

✧ He’s never letting it go. Every time he sees the splotch of that massive dark bruise, he feels the urge to apologize.

✧ It’s beyond an inside joke too.

✧ Anyone brings it up jokingly, and his head sags and a shadow runs across his face.

✧ “Sorry about that (Y/N).”

✧ “Jake, it healed months ago.”

𝐕𝐚𝐬𝐜𝐨

𝟑𝐫𝐝 𝐏𝐎𝐕 ✧ Fights like these were becoming more often.

✧ Vasco was adjusting to the oncoming rush of bad guys. He was confident in his abilities. Sure of himself; he was bound to crush them all.

✧ But…

✧ “(Y/N)? Are you alright?”

✧ His dark eyes scan the battlefield of boys swinging at each other, searching for one man in particular.

✧ He catches him in his sight. (Y/N).

✧ “Are you almost done—” “Euntae, focus.”

✧ The tone of his voice sends a chill down Vasco’s spine.

✧ The cogs in his brain stop working for a second as he continues fighting on autopilot. He wants to keep an eye on (Y/N). He doesn’t want to loose sight of him.

✧ Vasco feels a harsh smack to his ribs, knocking the wind out of him. What was that? His instincts heighten as his body reacts frantically.

✧ He turns to the guy fighting him, readying one of numerous forbidden moves just for him.

✧ Once he sends the guy flying it’s back to looking for (Y/N)-

✧ “Euntae-!”

✧ Smack.

𝟐𝐧𝐝 𝐏𝐎𝐕

✧ “(Y/N)?! (Y/N) are you okay!? Please wake up!”

✧ Vasco was reduced to a sobbing mess.

✧ You open your eyes, staring at his red face damp with tears. It’s an odd sight- especially since you only fell down a couple of seconds ago.

✧ “Yeah Vasco… I’m fine,” you offer a small smile. Even if it does hurt, you know making a big deal out of nothing would be problematic.

✧ You act calm. Chill. Even a little nonchalant.

✧ Vasco remains crouched on the ground while you dust off your pants, glancing around the parking lot littered with bloodied “bad guys.”

✧ “You’re positive that you’re alright?” He asks slowly, staring at you with concern.

✧ “Yeah. It’ll probably form a bruise at the most,” you reply. You touch your chest, seemingly unfazed.

✧ You feel awful for lying to him. Your chest feels like it’s on fire. It’s sore and laborious to breathe… but you won’t tell him that.

✧ “Sorry.” Vasco says simply.

✧ No one brings it up until you’re undressing at the Burn Knuckles base.

✧ Everyone is slipping out of their jumpsuits and into more comfortable, casual clothes. It smells sweaty and feels humid… but somehow Leon always manages to steal the bathroom before anyone else. (Thankfully)

✧ You listen quietly, offering smiles as Vasco retells a story about him and Jace, obviously awaiting your reaction.

✧ He doesn’t intentionally flaunt his muscles in front of you… but sometimes it seems that way. That’s partially why you like to keep most of your clothes on around him- so he doesn’t start comparing. 😳

✧ “That’s funny~” you reply to one of his stares that begged for your approval. You lift your shirt off over your shoulders, slinging it around your neck as you grab a fresh one.

✧ The room: … You: … You: 🫥

✧ “…What?”

✧ Vasco’s eyes start to gloss over as he frantically grabs your shoulders, examining your bare chest.

✧ “(Y/N)… who hit you?” “I’m sure lots of people did…”

✧ Vasco shakes his head, rubbing his hand across the massive dark splotch that stains your skin. The discolored purple and red resembles a fist… but it doesn’t seem to click to him.

✧ If he means right there… then…. “Probably you.”

✧ You smirk, shaking your head as Vasco stares at you in horror. The bruise doesn’t really bother you- you’re covered in them after today anyway.

✧ Of course you handle his outbursts calmly… reassuring him that you’re not angry.

✧ But he continues, eyes scanning over you for any more bruises that he might’ve given you. “I’m sorry (Y/N)… I didn’t mean for that to happen…”

✧ Vasco: 🥺😰

✧ He apologizes a million times, often quietly and at random. ✧ No- he will not forgive himself.

✧ Yes… he forgets about it for a few weeks before remembering and apologizing all over again.

✧ Jace and the rest of the Burn Knuckles make sure to not ever bring it up again. You also are forced to wear some form of padding under your shirt whenever you get into a fight.

𝐙𝐚𝐜𝐤

✧ Zack isn’t gonna deny it. That guy is getting on his nerves.

✧ This was supposed to be a hang out with him and (Y/N). They were gonna chill and head to the movies. Maybe do some karaoke later.

✧ Just the two of them. Not even Mira was tagging along today.

✧ But then this guy showed up.

✧ Zack feels himself growing more agitated by the minute. He grits his teeth and looks in the opposite direction, willing himself to calm down.

✧ (Y/N) and him are on a park bench… and this idiot decides to stand behind them and catcall.

✧ “You work out bro~?”

✧ Zack is literally seething. (Y/N) has to put his hand on Zack’s leg to keep him from springing up.

✧ “Do you mind reading between the lines?” (Y/N) asks, flashing his three middle fingers before turning to Zack.

✧ “Wanna go to the theatre early? We could walk around-” he whispers, shoving his hands into the pockets of his hoodie.

✧ Zack is still irked. His brows are knitted together tightly, but he simply shrugs and nods: “Whatever. Let’s just get away from this dunce.”

✧ The dunce, however, seems to really like being annoying. “Can I tag along with you two-?”

✧ “F*ck off,” Zack glares. He starts walking ahead, curling his hands into fists but keeping them shoved firmly in the corners of his pockets.

✧ He keeps his gaze trailed on the ground, trying to cool off. He’d hate to ruin this hang out with (Y/N) even more. So he’ll play it cool and be the bigger man- like Mira tells him to be. It’s hotter that way. ((Y/N) will think so too, right?)

✧ The smirk that spread across his lips disappears in a matter of moments.

✧ “Nice ass-!” The creep calls.

✧ And that’s it. The final straw.

✧ Zack is going for a straight jab. He’d be caught dead before he let someone get away catcalling (Y/N) of all people-

✧ He turns and slams his fist, making direct contact. He can hear the definitive clack of teeth, he watches as he stumbles backwards.

✧ But Zack realizes what he’s done…

✧ “S-Sh*t (Y/N)! What were you doing there-?” (Y/N) nurses his jaw tenderly, glaring. He sighs and turns to the guy, telling him to ‘beat it.’

✧ Zack moves to cup (Y/N)’s cheek, looking frantic. He mumbles ‘idiot’ over and over… but more to himself than anyone.

✧ He knows he’s screwed up big time. He’s insistent on helping (Y/N) walk… even though he isn’t dizzy and he claims his cheek isn’t sore.

✧ He tries to forget about it as they watch the movie… but he can’t. As soon as the lights in the cinema flicker on he scans (Y/N) for any bruising.

✧ “I can’t believe it’s so big…” “I already told you it’s fine.” “But- argh I should beat that guy to a pulp- you sure you’re okay?” “Yeah I’m sure, Zack.”

✧ He’s apologetic- but still an angry boy at heart.

𝐉𝐚𝐜𝐞

✧ In his defense- Jace is usually pretty good about “self control” and everything.

✧ He’s also pretty good about it reading the atmosphere. He can tell when the mood has turned sour or hostile.

✧ He’s able to “let it go” when there’s a petty misunderstanding. Most of the time.

✧ But today this one guy (Duri…?) is killing him.

✧ He’s been a nuisance for a few weeks now… but The Burn Knuckles never had the heart to tell him off. Even (Y/N) was pretty chill about the guy- and he was usually more fiery than Jace.

✧ But as of right now, Jace stands idly with Woong and (Y/N), listening to whatever BS that guy, Duri Lee, is spewing out.

✧ Woong and (Y/N) are listening boredly as the one-sided conversation turns from childish comparisons to full-fledged insults.

✧ Duri wraps his arm around (Y/N)’s shoulder, despite (Y/N) having shrugged him off twice already.

✧ Jace feels awful. He reminds himself of how jealous Johan was back during the One Night scandal. It’s embarrassing knowing that he’s feeling jealousy about… this.

✧ He’s not a jealous person… but Duri really gets on his nerves. If he keeps up his stupid act, his stupidity might spread to Jace… and then he’ll do something stupid.

✧ Even as Duri begins to degrade Jace himself, rambling a bunch of nonsense about how he “isn’t as smart as he looks”, Jace manages to keep it together. He feels a twinge of annoyance and glares, but he doesn’t say anything.

✧ The rest of the Burn Knuckles aren’t buying the bs anyway. So it’s fine.

✧ “Know you place, Duri.”

✧ Jace’s gaze snaps over to (Y/N). Did he hear him correctly? Did (Y/N) finally say something? He feels a small smile winding onto his face-

✧ “I know exactly where my place is!” Duri sputters indignantly. His look of shock is short lived and is soon replaced by a smirk. It’s highly probable that he’ll take a pathetic jab at redemption.

✧ Jace hates the way Duri’s eyes roam over (Y/N). He braces himself for what comes next.

✧ “It should be sweating over you, if you know what I mean.”

✧ Great. Gross.

✧ Jace turns to Duri now, scowling at him, “You wanna say that again? The Burn Knuckles don’t hit on each other, so don’t even think-” “Whatever Jace. Me and him were just gonna do some catching up~”

✧ Duri makes a crude gesture with his hands. He keeps his arm wrapped around (Y/N), who rolls his eyes and glares.

✧ (Y/N) sighs, “Or so you think. You do know that me and Jace are-”

✧ One kick- one harsh smack. Jace doesn’t know what he’s doing- but whatever it is lands Duri facedown on the floor.

✧ He’s startled by his own rashness. Stupidity really is contagious. He frowns down at Duri but doesn’t move anymore. “Like I said. Burn Knuckle members like you aren’t allowed to hit on their superiors.”

✧ He turns to embrace the startled and disappointed stares from Woong and (Y/N) (respectively)

✧ But naturally, Duri needs to have the last word. Like all PTJ small fries, he wants to sign his death certificate a little early.

✧ “That stupid hierarchy is never gonna get you laid,” he grumbles.

✧ Jace turns and throws all his weight into the kick-

✧ Blocked.

✧ (Y/N)…?

✧ (Y/N) has his arms outstretched in a block, giving Jace an unreadable stare. He sighs, releasing the second-in-command’s foot.

✧ “(Y/N)-” “That’s gonna leave a bruise.”

———

✧ Jace is sitting with (Y/N) a little latter. He still feels a pang of frustration when he remembers the little situation… as well as guilt for hitting (Y/N).

✧ (Y/N) rolls up his sleeves, looking over his arms quietly. Based on his eerie calmness, Jace can assume that there’s a pretty large bruise forming.

✧ Despite the knowing of guilt, Jace is a tad bit grateful for the intervention. He knows (Y/N) only stopped him for the sake of his dignity.

✧ “You’re not normally so passive-aggressive,” (Y/N) comments nonchalantly.

✧ “I know… I’m sorry.” Jace rubs the back of his neck sheepishly, feeling a touch of color flare in his cheeks.

✧ He promises to help ice it, and assures (Y/N) that he won’t do anything like that again. He just smiles dryly and waves it off.

✧ “You probably won’t have the need to,” he says.

✧ Jace looks up at him, his fingers still gingerly rubbing around the bruise. “Won’t have to… attack Duri?”

✧ (Y/N) nods, “He p*ssed himself, apparently.”

✧ Jace knows it’s wrong… honest to god he feels bad… but he couldn’t help but smirk at the thought.

(I swear I’m sorry this entire thing is a mess. I can’t decide which POV to stick to-)

𝐕𝐢𝐧 𝐉𝐢𝐧

✧ In his defense, Vin had recently gotten his glasses re-tinted… and so he was having some trouble adjusting.

✧ But it would’ve been nice if he didn’t walk by you in some grubby alleyway. What a nuisance. He just wanted to go home, listen to some rap, and eat his onion rings.

✧ But you… of course… found yourself in a predicament. 😔

✧ “You’re just gonna stand there?” You call, back pressed against the wall as you stare lazily past the punks you apparently offended.

✧ They seem ticked that your attention is suddenly elsewhere.

✧ Vin just stares at you, silent for a moment, before shoving his hands into his pockets. “It’s not my problem.”

✧ “They called me a d*ck-” you call. Although the familiarity of the term has nulled any offended emotions, you’re certain Vin has reserved insulting-you-rights for himself.

✧ “Not my problem,” Vin insists, pushing his glasses further up his nose.

✧ The punks continue to close in on you, throwing insults at the two of you- despite Vin being across the alley. You both ignore them.

✧ “Ah- they also called Mary fat.”

✧ “Still not my problem.”

✧ “They said Duke’s music is better than yours-”

✧ “Did not!”

✧ “And they called your sunglasses ‘gaudy’.”

✧ Which is followed by silence as one of the punks lowers a cigarette bud towards your cheek. You don’t flinch, staring past his shoulder at Vin.

✧ You wait in anticipation for Vin to say something. Anything. You’re so intent on seeing his reaction you hardly notice the burning sensation of the cigarette nearing your skin.

✧ “No they didn’t…” Vin mumbles. He adjusts his stance- and now you’re sure he isn’t going to abandon you.

✧ “Would you freaks shut up?!” The punk rolls his eyes in exasperation, pulling the bud away from your face and turning to Vin.

✧ “Or do you have somethin’ you wanna say too?” The delinquent flicks the cigarette to the side, staring your knight-in-shining-armor up and down reproachfully.

✧ You inwardly moan. Vin has lots of things he wants to say. It’s best not to get him started.

✧ “You talk too much,” Vin answers, and begins strutting forward.

✧ You crack your knuckles, relieved you won’t have to take them all on your own.

✧ “Anyway this is a waste of my time- so let’s just go (Y/N).” He shoves his hands deeper into his pockets, not at all prepared for the slap.

✧ Yes. A petty, weak, girlish, slap.

✧ A slap that knocks his sunglasses askew. You freeze.

✧ “Hey,” you call loudly, watching as their heads swivel towards you. “Don’t look at him. Say anything and I-”

✧ The loud noise of bones cracking interrupts you-

✧ Vin goes rampant, giggling and grinning like a school girl. Oh hell. You shrug and get into your own fighting stance. “Well I guess he’ll kick your asses anyways- so nevermind…” you mutter.

✧ Those stupid glasses. Distorting his vision all the time. Even…

✧ In fights.

✧ You feel numbness tingling through your arms as you avoid another swing of your opponents arm. Reaching up with a strike of your own, you manage to punch him in the ribs for a KO.

✧ You’re so focused. Vin is so distracted.

✧ You scan the two other guys already beaten to the ground, and look up to see Vin walking towards you victoriously—

✧ But instead he’s charging you with arms at the ready— “WAIT VIN-!”

✧ He stops mid-swing… but only after he’s felt his skin contact with yours.

✧ The force sends you backwards into the wall. Nausea and dizziness begin bubbling in your body.

✧ You feel your knees buckle and your eyes crossing, and the pounding of your heart is auditable in your ears as you nurse your numb jaw.

✧ Meanwhile Vin just stands there in shock, calling you names while asking insincerely if you’re okay.

✧ “You can’t blame me cuz you were in the way you little sh*t! Ugh… f*ck…” he mutters.

✧ You’re calm while he rambled, but your patience begins to thin as he continues insisting the blame was all on you.

✧ “Vin…” you say calmly. “Would you shut the hell up. If it weren’t for your stupid glasses…”

✧ -He gawks in surprise

✧ “Then I wouldn’t have a concussion. Or a nose bleed,” you snap.

✧ There’s silence. Your face is illuminated by the blue light of your phone as you search for the Urgent Care nearby.

✧ “…That does look pretty bad.” Finally. He has the decency to be a little sincere.

✧ Vin leans in closely, trying to catch your eye. While you avoid eye contact, you are perfectly in tune with his movements.

✧ “I’m taking you to my place,” Vin huffs with a smirk, seemingly trying to redeem himself as he shoves his hands into his pants.

✧ “I thought you didn’t care earlier,” you answer, still scrolling on your phone. Only half-listening.

✧ Then his bulky arm wraps around your torso, and he scoops you over his shoulder.

✧ ‼️

✧ Not good for the nausea or dizziness.

✧ But anyway…he did carry you to the Urgent Care…

✧ Where he blatantly denies bruising you up, and even laughs a little. (Okay- he does feel a little guilty…)

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐞𝐧

✧ “(Y/N)-” “I’m not closing my eyes.”

✧ There’s no way you’re letting Warren take them all by himself.

✧ It’s just not happening.

✧ He seems to know. He’s fine with you fighting, as long as he isn’t there to worry over you. He can’t get over the urge to intervene and protect you until the fight is over. That’s always been the case.

✧ “You let Eli fight,” you remind him, turning to face away from him and towards the crowd of delinquents. “You’re not (Eli. That’s) different.”

✧ You’re not different than Eli? Well then, you’ll take that as a yes… even if you do inwardly know what he was trying to say.

✧ Your shoes slap against the floor as you walk through puddles of water. The day is overcast, just like Warren’s mood.

✧ Soon enough the blood mixes with the water.

✧ The man spits out a tooth as you throw an elbow into his jaw. Your clenched fists shake like leaves as you deliver a kick into his back.

✧ It’s loud- but you can’t even hear the shouts of grunts of the fight…

✧ Just the ringing in your ears. The adrenaline pump doesn’t help… it just gives you endurance and an animalistic will to withstand the blows. It doesn’t help you make decisions, or strike properly.

✧ “Warren-!” You feel your heart beating in your ears.

✧ Warren is smart in his own way. But once his mind is shrouded with concern, he’ll do anything to plow a path straight to you.

✧ Oh? You were just trying to draw his attention to the guy making a lame attempt at a “sneak attack?”

✧ Nevermind then…

✧ But as it starts winding down and all that’s left are the decently-difficult fighters… Warren feels his heart lurching out of his chest.

✧ “Gotta help (Y/N)…” he thinks to himself. And the thought replays. Over and over. “The mighty Warren Chae won’t let him get hurt...”

✧ (Y/N)…. (Y/N)….

✧ You….

✧ “You-!?” Slam

✧ Warren didn’t mean to loose focus and body slam you into the wall— but he did—

✧ “You’re…(good?I didn’t see you) in the way! (Sorry!)” His words slur thickly and he skips a few while he’s at it.

✧ Your vision feels fuzzy. Your body feels hot as he presses his rough hands against your neck. But as your heartbeat slows back to normal, and the adrenaline boost wears off, you come to face reality.

✧ The fight isn’t over.

✧ “I’m fine Warren,” you assure him calmly. “But don’t get distracted-”

✧ “Then listen to me,” he says firmly. Ignoring the oncoming kick directed at him, he leans (down/up) towards you. “Close your eyes.”

✧ He forces your body into a sitting position on the ground. Your hands shake slightly as you hold your sore shoulder. Your eyes are squeezed shut.

✧ You keep quiet and try to block out the disturbing noises. Shouts of agony, the snapping of bones. It doesn’t bother you as much when you’re fighting together… but knowing Warren is going rampant makes you uneasy.

✧ “Okay… open your (eyes).”

✧ Warren is already kneeling beside you, brushing his calloused hands around your torso to (take off your jacket and) lift off your shirt.

✧ You feel the cold slap of breeze against your skin 💨 👋

✧ Warren’s droopy eyes look a mixture of sad-dog and irritated-cat. How could he mistake you for the enemy?

✧ Guilty… frustrated… concerned.

✧ He rubs his rough palm against your shoulder. His thumb pad traces circles around the large bruise that’s forming.

✧ The longer you sit there, the darker the bruise seems. And it’s making Warren a little paranoid.

✧ “It’s getting worse-” he mumbles.

✧ “I’ll be fine.”

✧ “I’ll treat it back home.”

✧ “Alright… take me to bed I guess.”

✧ “…”

✧ A pause.

✧ “Bed rest. I meant. Not really like that.”

✧ “…I was gonna say. I’m not sure if you’re up for that.”

✧ Yeah. It’s time to shut up.

✧ Is Warren sad? Yes. Guilty? Yup. Frustrated? Very. It’s never happening again. You’ll probably never be allowed throw a punch in his presence ever again.

𝐌𝐚𝐠𝐚𝐦𝐢

✧ Magami curls his toes into the sticky martial arts mats that line the floor. Even though it’s night outside, the training room is still illuminated by tube lights overhead.

✧ Practicing his karate, even when the room is empty and less stuffy, still feels constructing in the mask. It’s still not as bad as it is in the arena.

✧ He practices the fluid motion of his kick again.

✧ Then the movement of his strike.

✧ He hears the door creak open. Kenta swears that if Nomen tries to interrupt him with some annoying sh-

✧ A best of silence passes as he distances himself from the sandbag. Maybe it wasn’t Nomen after all.

✧ But then there’s a voice that sounds out-

✧ Magami feels the blood rushing to his face- and without thinking he swings his leg for an ushiro geri-

✧ Slam.

✧ He feels his foot connect with wood, snapping through the barriers and splitting the cypress in half. His pulse remains sickeningly fast as he straightens and turns to face the back.

✧ He was right. It wasn’t Nomen…

✧ Instead, Tanuki - you - stands rigidly behind him, cupping your face and the shattered splinters of wood.

✧ He broke your mask.

✧ “It’s just me, Daruma…” you say quietly, still standing stiff and in shock. You stare at him with half of your face naked and exposed while dragging your finger across your damp cheek. Blood. You’re bleeding…

✧ “Don’t get in my way again.” That’s his reply.

✧ His voice is deep and muffled. A better mask for his emotions that’s the actual mask that he wears. You can tell, out of perceptiveness, that he’s a bit flustered.

✧ His brows are drawn together tightly and his lips purse from behind his disguise. He feels his heart hammering in his chest. Why Tanuki…? Of all people.

✧ You tuck your free hand into your pocket, removing the remains of your mask with the other with calm precision, nodding understandingly.

✧ “I was coming to tell you how late it was,” you drawl.

✧ This is why Kenta thinks you can be an annoying prick. You stand there in such a relaxed pose, voice drawing reactions out of Kenta he has no control over.

✧ His eyes are wandering. Tanuki (you) was always more appealing to Kenta than the others, to an extent.

✧ “How late is it?” He asks.

✧Tanuki wasn’t as annoying as Nomen, and he carried a conversation better than Hyottoko. Hanyya was always accompanied by Nomen, so that was a no-go. And Tanuki was much less obnoxious than Shiba Inu.

✧ “The circus is starting in an hour. It’s that late.”

✧ His eyes wandered up from your dress shoes, your suit pants… and flickered over that iconic, unmistakable bulge that earned you the Tanuki alias; across his chest and up to your cheek.

✧ Kenta’s attention was fixated on your cheek. With the mask no longer covering your face, he could see your features for the - third time?

✧ And your cheek, he notices, is bleeding.

✧ “You’re gonna form a bad bruise if you don’t ice that,” he remarks all of a sudden.

✧ He moves to unbutton his suit and change into the convict clothes. Keeping his focus away from you.

✧ “Oh…” you murmur from behind him. Even without looking, Kenta knows you’ve begun touching your cheek gingerly again. “Well it doesn’t matter. It’s always covered up anyway.”

✧ Kenta doesn’t feel as guilty about it as he does embarrassed. And it’s not really- embarrassment… just- he just feels flustered. Actually, at this point he isn’t sure how he feels.

✧ “Ice it.” This time it’s not a warning, but a command.

✧ “I will… I will. Afterwards. You need help-?”

✧ At this point, Magami is convinced Tanuki could pull off any pose and turn him on. He feels riled up and agitated as you lean to help unfasten a particularly stubborn button.

✧ “…Don’t be a d*ck, Tanuki.”

✧ “‘No thanks’ would’ve sufficed.”

✧ You proceed to unfasten his shirt anyway. Kenta’s face remains impassive, but he won’t deny his gratitude for the mask policy right now 🫣.

✧ He stares at the bloody, darkening splotch on your cheek. Unmistakably the result of his kick. He also notes that you look good without the mask.

✧ Once he slides out of his shirt and into the bright orange one, he brings up his finger to tap harshly against your face.

✧ “Well, ice it soon.”

✧ He starts unfastening his pants. As he bends down, he can’t help but sneak glances at your limp bulge tucked away in your own slacks. He really disgusts himself sometimes. But you’re so damnably attractive, it’s almost annoying.

✧ Rephrase: it is annoying.

✧ You adjust your stance, shifting your weight from leg to leg and crossing your arms. Damn you. Kenta almost chokes.

✧ “Will do,” you chuckle.

✧ “Don’t make me kick you again.”

✧ “Daruma…”

Cough- cough… ☞︎ ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

𝐆𝐨𝐨

✧ “Don’t wander off too far boo~”

✧ “Goo…”

✧ You feel a little exasperated. As Goo Kim’s secret friend, you’d think he’d treat you more like an equal. Or at least have confidence in your capabilities.

✧ And how did you end up being singled out as his ‘dearly beloved’ anyway?

✧ As you land another hit on some poor punk’s ribs, you feel your promise ring scrape his skin and draw blood.

✧ So… seeing as you’re wearing that ridiculous price of jewelry… you sort of already know how that story ended.

✧ But it doesn’t matter. You’re tying to stay level-headed as you fight, and your ‘future spouse’ being obnoxious isn’t soothing your nerves.

✧ In fact, you can’t recall a single time fighting with Goo was therapeutic. So I guess this isn’t anything different from the norm.

✧ “What’s for dinner?” You ask boredly. You sink into your toes and dodge a wild swing, kicking the kid in the gut.

✧ “Whatever you feel like babe!” Goo replies energetically as he finishes bashing in some heads.

✧ “I could go for some bird meat,” you muse quietly as a new onrush of guys heads your way. It’s a wonder than Goo hears you.

✧ “Ooh- okay! How about chicken?”

✧ “Pass. Turkey?”

✧ Goo swings a crowbar around expertly, a more focused expression on his features. He takes a moment to reply. “Nah… I hate the flavor.”

✧ “Okay, how about-”

✧ “Duck!”

✧ Whack.

✧ “…Or just… embrace it I guess. You look hot either way, babe.”

✧ “Kim… remember our conversation about clear communication?”

✧ “Uh huh? But I did warn ya!” “We were literally talking about birds.”

✧ You snap a guys wrist without even looking, glaring (up/down) at Goo.

✧ The rest of the fight you ignore him. Your expression remains neutral afterwards as he takes you to the urgent care.

✧ “At least it hit you in the shoulder!”

✧ “Yeah- I wonder where it would’ve hit me if I had ducked.”

✧ “Stop being all calm and angry at me boo! It’s creepy!”

✧ “…Alright. Whatever Goo.”

391 notes · View notes

darkbluekies · 1 year

Note

How would the yanderes react to a accidental kiss, lets say the darling goes to kiss the yanderes cheek only for the yandere to turn their head thinking the darling is gonna tell them something and then it happens accidental kiss.

The poor darling is covering their mouth all flushed and shocked and just says "That was my first kiss." While making direct eye contact with the yandere

Warnings: slight nsfw indication

Silas:

You’re leaning over while he’s working by his desk. Thinking that you want his attention, he turns his head to you, only to be met by your soft lips bumping into his. His entire body freezes as he tries to process what’s happening. He can feel his brain melting. You quickly tell him in embarrassment that it was your first kiss. Silas breaks out into a smile, how can he be so lucky?

“Oh, it was? I’m honored, but pretty thing, you shouldn’t tempt me. I want to do a whole lot more than just kiss you … be careful from now on before you regret it.”

Dr Kry:

You often lean over to look at what he’s doing on his desk when he’s not talking to you and this time, you want to give him a kiss on the cheek, but he turns his head to look at you. Feeling your lips against his makes his entire spine shiver and turn to jelly. His head starts to spin and for a second he wonders if he’s made any sounds. He hopes he hasn’t. You tell him that it was your first kiss with wide eyes. Dr Kry would smile with red cheeks.

“You’re very cute, Y/N. Don’t worry about it. I didn’t take offense to it. Can … can you do it again?”

King Edmund:

The two of you are sitting in the balcony at the royal theater, in your special assigned seats to get the best view. You’ve been leaning over to whisper to Edmund multiple times throughout the show and decide to kiss his cheek once, as a silent ‘thank you’ for bringing you here. He thinks you’re going to ask who the main character is again, so he turns his head. His brain breaks once he feels your soft lips against his. You shriek and pull back with your hand over your mouth, explaining that you didn’t mean to do that and that it was your first kiss. Edmund smiles cockily and takes your hand.

“I wouldn’t expect any less, my dear. After all … you’re my sweet little queen. Now kiss me again, show everyone in this theater that you’re mine.”

Jerry:

She doesn’t know why she turns her head to you when you lean in, but she doesn’t regret it at all. Your lips against hers feel like heaven — something she doesn’t deserve … and that’s why she loves it. You’re forbidden for her. You quickly stutter that it was your first kiss and Jerry smiles, thinking of all the ways she can corrupt you in and bring you down into her harsh and cold world.

“Oh, don’t worry about it, baby, it won’t be your last one. I’ll have you begging for me sooner or later.”

Hedwig:

You lean over to give her soft cheek a kiss in the back of the classroom. She thinks that you’re going to ask her for help again and finds herself kissing you. She blinks in disbelief and you apologize in embarrassment, explaining that it was your first kiss and that you didn’t mean for that to happen. A deep shade of red takes over Hedwig’s face and she covers her wide smile with her hand. Her heart is hammering in her chest.

“D-Don’t worry about it! I-I liked it! Please do it again, I-I need it. Please. I’ll die otherwise.”

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere drabbles #yandere x you #yandere imagines #yandere mafia #yandere oc x you #yandere doctor #yandere ocs #yandere reactions

644 notes · View notes

the-banana-0verlord · 6 months

Note

how are you ? hii ^^, I would like to request for the third year boys I think they are rook, leona, vile, malleus, lilia and trey well with a fem mc who is very bad at studies because she had never attended a school before so this is her Taking classes for the first time and taking exams, that's why she works hard even though she failed several times, she never gives up~ one of her favorite phrases is "if I fail 99 times, I'll continue once more, maybe the 100th will be the winner" hehe <33

again, i apologize for the request taking so long 😅

How the third years would react to a Reader who is bad at studies

Notes: Gn reader, i totally forgot idia existed 💀 Either that or it was a conscious decision.

🦁🦁🦁

🦁Leona Kingscholar 🦁

🦁Studies were never a problem for him. He always passed his exams with flying scores without even trying. 🦁So since everything came to him so naturally, it was hard for him to imagine someone not having the same easyness as he did. 🦁You were at the opposite ends of the spectrum: He didn't care about school yet excelled at it, while you were still optimistic when your scores barely passed the passing note. 🦁You made him care again. He helped you with your studies and you got progressively better. 🦁And it's not just your studies who got better, his also. Because of you, he put effort in what he had to do. Under all his grumpiness, he thanks you for it.

👑👑👑

👑Vil Schoenheit👑

👑Sure, you weren't all that good, but you tried, and in Vil's book, that's more than anyone could do. 👑Also, he's not one to pass the opportunity to help someone become their best selves. 👑So he helps you. The time passed with you is enjoyable thanks to your cheerful personnality. 👑He also enjoys teaching you. Why don't you come around to Pomefiore so he can teach you makeup?

♦♦♦

♦Cater Diamond ♦

♦Of course he'll help you, that's what an upperclassman does! ♦But to be truly honest, most of the "study times" are just you hanging out. ♦But when you actually study, he's not half-bad as a tutor. ♦He's not the best, but at least you can see your grades get a little better.

🏹🏹🏹

🏹Rook Hunt 🏹

🏹What wonderful ardor and persistance you have! Oh, how it makes his heart flutter! 🏹A hunt for a good grade is a hunt all the same, and you have the qualities of the best huntsman. 🏹You never seem to catch your prey, though, so he'll just ahve to give you un coup de pouce. 🏹Not all minds work the same, so maybe yours just works differently than the norm of teachings. 🏹You'll be studying school and he'll be studying you.

♣♣♣

♣Trey Clover ♣

♣He's pretty used to tutoring since the underclassmen in his dorm usually go to him for help or advice. ♣He was willing to help from the start, but your positive attitude motivated him more than the complains of the others he tutored spouted every second. ♣He's in the science club, so that's covered, and cooking always help with mathematics. ♣Yeah perfect teacher 10/10.

🐲🐲🐲

🐲Malleus Draconia 🐲

🐲You're asking him, Malleus Draconia, to help you study? 🐲He should be offended, but he finds it so intriguing and amusing he'll indulge you accept your request. 🐲I mean, there is no one better to learn from than from the best.(He's a very terrible teacher though) 🐲Your positive attitude is also refreshing from the gloomy and terrified faces of his daily life.

🦇🦇🦇

🦇Lilia Vanrouge 🦇

🦇Don't ask him for potion making, but he'll be perfect for teaching history. After all, he was there when it happened. 🦇...Except he wasn't. When XXX thing went down, he was hammered with his friend Jerry on the other side of the continent. 🦇He's still kinda helpful with the big lines, but don't really expect much. 🦇That or he'll put you through Silver and Sebek's training regiment. Don't know which is worse.

***

Hope you enjoyed!

Have a good day/night!

#twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #leona kingscholar #leona kingscholar x reader #vil schoenheit x reader #vil schoenheit #cater diamond #cater diamond x reader #rook hunt #rook hunt x reader #trey clover #trey clover x reader #malleus draconia #malleus draconia x reader #lilia vanrouge #lilia vanrouge x reader #bananawrites

291 notes · View notes

citadelsanchez · 1 year

Note

Greetings, our dearest and best writer in the entire history of ever, could I interest you in a little scenario where Rick takes y/n and Morty on a little adventure and leaves y/n alone for a moment to meet up with a "contact" only to come back to y/n being surrounded by people and HEAVILY flirted with? I'd just love to imagine the look on Rick's face when y/n spots him with this helpless puppy look as they try to fend off suitors,,,

Hi. Been a minute since I've posted. Holidays and all that, plus I'm in the process of moving states so I apologize! I promise that I will still be slowly working on these. <3 anyways,, hope you enjoy.

((Gender neutral reader))

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Um.. I dunno, Jerry," you muttered uncomfortably. You were currently sat between Morty and Jerry on the Smiths' couch, and got caught in the middle of the two boys having a debate over Interdimensional Cable. Jerry insisted that he was best friends with Keanu Reeves and Dwayne Johnson in his alternate reality. Morty claimed that even in a different reality he'd never be cool enough for that to be true.

"Well it's nice to be reminded just how much of a loser my own son thinks I am. Y/N, what's your opinion on this?" Jerry asked.

You awkwardly shrugged as you checked your phone and hoped they would just stop talking altogether.

"Hey dipshits, is there some valid reason that you didn't come to the garAAGe when I called your names?"

You turned your head to see none other than Rick entering the living room to stand over you and Morty with his arms crossed.

"W-we never heard you call us," Morty spoke.

Rick scoffed. "Well you just heard me. Get to moving" he said, keeping stern eye contact with you before stalking back towards the garage.

You and Morty glance at each other before hesitantly getting up to obey his command, you're both used to his formidable attitude and being too overcome with curiosity to argue.

When you make it to the garage, Rick is already in his ship ready to depart.

"Get in, come the fuck on" he calls out harshly.

Morty stumbles in and you take your place in the back, wedging your legs between the middle of the floor between their seats.

"So what are we doing, specifically?" You ask, watching as Rick expressionlessly drives the ship. Adventures didn't phase you at all anymore; it had been about a full year now since you've started going on them with your esteemed older mentor and his grandson. The scenery never really made a difference anymore but the objective behind the adventures did.

"Just- it's just a compound I need for a project, that's all."

"That wasn't what I'd call specific" you frown, staring at his side profile.

"It's perfectly specific in being all the information that I care to give out," Rick retorts, throwing you an annoyed look.

"Geeez Rick," Morty adds.

You roll your eyes and decide not to further press the issue. You're no stranger to Rick's many moods and abusive jabs, but usually you were able to pinpoint reasons for them, even if small. Sometimes, though, it seemed deeper than what you could read into and you knew to just leave it be. It wasn't like he would relay his true emotions to anyone.

The ship whirred to a halt as you looked outside of the windows to see a lively city filled with people entering and exiting eccentric shops. Most of the inhabitants seemed to have a masculine appearance, some taking on hybrid human and alien features. Some were strange creatures altogether, and some looked to be completely human.

The three of you climb out of the ship as Rick starts talking. "Alright, so I've got to tend to my business. You two stay here and don't die."

He looks between you and Morty, a sense of guilt almost marking his face before the typical scowl replaces it. "I-If you can't manage that, use this to let me know." Rick shoves a device with a giant blue button in your hands now.

"Good luuUUCk" He burps before walking off into the crowd of humanoids and disappearing from sight.

"Wow, he's really on it today, huh Y/N?" Morty says, puzzled.

"Something's off, I can tell. I need to find out what it is," You respond. "Rick has obviously left us in the dark before but this just doesn't feel right."

Just as you're about to take stride to follow Rick, several warlock resemblant men surround you, blocking your path. Their curious inquiries spill out all at once.

"Look at this specimen, Norpel. Definitely not from around here."

"What's your name, gorgeous?"

"I was told not to touch the aliens that visit but I almost can't resist."

You take a step back and sigh in frustration. Damn you, Rick.

"And you're dead set on using this formula and enduring it's possible side effects, Rick?"

Rick frowned, irked by the fact that his colleague wouldn't just provide him with what he asked for without a 20 questions game.

"Yes, Shabablurb, I'm completely positive."

The mysterious man turned to face the older scientist. "I just have to make sure. I'll go get it then."

Rick tapped his foot as he waited and his mind wanders back to you once again. Your gentle eyes of compassion, your sometimes rare but always bright smile, your soft hair. The inside jokes you two came to have, the gentle touches you give him when he's not being an asshole, the way his entire family cherishes your presence. How he feels about you- he knows the feeling and knows it well. Which is why he needs to get rid of it.

Shabablurb re-enters the room with a vial. "Okay, one and done. I'm not here to judge any of your decisions but just remember Rick, that once you take this, you won't be able to remember an-"

"I got it. Thanks. I'm out."

Rick snatched the compound from the man's hand and began making his way back to Morty and Y/N.

He was starting to wonder if you two had went to a bar or club somewhere when he heard your voice, wavering and meek. Unusually out of character for you.

"Hey stop, don't, back up- don't touch me please."

Rick narrowed his eyes at the crowd he was walking through, pushing past everyone to reach the sound of your voice.

Many feet away, Morty was nowhere in sight but he caught a glimpse of your face, flush with panic and anxiety, as the strange men continued to prod you and several attempting to grab a part of you- your clothes or body.

Your eyes meet Rick's and he can clearly see the plea for help in them as one creature grabs hold of your shirt and begins yanking it.

Rick feels his anger start to surge. He removes his laser gun from his coat and fires it at the crowd, freezing some suitors in place and burning holes in others. Once you're no longer engulfed in bodies, he finds the job satisfactory.

"R-Rick, thank you," you murmur while he walks over, embarrassed by the scene that just played out. You gently brush your fingers over his hand after he puts his gun away and he stares at you with an unreadable expression.

"Rick?"

"Uh yeah, sorry. Glad I could save the day. They w-would've had a feast with you."

Your cheeks flush although you're not sure in what context Rick was even referring to.

In honesty, neither was he. All that was consuming his mind were second guesses. Guilt and pain that clutched his chest with a deathly grip. And a single question ringing in his head.

How could he make himself forget about you?

#rick and morty #rick sanchez #rick sanchez x reader

877 notes · View notes

dreamingofep · 18 days

Text

Sinned Awakening pt. 26 🩸

An AU Elvis fic

(Vampire!Elvis/ Vampire Austin! Elvis x reader)

Character/Fandom: Elvis - Elvis (2022)

Prompt: Getting promoted to be Elvis full time housekeeper, you realize the man holds secrets beyond beliet and your undeniable attraction makes you tear the unknown. [Fem!Reader]

TW: Cussing, tension, ANGST, smut, mentions of blood/gore!!!

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 5.4k

A/N: Hello everyone!! Enjoy this new part! It’s a bit shorter than normal but it’s because the next chapter is a MONSTER and I had to break it up somehow! Some questions are going to be answered and some other things are going to be uncovered😈

If you'd like to start from the beginning, start here or Ao3! hope you enjoy and message and comment what you think.

A reminder, this is Vampire!Elvis so there is going to be mentions of blood/gore from here on out. If that's not your thing, sorry but it's needed for the story.

You now understand why Elvis considered not sleeping as part of his ‘curse’. There was no escaping your thoughts and it was just endless noise that played in your head. It was hard to focus on the things you wanted to hear because you had nothing to put your focus on. You were getting the hang of focusing on the sound of Elvis’ heart when he was here, but now he was so far away you couldn’t hear him anymore.

You don’t know how long you cried, it felt like forever. You just wanted him back here so you could apologize and make things right. The empty pit inside your heart ached for him. Despite the distance, you felt him ache for you too. You knew he was out there feeling the same longing you were experiencing. You prayed he’d be back in a day or so to talk things out and figure out how you guys can find answers on your new life.

But he doesn’t come back the next day, or the day after that. One full week drags on and no one has heard from him. Not even a phone call. You grew desperate for him, needing him to be here with you and hold you again. You were lonely and most importantly scared. You hadn’t even been away from him this long and you were worried.

None of the guys were hanging around the house lately and if they did stop by to check in on you, it was the same answer when you asked them if they heard anything from him. Jerry was the only one that hung around the most. He knew how worried you were even though you kept assuring him you were fine.

“Maybe I should go out there looking for him… what if he needs me,” you suggest to him one day.

“Where would you begin to look for him? E would kill us if he knew we let you out there by yourself,” he says worriedly.

“I’m stronger than all of you right now!” You snap. He swallows uncomfortably and looks away from you. You instantly feel bad and apologize.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to snap like that. I just mean, I could take care of myself,” you try to explain.

“I understand, there’s no doubt you would win in any fight with us but you don’t have any control over your abilities,” he says gently. “You’re kind of a loose cannon lately,” he jokes.

You can’t help but laugh and have to agree, you had no idea what could tick you off if you mingled with other humans you didn’t know.

“No, you’re right,” you sigh, “well maybe you can come with me?”

He pauses and considers the proposal, weighing the pros and cons of this idea.

“Elvis is my best friend. I’d do anything for him. Hell, I let him bite me. But most importantly, you’re his other half. I’ll go anywhere you go,” he says sweetly.

“But I think we should give him a bit more time. If he doesn’t come back in a few days, we’ll start looking for him,” he says.

“Okay, sounds good,” you say with a smile, thankful he’s on board with the plan.

You tried to put your time into reading all the books Elvis had on vampires. Anything to help you understand what was going on with you. Or what was going on with him? The books couldn’t keep your full attention, however. Too much worry plagued your mind and certain topics in these books disturbed you. The human part of you became squeamish when you read about the more gruesome things like how to kill a vampire. You couldn’t bring yourself to read what was in those passages. It made you physically sick to think of anyone ever trying to hurt Elvis. You hoped Jerry was right, he was just out there looking for answers to understand why you changed the way you did and what else you needed to survive.

You didn’t have an appetite while you were worrying about him so much. You weren’t eating like you should have and it had been days since you drank any blood. There was this dark part of you that craved to have Elvis’. You could barely remember what he tasted like from when you first bit him, but everything inside you screamed to bite him. It was extremely frustrating that this incessant voice in your head was begging to have him when he was God knows where.

The next few days pass slowly, and still no sign of him. You couldn’t sit in this house any longer not doing anything useful. You weren’t going to let Elvis shut you out and get himself into trouble out there. You started to gather a bag full of things you might need on your journey. You tell Elvis’ housekeepers you’ll be back soon, but don’t give them an exact date you’ll be back because you didn’t even know yourself. They had worried looks on their faces they couldn’t hide and you hated to see them worry.

You wait for Jerry in the living room, double-checking that you both have everything you need.

“Any idea where we’re going to start looking? He can be anywhere,” he says jokingly.

“Well, hopefully, he’s not too far and we can find him quickly. I just want him home. If he still didn’t find any help, we’ll go together and help him,” you say matter-of-factly. “I guess I should follow my instincts, follow the bond that tethers us together.”

“Let’s go, you know I won’t question anything you say,” he says grabbing his bag he pack and slinging it over his shoulder.

Your attention gets pulled away from the conversation and your head snaps to look at the front door like a magnet. You heard a heartbeat. A loud, melodious heartbeat, beating only for you. It was one you could recognize from anywhere.

Elvis.

You rush to open the door and see him, looking as good as ever walking up the steps to the house. His hair was slicked back, showcasing his handsome face. His eyes were still golden and more captivating than ever. He had this boyish innocence in his eye though, like he was silently pleading for you to forgive him for being gone so long. You could feel how happy he was to see you and how his heart raced faster the closer he got to you.

He stood in front of you, eying you head to toe and taking a sharp breath in. He pulls you quickly by your wrist and envelops you in his arms. You wrap your arms around his waist and hold onto him tight. You sigh a breath of relief and feel his warmth wrap around your body. His scent fills your head like an intoxicating drink. You hum content, so happy to have him in your arms again.

“Oh, baby,” he whispers as he picks you up slightly from the ground and gives you a deep, passionate kiss. It was intense and electrifying, wrapping you in his blinding love. You place your hands on his face, making sure he’s real and not some cruel dream.

He gently puts you down and you look up at him in anticipation.

“Where have you been?” You ask, hurt filling your voice.

“I’m sorry I was gone so long baby. I-I-I had to take care of things,” he says overwhelmed. He tries to comfort you but suddenly pick up another scent behind him. You suddenly feel on edge as you don’t recognize the scent at all. You dart your eyes back up at him, trying to push him to the side to see who it is but he doesn’t budge.

“Umm honey, I need you to meet someone…” he says uncomfortably. You push at his chest slightly to see who is behind him and he gives way.

It was a girl, maybe twenty years old or so, with long black hair, and flawless golden skin. She wears sunglasses shielding her gaze from you. She doesn’t say anything right away, just stares at you behind the glasses, inspecting your every detail. You step in front of Elvis instinctively, wanting to create a barrier between him and this girl.

“What do you want?” You growl. She smirks at you, amused by your protective tone.

“I’m not a threat,” she says calmly, “my name is Iris.”

“That doesn’t answer my question,” you say through your teeth, “what do you want. What are you doing here?” You press. You feel Elvis place his hand on your shoulder to try and calm you but need to focus and don’t want him to touch you right now. You brush his hand off of you and take another step forward to Iris.

“Elvis found us in search of answers,” She starts to explain when a man you’ve never seen starts to walk up the steps behind her. “We are like you, Chosen.”

You feel your stomach drop, not believing what she just said. You glance over at the man standing next to her. He was young too, with wavy dark brunette hair, and pale icy skin.

“My name is Alexander, it’s nice to meet you,” he says sweetly.

You look back at Elvis, unsure if you should trust them or not.

“It’s okay, they’re here to help us,” he says low.

You look back at them, nodding your head that you’ll let them talk.

Iris smiles, “Perfect, where did you guys want to begin?”

Elvis pushed the front door open and stepped to the side. “Please, come in,” he says kindly. You let them walk in first and watch as they inspect every detail of the house. You pull at Elvis’ hand before you two walk in behind them.

He looks at you intensely, as you pull him away from the door.

“Do you know who these vampires are you just invited into your home?” You say low, your eyes blazing with intensity.

“Baby, it’s all okay. They can be trusted. You need to hear what they have to say. They’re the real thing trust me, I was skeptical at first too. Please, just listen to what they have to say,” he says squeezing your hand slightly.

You huff, knowing you can’t say no to him.

“Fine, I’ll let them talk. Then we need to talk too. Alone,” you say shortly.

“I know,” he says softly, knowing there’s a lot left unsaid after your fight.

He lets you walk into the house first, resting his hand on the small of your back.

A spark.

A little golden ember blazes inside of you with one touch of his hand.

You look back at him and he has this look on his face. Smug and yet still tender. But you know he feels it too.

“Mine.” He sighs.

Tagging: x

@powerotelvis @burninlovebutler

@neptuneismysister @velvetelvis @ccab @presleyenterprise @theresalwaysep

@prompted-wordsmith @sillybookmarks @dkayfixates @ellie-24 @rktismylife-blog

@myradiaz @tacozebra051

@thatbanditqueen

@18|kpeters @flwrs4aust @emma181873

@austinswhitewolf@eliseinmemphis

@everythingelvispresley @chasingwildflowers @idontwanttoputanything @ohjustpeachy

@elvisalltheway101 @austinsmutler @kingdomforapony.

@generoustreemystic @claire-elvisgirl

@ashtag6887 @burnthheparaphilia @richardslady121

@jaqueline19997

@returntopresley. @iloveelvis @rjmartin11 @that-hotdog @louisejoy86 @misspresley @cattcb @annapresley8

@arrolyn1114 @raginginkedslut @epthedream69

@mh777ep1938 @50sexyshadesfashionista

@oldhOllywOod @hooked-on-elvis @livelovedilfs @sloppiest-of-jos

#elvis presley #elvis fans #elvis presley fanfiction #elvis x reader #elvis imagine #elvis smut #elvis presely smut #elvis fic #elvis fluff #70s elvis #elvis #sinned awakening #dreamingofep

53 notes · View notes

be-my-ally · 1 year

Text

Attention needed. (Jealous Elvis Request)

Dearest anon, darling, here you are! Apologies for the *slight* delay, work has kept me far too busy and tired this week - and also, I intended this to be a very quick 1-2k, and somehow that turned into 4k….so hopefully you enjoy!!! I found it a little hard to make it Jerry, who I can’t see knowingly flirting with Elvis’ girl, but I hope I did the prompt justice by making it a -teeny- bit of miscommunication.

pairing: afab!reader x elvis

summary: Reader wants Elvis’ attention, but he refuses to give it to her so she tries to make him jealous, going so far to cozy up with Jerry.

warnings: 18+, jealous!elvis, physical altercation b/t elvis + jerry (not with reader), oral sex (elvis receiving), hurt/comfort with slightly injured!elvis.

wc: 4.4k (whoops)

You hate when he ignores you like this. It’s worse because you know it's calculated, intentional. It’s not just that he’s busy recording, or messing around with the other guys (although he is) but he’s toying with you, in his twisted version of flirting, playing with you. The trouble is that the rules to his games never get shared with you. You’re left guessing how to react, or what his aim is - does he want you to fight him? Argue until you’re forced to be “taught a lesson”? Submit - simply allow him to do whatever, ignoring both your heart and brain? Or some strange, acceptable combination of the two? It seems to change every time, and it’s impossible to guess his reactions at the best of times, let alone when he’s intentionally trying to keep you unbalanced. And it is, certainly, intentional.

It has to be intentional; his determined actions to ignore your glances over at him, ignoring you lingering in the doorway of the recording studio, your hand on his thigh in the car. In fact he’d brushed you off, not in a malicious way, but in a - I’m talking to my boys and having fun and moved my leg and didn’t even realise you were there - way. Which in some ways annoys and hurts you more; because you can’t wholeheartedly accuse him of doing it on purpose, and to bring it up would imply that you don’t want him to have fun with his friends, which of course you do.

So, it has been building the whole day, leading to where you are now. Sulking on the edge of the bed, as you hear him play-fighting with the other ‘boys’ outside, although you can’t see them - its summer and it’s warm enough that the windows are open, but even with the curtains drawn it’s too dark to see. It was late, Elvis’ schedule didn’t conform to trivial things like day and night. So, despite the lateness of the hour, it’s only just coming up on dinner time. He’ll be up in a moment to change - it’s not required for any reason, it’s just family tonight - no-one special to impress, or photographs to be taken but he still likes to look his best. Especially considering he’ll be undoubtedly rumpled and muddy from their roughhousing. All you can think is that you don’t care to think of him looking his best, you just want him to really look at you. See what you’re trying to communicate with him.

You hate how he makes you feel like it’s you who’s lacking, or who has to put in the extra effort. But still you do it - it annoys the hell out of you but you still do it. You’ve changed into a little powder blue set, teased your hair up high - just how he likes, determined to get his attention back. Your intention, is to make him look at you, force his attention onto you, which means a grand entrance. Which means that you’ll have to hide when he comes up to change and allow him to go downstairs alone before following. He won’t be able to ignore you coming in by yourself. You roll your eyes internally, at the ridiculous lengths you go to for him. When you hear them all coming into the house you dive into your little dressing room, locking the door behind you. You can hear him humming to himself - as he thuds about the bedroom, you can hear the closet door opening and closing and the water running in his bathroom as he gets himself ready and then, a few minutes later, his quick footsteps as he hurries out and back down the stairs. It’s what you wanted, but you can’t help but be annoyed that he didn’t even attempt to look or call for you.

The annoyance grows, as you wait, when he doesn’t come himself or send someone to get you for dinner, forgetting in your sheer annoyance that he has no idea where you were. You head down the stairs after a few minutes had passed, you can hear the noise of the dining room as soon as you leave the cushioned sound proofing of his upstairs suite. When you walk in, late, you expect a reaction. Sure you’d wanted him to look at you, appreciate you, but you had also expected a little more. To be denied anything else - him simply glancing up at you, and pointing to the empty chair saved for you to the left of him at the head, was borderline offensive. Normally he’d have commented either in annoyance, or out of a protective worry - checking that nothing was amiss, that nothing had kept you. But tonight he does none of that, simply turning back to his conversation - not even waiting to see if his silent order was obeyed. It was, but you’d argue simply because it was the last seat available, not because you’d wanted to.

That particular place puts you directly next to Jerry, and just out of Elvis’ reach. It’s not an unusual place for you to sit, you’d normally sit as close to him as possible; sometimes sitting up with him or him sitting with you, sometimes even on his lap, but it is rare for him to tell you where to go. He’s commanding and wants his own way, but he’s not normally so demanding in such normal circumstances. You humph to yourself but nonetheless do as he wordlessly commands - you wanted his attention though, not half a glance and an order. You’re quiet through the meal, despite the rambunctious energy from the rest of the table - everyone in high spirits from the finished recording session, and time off they had that evening.

Elvis ignores you entirely, laughing and joking with Sonny and Red who were sat closest to him, but also joining in on the conversations happening around all sides of the table - shouting down to be heard when necessary. It’s a bit of a squeeze on the table tonight with so many of the closest knit memphis mafia boys staying, extra chairs added and the table extended. Which means that while Elvis, as ever, remains with more than enough space you’re knocking elbows with Jerry. You smile apologetically at him whenever it happens and he responds in kind back at you. You like Jerry, he’s always been nice to you and you’ve never felt the competitive edge that some of the other members of the ‘mafia’ seem to have from him. You chat politely to him, but you don’t have huge amounts to talk about tonight and he’s more preoccupied with the other conversations happening around you so you mostly eat in silence.

Being this close together though does give you an idea of how you might catch Elvis’ attention. You lean over to top up Jerry’s wine glass, using your left arm across your body so that you have to place your right hand on his thigh for balance. You can feel him look down in surprise at you, clearly taken aback at the forward action, uncertain as to whether he should pretend it didn’t happen or acknowledge it. You stroke his thigh once as you linger your hand before pulling it away and he appears to hold his breath until you’ve picked up your own glass with it. You don’t look at Elvis. If he wants to ignore you, you can do the same. Time to play with him for a change. Jerry shifts a little, and you smile at him, allowing him the opportunity to pretend nothing happened. He does so, but you can tell he feels slightly uncomfortable at the suddenly charged atmosphere. You risk a sneaky look over at Elvis, and see that his jaw is tight, although he doesn’t give off any other impression of anger. Your own frustration grows, as he continues to stare away from you - even though you can see him chewing his cheek almost every time you look over - as if in silent signal that he can tell you’re watching. Still, he doesn’t say a word to you.

When dinner finishes Elvis leads the way into the TV lounge, and you follow. You need to figure out how to up the ante a little, but without taking it too far. Little did you know the chance would come quite quickly. Elvis immediately settled himself onto the large sofa, cigarillo ready to be lit, and some of the others followed. It was pretty crowded, and it wasn’t long before they broke out to some of the other rooms around, spreading out a little. It made it easier to keep one eye on Elvis, while you considered your options. You were stood near the bar - it wasn’t like you were the only one still standing, every place to sit in the room taken up (despite the fact that normally Elvis would have insisted they make room for you - you’re a lady after all), when Jerry came up to it to pour himself a drink. He asks if you want one too and when you agree he does enough for two, handing you the glass as he comes back out. You chat about nothing in particular, and Jerry seems legitimately interested in what you have to say, and you drink, until you’re significantly more relaxed - almost forgetting about your mission.

You’re two drinks in now, and that plus the wine at dinner has made you a little brazen. You lean against the wall, and you can feel Jerry’s eyes track down your body as you, subtly, push your chest out a little. You continue your conversation, not really talking about much, but you can tell he’s panicking slightly about what to say or do to you. You look over at Elvis again who’s busy entertaining - regaling a couple of the boys left behind with tales from tour, and sigh. Jerry tracks your eyes, and frowns for a moment,

“Why’d you put up with it?” You look up at him, surprised he would be so direct,

“What do you mean? I don’t, he’s just…” You’re annoyed with him but you still don’t want to badmouth him to one of his best friends so your trying to choose your words carefully, “Look, you know probably better than anyone that you can’t tell him what to do, or what not to do. So you just have to…go along with it.” His brow furrows as he looks down at you, and he turns so that you’re both facing each other while resting sideways against the wall - if you turned your head slightly you could rest your cheek on the cold wallpaper.

“It’s just - you’re a swell girl, you’re so pretty, real bombshell like, and you could have anyone, hell he won’t even say he’s in a relationship with ya!” You smile and inch a little closer, not wanting to be overheard.

“Well, thank you that’s very kind. I’m not… blind to my own attractiveness Jerry. I’m not, … look, here’s the thing. I’m not super needy, or desperate to be liked for my own self worth, but I like him, and that might make me an idiot but I do! So, I’ll put up with a little more than I normally would, because I like him, and that’s all there is to it.” He continues to stare, with a slight commiserating look in his eye. You know he understands more than most. You’ve somehow ended up even closer to one another, barely a few inches between you now.

“I just don’t think he treats you right.” He shakes his head, and you go to say something in reply but you’re interrupted by Jerry’s arm being abruptly grabbed and pulled away from you,

“What the hell you doing Jerry? Hitting on my girl like that! What’s wrong with ya!” Jerry stumbles back, and rubs his arm where Elvis had grabbed him,

“Jesus- EP, we were just talkin’ is all. We weren’t doing nothing.” You can sense that Elvis wasn’t believing him,

“Looked from over there like you were about to do more than that. Looked like you were about to try and kiss her. You going around kissin’ my girls now?” You shake your head, starting to protest, and he whirls onto you, holding up a hand, “I’ll deal with you in a second little girl. Come on now Jer - you now saying you don’t want to kiss her?” Jerry stutters back at him,

“No-I uh, god, no offense y/n. I wouldn’t E!”

“No? Sounded like you’d try, I heard you Jer, ‘he don’t treat you right’ is what you said ain’t it!” It’s like watching two cars collide in front of you, you simultaneously feel panicked by the way the conversation is going, but also can’t look away. Jerry suddenly seems to have had enough of being accused or perhaps simply aware of the inevitability of the next event and draws himself up,

“Well, so what if I did - it's true.” The sentence is barely out of his mouth before Elvis’ fist is flying.

“What the hell! Elvis! His nose!” You’re horrified at the action unfolding, but you can’t help but be a tiny bit pleased that Elvis is at least fighting for you, even if it is with a pinch of guilt that it’s at Jerry’s expense. Jerry is, unlike some of the others, not afraid of Elvis - and not unwilling to fight back, although you can tell he’s purposefully not aiming for Elvis’ face. So they scrabble together, Elvis stumbling back onto the edge of the sofa after a particularly hard shove from Jerry.

“Elvis! Jerry! Someone stop them!” You’re shouting at the other men in the room, but it’s too late - the pair go crashing over the top of the sofa, and hit the coffee table on the way down. Both of them lie flat on their backs for a moment before Jerry stands, offering Elvis his hand. He takes it, and is immediately pulled up, shirt ruffled, hair a mess (although he’s faring better than Jerry with a black eye forming and a red nose) and you step forward - “What was that all about! Of all the childish stupid things to do! Look at the pair of you!” Elvis looks over at you, his eyes blazing, panting, before storming out of the room. You turn to apologise to Jerry, and he accepts it with a small nod of his head, heading over to the little bar for a drink after the drama. He’s not one to hold a grudge, and to be fair neither is Elvis - they’ll be friends again in half hour.

You can hear Elvis shouting to himself as he tears through the house and you’re in half a mind to let him wear himself out before going in to him, but the other half of your brain is telling you not to let him rile himself up any more than he already is. So you follow, but slowly, and by the time you get into the foyer he’s sat on the sofa in the music room, leaning heavily against its back, his head tipped back and his eyes closed. You can see his chest heaving with breaths from the exertion, and can tell, from his brief wince on the inhale that he’s obviously hurt a rib. You find it hard to be sympathetic though, since it was of his own making.

“El-“

“Don’t you start little girl - I saw you flirting like a goddamn teasing whore, trying to turn me the fuck on. With Jerry of all people.” You wince at his tone - eyes wide in an attempt to protest your innocence,

“That’s not fair - he wasn’t - … you weren’t paying me any attention! He was just talking to me!” He scoffs at you,

“Well, you’ve got my attention now.” He swings his head forward to look at you and he’s calm, but you know that can sometimes precipitate further emotion from him. You can’t help but think he looks good, even as you can tell there’s bruising forming under his shirt; slightly sweaty, hair ruffled, and his shirt coming untucked. Actually, he looks a lot, and you blush as you recognise the thought, like he does when you’ve had sex. You start to stutter out some apology or explanation but your mouth has gone dry as he continues to stare at you. He crooks his fingers, the same two fingers he always does and you follow him closer. He pats his thigh and you warily approach, half expecting to be flung over his knee, he’s unpredictable like this. You try to perch delicately but he pulls you up and across with a slight grunt. Probably from his rib, you look down at him,

“This is silly - you’re hurt! Let me have a look.” You start to pull at his shirt, as if attempting to get underneath to assess his injury. But he stops you with a tight hand on your wrist.

“I’m fine, nothin’ that won’t be sorted after a shower.” His dismissive tone does nothing to reassure you, but you can’t protest when he shakes you slightly with his hold around your wrist and waist. “Now, baby, what was all that about. You gonna try and tell me again you didn’t do it on purpose?” You falter for a second, you don’t want to lie but you also don’t want to admit to your actions; you’re a little embarrassed to have stooped to such a level. “You’ve been doin’ it all evening - god, all fucking day, trying to get on my damn nerves.” Now that you will protest.

“Elvis! I haven’t! Not all day! I was jus-“

“Ah-ha!” He crows at you, “So you admit, you were this evenin’ though huh honey?” You wince, refusing to incriminate yourself any further. “Trying to rile me up all night you have - turning up to dinner late, and you think I don’t know you were hiding in your bathroom?” You look back at him, slightly stunned to be so called out, his hand leaves your wrist, trailing up to your face. He strokes the side of your cheek from the bone of your eyebrow to the base of your chin. You tremble, feeling goosebumps springing up on your flesh. He does it again, stroking down before he, with the same fingers, grabs hold of your face, gripping your cheeks in his fingers - squeezing them together.

“Say you’re sorry, say ‘sorry Elvis’.” He mimics you in a high pitched tone. You start to protest and his fingers dig in tighter,

“So-rry Elvis.” You repeat back to him, he hums back at you.

“Got a nasty habit of arguing with me, little girl. I ain’t gonna put up with that anymore. Not from you.” You nod, and his hand, almost in praise, travels up your thigh. You squirm, your heart beating fast, suddenly aware of your pulse - you wonder if he can tell. He trails his fingers down your cheeks, stopping near your throat, resting for a moment before skipping down to hold you around your waist again. He leans his head close to yours, his breath tickling your ear. “You want my attention darling, you just gotta ask. I ain’t dealing with this bratty shit no more.” His hand strokes your inner thigh, “Understand?” You frantically nod back,

“Yeah, yeah of course, of - uh - course.” You probably shouldn’t find it so hot to be told off but you do. He shifts you from leaning so heavily on his side, and you sit up completely, looking over at him sternly - you knew he was in pain. He interrupts you before you can say anything though.

“Been tryna get you to just ask me for what you want all goddamn day. But Lord did you make it difficult for me.” His eyes have a certain glint in them, and you’re not wholly surprised when the next words out of his mouth are, “Guess you oughta make me feel better then little one, you gonna make it up to me? - Go on, baby, get on those little knees for me.” You half roll your eyes, not convinced you’ve done anything that requires apologising but still you slink off his thighs to kneel between his legs. It’s not something nice girls should admit to, but it’s not a hardship for you to take him in your mouth, in fact, quite the opposite. So you kneel, letting him unbutton his trouser - his hardening cock immediately jumping free.

You lean forward, stroking him gently to full hardness. You go to kiss the tip, and his hands find their way into your hair, bracketing your head, his rings catching a couple of strands that sting a little. But, in a good way that causes your thighs to clench with each little pull. Your fingers go to gently stroke his balls, and you watch as it prompts a bead of white to form at the end of his uncut cock. He grunts down at you,

“Don’t tease me baby, that’s not how you say sorry.” He pulls your head closer, and the tip of his dick nudges your lips. You let it in, letting it sit for a moment while you adjusted to him being in your mouth again - it’s not something you’re especially skilled at, and you don’t do it often enough to be entirely used to it all but you’re certainly enthusiastic about it. You let it slip out of your mouth with a little pop, taking the time to lick a stripe down his full length, before circling the tip back in your mouth.

“Thatsa good girl, c’mon now, take it in.” You do as he commands, bobbing down again, tasting his slight salty tang, the sweat from his exertion adding to his general manly musk. Your nose brushes against his base as you open your throat, taking shallow breathes in from your nostrils. His hips jerk as you take a moment to suck, causing his dick to knock against your throat - you can’t help but gag, and you pull off coughing slightly - his hands tugging you off quicker than you’d have gone by yourself. “Sorry sweetheart,” he strokes your cheek as you catch your breath, “God you’re fucking gorgeous.” You blink up at him, through your watering eyes and he groans, his head falling back again. “Lord, if you could see yourself right now.” You smile slightly, going back down on him. Your hands come up to hold his thighs and you dedicate yourself to the task at hand. Bobbing the length of his cock, You’re more prepared this time when he can’t help but move his hips and you go with him, fighting your gag reflex. Your hand finds where your mouth can’t comfortably reach, and gently holds him in place while your other goes down to delicately stroke his balls. You go with where his hands in your hair tug you, up and down, as you feel his thighs clench.

You don’t have any particularly strong opinions about swallowing, it just depends on your mood and although he’s made it quite clear he’d prefer for you to swallow he’s not about to force you into anything. Today though, as you look up at him through your wet lashes, you can see the glint in his eye as he murmurs that he’s close, and watches you glance about, realising that in the living room you don’t have much choice, unless you’re planning on dirtying your sleeve or the couch. You make eye contact and it seems to be the catalyst to send him over the edge, swearing as you swallow him down. He breathes heavily for a few moments as you finish licking him clean before pulling off to wipe your mouth and chin clean. He tucks himself away, “That’s it. Good girl,” he sighs, thumbing any lasting traces of wet on your face away, “that was a mighty nice ‘pology.” You smile up at him. Pleased that he’s pleased.

“I really wasn’t flirting with Jerry,” You tilt your head, “…much.” He guffaws back at you, his previous black mood forgotten, looking down at you with half lidded eyes,

“S’ok darling, sorry I lost my lid with ya - shouldn’t, shoul-dn’t have. Knew you wouldn’t really.” He pulls you up into his arms, although you protest, and he starts to try to lay you on the couch. “Lemme take care of you now baby, lemme take care of you.”

“Elvis,” You start tentatively, pushing back on his hands to sit upright. “Wouldya, would you let me have a look at your side? That’s how you can take care of me, let me have a look.” He looks at you, eyes wide,

“You, you don’t hafta baby, it’s my fault.” You hush him, shifting to be sat next to him and pull his top up, he allows it - lifting his arm to help you roll it up and get a clear look. You tut at the red marks mottling his side, can see where it’s going to develop into a nasty bruise right along the line of his rib, clearly where he’d crashed into the coffee table. He winced when you push into it, but (despite your lack of medical training) you’re pretty sure that it doesn’t feel broken or cracked. Just bruised.

“Let’s get some ice on that, and then I’ll put some cream on it later, ‘fore we go to bed.” He blinks at you for a second,

“Yeah, yeah sounds like a -ah- plan.” He grunts as his arm comes down, his facial expression changes quickly, a little smirk forming although he’s still got that soft expression on his face, the one that always appears when he’s being taken care of. “You gonna nurse me back to health? Get you a lil’ cap and gown?” You shake your head at him,

“In your dreams, buddy. C’mon,” You shake his arm as you stand, “Let’s go get that ice.” He nods, following you like a lost puppy.

#elvis #elvis smut #elvis x reader #elvis fanfic #elvis presley fanfiction #be-my-ally #elvis presley x reader #elvis x you #elvis x y/n #Elvis fic request

327 notes · View notes

satninroses · 11 months

Text

Behind Unlocked Doors: Pt. 2 | E.P x Reader

(A/N): The long awaited sequel is here!! I had initially started working on this pre-overhaul. It’s been sitting in my drafts for a little bit so I’m SUPER happy to have it published. I hope you all enjoy :-)!

Summary: Elvis confronts you after the run-in during part one. He shows you how much he loves and adores you.

Link to Pt. 1

Pairing: Elvis Presley x Fem! Reader

Word count: 4,682

Warnings: SMUT! MINORS DNI! Crying, Little bit of angst, Dirty talk, Fingering, Penetration, (F. receiving) Oral, (F. receiving) Hint of orgasm denial.

You didn’t join the Mafia for breakfast, lunch or dinner. Whenever there was a recording session, you sat in the corner of the studio and read a book quietly as to not draw attention to yourself. There were times when Elvis would stop you in the hall but you would act like you couldn’t hear him or see him and practically run back to your room.

Elvis on the other hand, hated this new treatment. You were already quiet and reserved. He knows he just made it worse. He desperately wanted to ask Jerry if he could talk to you but he didn’t know how he would react to Elvis watching his little sister masturbate.

At some point, Elvis had reached a breaking point. He needed to apologize or talk to Jerry. While he really didn’t favor either option, it was only chance at salvaging what he had ruined.

That night, Elvis had approached Jerry. Jerry smiled and waved.

“Hey boss. What’s up?” Elvis’ heart dropped. He would feel bad if Jerry already knew and he was telling him but Jerry really had no clue what was going on.

“Hey. I really need to talk to you about something. It’s not easy to talk about either. It’s about (Y/N).”

Jerry’s happy smile turned into a confused expression. “What do you mean?”

Elvis sucked in a breath. “I’m gonna tell you this. Please hold your anger til the end.” Jerry was really curious and a little worried.

“Ok?”

“The other night when you guys went to the casino and I stayed back, I walked upstairs to talk to her and walked in on her… relieving some tensions…” Elvis trailed off.

“I don’t understand Elvis.”

Elvis internally groaned. He knew he had to rip it off fast like a bandaid.

“I walked in on (Y/N) using a dildo on herself. She kinda… squirted everywhere. Even on me. I didn’t move and I watched but honest, I didn’t mean too. I know this probably isn’t something you wanted to know. However, she’s been acting off since then and I really need you to convince her to talk to me. I need to apologize real bad.” Elvis exhaled a breath that he didn’t even know he was holding. He waited for a response.

“I…” Jerry was at a loss for words. He didn’t know whether to be angry or surprised or all of the above. Before Elvis even had the chance to react, Jerry had slapped him across the face. His hands dropped to his side and he also exhaled.

“That’s for watching her and probably scaring her shitless. I’ll go talk to her but you better apologize IMMEDIATELY.” Elvis nodded quickly and out his hands out in defeat.

“Without a doubt. Thank you for doing this.”

Jerry nodded and walked out of the room. Elvis sat on the nearest and chair and took a moment to calm down. He knew he needed to make it clear to you that he wasn’t disgusted or uncomfortable with you. And, by the sound of his name pouring out of your mouth, you weren’t uninterested either. He had to think of a way to address the situation without coming across like a creep.

You sat on your plush bed and read some of your books. You needed a way to take your mind of everything that happened. “What if he thinks I'm disgusting or perverted?” You thought out loud to yourself. It was never your intention for him to walk in and see you in such a vulnerable state. You didn't mean to keep fucking yourself even with his eyes on you. Since then, you had been locking the door to every room you go into. Your room, the bathroom, the dressing rooms, sometimes the studio doors. (You don’t mean to do that. It’s a force of habit.)

There was a gentle rap at your door. You froze before tip toeing to the door to look out the peephole. It was Jerry. He wore a not-pleasant expression on his face. You opened the door and peeked out.

“Jerry? Are you ok?”

“(Y/N). I know what happened the other night. Elvis told me. I know it was unintentional and I’m here to pass on a message from Elvis. He wants to apologize, but he wants to apologize to you in person.”

An unhappy look spreads across your face. “Oh.” You simply stated. You cheeks begun to heat up in embarrassment and shame from being confronted by your big brother about something so private. You feel tears well up in your eyes at the idea of him being disgusted by your lack of self-awareness. You SHOULD have locked the door and you SHOULD have covered up and ignored the burning heat in your pussy. But you didn’t.

“I-I can try. Is he downstairs?” You ask through your heaving breathing and tears. “Yeah.” He replies. You rip your eyes away from him and look to the side. This was humiliating. How could you be such a prude?

“Sis, I’m not mad at you. Is that why you’re crying?” You sniffle again before the waterworks begin. He pushes the door all the way open and envelopes you in a hug. “I feel disgusted with myself Jerry. I feel like a whore and Elvis probably thinks I'm a whore too. I'm sorry Jerry.”

“Oh (Y/N). It ain't your fault. He came to me apologizing a whole lot. He didn't mean to make things weird. Listen, why don't we head downstairs and you can talk to him. I'll be right behind ya, ok?”

You stood there for a minute, held against your brothers chest thinking. Eventually you made a small noise to show you agreed and released him from the hug. “Please just give me a moment to collect myself.” He nodded. “I'll be downstairs.”

You entered your room again and took a deep breath to calm yourself down. You walked to your bathroom and fixed your hair and makeup. You changed from your pajamas to a cute, white babydoll dress. You threw on a big fluffy cardigan along with your frilly socks and Mary Janes. You made your way out of the room and took the elevator to the ground floor.

You arrived in the lobby to be met with an abnormal amount of people. You made your way around the sea of bodies to the V.I.P lounge where Elvis and the mafia were usually stationed. You walk up to the bouncer and tap him gently on the shoulder.

He looks down at you and smiles. “Hey (Y/N). Here to get a drink?”

“Not exactly. However, that's also welcome.” You both laughed softly. He lifted the bar and let you in. “Have a good night sweets. Stay safe.”

“Thank you Hank!” You gushed sweetly at him and waved. You made your way down the little hallway and into the lounge itself. It was littered with all kinds of people having a good time. You walked around for a minute before finding the booth that your brother was in. In the booth, Elvis sat at the end followed by Billy, Scotty, Jerry, Joe, and Charlie. Billy was the first to notice you.

“Hey (Y/N)! Came down to get a drink with us?” At the sound of your name, Elvis and Jerry shot their heads up. Elvis blushed and smiled at you but you sported a nervous look. You walked over and stood awkwardly by Charlie at the other end of the table. Charlie look up, confused, as to why you were just standing there.

“God damnit fellas, make some room for her! Scoot down Charlie!” Charlie followed by everyone else scoot down a seat leaving space right next to Elvis. He pat the spot invitingly and you sat down. You clenched your hands between your thighs and cowered. You were nervous. You didn’t want him to be doing this out of pity or because he was about to make fun of you. Your knee bounced up and down rapidly out of anxiety.

Jerry cleared his throat and you looked at him. He raised his eyebrow to ask ‘Are you ok?’ You nodded and looked away. Jerry flagged down one of the waiters to get you a drink and some food for the table.

“(Y/N), what do you want to drink?”

“Uhh… May I please get the Frozen Strawberry Daiquiri?” The waiter nodded.

“Anything else for the table?” Elvis perked up.

“Yeah, let us get 2 baskets of fries and onion rings each,” he leaned over you to speak privately to the waiter. “Oh and…get the lady some of those fancy chocolate covered strawberries.” Elvis slipped him a few $50 bills before he walked off.

While he was leaned over speaking to the waiter, his hands found their way onto your thighs as support. He played it off as trying to steady himself but you could see through that. While he grabbing the bills from his pocket, he grabbed onto your inner thigh to stead himself from falling. He leaned a good bit of his weigh onto you and let his hands slip up to in between your upper thighs. A dusty pink blush spread itself across your face as you let him hold you this way.

He released your thighs and you curled back into yourself. For the time that you had been waiting for your drinks and food, Elvis and guys had been talking up a storm. They cracked jokes, told stories, planned for different shows and all around had a good time. While it didn’t seem like it, you were also having a good time. You didn’t make any comments but you listened and giggled quietly at the appropriate times. These last few days of secluding yourself from everyone were boring. It was nice to hear people talk for a change.

The time passed slowly though. It had felt like forever since you ordered your drinks but like clockwork, they showed up. A few of the guys had ordered some beers to the table along with the food and your pretty drink. The waiter sets down your drink last before turning back to the cart. He pulls out a pretty pink heart-shaped dish with an assorted variety of chocolate covered strawberries.

You cock your head in confusion. “Oh, I’m sorry. We didn’t order this?”

“Mr. Presley ordered them.”

‘That’s probably what he was telling the waiter,’ you thought to yourself.

“Doll, they’re for you.” Elvis adds quietly. You turned your head and face him for the first time in a few days. You blushed again and opened your mouth, but shut it. You murmured a quiet ‘thank you.’

For a few minutes, you didn’t touch the strawberries. You just slowly sipped on your drink and thought about stuff. Finally, after 10 or so minutes, you started to eat. You took small bites to savor the flavor as these were the BEST chocolate covered strawberries you had ever had.

Elvis had watched as your face contorted from an uncomfortable look to a much more relaxed and content look. He leaned over to Jerry.

“I think I’m gonna talk to her now if that’s ok? Watch our drinks please.” He whispered in his ear. Jerry nodded his head but gripped Elvis’ sleeve.

“If she comes back crying again we’re gonna have to have a talk.” Elvis nodded and stood up. He wasn’t used to being bossed around by his right hand man, but he understood his protective instinct over his little sister and respected that.

“Darlin’. Would you mind comin’ with me? I need to talk to you real quick.”

You glanced up at him and back at your brother for help. Your brother plastered a reassuring smile on his face and nodded. You gulped and stood up to get out of his way. He you offered his hand to you and you took it, following him out of the lounge and into a back hallway.

“Is everything ok, Elvis?” You asked quietly. You were nervous as to what was to come. Was he about to fire you? Was he going to tell you that you needed to find somewhere else to go because you can’t travel with them? Was he going to fire you AND Jerry because of what happened? All these possibilities and thoughts clouded your head and you became visibly distressed.

“Yeah. I needed to talk to you about the other night.”

Oh god. It was happening. The media would find out about this and your lives would be destroyed. Everyone would find out how much of a whore you are. You would never be allowed out in public. People would call you names and mock you.

“Yes?” You replied shakily.

“I want to apologize. I should have knocked. I know I made you uncomfortable and I really don’t want that to be the way you think bout’ me. I’m real sorry yittle. I hope you can forgive me.”

You widen your eyes at his confession. ‘He thinks he made me uncomfortable?’ You feel an overwhelming sence of guilt take over.

“I-I.. I don’t know what to say. I thought I made you uncomfortable. I didn’t want to face you because I was afraid you would send me away. I’m so sorry Elvis.” You took a deep breath to calm your shaky breaths. Before there was a moment to speak, he enveloped you in a tight hug.

Your hands laid limp at your side for a moment but eventually, you wrapped them around his torso. His head laid in the crook of your neck and he breathed your scent. This nose breaths on a sensitive part of your neck and you push yourself into him and made a whimpering noise. He raised his head and stared down into your eyes. You stared back. You felt a sense of intimacy in this moment. You searched for the love in his eyes and he in yours.

“(Y/N)… Can I kiss you?” You didn’t respond. You made a bold move of initiating the kiss. You stood on your tippy toes and snaked your hands up and around his neck. He kissed back and deepened it as well. His lips were so soft and plush against your own. He stuck his tongue in your mouth to turn the kiss into a more sensual one. He tasted like rum and coke. His scent invaded your senses. The smell of his typical cologne- Lenel For Men- had hints of citrus and spice. You were intoxicated by his scent, taste, and the feeling of his body wrapped around your own. You could simply sit here forever and be stuck in his being forever.

He felt the same way about you. You were so pretty like this. So pretty when you look into his eyes. So pretty when you whimper. So pretty when you let him paw at your thighs. So so so so pretty when you squirted to the thought of him. Since that night, he wanted to fill you up and make you his own. He loved you and he yearned for you. He needed to make things right before he could act on his primal urges.

His kisses got more erotic and desperate. He wanted to be as close to you as possible. He wanted to be IN you. His hands slipped from your waist to the small of you back. You move your hands so they’re right up against his chest. You moan quietly his hands move further down and onto your ass. He gives it a squeeze and then a slap.

“E-Elvis! Maybe we shouldn’t do this right here…” You suggest timidly. You want him right now but you would rather not be caught by random bystanders.

“You’re right doll face. Wouldn’t want people to see what’s mine.” Mine. The word replayed in your head like a ringing bell. Mine. Mine. Mine. Mine. You could feel your panties become wet from his sultry and deep southern drawl. “Oh Elvis, you don’t know how long I’ve dreamed about this! I need you right now!”

He chuckled and pulled you into a secluded laundry room. He locked the door behind him and set you on a folding table. “Doll, you don’t know how long I’ve dreamed of this either. When I saw you the other night, pretty little cunt out I wanted to fuck you on that bed. I wanted to replace that silly little toy with myself. I want to be your man and I want you to be my woman.”

Your eyes widened at his confession. With some kind of newfound confidence and bravery, you pulled him by the collar of his shirt and kissed him. He didn’t hesitate to return the kiss. His hands went straight to cradling your cheeks. He squished them slightly and deepened the kiss. One of his hand snake down to your dress-clad breast and begins to gently massage it. His fingers find their way the the bottom of your dress and bunch it up to your waist.

“Take it off baby.” He demands. You nod quietly and pull the dress over your head and on the floor next to the legs of the table. His hands and mouth are all over you. His mouth begins to suck and nip at your collarbone while his fingers pinch and prod at your tits and nipples. “Oh, Elvis! Oh g-gosh.” You stuttered out. You felt him smirk against your collarbone before moving his mouth and hands down lower. He kisses the space in between and above your breasts before finally taking one of your nipples in his mouth.

His hands felt like lava on your skin as they pushed you down further onto the table. Your back hits the cold granite and it archs. You tits were pretty and perky in his mouth as his whole body moved to match yours- like a puzzle piece. His hands move from your stomach to your groin where he traced your pelvis bone with his rough, calloused fingers.

“Elvis, please. Please take me I need you.” He got a lopsided grin on his face and nodded. He pushes himself back from you and leans down so he’s eye level with your cunt. “So pretty, baby. You want me to take this pretty pussy? All’s you gotta say is yes and I’ll have you pretty girl.” You feel wetness pool in your panties and you nod frantically “Yes, please! Need you inside Elvis!”

His ego was being stroked and he let that show through. He pressed his fingers to your panties and let the wetness coat his fingers. The feeling of his hot fingers on your pussy sent an electric shock down your spine and you shivered. He stuck said fingers in his mouth and stared you down while he devoured your juices. He pulled them out with a pop and smirked. “You’re so sweet baby. Gotta taste the whole thing.”

He made quick work of your panties. He slid them down and put them in his pocket haphazardly. The cool air hit and your legs instinctively shut themselves around his hand. He pried them open with ease. “Gonna make you fall apart on my tongue baby.”

He let his fingers run through your silky folds and once again glaze his fingers. You moaned out his name and sat up. Your elbows supported most of your weight as you watched him with hooded eyes.

His mouth replaces his fingers as he dives head first into your cunt. His warm mouth wrapped around your pearly bud almost immediately after he started. Your arms buckle and you fall back onto the table. You back arches and you move your hands to where is head is stationed in between your legs. “Elvis! Oh god! Oh it feels so good Elvis don’t stop!”

He moves his fingers to your achy hole. At first, he was spreading your lips with his fingers but decided he needed to open you up before you took his cock. Using your wetness as a lubricant, he sticks a long finger in you. You let out a high pitched moan and vice gripped his hair. He took this as a sign to keep going. He sticks a second finger in you and begins thrusting then in and out.

You juices mixed with your velvet walls and his fingers made a sort of squelching sound that was only turning you on more. “Oh god Elvis. I’m so close, mmm!” You pushed your head against the table and began to clamp your thighs around his head.

As if the devil himself had possessed the black-hairs sex god below you, he removed his mouth and fingers from your burning heat. An empty feeling replaced the god-like sensation that was driving through your body. Your head shot up and you stared at him with a confused look. “W-why did you stop? Did I do something wrong?” He chuckled and shook his head.

“No baby. I want to fill you up with my cock though. I also want to cum with you.” You shivered at his words and nodded. He placed one of his hands on your tits and massaged them. Your mouth opens and silent gasps fall out at the feeling of him. He began to unbutton the shirt his shirt and unbuckle his pants with his free hand. He threw the shirt on the ground and kicked his pants off- leaving him in his boxers. He removed his hand from you and pushed his boxers down.

His hardened cock slapped his stomach and leaked with precum. “Ain’t it bigger than that silly toy? I know you wish it was me instead of that little thing.” You shuddered and nodded. You couldn’t tear your gaze away from his cock. You felt a little embarrassed but you just couldn’t stop looking.

“Are you ready pretty girl?” You nodded again. Your eyebrows furrow and your lips make a small ‘o’ shape. He prods the tip at you and begins to push it in. Inch by inch, you could feel yourself stretching out dramatically. While you have used dildos and other phallic shaped objects on yourself, you were still a virgin. You had never had a man fully inside you before- obvious by the pained moans that left your mouth.

“E… Please slow down it h-hurts.” He nodded and bent down to you. His torso lay over yours and his head was right near yours.

“Such a pretty girl. Such a sweet, angelic little thing. You have nothing to be afraid of baby, I’m gonna take real good care of you, right darlin’?” His sweet nothings were like a molasses to your ears. “Mmm, E? You can move now.”

Once he bottomed out, he began a stead, rhythmic pace as he thrusted into you. Little babbles and coos left your mouth. He just felt so good. All these months of lusting after him were really showing through now. All those nights when you rode that little dildo couldn’t compare to your position right now.

“Faster, please!” His thrusts picked up from a leisure stroll to a light jog. His hands moved from your hips, up onto the sides of your breasts. He balanced his weight before giving them squeezes, pinches, and prods.

“God darlin’. This pussy was made for me. Just molds around me so well. Gonna be mine forever.”

His pace increased sharply, as did his force. It felt like he was pounding you into the table and it hurt so good. He moved his hands to your sides and ceased action again. He pulled out and flipped you onto your stomach. He pulled you to the edge of the table so your legs dangled over the side. He re-entered again and rushed back to the pace you were at before. In this new position, he could reach even deeper into you so he could show you just how good your body could feel.

“Oh god! Elvis! Harder please!” He obliged and strengthened his pace. He placed both hands on your ass and pounded harder. “You gettin’ close baby? Gonna cum on me?” You let out a high-pitched ‘Mhm!’ Your hands stretched above you to hold the other end of the table with a tight grip. His hands squeezed the globes of your ass and he bent over you again. “Gonna make you cum so good baby. Gonna fuck you so good you won’t be able to do anything but moan my name. Make you my little dumb angel. Like the sound of that?”

You nodded and moaned. “Yes Elvis! I’m close! Please make me cum, mmm!” He could feel the way your cunt tightened around his cock signaling your release. “Come on baby, cum with me. Cum on my cock. Come on.”

He pace quickened again and he maxed out. His was growling in your ear and nipping your neck. All of a sudden, he hit a soft spongy part inside you that made you perk up. He hit it again, and again, and again, and again. You were seeing white spots and stars in your vision as you chased your release. “Gonna cum baby. Cum with me!”

His words pushed you over the edge and your orgasm hit you like a freight train. His orgasm hit him as well and he slammed his hands against the table. “FUCK!” he released deep into every nook and cranny of your pussy. His arms gave in and his full body weight was leaned against your back.

For a moment, neither of you said anything, just heavy breaths and small whimpers. He pushed himself up and off you and stood up straight. He took the panties out of his pants pocket and wiped his cock with them. You leaned up with what little strength you held.

He took the panties and wiped your pussy from behind with slow and gentle strokes. You let out overstimulated mewls.

“Are you able to stand doll?” He asked quietly. You slowly flipped over so you were on your back and touched your feet to the ground. You stood for a moment with wobbly legs and stumbled over to his arms.

“Barley.” You both laugh. He holds you close to him as he gets your dressed again. He puts on the cum soaked panties and pulls them up your legs. You push your thighs together and hold onto his shoulder. “You did really good baby. So proud of you.” He puts your bra on you and clasps it together. With the help of him, you slip on your dress and socks before sitting down on the table to wait for him.

He throws his boxers, pants, and button up back on. He puts his socks and shoes on and holds a hand out to you. “Let’s head back. If any of them ask, just say you cried a little bit.” You giggle and nodded.

“Oh, and doll?”

“Hmm?”

“I was serious. I want you to be my girl. I don’t want to spend another moment not with you.” He confesses quietly.

You gasp and look at him. Your big (E/C) eyes bore into his pretty ocean blue ones. “I want to be with you too Elvis. I love you so much.”

He smiles and kisses you sweetly. You return the kiss. You held that position for a few minutes before a loud voice calls down the hall. You let go of him and retreat to his side.

“Mr. Presley? Mr. Schilling was looking for you and Ms. Schilling. Should I tell them you’re alright?”

Elvis lets put a hearty chuckle and hugs you closer to his side.

“Tell him we’re more than alright.”

(Taglist): @mt12209 , @austinsmutler , @18lkpeters , @presleyenterprise , @myradiaz , @ccab @livelaughelvis

#50s elvis #60s elvis #70s elvis #elvis presley #elvis presley x reader #reader insert #elvis x reader #elvis presley x reader smut #x reader #x reader smut #reader insert smut #elvis x reader smut #satninroses

169 notes · View notes

sissylittlefeather · 6 months

Text

This is the Story

Chapter 9

A/N: This one was fun to write. I hope you enjoy it as much as I did! Special thanks, as always, to my besties @ccab and @elvisfatass for all their help in bringing this story to life!

ICYMI: this is the one with the OC Grace Dubois, author and single mom of 6 year old Wendy. Need to catch up? Here are the links:

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI! Kissing, cussing, fingering, oral (both receiving), unprotected sex, creampie, also violence (fistfight) and death threat, and an asshole talking to and touching Grace in a way she doesn't want

Word count: 3kish

Still song inspo:

He can put his own feelings aside to make sure nothing happens to them.

******

"Mr. Marshall, my name is Colonel Tom Parker."

"Yeah, and who are you?"

"I'm the manager for Mr. Elvis Presley."

"Why are you calling me?"

"I'm led to believe you were once in a relationship with a woman named Grace Dubois?"

"Is this about the photograph?"

"It is indeed. Do you know your daughter is calling him 'daddy'?"

"What the fuck? Why are you telling me this?"

"I believe we may have a common goal..."

******

After a week of nothing happening, Grace begins to relax. She's still sleeping in Lisa's room with Wendy, but everyday she gets closer to apologizing to Elvis. He's been so kind to let them stay with him and despite being in the same house, she misses him desperately. Still, she knows that she hurt him with what she said, but she's not entirely sure she was wrong. What would happen when he went back to Vegas or on tour? She can't afford to take the risk that he'll fall back into his old patterns. But it doesn't change the fact that she loves him and every time they meet in the hallway she wants nothing more than to fall apart in his arms. There are several moments when it feels like they're right on the cusp of reconciliation, but something always happens to get in the way. Either he's called away or she has somewhere to be or Wendy needs her. They continue working on the book in cool cooperation, him looking at her longingly anytime she's not paying attention and her praying that this time she'll find the strength to apologize.

At the beginning of the second week, Elvis turns to Grace as she packs up her notebook. She thinks he's about to say something about the situation they're in, but he doesn't.

"I'm going to be back in the studio tonight."

"Tonight? For how long?"

"Until we finish, but it could be every night for the next few weeks. I just wanted to let you know I won't be around much."

"Oh." Then a thought occurs to her.

"But what if Richard shows up?"

"Grace, it's been a week and nothing has happened. I think you'll be okay."

"Do you want us to leave?"

"No. Of course not. I just think you'll be okay here by yourself."

"I have to go to the store tonight."

"Do you want to take Jerry with you?"

"No. I'll be okay. I just... I don't want to be here without you." She looks at him, her eyes shiny with tears. The possibility of Richard showing up isn't the only reason she wants him there. He flexes his hand in an attempt to keep from touching her face.

"I'm sorry. I have to do this album. The studio is struggling and I'm hoping by recording there I can breathe some life back into it. And we already started recording back in the summer before... I just have to finish it."

"You have to do what you have to do." She finishes packing up and walks out of the room. From the hallway, she hears him cuss and slam his fist on the desk.

Maybe it's time for them to move back to the apartment.

******

When Elvis gets to Stax, he has a moment of concern about Grace and Wendy alone at the house, but he tells himself he doesn't need to worry. She's a grown woman and everyday it seems like she needs him less and less. It might be time for him to move on with his life without her. The thought causes a lump to form in his throat, but he swallows it quickly and gets to work. The album isn't going to record itself.

******

It's almost dark when Grace and Wendy come back from their shopping trip. Grace is reluctant to go back to the big, empty house. She knows Elvis and the mafia guys have gone to the studio by now.

As she pulls up to the gate, she notices a man standing against it. That's strange, since most of Elvis's fans are female. When he approaches the car, though, her heart drops into her stomach.

"Well, well. So the rumors are true."

"What are you doing here, Richard?"

"I've come to collect what's mine." He gestures to Wendy, who looks up at him quizzically.

"Who are you?" She says it sassily.

"I'm your daddy, baby." She sneers defiantly.

"No. My daddy is Elvis Presley. I don't know who you are." He hisses and turns to Grace.

"Did you tell her that? You fucking him doesn't make him her father."

"Well, you're not either. Go home Richard."

"My name's on her birth certificate. I know you don't want me to take you to court." Grace's blood runs cold. She knew this would happen. He reaches through the open window and strokes her face.

"Come on, honey, don't you remember how good we were together? You look good."

"Stop it, Richard. Don't call me honey." She closes her eyes and wills him to go away, but he doesn't.

"I bet you let him call you honey when he fucks you." She turns to him with angry tears in her eyes. Just then, a guard comes up to the them, shiny gun on his hip.

"Is there a problem here?" Grace nods.

"Yes, please let me go through the gates and make sure he doesn't follow me." The guard nods and tries to escort Richard away from the car. He shakes the guard's hand off of him.

"Don't fucking touch me." Then he turns back to Grace as the gates open. "I'm not going anywhere, honey. I'll get what I came for, one way or another."

Grace speeds through the gates and up to the house.

"Mama, what's wrong? Who was that man?"

Grace is shaking as the tears run down her face. She turns to Wendy.

"Don't worry about him, sweetie. He's no one." Wendy nods slowly and they get out of the car, leaving the shopping on the backseat. Grace ushers Wendy upstairs to bed and goes directly to the telephone.

******

"Elvis. I'm sorry to bother you..."

"Grace, what's wrong?" He can tell by her voice that she's upset.

"Richard is here. He's at the gates and he wants Wendy. I don't know what to do." He can hear her sniffing through the phone and knows she's crying.

"Stay inside, honey, I'm coming." He hangs up the phone and turns to the guys.

"We gotta go."

"Elvis, we're right in the middle of-"

"I said we need to go. Now." Elvis rushes to the car and the guys pile in with Jerry in the front seat.

"Is it Grace?"

"Her ex is at the gates." Jerry raises his eyebrows.

"Shit."

******

Grace watches out the window for Elvis's car to pull up to the gates. When it does, he gets out of the car with the guys. She walks out the front door and down the driveway to see and hear what's about to happen.

Richard is still leaning against the gates.

"If it isn't the man himself." He says mockingly to Elvis. Grace can tell by Elvis's body language that that was the wrong thing to say to him.

"Listen here, motherfucker. You leave Grace and Wendy alone." Grace's hand goes to her throat. She's not sure how this is going to go.

"Or what?" Elvis takes two steps and grabs the front of Richard's shirt and punches him hard. When he stands back up, he swings and lands one good shot on Elvis's nose before the mafia guys swoop in to hold him. Grace gasps. She starts to tingle as she watches Elvis beat the living shit out of Richard. Her heart races and her breathing speeds up.

As Elvis continues to deck him, he yells.

"You abandoned your pregnant fiancée, Dick." He lands another hit.

"You are no kind of father." And another.

"You are no kind of man." And another.

By this point Richard is only vertical because the mafia guys are holding him, but he's not unconscious. Elvis holds his shirt again and gets frighteningly close, but he's still loud enough for Grace to hear.

"And if you ever come around Grace or Wendy ever again, I'll shoot you in the face. Do you understand me?" He nods and whimpers. Elvis throws him on the ground by his shirt front in disgust.

Grace lets out a tiny moan at the sight. Her worry for Elvis is overpowered by another, stronger experience. The scene that just played out made her blood run to her core and she needs to put her own hands on Elvis as quickly as possible.

The gates open and he walks up to her, flexing his knuckles gingerly.

"I'm sorry you had to see that, honey."

"I'm not." She whispers breathily. He smiles and throws his arm around her shoulders as they make their way up to the house together.

******

Once inside, they go to the kitchen. Elvis has a bloody nose from the one punch Richard was able to land, so Grace gets a wet towel to clean him up. She stands between his knees and gently dabs at his face with the towel. When she finishes, she lays the towel on the counter behind him, looking into his eyes deeply.

"Thank you."

"I don't think we'll be hearing from him again."

Simultaneously, he puts his hands on her hips and she leans in and presses her lips against his. He pulls back and kisses her again with his lips parted, letting his tongue slide into her mouth. She wraps her arms around his neck and pulls him in close. They stay entwined like this for a while, tongues dancing against each other and bodies pressed together.

Eventually, Elvis stands up and scoops Grace into his arms like a bride. She giggles and he carries her upstairs to the bedroom. Neither of them has to say anything to know this is what they both want.

When they get into the room, Elvis lays Grace on the bed gently. He begins to undress her slowly, kissing each part of her as he does, starting with her shoes. He slides her pants down and kisses each of her thighs.

"You have beautiful legs, honey." She smiles as he plants more kisses along her calf. He moves back up, lifting her shirt and kissing her stomach softly. Then he runs both hands up her back and pulls her shirt up over her head. She's a beautiful woman, but she's even more attractive to him because of the way he feels about her. He tries to show this in the way he kisses her neck and shoulder gently. He lifts her delicate hand to his lips, pressing soft kisses into her palm.

"I love your hands." He thinks of how they flit across the page like butterfly wings as she writes. He moves back up her arm and slides the straps of her bra off her shoulders and kisses down to her nipple. He pulls the left one into his mouth softly and then lets his lips ghost over her skin as he moves across to the other one. He continues to worship her body with his mouth as he removes her bra and panties completely. As she lays there naked in front of him, he's overwhelmed with affection for every aspect of her. The way he loves her physical body is just an expression of the love he has for the rest of her. He gently runs his fingertips from her cheek, down her neck, to her chest, and on down her hip and leg. Finally, he situates himself between her legs.

The whole time he undresses her, she revels in the tenderness of his hands, her heart thumping wildly in her chest. Her arousal grows with every kiss and she needs him more and more, but not just physically. She needs his love, his adoration, and all of him in every way.

When he presses his mouth to her center, her back arches and she moans his name softly. He licks slow circles around her clit, pressing his tongue into her slit and then licking back up to the spot that makes her wild.

"You taste so good, honey." He whispers it into her and the subtle vibration makes her crazy. He continues moving his tongue over and around her, sliding two of his long fingers into her pussy, pressing them as far in as they'll go before tickling the inside of her. She gasps and he begins to move his tongue faster over and around her clit.

"Oh god, Elvis." She moans again, throwing her head back and closing her eyes. She's just on the cusp of her orgasm and he can tell by the way she flutters around him.

"Come for me, honey." She whines as her orgasm washes over her in waves of pulsating pleasure, wetness spilling out of her as he continues to run his tongue over her clit. She puts her hand in his hair, assuming he's going to stop, but he doesn't. He just keeps right on licking and teasing her sensitive bud until it tightens again and she feels a second orgasm overtake her.

"Fuck, Elvis!" When he still doesn't stop, Grace pats the top of his head and whimpers.

"One more, honey." His speech is a little slurred from the use of his tongue, but he presses on. Grace is sweating, her hands clenching the bedspread as he refuses to give up licking, fingering, and tongue-fucking her.

Finally, she comes a third time, wetness splashing out of her this time as she moans loudly. Elvis smiles and kisses back up her body as she tries to catch her breath. He lays on the bed next to her, also breathing heavily.

She rolls over to him and, despite her shaking hands, practically rips his clothes off of him. Once he's naked, she takes his cock in her hand and strokes it gently. Then, she bends over and pulls the whole thing into her mouth.

"Fuck, Grace." He moans as she moves up and down on him. He wraps his fingers in her hair and holds it up while she drags her tongue up and down his shaft. Then, she pulls his foreskin back and makes slow circles on his sensitive head. He whimpers and throws his head back. Just when he can't stand that any longer, she pulls all of him into her mouth, pressing her nose into the hair at the base of him.

"God, Grace, if you don't stop..."

"Mhmm?" The feeling of her lips around him when she hums almost pushes him over the edge, but then she pulls off of him, sucking the tip with a small pop.

He acts like he's going to roll over on top of her, but she pushes him down on the bed.

"No."

She climbs on top of him and sinks onto his cock slowly, taking in every inch of him.

"Fuckkkk yes, honey." He groans as she begins to bounce up and down on him. After a minute of this, she switches to grinding into him, pushing him deeper and deeper inside her. She equals his relentlessness in her pursuit of his orgasm. She wants to give herself to him fully and make him come as hard as she did. He reaches up and cups her breasts with his hands as he rides him, flicking his thumbs over her nipples. Then, he moves his hands down to her hips and moves with her as she winds her body back and forth on top of him. Finally, he can't stand it anymore and he tumbles headfirst over a cliff of pleasure, cussing and shuddering and filling her with his release.

"Fuck, yes, Grace, yes." He says through gritted teeth as he comes. She leans over and rests her body on his as he wraps his arms around her. When she sits up, he pushes her hair back out of her face and looks up at her softly.

"I'm sorry-" she begins, but he puts his finger on her lips and shakes his head.

"I love you so much. I've never loved anyone like this. You have me, body and soul, honey." Her eyes fill with tears again, but this time they don't fall.

"And I'm yours, Elvis."

She lays next to him and nuzzles into his shoulder, as he leans over and kisses her forehead, both of them determined to never let anything come between them again.

******

Chapter 10 coming soon!

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Taglist:

@ccab @elvisfatass @elvisalltheway101 @ashtag6887 @aliypop @your-nanas-house @dkayfixates @everythingelvispresley @xanatenshi @returntopresley @p0lksaladannie @deniseinmn @jaqueline19997 @that-hotdog @18lkpeters @joshuntildawn13 @rjmartin11 @littlehoneyposts @epthedream69

#elvis presley fanfiction #elvis presley #elvis fanfic #elvis smut #elvis presley fic #elvis fic #elvis fanfiction #elvis presley x oc #elvis presley fanfic #elvis x oc #grace dubois #this is the story #elvis presley smut #Spotify

70 notes · View notes

missmaywemeetagain · 2 years

Text

Pink Scarf - PART 3! (Elvis/Austin!Elvis x Reader)

Character/Fandom: Elvis - Elvis (2022)

Requested: kinda

(Read more here--Pink Scarf Series Masterlist!)

Prompt: You are part of Elvis Presley's coveted inner circle, and the currently-disgruntled wife of one of the members of Elvis' famous entourage, the Memphis Mafia. After Elvis' dynamite first performance in Vegas, you find yourself in deep water when his magnetism finally gets to you after all these years. [ Fem!Reader ]

TW: Sex. Oral (f receiving). Cussing. Infidelity. Historical inaccuracies in the Vegas timeline. Priscilla doesn't exist in this timeline.

Rating: Explicit/Mature (NSFW, 18+, so minors Do NOT Interact) || Word Count: 2611

A/N: The smut is finally here, y'all! I'm gonna be totally honest--I've never put smut on public display before, so I really hope it's okay/readable. Thank you again for all your support, reblogs, and comments--they sincerely make my day so much better and keep me excited about writing! Just so you know, Part 4 will be a smutty continuation of Part 3, if y'all want it...

I imagined this with Elvis in mind, but Austin!Elvis works here, too, whatever floats your boat!

Apologies in advance if there are any grammatical errors or TW that I didn't catch.

The knock at the door startles you and you sit up straight, your heart pounding so hard it shakes your ribcage.

Relax. There’s no way. He wouldn’t leave the penthouse…he never goes anywhere without the entourage. He probably just sent Jerry down to check on me, you try and convince yourself, but the pounding of your heart does not subside.

The knock comes again, sharp and insistent, prompting you to warily make your way to the door and open it.

Elvis.

Your heart stops.

Elvis stands there, leaning against the doorjamb, with ferocity in his eyes before pushing his way into the room.

You barely have time to be surprised as you stumble backwards to counter his advance.

“Honey, we weren’t done talkin’,” he says sternly. His annoyance is obvious in the way he is clenching his jaw and his eyes are narrowed.

Your mouth opens and closes but no words come out. You cannot believe he followed you down here.

“I don’t like hearin’ you’re unhappy, y/n, so I’m settlin’ to fix that.” His accent is stronger than usual, tainted with his frustration. He shakes his finger at you, that signature gold bracelet of his, the one encrusted with diamonds that spell out his name, glinting in the lamplight.

You suppose you should feel angry yourself, with him barging in here like this, but instead, his hotheadedness is making you feel something else entirely.

“And how exactly are you gonna do that, Elvis? How are you gonna make me happy?” you finally speak, the challenge coming out sultry, your breathing quickening. You are shocked at your own boldness, but that coil in your belly has wound its way into your mind, dampening your usual propriety and common sense.

He steps towards you, but this time you don’t back up, only raising your eyes to meet his. The annoyance in his eyes transforms into that heated, dangerous look from earlier, blackening his usually bright irises.

His long pointer finger raises up to trace the lightning bolt on the gold and diamond TLC necklace you’d forgotten is still hanging around your neck, the necklace he’s given you that marks you as one of the elite women in the inner circle around him. The necklace which you almost never take off.

“I take care of what’s mine,” Elvis says, voice deep and vibrating. The implication is clear, sending a pleasurable shudder down your spine.

You know you are off the rails now. Every cell in your body is screaming for him, his touch. Your breath is shallow, quick, waiting for his next move. And all your concerns and objections from earlier are burned away, forgotten, buried somewhere deep below the spell he has you under.

But when you look into his eyes now, all you see is fire, well controlled fire, which sends a thrill into your belly. Those blazing eyes never leave yours as he slowly pulls on the tie of your robe, undoing the knot, letting it fall open. The room’s cool air rolls over your warm body, sending a visible, trembling shiver through you. He gently pushes the robe over your shoulders, watching as it slips down your arms, finally pooling at your feet.

His fingers, calloused from so many years of guitar playing, flit over your collarbone and down your bare arm, his thumb brushing the satiny fabric of your nightgown along the way. Your heart flutters at the contact, starved for him, but unable to move. Gooseflesh rises on your skin, both from the cold of the heavily air-conditioned room and from the sensation of his touch.

It does not go unnoticed that your nipples have hardened under the thin fabric. Elvis smiles a coy little smile, his hands finding your waist, and then he walks you backwards, bringing you with him to the edge of the bed. He pulls you down onto the bed with him so smoothly, you barely have time to register the change because you are so focused on the heated way he’s looking at you.

His lips meet yours at the same exact moment he trails those fingers deftly over the satin, over the hard bud of your nipple, causing your mouth to open to him as your body arches up, desperate for his touch. He sucks briefly at your bottom lip and your entire body is dowsed in heat.

He goes achingly slow, completely in control, nearly driving you mad. Nibbling his way down your neck, he takes the thin strap of your nightie in his teeth, dragging it down your shoulder. You can’t help the little gasp that escapes you as he kisses and licks his way back up and over your décolletage to do the same to the other strap. Gravity wins as the top of your night gown slips down, leaving your breasts bare before him.

Elvis, pleased with his work, looks you over hungrily. You tremble in response, so incredibly aroused that every small touch feels monumental, so when he takes a taught nipple into his mouth, you think you might actually pass out. The moan that comes from you is indecent, and his response of swirling your nipple with his tongue causes you to dig your nails into his shoulders.

Bolder now, you grab at the pink scarf he is still wearing around his neck, pulling him up to kiss him deeply, your tongue needy in his mouth. This finally gains you the response you’re after—a low growl against your mouth, rumbling up from his chest as he loses a little of that self-control, pinning you down on the bed with his long, lean body.

One hand is at your neck, winding in your hair, his thumb caressing your jaw as he devours your mouth, while the other explores your breasts, your back, your waist. Every one of his touches leaves a trail of fire on your body, snaking down towards your core.

You need more of him, yearning to feel his skin on yours. Groping for the buttons on his jacket, you are eternally grateful for his daring fashion choice of not wearing a shirt, because once you succeed in popping the buttons, he is already bare for you. Your hands do what they’ve wanted to all night—raking up his torso, feeling the dark hair of his chest beneath the palms of your hands, the pounding of his heart that gives his true feelings away.

Elvis rips away from you just long enough to shirk off the jacket, leaving you to admire his tan skin and lightly sculpted arms in the process. You notice how flushed he is, the pink of his lips as they curve up into that million-dollar smile. His brilliance blows you away even more now, because in this moment, he is all yours: all that brilliance is directed at you, and it’s like nothing you’ve ever experienced in your life. If your body wasn’t so desperate for him, you might be frozen in awe at the gorgeous man above you.

Taking that silky scarf from around his neck, he kisses you deeply. While you are leaning up to meet him, he slides the scarf around your neck pulling you into him. Then he begins a barrage of kisses down your body that leaves you sighing his name like a mantra, his lips so soft but oh so hot as they blaze over your breasts and your belly. He surprises you then by sinking to his knees on the floor in front of you, opening your knees and sliding his body in between them.

Holy shit. Is this really happening?

He lifts your nightie up and nibbles at your hips over your black cotton panties, sending a shockwave over you as you twitch up into him. Then Elvis’ head is between your thighs, kissing the sensitive skin from your knee all the way up near where you want him most. You prop up on your forearms to look down at him, wild with anticipation, but with that upper lip curving into a sly smirk, he quirks his eyebrow and skips over to your other thigh, kissing all the way back down to your knee. He looks so fucking sexy doing it, you forgive him for teasing you, laying back with a sigh.

He massages up your legs now, and when his thumbs just barely graze under the cotton of your panties, you nearly levitate off the bed. You are already embarrassingly wet, which when discovered, earns another pleased smirk from below. Now he teases you, first with the tip of his thumb tracing your panty line, then peppering kisses over the same spot. The heat swelling inside you causes you to white-knuckle the covers on the bed with growing desperation.

In response, he gives you just a little more, tonguing your most sensitive spots through the wet cotton, driving you fully mad and sending you writhing up against him. You scratch into his scalp, begging for more, but he pulls away slightly, pressing a hand into your pelvis to keep you from trying to follow.

“Is there something you need, lil’ mama?” His voice is so raspy and low that the vibrations from it alone threaten to consume you.

You groan in response, clutching the covers once again.

“So stubborn,” he tsks with a grin, “Use your words, baby.” His hot breath dances over the core of your panties, and the anticipation is so intense, the heat so powerful, you feel like you could combust from the inside out.

“Please, Elvis, please,” you finally relent, panting.

His eyes, blown dark and mischievous and playful, dance at you. “Good girl.”

Finally, he loops his fingers around your panties, dragging them down and off your legs. If you weren’t so on fire, you might feel bashful about the slick they bring down your thighs with them, but the moment they are off and he pulls you forward to the edge of the bed, all thought ceases to exist. He places your knees over his shoulders before returning his attention to you.

The moment those soft, plump lips of his kiss your clit, the fire in your belly roars, sending your hips flying and a whimper escaping your lips. You feel him smile against you, delighted with your response.

Elvis knows what he’s doing, and it surprises you a little. You’d never taken him for a generous lover, you just always assumed he didn’t have to be with all the women falling at his feet. But obviously, he’s learned some tricks along the way—God knows he’s barely touched you and you are already putty in his hands.

Then he flattens his tongue against you, licking a long, hard stripe over your slit before rolling it over your clit like a fucking pussy-eating magician.

“Elvis!” you cry, unable to contain yourself, digging your fingers into his soft black hair, lest he try to tease you again. He must get the hint because his tongue dances, flits over your sensitive nub, building the heat inside you. He runs it through your folds expertly, sometimes lightly, sometimes with more pressure, coaxing you right where he wants you. It feels like he is tracing lyrics into your clit with his tongue, occasionally darting it up inside you, tasting you from the inside. The pleasure coils tighter and tighter, but he senses it, not letting you go over the edge.

You roll against him, hands in his hair, praising the gods as he fucks you with his beautiful mouth, finding yourself closer to the sun with each breath.

Suddenly, he leans back on his heels, and you whine in dismay, propping yourself up to look at him with a pout. He looks so handsome, his mouth slick with you and eyes on fire, that you almost forgive him. Then, watching your reaction carefully, he slides a long finger inside of you without warning.

Throwing your head back, you gasp, hips bucking in surprise, not expecting the penetration. You are so wet that he slides in easily, but you are very taut around him.

“So tight for me, baby,” Elvis purrs. “Goddamn, when was the last time you got fucked, lil’ mama? You just been waiting for me?” He gently pumps his finger inside you, feeling you out, stretching you, observing every little response. Then he curves his finger, testing, until he finds that spot that makes you fly.

“Yes, oh god, yes,” you groan, his filthy words coupled with his deft finger sending a wave of intense pleasure crashing over you. You honestly don’t even remember the last time you had sex and you feel so starved for it, you begin to pump against his hand. The wet noises coming from you are absolutely obscene, but you don’t care at all. You don’t care about anything in the world other than the way Elvis Presley is making you feel right this moment.

This seems to make him happy. When he returns his tongue to the attention of your clit at the same time he plays you from the inside, it is not long before you are careening to the edge. This time, he lets you. He hums against you, then he slides a second finger into you with a low growl, pumping only a few times before you see stars.

Your body tenses against him, and your breath hitches so hard that your heart skips a beat. You fall so hard and so fast that you feel like you’re thrown out of your body, moaning as that coil of fire in your belly finally unravels and blissfully explodes inside you.

It's been a long, long time since a man satisfied you, and not one had ever made you see stars.

Elvis continues with gentle strokes as you come down from the heavens, easing you back into your body. Puling those long fingers out of you, he replaces them, lapping up your orgasm with his tongue. The overstimulating sensation nearly has you over the edge again.

Oh my god, oh my god, ohmigod, you think, then realize you are murmuring it aloud as he sits back with an altogether content and heavily aroused look on his ridiculously gorgeous face.

He leans back, then crawls up the bed to join you there, kissing you long and deep. You can taste yourself on his mouth and it drives you wild.

Your body trembles with aftershocks, doused in hormones. You cannot believe that Elvis-Fucking-Presley just gave you the best orgasm of your entire life. You begin giggling uncontrollably at the absurdity, at how good you feel for the first time in ages, putting your hands over your face to try and stop laughing.

Then he’s above you, looking at you with almost a shy smile, his eyes shining with arousal, and it sends you into another peal of laughter.

“I’m sorry, oh my god, I can’t stop…it was just…I mean, that was…wow…just…wow,” you try to explain, gasping with giggles, praying he doesn’t think you are laughing at him.

“I made you happy, didn’t I, honey?” he asks, voice soft and low, eyes searching you as he brushes your hair off your face.

Your giggles subside when you realize he did exactly what he said he was going to do. “Yes, Elvis, you made me very happy,” you reply more seriously, giving him another kiss.

Then he’s lying next to you, chuckling with you, his laugh breathy and boyish and somehow musical at the same time.

“That’s good, baby, cuz I ain’t done with you yet,” he adds huskily.

A shiver of anticipation runs through you.

This is gonna be a long night.

Taglist:

@atombombbibunny @yesimwriting @uselessbutinteresting @mirandastuckinthe80s @dark-as-love @domaniquessidehoe

Reblogs, likes, comments + feedback are extremely appreciated! Please help support your content creators!

#elvis #elvis presley #elvis presley x reader #elvis x reader #Pink Scarf #if you’re looking for trouble #you came to the right place #austin butler elvis #elvis movie #elvis 2022 #austin butler #elvis imagine #elvis smut #austin!elvis smut #austin!elvis x reader #elvis presley imagine #elvis presley smut #elvis fic

663 notes · View notes

grem-archive · 1 year

Note

Pspsps may we ask for some romerica headcanons/thoughts? 👀👀

A great majority of these are between the esteemed @temtamtom and me! I think I accidentally converted you to Romericism Tem, so I apologize. I hope you heal soon :facedowncrying: also I am sorry in advance that there are so many. There are just as many more that I’m not including.

Romano is a respectful short king at 165 cm/5’5” next to Alfred’s 188 cm/6’2”. Poor Roma is also in an entirely different weight class; 55 kg compared to 102 kg.

“Romano dates what he can’t have (fat ass and big titties).”

“If you don’t love me like Hadrian loved Antinous it’s not worth it.”

This is 100% a Zoomer BF & Boomer BF situation. Alfred had to teach Romano how to use Zoom and FaceTime and always uses strange magic Gen Z words that leave Romano bewildered. Alfred’s “she eb on my nezer til I Scrooge” to Romano’s “look at this funny minion meme I found” (it’s 8 years outdated).

Romano loves paired dances and Alfred has a fair bit of energy. They adore swing dance and jive! When determined they’ll clear the room to listen to their old records and swing.

Related to this, they love to dance together in general and sing. They’ve made a playlist for doing their home chores when together and it’s chock full of songs both know by heart; both in English and Italian. And the amount of dancing they do to distract themselves? Immense. We’re talking a disco outbreak in the hall, Alfred starting to do the hand jive and Romano joining. They have fun.

They love watching westerns together. And I do mean love. We call Romerica “Spaghetti Western” in this house! And we’re not saying Romano has a cowboy kink, but he’s got a cowboy kink. Will find any excuse to get Alfred into some version of western wear (he’s usually pretty willing, it’s really not that hard).

Alfred lets Romano dress him up like a Ken Doll. He's just happy to be spending time with Roma, who, let's be real, has a much better fashion sense. Romano also has a history of patching up Alfred's clothes and uniforms, sometimes hiding hidden stitched hearts on the former.

They cook for each other a lot. The way to both their hearts are through their stomachs and it’s very obvious at times. Food driven to the core.

“Your cooking is going to make me fat.” Romano complains. “Y’know you don’t have to eat it if you don’t want to.” Alfred replies. Romano scrunches his nose, “Don’t tell me what to do.” He then takes another bite.

When Romano first arrived in New York, he knew very little English. On the other hand, Alfred knew very little Italian, if any. Communication was a very glaring issue in the beginning. They figured out that they both knew Spanish and could communicate that way until they taught each other more of their respective languages.

We’re not calling Alfred Romano’s sugar daddy, but hey, it doesn’t hurt when your beefcake boyfriend has a shiny credit card and makes a wonderful bag carrier :shrugs:

Romano’s common household weapons: the wooden spoon (the only actual weapon), the rolling pin (threat only), a comically large frying pan (threat only unless they’re getting up to Tom & Jerry shenanigans), and a comically long pizza paddle (for long range ass-smacking). However, Alfred has started learning to declaw the rolling pin threats by responding with “That’s so hot,” or some equivalent. Romano is having to rethink some of his battle plans.

Both are serial cuddlers when they’re together, but Romano is more confident in bolder displays of PDA and touchier overall. A hand on Alfred’s back or waist as he passes by, a kiss to the shoulder. Alfred, taking advantage of his height, loves hugging Romano from behind and resting his chin on Romano’s head.

Alfred loves to carry Romano and pick him up. Romano complains but never actually means it. In fact, he loves it but is simply a stubborn fool.

Alfred has beef with Romano’s pet rooster, Ugo. Ugo is the only force that could make Alfred F. Jones, the United States of America, run for his life. Fear the peck!

Romano is the bedtime enforcer in this relationship. Alfred’s sleep schedule is pretty shit and Romano loves his sleep (and his cuddles). When they visit each other, he often has to physically drag Alfred to bed. They also nap together, though often it’s just Romano that ends up sleeping.

Alfred is constantly fascinated with Romano’s stories from childhood or at least the Nation equivalent of such. The number of things Romano and Veneziano can remember from times far before Alfred or frequent guest Ludwig ever existed blows his mind. He’s always asking for more. It’s both his natural wonder and curiosity, but also the archaeologist in him.

Alfred F. “Hey Romano babe can I bench press you? I wanna hold you but I gotta get my workout in.” Jones. Does squats with Romano on his back. Will be doing sit-ups with Romano sitting on him so he can give him smooches on the up. Romano complains about the sweat but doesn’t actually make any moves to get up or leave.

Both are romantics in their own way, but in this dynamic, Romano is the one who typically initiates the moment. Alfred is usually the one who ruins the moment with a joke but in the most affectionate way possible. He’s embarrassing, but he’s Romano’s.

Alfred and Ludwig have made their own joint study of the way Romano and Veneziano use their hands when they speak. I wish I had their notes.

Over time they’ve learned each other’s old full names and use them. Not that they have much of an effect, it’s more a silly than anything. But it is still a jumpscare. Alfred Fly-from-Fornication Kirkland versus Publius Romilius Romanus Regillus. Who wins?

If they encounter some bullshit together in public, Romano is the “I’m going to kick your ass.” Alfred is the “And I’m about to hand him the chair.” That, or he’s picking Romano up and carrying him away.

192 notes · View notes

askthequeen · 4 months

Note

Hello Queenie. Nice to meet you. I have something to ask. What is your relationship with the others in the digital circus? For example, the abstracted characters?

P.S. If this is too personal, then my apologies…

Well, here's my relationship with the main people I know

Jax(@jaxfromthatcircus) - He is very kind once you get to know him, he reminds me of a son I had, don't remember him, I hope he is doing alright, my son and Jax

Pomni(@pomni-xddcc) - She's very sweet, might bark for ragatha's sure, but overall she's really kind, she's helped me with problems before, she reminds me of my daughter I don't remember, shy but very full of spirit at times

Ragatha(@ask-ragatha-tadc) - Weird yes, but she's nice, I wish she would stop sending those weird thumbnails though...

Gangle(@gangle-the-ribbon) - I love looking at her drawings, she has a very kind heart

Bubble(@chef-bubble) - He's.....interesting...

Kaufmo(@ask-kaufmotheclown) - He's a good father but I wish he would maybe calm down a little...

Abstracted Kaufmo and Abstracted Queenie(@ask-velvette he had changed his tag lol) - Abstracted Kaufmo is sweet, he's just like a big dog, Abstracted Queenie is quite nice aswell!

Jerry (@ask-cna-tadc) - He's very sweet, but he overworks himself way too often, and the anons bother him too much, I wish they would just give him a break

Zooble (@askxz0oble) - They seem nice, haven't talked to them in a while though..

Kinger (@kinger-collector-of-bugs) - Very sweet but very skittish, he's a great husband

And thattttttt's 'erybody!

30 notes · View notes

zanukavat · 5 months

Note

OOOO OP DROP RICK AND MORTY OCS

OH BOY HERE WE GO.

so, I made these cute ref sheets in the shows style yesterday (and today), apologies if you cant decipher my scribbly handwriting, ill summarize below:

Rick (nicknamed on the citadel "Seven")

Rick's home dimension is M-121.5 but you could hardly call it a home. He left his Diane and Beth behind shortly after acquiring portal technology from Prime or one of his subordinate Ricks, wandering off to absorb himself in the vastness of infinity.

His original dimension never ended up birthing a Morty, since his Beth and Jerry had trouble supporting themselves and had Summer as their only child.

Rick, eventually growing lonely but refusing to admit it, joins the citadel in an effort to be useful and climb the ranks there with the hopes of living a fulfilling life in a safe, Rick-made bubble. He gets assigned a Morty as standard, but said Morty dies in combat on a riot not too shortly after.

Rick gets a (small) punishment, one you'd get for breaking a doorknob or forgetting to turn off the lights in the building before you leave; getting a Morty killed. He probably just has to scrub toilets for a week or something.

He gets his new Morty and resumes work on the teleportation deck as normal and lives with his Morty in a small apartment, until S301 where they manage to flee the citadel together.

Morty ("unlucky charm" / other similar insults behind his back)

Has forgotten his original dimensional code due to constant changes of ownership. Only the Morty databanks know it now. He took M-121.5's dimension as his and carries a small wristband with the code written on it.

This Morty has gone through a LOT of Ricks. Six in fact, which is why his new Rick is mockingly called "Seven" by others on the citadel, making fun of him for ending up with such a shitty excuse of a Morty. Asking him if he'd lost a bet.

Morty's left arm has been surgically altered to fit a tracker interface that'll show Rick's current position and vitals to Morty. Though he only gets this later, after they flee the citadel.

The jacket he is wearing was originally merchandise stolen from a small shop he worked in while living on the citadel. They later add patches to it in an effort to cover up the citadel logo, since Morty doesn't want to give up the jacket, and Rick is paranoid about association with the citadel after they've fled. Pretty rich coming from the guy still wearing his uniform under a stinky coat, but what can you do when those are the only clothes you've got.

They go through an intense period of struggling for survival, with the Federation collapse and chaos left behind, the two of them retreat to more desolate spots of the universe to wait for the dust to settle. After a bit of "holy shit we lived" euphoria, they fight a lot, with Rick slowly noticing the many flaws in this Morty he is now -- in his assumption -- forever stuck with. He also pushes Morty too far numerous times but reels him back in again anytime because what other option is there? Being stranded alone in an asteroid gas station restaurant?

Eventually Morty suggests returning to "their" home dimension. Rick's home dimension. He's reluctant but eventually (after a really long while and lots of convincing) does give in since their circumstances are dire and they could use a little civilization, even if it means returning to the family he abandoned.

I don't have much worked out for this Smith family, but I'd assume Summer is a good deal different from the Summer we know, due to being an only child. Beth's daddy issues are just as intense as Beth Prime.

This Beth and Jerry probably also never end up divorced and stay together for Summer's sake, honestly probably unhealthier than just splitting up for the time being and working out their issues separately.

Once they crash (probably literally) into their new "home" and everybody gets over the initial insanity of the situation, Rick struggles to confront the reasons he left and kind of just drowns himself in unhealthy habits. Besides the known drinking issues which is kind of the baseline, he makes sure to never let Morty out of his sight and pretty much makes a normal life for the kid impossible despite desperately promising it to him when they turned to move to Earth.

He builds a new portal gun out of scrap they've harvested while surviving and old things Beth never threw away because they reminded her of her father, and he's gone again. Gone with Morty. Gone God knows where. Except he returns at night to sleep in a shitty little cot and fuck he probably drags Morty's air mattress into his room with him without any explanation. Blames it on Morty not being able to sleep alone since they left the citadel. Blames it on anything but himself.

They go into what I'd describe as a narcissism-fuelled grace period, or honeymoon period, the more time they spend together off-planet after crashing at the Smith's house.

They go from Rick being very controlling and making Morty feel like an inferior sidekick, to Rick actually opening up and helping him become better. Very slowly and gradually, he realizes that, well, he's stuck with this Morty now. This is *his* Morty by all intents and purposes, and he doesnt have a fuckin replacement Morty ticket and after constructing and unregistered portal gun he'd not be let back into the citadel anyway even after reconstruction - so might as well invest his time and effort into this one Morty as much as he (claims to) hate it.

The kid is so broken already, having witnessed so many versions of his grandpa die, which Rick realizes after a while would just make it easier for him to reassemble him anew and mold him how he wants it. He's a sick bastard but if it aint broke dont fix it and especially dont fix it if it promises to always stay by your side and begs you not to leave

The whole "unlucky charm" curse only serves to fuel Rick's ego too because, unlike all these previous Ricks he only knows about on paper, *he* hasn't died yet with this shitty excuse of a Morty around him. which makes him better than all those before him. He's cocky, priding himself on living where those Ricks failed.

He gets too confident, as all Ricks do, and after a few too-close brushes with death he does decide to invest into various failsafes and "upgrading" Morty to a standard he sees fit. This is when Morty gets the tracker arm enhancement and various other augmentations that'll essentially turn him into a lifeline for Rick. He's driven by anxiety of his past mistakes, past deaths of Ricks, repeating. This time there'd be no scolding by teachers and new Rick two weeks later. There'd only be grief, and nothing.

Morty's trained not only in combat and survival skills but also shown how to reboot and even replace certain cybernetic parts of Rick's body.

surgery, baby!

Not on a clone, not a simulation, the real him. Train for the real deal.

They spend weeks in the newly constructed underground labs, Morty cutting him open and putting him back together; surgeries upon surgeries without any anesthetic so that Rick is fully aware and awake to guide Morty through it.

Eventually Morty does have to put those skills to the test when shit goes wrong on an adventure, but this is already so long so I'll spare you!! I'd be surprised if you read to here, if you did, thank you and I'm glad you're interested in my little guys !!

#hhooooo boy this is long hdnfhfnh and thats not even all #but it is 1:30 am so I should definitely go sleep #im super happy you wanted to know about them because this also gave me the opportunity to finally write down the happenings in #chronological order so this helps #my art #rnm #rick and morty #rick and morty oc #ill make a tag for them bc I don't think this is the last we'll see of them so I might as well keep it organized in here #M-121.5 #Rick M-121.5 #Morty M-121.5 #tw medical #tw surgery #medical mention #surgery mention #ask #talks #selfshippinglover

27 notes · View notes