#(aka the intended experience) you will not know if there will be ways to get a gun again later

[zevranunderstander]

god i will be so mean but people who are really smug about how pathologic 1 is so much better than pathologic 2, and how hbomberguy's video on the games sucks, because he says that they are hard, and stuff and then just play the game with a guide and know what to do every day in advance and just play it for the plot (no shame in that by itself), but who then refuse to engage with the actual central conflict of survival, and not being able to save everyone, because they have like 5 schmowders hoarded by day 6 because they want to play the game as good as one can, without acknowledging that pathologic's intended experience is not to be played as omnicient and as good as one can, and then are mad that the story in 2 isn't as complex, because they aren't engaging with half of the game's experience, are soooo annoying god bless.

[3d-wifey]

NSFT Alphabet: MK1 Johnny Cage Edition

A/N: Wrote this to hold you Johnny girls (gender neutral) over until I finish that smut 😙 Plus, I find writing these Alphabets for a character in preparation to write full-fledged smut for them is very helpful in capturing accurate characterization. It's almost like a writing exercise. I've written three different ones so far and I tried to keep them in character, if that makes sense. Like, I tried putting their personality and language in it. Okay, enjoy.

A = Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

Talking. So much talking. But, honestly, did you expect anything else? As he’s pulling out, as he’s carrying you to the shower, as you’re washing his hair. And when it inevitably leads to shower sex, he’s talking then too. You’ll never meet a man who loves the sound of his own voice more than Johnny Cage.

B = Body Part (Their favorite body part of theirs and also their partners)

Uh, how ‘bout the artillery canons strapped to his arms? C’mon, I mean, who wouldn’t want a ticket to the gun show? 

Face. Is saying your face too cliche? Hear him out! You want specifics? He can do specifics! He likes the dimples that pop in your cheeks when he finally gets you to laugh at one of his jokes, the little crease you get between your eyebrows when he’s pissed you off, the adorable way your nose scrunches up when he does that one thing with his tongue that drives you crazy. See? Specifics!

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum, basically)

Pull out game…very weak. Embarrassingly weak, actually. He swears he’s never had this problem before. His ability to pull out in the nick of time has always been something he’s prided himself on. However, he vastly underestimated just how good you’d feel. He’s clean, you’re clean, and, hey! You both prefer the feeling of hitting it raw, the way nature intended it. However, your pussy’s like wet kryptonite. And he’s only a man. A very awesome man, but a man nonetheless. So birth control it is! Or, if you’re turned off by all the side effects, he can be talked into a vasectomy. It’s either that or give up the sweet, sweet embrace of your walls when he’s balls deep. 

On second thought, that vasectomy sounds pretty tempting. It is reversible, right?

D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self-explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Johnny would leak his own sex tape. Plain and simple. He’d leak it from a burner account and watch the chaos ensue. There’s no shame in his game. Hey, it’s ranked the Number 1 Celebrity sex tape for a reason.

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

Is this even a question? Actors, singers, models, directors, producers. He’s THE Johnny Cage, Hollywood royalty. He’s fucked actual royalty. You’re in good hands—as long as he cares about you. If you’re a random hookup, then he’s not really working for your pleasure here. You’ll definitely cum, but it’s mainly a pit stop on his way to the finish line. 

F = Favorite Position (This goes without saying)

Reverse cowgirl. Johnny’s an ass man, through and through. He loves fucking up into you and watching your ass ripple with both of your movements. And he loves holding onto you. Big hands grabbing your waist, hips, thighs, and especially your ass. He also loves seeing you both in action. So reverse cowgirl + some artfully placed full-length mirrors = Him wrapping his arms around your stomach, rubbing at your clit, and forcing you to watch yourself as you desperately grind against him, AKA Heaven. 

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment? Are they humorous? etc.)

Oh, c’mon. It isn’t like him to be serious in any situation. He’s gotta slip a joke in every now and then. Get it? Slip a joke in?

H = Hair (How well-groomed are they? Does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Wax on, wax off, baby. Smoother than a seal. Or, uh, some other sexy, hairless animal. You mourn when he waxes his happy trail. 

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment? The romantic aspect.)

You’ll be surprised by how charming he can be. It’s not all jokes and great orgasms. It’s also loving touches, reverent compliments, and amazing orgasms.

J = Jack off (Masturbation Headcanon)

He’s got a healthy libido and a pretty stacked schedule, so sometimes a quick introduction between his hand and mini Johnny can’t be helped. But he’s also got a smoking hot girlfriend (you), so jerking off by himself is a rare occurrence. 

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)

Exhibitionism. What can he say? He’s a performer at heart and he loves an audience. But nothing crazy, just your average celebrity having sex on a yacht that’s in full view of the paparazzi. Or the occasional jerking off with you telling him how fast or slow to go. Oh, and you can’t forget about the sex tapes. Man, with the amount of videos he has of the two of you going at it, he could start an archive. You two have definitely ended up on the cover of TMZ and the front page of Twitter.

Voyeurism. But only for you. He’s enthralled by anything you do, including how many of your much smaller fingers will you stuff inside yourself to replicate the feeling of him stretching you wide. It usually leads to you begging for him to touch you, something else he’s in love with. Nothing wrong with a little hands-on audience participation.

Dirty talk. Normally, dirty talk is kind of basic to any old romp in the hay, but Johnny, being Johnny, puts his own Cage flair on it. Those corny oneliners somehow translate to the perfect thing to say to get you hot. He’s like Shakespear, if Shakespear was good-looking and not a virgin. You know what they say: everything sounds better when you’re horny. Who says that? Uh…

Fighting/Sparing which always leads to blood play. Winning a match gets Johnny’s blood pumping. The adrenaline of escaping death and the crowd hyping him up. And the crux of it all is you who happens to get especially wet when he comes to you covered in blood, grinning with a glint in his eyes that’s poorly hidden behind his blood-speckled sunglasses (a glint that many may describe as mania). And it certainly goes the other way. Watching you kick ass makes him harder than a diamond. Sparing together is a no-brainer that leads to fucking on his gym floor, or, honestly, wherever you two fall. Lui Kang must regret making you two his champions in this timeline with how often he’s walked in on you two. Offering to let him join probably doesn’t soften the blow, but, hey, it’s only polite.

L = Location (Favorite places to do the do)

In his mansion. In one of his lavish beds, or pressed up against the wall-length windows. In his Bentley or in the back of his limo. He’s a big fan of fingering you under the table at an award show and then fucking you in a bathroom at said award show when he should definitely be on stage presenting. For whatever reason, walking the red carpet always gets him worked up. And going to the club together always ends with you riding him in the VIP section.

M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)

Such a complex question for a man with complex taste. I’m joking, Johnny is so easy. It’s actually ridiculous how easily you turn him on. Laugh at his joke, hard. Complement his acting or fighting, hard. Running your fingers through his hair/scratching his scalp, hard. Feel him up/tease him in any context, hard. You’re covered in blood after a win, hard, hard, rock hard.

“Are you King Midas? Cuz you make me hard with just one touch.”

“That one was actually kinda clever.” 

N = No (Something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Nothing too gross. He’s all for sloppy, messy sex, but he has to draw the line somewhere. There’s nasty 👁🫦👁 and there’s n a s t y 👁👄👁. 

He likes to tease/do the opposite of what you say, but if you’re not 100% on board with what he’s doing, then he’s stopping it then and there. Remember: there’s nothing sexier than explicit consent!

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Preferred to receive before he started dating you, and only ever had the urge to go down on someone if he had been drinking before. After you started dating, he definitely loved it whenever you gave him head, but he didn’t realize how much pleasure he could get from giving you pleasure. 

He loves sloppy head, giving and receiving, so if you weren’t wet before, you definitely will be after he gets his mouth on you. 

P = Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.)

Depends on when and where you’re doing it. And if you two are “allowed” to be doing it in said place.

Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Big fan of the guy who came up with the idea of quickies, enough said. 

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment? Do they take risks? etc.)

C’mon. He’s the leading source of your sex tapes getting leaked. I mean, how do you think the paps keep finding you in compromising positions? A little tip-off to them while you take his tip, ha!

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for? How long do they last?)

It’s like he runs off horsepower, good God. If you’re trying to go until he’s tired out, it’s gonna be a couple of rounds until then.

T = Toys (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

He’s a fan of dildos. Specifically, watching you fuck yourself with one. “Go ahead, baby. Show me how bad you want me.” And show him, you do. God, you know how to put on a show. But you shouldn’t have to settle for some random dildo. You’re with the Cage man, and he would get a mold of his dick made for you. And they say he’s not romantic. 

Strap-on. That’s it. And he takes it well ;).

Remote-controlled vibrators, for you and him. Hell, let’s make a game out of it. See who can last the longest in public, there are no losers! 

U = Unfair (How much they like to tease)

His version of teasing is doing the opposite of what you said to do. You want him to speed up? He’s slowing down and making sure you feel every inch inside you. Oh, keep his hands above his head? You gonna make him? He’s a total brat, but you knew what you were getting yourself into when you agreed to date him.

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Heh, yeahhh. He’s real loud. Moans, groans, screams, whimpers. You name it, he’s doing it. It’s the performer in him. And because he knows you like how he sounds.

W = Wild Card (A random headcanon for the character)

Tattoos? Sexy as hell. If you were to ever get his name tattooed on you (preferably a tramp stamp), then you might as well start planning what flowers you want in your bouquet. I could see him getting your name tattooed on him too. Probably on his pelvis, in the middle of his v-line. In case anyone ever needs a reminder of who his dick belongs to.  

Type of guy to dedicate a Mortal Kombat match to you, and then lose. Ah, I’m joking. He’d beat his opponent’s ass all because you promised him victory sex if he won and he doesn’t take victory sex lightly.

X = X-ray (Let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

He’s got an 8.5–8.9 inch hog, shower not a grower. Little Johnny isn’t so little. There’s a reason he’s alright with doing full-frontal nudity if the scene calls for it. They’ve had to CG out his bulge in post-production in every Ninja Mime movie. It’s not his fault spandex happens to be the clingiest material known to man.

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

Higher than Mount Fuji. He’s a stallion in his prime with a gorgeous girlfriend. His spare time is filled with filling you. And you both tend to feed off of each other, so all it takes is for one of you to be the tiniest bit turned on, and then, boom! You’re both desperately grinding against each other in a supply closet. Ain’t that just the way?

Z = Zzz (How quickly they fall asleep afterward)

Depends. He’s kind of like a dog that needs to tire himself out before he can sleep. 

Click for a Johnny Cage-shaped surprise👀👀

[cower-before-power]

As Mortals Do

Pairing: Gale X Fem Reader

Summary: As much as you enjoy being with Gale in the Weave, you love being with him just as he is more- aka All The Ways Mystra Missed Out

Warnings: Implied sex, very light grinding, mentions of oral (both on Gale and reader), I guess a smattering of angst?? But mostly soppy romantic, sexy fluff. MINORS STAY AWAY!

Word Count: approx 1300

A/N: I haven't written anything for ages but I'm obsessed with BG3 and Gale, just had a little idea and decided to jot it down. I hate hate hate Mystra, Gale deserves all the love and adoration just as he is, and this is me giving it to him haha. I'm not a Weave sex expert, nor do I know for sure if Gale and Mystra did it outside the Weave, but this is my fic and I'll do what I want!

Mystra is a fool, you think.

It’s not a new thought. You often find your mind turning to the goddess, and the depths of her raging stupidity. How she cast aside a man so full of love and devotion, a man whose heart bled worship and loyalty, a man who gives and gives and gives. A man like Gale Dekarios deserves to be loved as much as he loves, to be held near and never let go of.

Her loss is your gain, you think to yourself smugly, as you lay on your lover’s chest, the two of you basking in the sweet afterglow of your lovemaking. Gale is all yours now. His mind yours to delight in, his body yours to lose yourself in, his heart yours to cherish as the precious thing that it is.

You do not intend to replicate her mistakes.

“I can hear the gears in your brain turning, love,” Gale’s rich voice rumbles softly under your ear. “Spare a thought?”

You prop yourself up on an elbow, allowing yourself to drink deep of his satisfied visage before you answer. Gale is truly a vision after you’ve wrung pleasure from him, eyes aglow and face flushed, happiness exuding from every pore. You keep the image tucked close to your heart, a special treasure for you and you alone to revel in.

“I was just reflecting on the folly of your previous lover, darling. As I often do.”

Mystra’s name no longer brings pain to his dark eyes. Instead, he quirks a brow, no doubt curious as to the train of your thoughts.

“Oh? And in what way do you find fault in her this time?”

You brush your fingers along his cheek, his forehead, the slope of his nose. His skin is warm and slick with sweat. “I couldn’t help but think how foolish of her to never have you like this, in this mortal plane. She missed out greatly.”

Gale catches the hand tracing his face, bringing it to his mouth to kiss each of your fingertips. A shiver of delight skitters up your spine.

“How do you figure that?” He asks, lips moving to press more kisses to your palm, your wrist. You want to melt into his gentle devotion, but you have a point you wish to make. Gently, you prise your hand from his grasp, settling it over his beating heart.

You grin down at him. “Don’t mistake me, sex in the Weave is incredible. Every time you take me in there, I’m drowned in ecstasy. Our very souls meeting, entwining like that? It’s not something I ever thought I’d experience, and I’m thrilled I get to. With you.”

Gale smiles at that. “I’m glad to show you those delights, my love.”

“But,” you lean forward and press your lips to his quickly, gently. “as pleasurable as the Weave is, it skips a lot of my favourite parts.”

Gale’s mouth opens, no doubt to inquire what you mean, but you silence him with a firmer press of your lips.

“Your ethereal paramour did not have many glorious experiences, darling,” your breath mingles with his as your lips brush teasingly. “She did not get to feel the smoothness of your lips the graze of your beard against her skin as you kiss her. Or how it bites deliciously against her sensitive inner thighs.”

You nip his bottom lip softly, relishing in the hitch of his breath and the flutter of his lashes.

“She did not smell your scent, sandalwood and mulled wine and bound leather, and how it mixes with the musk of sex and passion into an elixir I wish I could bathe in.” To drive your point, you lower your face to rest in the crook of his neck, inhaling a generous lungful of said aroma. It sends a visible shudder right through you, and you feel yourself already wanting for your wizard again.

Your tongue sneaks out to lave a long stripe up the side of his neck. and the soft groan that tears from Gale’s throat makes your whole being positively ache with need.

“She did not taste your sweat, the salty tang of your spend. She did not feel the wonderful heaviness of you on her tongue, the little twitch right before you spill. Or see the way you look so thoroughly and splendidly debauched after I’m done with you.”

You climb atop him, hands braced on his chest as he grips your hips harshly. Gods above, he is a truly beautiful sight. You think you are the luckiest woman in all Faerun, to have such a man beneath you.

“She did not get to feel how warm you are inside her, how delicious it feels to be flooded with your seed. How connecting in that base, physical manner can feel just as wonderful as a merging of souls.”

To emphasize your words, you grind your hips against his, mewling softly at the feel of him growing between your thighs. Gale himself is practically panting, his sweet brown eyes nearly swallowed by dark lust, his own hips rutting up into yours mindlessly as he hangs on your every word.

You lean over him, chest to chest, face to face. Close as close can be, just the way you always want to be.

“She missed out on so much you have to offer,” you whisper, “and I’m not sorry for her. I’m greedy, all of this-intimacy, unconditional love, an equal partnership-with you is mine and mine alone.”

Gale snaps then, leaning up to capture your mouth in a voracious kiss. You sigh and sag into him, letting him devour your mouth as his hands wander the expanse of your naked skin. His kiss excites, his touch inflames, your bodies melt together like they were made to be entwined.

You firmly believe they were.

Lips meet, tongues dance, sighs and groans mingle in the soft moonlight. You soft whimpers of delight however, are soon abruptly turned into a squeal as he flips you under him. “Gale!”

Your wizard simply smiles down at you in awe and reverence. You think his eyes might be glassed with unshed tears. “My love, your words….I would ask if you truly mean them, but you’ve been quite the persistent one in making me believe my own worth.”

You return his smile. “I am annoying in that way, aren’t I?”

“Doggedly so,” Gale teases, kissing your nose as it scrunches up at his jesting. “But, I appreciate it. More than even my verbose vocabulary can explain, if you can believe that.”

You giggle. “My wizard of words? Unable to explain something? I certainly cannot believe it.”

Gale’s smile turns salacious. “No matter. I’m learning the benefit of expressing myself physically when words fail me.” He shifts, hard as steel against you, and a moan strangles itself in your throat. “Now, my love, my light, my darling precious gem, shall I express my feelings on your lovely speech with my body? Allow you to enjoy all the things you just praised so eloquently?"

He shifts again, and you cant your hips upwards with a whine, desperation seeping into your pores. You want to have him, again and again again, unending, unyielding. You feel like you might go mad if you don't.

Gale’s reciprocation of your hunger shines down upon you like the sun. “Let me indulge in you, sweetheart,” he croons lowly, “let me bring you to the heights of pleasure. In all the corporeal ways that mortals do.”

Your heart cracks open, joy overflowing. There is no greater bliss. He is bliss, in all that he is and all that he gives to you.

“Yes, please,” you murmur, as Gale presses in and consumes you whole. “As mortals do.”

[nataliescatorccioapologist]

Let’s talk about one of the most underrated dynamics in Yellowjackets: Nat and Tai

Nat and Tai have such a troubled little sister/protective big sister dynamic that is not talked about enough.

Before the crash, there is clearly a lot of tension in Nat and Tai’s relationship. Their personalities clash a bit, as Tai is driven and ambitious while Nat is more reckless and directionless. Tai doesn’t understand Nat’s drug use and promiscuity and openly criticizes her for it. Tai is focused on the success of the team and she sees Nat and her behavior as an obstacle to this success.

However, I think there is some care behind her harsh statements. We can see her tough love approach towards Nat starting to develop. She wants Nat to get better, she just has a gruff way of showing it.

We see Tai begin to develop more of a softness for Nat after the crash. I think, as Tai begins to experience what it feels what it’s like to be in survival mode (and starts to lose control of herself) as Nat has been for most of her life, she begins to understand Nat and her coping mechanisms more.

Another important part of their dynamic is that they were the last two skeptics remaining in the Wilderness. When Natalie would challenge Lottie, Tai was often the first (and only) person to back her up. They are both grounded in pragmatism and logic.

Nat and Tai also have the shared experience of watching their partners “go the the dark side” (AKA join Lottie’s cult). Van and Travis are arguably some of Lottie’s most devoted followers towards the end of Season 2, and both Tai and Nat struggle to grapple with this and the rift it creates in their respective romantic relationships.

After they are rescued, Taissa manages to pick herself back up while Nat falls apart, and their little sister/big sister dynamic grows even more as a result. Tai pays for Nat’s rehab, tries to keep her away from Travis because she knows he’s bad for her, keeps pulling her back up and trying to keep her on her feet. I think it says a lot that Tai is the first person Nat thinks to call when she’s arrested.

And then, of course, there’s the scene where Tai defends her decision to pay for Nat’s rehab and continue to try to keep her clean. This scene breaks my heart and shows the caretaker role Taissa has taken on for Nat after the crash. She understands why Nat copes the way she does, and she knows that, unlike Shauna and herself, Nat doesn’t have a support system to rely on.

Even when Nat is being crowned as the new AQ I feel like you can see the concern on Tai’s face. Tai pledges her support of Nat’s new leadership, but you can tell she is also wary of the burden being placed on Nat, and how that might affect her.

Tai’s face is somber like she’s worried about her, but she gives Nat’s hand a small little squeeze of reassurance.

Anyways, I just love how Nat and Tai’s relationship transforms and grows over time. Tai has an empathy and care for Nat that the other survivors just don’t seem to have. I can’t wait to see more of their dynamic post-rescue as Tai struggles to keep Nat afloat and pick up the pieces after her toxic stints with Travis.

This has been way longer than I intended it to be, I’ll just leave y’all with this last clip of Nat giving petulant little sister vibes with Tai that I absolutely love…

[riizebabie444]

𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙛𝙞𝙧𝙨𝙩 𝙩𝙞𝙢𝙚 (18+ reading) 💋

ʚɞ ─── hello and welcome to my reading which will tell you how your first time will be. this is an 18+ reading so please only read if you are over the age of 18.

ʚɞ ─── this is specifically for those who have not had any sexual encounters yet (aka the virgins <3) but this reading is open to any interpretation, such as your first time with your future spouse. but please keep in mind who this pac is meant for as it may not resonate otherwise.

ʚɞ ─── be sure to check out my other readings and don’t forget to share and give feedback. disclaimer: all readings done are for entertainment only. please do not use my tarot readings as a replacement for legitimate advice.

ʚɞ ─── picking your pile: take a deep breath and allow your soul to centre itself. when you feel your mind balanced and cleared, allow yourself to be drawn to an image. your eyes may gravitate to one, or you may close your eyes and feel which image is calling out.

ʚɞ ─── masterlist. paid readings. exchange rules.

donations. games/events. feedback.

𝙥𝙞𝙡𝙚 𝙤𝙣𝙚 💋

cards drawn: the moon, the stars, king of wands, five of wands

i definitely see this being really sweet and dreamy. i am certain this will take place at night when the moon and the stars will be out. it might happen after a romantic night of stargazing and for a small number of you, it could actually be done out in the open under the night sky. for the persons reading this, i get the feminine energy from you and your partner will be the masculine (but please switch if you feel the need to) and it really feels like this masculine will take good care of you.

the way he is treating you, caring for you, attending to every detail, it will make you feel so relaxed and almost force you into a strong feminine energy. you will feel so soft and gentle and relaxed, ready to take in all of the care and affection. i see some of you may have been going through a difficult time, or have not been used to receiving this kind of attention. so it will be a new feeling for you, almost a shock to the system but you will embrace it well.

i also see for some that you may not go all the way but it will be your first time doing anything sexual. your person will surprise you by not letting you lift a finger. say if he eats you out or fingers you and you want to repay him after you've come to your senses again, he won't allow it (in a good way). he would rather you take a nap or snuggle up and watch a movie because he knows this first for you is so precious. it could also be that he pushed your limits a little bit, or maybe from reading your reactions he thinks you came really hard and he understands how tiring it can be for your first time. so he wants you to rest.

i definitely see oral. your person will go down on you. for those who will go all the way, oral as foreplay but i also see the mistake of going straight in. and it might be difficult getting it in for the first time if you get my drift. it might feel a little frustrating and anxiety-inducing, even painful when it's going inside of you. and i think at this point you will take the lead and be vocal about the things you are feeling so that you can both work together to make it as painless as possible. oh i think for pile one, if your person is a guy, it is possible he will have a big ding-dong and that is why it is more tricky and painful than you expected. but still, he is so respectful and attentive making it the best possible experience for you.

i honestly see pile one that you may even finish early or stop because of discomfort, for those who intended to go all the way. a number of you may have a really good time and finish perfectly. but i see clearly that it won't end up going all the way. you might stop because of the pain and decide to try again another time (it will be soon tho. like anywhere from the next day to the next week. i don't think any later than a week after). more than anything, it will be a learning experience and you will both spend the time between the attempts to figure out how to make it work more positively.

but the thing is, even if you finish early, it won't be a bad thing. you or they might feel a bit insecure about not being able to fulfil expectations but at the same time, this didn't happen without an emotional connection between the two of you so you understand and respect the decision, and cuddle with each other, either continue with foreplay or go straight to aftercare, take a bubble bath and possible even discuss the situation and how to handle it better. and i see you guys being confident again after you have discussed it. and if you don't go all the way, i see them trying harder and more often to make you feel good in other ways, like with oral, to satisfy you without having sex. this feels like a good pile, pile ones. even if there are mishaps, it will still end really well.

𝙥𝙞𝙡𝙚 𝙩𝙬𝙤 💋

cards drawn: king of cups, ace of wands, death, the world

oh definitely the creation of a strong bond here, deepening something that was already there or possibly awakening the deep connection. i see you and your person being so patient with each other. you will get an emotional rise out of this, possibly more than the physical. i'm going to sound so crude saying this but i can't think of a better way to say this but with the ace of wands, it is literally a glowing hand wrapped around a stick...well, whoever has the stick will think the one working on it is doing some sort of magic with their hand. it feels so unreal to them, or it could be you. i'm certain for most that your first time will be hand stuff or will start that way. and could possibly move onto oral but i don't see that for all of you.

okay i'm thinking you guys who chose pile two are the one with the magic hand. it looks like your first time doing anything sexual, but you will make the first move. if this doesn't sound like you, i understand. but i also believe you will be so excited and surprise yourself with how motivated you are to do it. you were thinking about it for a long time and your person couldn't say no. i see for some of you it could be a "kinky lesson" kind of thing, where the person is teaching you how to do it. even showing you with their own hands. if your person is a woman, i see them using their hands to spread their flower open and you will literally gulp omg. it feels very sensual but also playful and kinky. you will both enjoy and feel turned on by the "lesson" scenario. even if you already know what you're doing, the idea that they are teaching you or vice versa is a big turn on especially because it's your first time. it will also ease your worries about not doing it well.

so the above was more focused on your first sexual experience altogether but i'm going to now focus on your first time having sex. it will be a life changing thing and i don't mean the sex will be so good it changes the trajectory of your life (i mean it will...but anyway) but i mean it will happen as you are entering a new chapter. for example, committing to your person. it could be marriage for some but for most i think it could be before marriage. or if you decide this person is your forever person, so you're entering a new phase of your life where everything doesn't just revolve around you anymore and you need to always consider your person. you could be moving in with them. it will feel like a big change. even a new job, new home, new city. you are transforming in some or every way when this happens. oh i got a message that for some of you, if you plan to wait for marriage, you may decide at that time to do it before marriage. you will surprise yourself with this decision but you will be happy with your decision, i'm seeing.

haha the death card could literally mean you feeling like you died and came back to life when climaxing. like it feels so good you literally leave this world. i see you really letting go. perhaps you were feeling so nervous leading up to this, and when it happened you surprised yourself with how loose and into it you were. it could also be letting go of expectations surrounding sex. perhaps you think about sex a lot, or read or watch it often so you have certain thoughts and expectations about sex. but when you finally experience it, you will realise sex doesn't have a frame of reference. you'll think it's such a wild and unique experience both emotionally and physically that you can't even compare it to anything you previously thought.

for the most part, it will be enjoyable. tricky at first for some but in the end, enjoyable. some of you may find it so incredible while others may feel a little underwhelmed, but will still think it was really good. i see also that some of you may have been expecting your person to be better at sex than how they performed. maybe it's because it's your first time so they're holding back, or they are just not as good as you thought rip. but i'm getting the message that the first time is not supposed to be the best time. the best sex comes with experience and comfort so maybe your expectations for your first time were quite high. i do see most of you reaching an orgasm. for some it will be insanely amazing whilst others may be expecting more. i feel like it's a mixed pile here i do apologise for not being clearer.

oh i do get the message also for those of you who are physically underwhelmed, fret not because as i said when i opened this pile's reading, your first time is more about deepening an emotional and sacred bond with your partner rather than having an out of this world physical experience. you will absolutely cherish the time with your partner. aah you will definitely have that afterglow. feeling so whole and wholesome, fulfilled, completed after sharing yourself with a special person. there is the theme of transformation coming up again. your first time will be a spiritual and emotional journey, achieving emotional fulfilment with your partner and the joy you feel physically will only make the emotions stronger.

𝙥𝙞𝙡𝙚 𝙩𝙝𝙧𝙚𝙚 💋

cards drawn: three of pentacles rv, the hermit, king of pentacles rv, queen of wands

i also saw the hanged man and four of wands whilst shuffling and although they did not come out, i feel it is relevant to say that the majority of you who chose pile three will have your first time on your wedding night. if you are saving yourself for marriage, then this is your confirmation. it will happen in a number of ways: for most of you, on your wedding night and for some it could happen coming up to the wedding (i'm seeing some could spontaneously elope prior to the wedding and have your first time then), or it could be any time after they have proposed as you are certain you will be married and are too excited to wait. but for most it will be the wedding night.

i also see that some will perform non-sex sexual acts before marriage, like foreplay, oral, with hands etc. but when you go all the way, it will be on the wedding night. you may be feeling some disharmony in a way but not with your person. you may have had a stressful wedding day or some family members weren't treating you right on your special day, perhaps some friend drama. whatever it may be, you will be feeling a little disheartened. you wanted this day to be so perfect and special but someone you love and trust ruined it for you. but don't worry, the whole day won't be ruined. and your person will do their best to help you think about the better things. and i believe there will be a support circle around you, those who will defend you and try to make your day as best as it can be. even if it is not something like a wedding day, i think people will notice the way you are mistreated and try to make you smile.

no one will try harder than your person, however. i think you can really just let down your walls and be yourself with your person and they noticed you were having your walls up due to the stress and disharmony caused earlier. so when you guys are alone at last, it will feel like there is an elephant in the room but neither of you are addressing it. they would rather you just relax and forget about everything, truly appreciating your first time and not allowing any drama from the outside world to ruin your night. oh, let me tell you, they will make you forget it completely! this feels like a soul connection, when you do it for the first time you it will be like a dance between the souls more than the bodies haha. i believe it will also make you connect with yourself. all the new feelings, sensations are weird yet enticing. it's like you passing the first level of a game and simultaneously unlocking the next hundred levels at once. you know you should take it in small steps but it will unleash so much excitement to explore your body and sexual experiences with your person to the highest level. you may even rush your partner but they will tell you to slow down as they want you both to cherish it.

and you will definitely want to do it nonstop after your first time. like the morning after, the evening after, several times a day for the next five months straight haha im really just seeing so much passion and excitement and curiosity surrounding sex, and it all stems from that first night. okay let me get to the actual night itself, your person is going to make you feel like you're sitting on a throne. heck, they might even make you sit on their face because they want to be your throne. i do see foreplay happening, taking it slow, teasing. i think you will be quite nervous though. and your person will definitely notice. i'm seeing some of you may even be panicky. possibly even insecure for some of you. and i also see your person being a little bit insecure about how well they can perform and how comfortable they can make you feel. they are just so concerned about you and they end up overthinking and feeling insecure :( so they put their all into the moment.

haha i see if you have pets, there's a good chance they might climb or jump onto the bed while you're doing it and it will be a cute, funny moment that will bring you both back to earth, you'll feel all the stress and anxiety fade away and you can try again. the energy will be much lighter this time. i do see the first time being successful, it will happen relatively smoothly for most of you. i think more than physical pain, you will be experiencing mental anguish. and that does sound quite severe but for some it will be little, others it will be more. perhaps if you are insecure about your looks or body or how certain body parts look, you may feel insecure about them and act stubbornly. say you want to wear a shirt to cover yourself which might upset your person because they will think you don't trust them.

like i said earlier though, your person will not pressure you. communication is important but they don't want to ruin your first time, it's likely it will be their first also or that they don't have a lot of experience. so they focus on doing the deed itself and enjoying it, exploring each others bodies and making the most out of it. the heavy emotions caused by earlier events will be felt by the two of you but ignored for the sake of creating a memorable night together. and all the talking and communication comes later on. i think you may wish you didn't feel so many burdens and insecurities for your first time but you will also not want it any other way because your person was so affectionate and caring. i see it being quite slow overall, very instinctual. a lot of focus on the physical to distract you from the emotional.

𝙥𝙞𝙡𝙚 𝙛𝙤𝙪𝙧 💋

cards drawn: the sun rv, the lovers, temperance rv, three of wands

the sun might literally be setting while you're doing it, or possibly rising but i see the sun going down. some of you may even plan for it to happen that way. this will definitely be done with the love of your life, as i'm seeing. for a number of you it will be on your wedding night but this is not for everyone. i think a lot of you will actually do it before or after. it feels so sweet. like you just know you are doing it with the right person. i see you guys being the more feminine but please take it how it resonates if you indeed feel the opposite.

i'm seeing a a holiday and i literally heard honeymoon. there's a good chance it could happen on your honeymoon. otherwise, it will happen when you and your person are on holiday. celebrating an anniversary perhaps or an engagement, or a birthday or valentine's day. or even just having a weekend getaway to spend time together. that is the scenario i am getting for when it will happen. how it will happen...well it's funny you ask because it seems to just happen so quickly. not the act itself but rather the decision, the passion, the excitement. i see you in particular being so impatient. you want to go to the next level so bad and don't get me wrong, your person feels the same but you are so damn ready for it. i seriously think you may be having extreme sexual frustration. you're so desperate to do it!

you may have attempted to do it already but experienced some sort of setback or delay, perhaps interrupted by life responsibilities. so when you get this chance to do it again, you are not leaving until you have done it haha. oh i think for those of you who are waiting for marriage, perhaps you didn't get the chance to do it on your wedding night or didn't end up going all the way. so you will go all the way when you are honeymooning. hmm so i think you are the type of person who tries to be positive but when you are feeling not positive it is so dramatic. you might be a bit of a drama queen and i'm seeing a scenario where your person is being so playful and attentive of your pouty mood and that's when you will realise "i want them so bad" haha like you will be ready to pounce on them. something about their little dedicated actions will make you want them so much. not just physically, you want them to be your first so bad because they are the best person ever and you can't imagine it with anyone else.

yeah there is so much impatience here. you just can't hold back anymore. it will be a real struggle for your person also they will try so hard to not rush you, but the sex itself will feel like a reward after waiting for so long and giving so much effort to wait this long. oh i'm seeing it could go on for hours. all of that tension, sexual frustration and impatience building up and then snapping and you can't stop. i'm seeing it will be slow at first but i'm also seeing at the end you'll be going fast like rabbits. you and your person will both be surprised at how much you can take, and how well you are taking it. i see you maybe even taking the lead and being on top once you get used to it.

you will both really enjoy the foreplay. for some it could happen quickly because you're so excited to get straight into the sex. but for others, the foreplay could last a while, building up to the real thing and it blows your mind even more. you first time will be so liberating. even during your very first experience, you want to do all the things you fantasised about, explore all of your kinks but the night is so short. it's hard for you to do all of that but the passion and excitement is there and your partner will see it. oh i see opposites attract, so they may be calmer and tamer than you and kind of teach you to slow down whilst still satisfying your appetite.

okay i see you partner envisioning you as a map to explore. not just in terms of exploring your body, but also your mind, your fantasies, your kinks, all the positions they can have you in. your "awakening" is also awakening something inside of them. i think it is important to practise sex in moderation because too much all at once could make you feel sick later on, like eating too many sweets. i'm pretty sure you'll end up ignoring this advice though haha. it's liberating and healing, opening a whole new world to you. this pile feels more refreshing and adventurous compared to the other piles. a very young and bright spirit. there is more focus on the experience with the body rather than emotional connections. it's opening your eyes to a whole new world, blanching your cells in a completely new feeling. i love this for you pile four. there is so much to be excited for.

𝙥𝙞𝙡𝙚 𝙛𝙞𝙫𝙚 💋

cards drawn: five of cups, two of wands, the tower, the devil rv

i'm sorry to open with this pile five but this is the only "negative" pile out of all of these piles, but i do say it lightly. it won't be an absolutely terrible experience so to speak but i do see you feeling some sort of regret after it happens. there will definitely be tears, likely from the initial pain of it happening. but i see the tears also being caused by emotions. ah for some of you, i see you thinking your first time was an opportunity to deepen your relationship with your person, but they will leave you afterwards. you had hopes they would be your forever person but after giving them something so important, they left. for some, it will be that the person was sort of using you, or they realised this experience was as far and committed as they wanted to be with you, so they leave afterwards.

i am sorry to say the above but my advice here is to be very careful and selective with the person you choose. but i think for others, it will be that they will stay with you a little longer, and leave later on due to other reasons. but you will still feel that regret of giving your virginity to them and wish you had saved it in the end. oh i do see a small number of you where it happens as a drunken mistake/one night stand or something of the sort. and for others, there is the possibility of becoming pregnant or getting someone pregnant during your first time which may lead to regrets. oh i know i am saying many different scenarios here so please only take what resonates as this is a general reading after all, there are messages for many different people.

i believe during the act itself, you will be feeling quite courageous, very daring energy. i think you will be nervous beforehand, maybe questioning if you should go through with the act or not. however, i do see you being brave and talking yourself up to it, kind of hyping yourself up to not waste anymore time. it feels quite spontaneous and in the moment, but you will simply just know that you want it to happen. it could also happen when you are abroad or travelling somewhere away from home. and you will have that excitement because your first time is an opportunity to discover something entirely new. you will be pushing yourself out of your comfort zone!

i do see it being a "messy" experience too. like clothes and bedsheets all over the place. even if it was something sweet with rose petals and candles and nice bedsheets, it will all end up a mess in the end. this can be good or bad depending on your preferences, but i do see you being shocked when you realise the extent of the mess which was made. you will be thinking "damn, were we really that unhinged?" it really feels like you're falling. you know those dreams where you're falling and you get those sensations in your tummy? i'm seeing you will have that feeling. it could be when you climax, the feeling of plummeting after reaching a high. you can also sometimes get that feeling when you are nervous or overwhelmed so it could be due to that.

the feeling itself would be quite unexpected. i feel you may have some thoughts or perceptions of how sex might feel but when it happens it is completely different. but in a good way! oh i feel you may be having some deep, dark fantasies in regards to sex, and you will be thinking about them a lot. but your first time will break you away from those fantasies because the act itself is different to what you expect, it kind of changes your thoughts about sex in general. yeah, it is literally life-changing for you. not in an extreme way lol but still, it will change your thoughts and perceptions about sex and possibly about life in general. i also think there will be lots of overwhelming feelings and emotions, but you will work through them easily. okay the last message is so random however i'm hearing "blindfolded", that may be one of your kinks or you will discover it as a kink. it could possibly be a part of your sexual experience. this was a pretty difficult pile to read for with some no-so-great messages, however i do want to tell you to not feel disheartened. you will eventually learn to accept how it happened because the first experience does not set the standard for all of them, and you will learn to have better experiences in the future!

© riizebabie444 — all rights reserved. please do not copy, steal, repost or translate my readings on any site. any act of which will be classed as plagiarism.

[targaryen-dynasty]

AEMOND TARGARYEN.

Mini-Series.

Love Me Tomorrow (aka Stay) and Love Me Now (aka Mine) -> completed (Modern AU)

"You always thought the benefits part of being friends with benefits only included sex, but with Aemond it also seemed to include cuddling and life advice. "

The Devil You Know -> hiatus (Modern AU)

"King's Landing is haunted by an ongoing feud between two rivaling biker groups, and somehow you get stuck right in the middle of it — if it wasn't for a certain blonde, who everyone warns you to stay away from. Of course, he's part of Dracarys, the rivaling biker gang, and staying away from him is a lot harder than it seems."

Object of Desire -> ongoing

"A raven from King‘s Landing has reached Runestone two moons ago, bidding for you to come to the capital though no distinct reason has been stated. The signature of your father below didn‘t give Ser Gerold any other choice than to get you ready and send you off, knowing he could not deny Daemon Targaryen. You quickly learn that the time has come for you to find a husband, however, the true object of your desire isn‘t the one your father has intended for you."

One Shots.

Depravities

"When your husband feels overwhelmed reining in the stead of the severely wounded King, it is your duty as his wife to comfort him."

Sinful Revenge (x Aegon)

"After catching Aegon with a servant girl between his legs, you found a way to put him back in his place."

A Caution for Young Girls

"Can we just ride Aemond by the hearth? Tis all. He can brat tame us, be mean, be nice..whatever honestly." Yeah, we definitely can! This is the first time you’re riding your Dragon.

In The Space Between (Modern AU) -> drabble

"You we’re happy your friend Floris got to marry her longtime boyfriend Aegon… if it wasn't for the sake of you being the plus one of her groom’s brother and also your ex boyfriend, Aemond."

Lechery

"Based on the request: "Can you write a jealosy Dom Aemond when his wife his dance and have fun with Jace at the dinner. So he put her on his knees and punish her, after that he fuck and give orgasms to show at who she belongs.""

Longing (Modern AU)

"Based on the request: "Can I please request modern Aemond x best friend reader smut? They are watching some movie or TV series together and suddenly some steamy scene happens on the screen and he notices that she is turned on by that? And he is like "if you want to experience it I can help you with it?""

And Now I See Daylight

"The pace was slow, just like it had been throughout the whole night, and despite it being unsaid, you both knew that was not what this night was about. It was about your unity, making peace with your past and embracing your future together."

Rewrite The Stars

“Aemond arrives at your betrothed‘s funeral. And after being denied your hand in marriage once, he does not come to leave without you.“

Serenity

“With Aemond’s arm around you, and his lips pressing against your temple, the fatigue you were feeling could wait for a little while, if it meant you got to indulge in those rare moments of serenity for just a little bit longer.“

Can You Stay Up All Night?

"Even after the babe had settled, you didn’t find any sleep. And while your breasts hadn’t felt too uncomfortable back then, they did now. They were heavy, hard to the touch and full of milk, desiring relief from their overstuffed state."

Pray For Me

“Trying to persuade you to declare yourself for their side in the war of succession, Aemond relies on different methods to make your façade crumble.“

Mine And Mine Only

“Aemond has gotten you pregnant six months ago, and seeing him with his infant niece during dinner with his family sparks something inside of you only he can satisfy.“

The Devil's Advocate

“Will the tormenting craving of your body for physical touch finally be stilled by the hands of none other than the man who‘s responsible for whether you‘ll live or die?“

Rumble and Sway

"After the set of your favorite punk rock band ended, you haven’t expected to bump shoulders with none other than their bassist, Aemond Targaryen. And you least expected him to usher you into a private booth after what felt like your twentieth shot of vodka."

What the Heart Desires

"Both of Helaena’s brothers have always been forbidden territory for you, the rule established by your best friend at the very beginning, and you’ve never really regarded any of them – until you’ve been all but coaxed to team up with Aemond for a round of beer pong. "

To Stoke a Flame

"There’s a moment of silence between you, and your hands clutch the handle of the pail tight enough for your knuckles to blanch from the force. It’s unnerving, and you’re torn between wanting to stay and wanting to leave. You’re afraid he’s not the man you’ve made up in your mind, that there’s just a hint of truth in the rumors that make their way around staff and court."

A Dragon to Share

"For a fortnight, you’ve been spending your nights with Aemond and Aegon. But what happens, if there’s yet another uncalled visitor joining you? Improper revelations lead to the fulfilling of a long-buried desire of yours."

Evening Delights

"Based on the prompt: “So… Do you actually like me—” “We have been together for seven years. We’re getting married next year. What the hell do you think?”"

Shadows Play on Idle Hands

"Sharing a cabin with your ex-husband as you supervise your daughter's summer camp, you didn't think that remembering the good old times would bring you closer again."

The Curse of Curiosity

"While your brother searches the library of the Dragonkeeper Elder for something new to read, you come in contact with some unlabeled fluid. You both learn that it's something meant to aid in the breeding of dragons, however, it also has a unique effect on humans. But lucky for you, your twin is there to help you through the ordeal."

Dragon Dreams

“Monthly nightmares have already plagued you way before your wedding, even though your grandfather has always addressed them as dragon dreams rather than nightmares. But you and your husband both know you’re not gifted with such abilities.“

Forbidden Temptation

"Two moons after the birth of your precious son, your moonblood has returned as severe as never before. And being the ever caring and loving husband, Aemond takes it upon himself to help you ease the pain."

Steam That Lingers

"Your mind has been a mess for the past moon's turn, and you have the man you’ve entrusted with all your secrets for all of your life to thank for that. And the last thing you expect when you walk into your bathing chambers late at night is said man sitting in the bathtub, awaiting your return. Will you give in or will your temper get the worst of you?"

The Greatest Temptation

"Keeping your boyfriend waiting for too long is always a dangerous game, and when he finally has enough, he deems it most fitting to give your audience a real show."

A Little Predicament (x Aegon II Targaryen)

"While you share little sympathy with any of the people present, you know you can’t get any closer to learning about your heritage than you are right now. Aegon and Aemond are served to you on a silver platter, and if there is one thing your grandmother has taught you, it’s that there certainly is one way to charm yourself into a man’s heart to get what you desire."

Violent Delights

MASTERLIST NAVIGATION.

[juniperdugong]

Perfection Pt.1; Awaken

Your soul is stuck in your corpse after your tragic demise...lucky for you the mortician who's prepping your body is a hopeless romantic willing to bring you back to the land of the living

Pairing: mortician!mingyu x corpse!fem!reader

Genre: Mortician!au, Horror!au || Fluff, Crack, Romance, Angst

Warnings: Mentions of death, corpses, and gore (Nothing in-depth and nothing intended to disturb) || Heavily implied suicide || Necro-romance, aka romantic attraction to a corpse. || Nudity || {Please let me know if there are other warnings you would like me to add}

WC: 2.4k

Songs that inspired this fic

Series Masterlist

If we can get our truths out now, you know exactly how you died.

This must've been the worst year of your life. The contents of it are blurry due to the effects of your soul and its current condition but you remember the feelings well enough. Although the memories didn't stick you remember the sinking pit that it felt like you were swimming in. Too far from the top to go back and too far from the bottom to see an end to what was an incredible amount of emotional suffering.

The one memory you do have is one of surrender. Relinquishing all your emotions and all the pain into a single, unforgivable action. There is no excuse but your room just felt so empty then. It had all your things in it but it didn't have you, you were not there. Your mind had wandered away with the joy, the joy that you were sure you hadn't felt in months maybe years. And the unfortunate thing about a mind that wanders too far from the body is that the body will do whatever it can to get its mind back.

This leads to the only reasonable-awful-but reasonable way to ground a person completely. Death.

For a split second before you did it, for just a moment before the full surrender, you thought "I wish I had someone to stop me.". At that moment, a really quick moment might I add, the thought of loving someone, the thought of someone loving you through all of the hardships and pain, it might've stopped you. But you didn't have anyone, did you? You had been lost and wandering for a while and it was time to come back home. You had no one to call you back so, yeah, you had to call yourself back.

And so you did.

The awakening process for a soul that has refused to move on, despite the wishes and through the confusion of the person themself, is an interesting one. It is almost like that feeling right before you go to sleep. You remember what you did up to a point and then you don't remember having actually fallen asleep. Or to be more correct you don't remember dropping dead. Then, with no prior warning or vision of heaven or whatever movies may have you believe this experience might be, you woke but you woke in a dark and cold space. An unfamiliar space. The laughter of a man could be heard from above you, you think. And in the middle of your reeling, you are met with blinding fluorescents.

The morgue.

For the sake of brevity and to not bore you with your own story I won't go into the processes that go on within the walls of a morgue. More or less it's identification, waiting, maybe an autopsy, and more waiting. Then you are shipped off in a body bag to either a mortuary or a funeral home. Lucky for you a mortuary was more than satisfactory.

Some amount of time passed before you felt yourself be lifted out of the car and onto some sort of table or stretcher. Now it seemed you were in the care of only one person. Quite strong as well to be able to handle the dead weight (no pun intended) of yourself. The sound of the zipper would've sent you jumping if you were able but perhaps more surprising was the visage before you.

A tall and handsome man, tan skin showing through what little you could see behind the protective gear he wore. Dark eyes studied you immediately and for some reason, you could feel them soften as they looked upon you. You didn't feel discomfort, in fact, a warming and welcoming feeling came to contrast the cold of-well-your everything at the current moment. The aura that came off the man was something like stepping into the home of the friendliest person you've ever met.

And he was oh so gentle with you. The way he was careful with his movements as he heaved your stretcher onto the main table. Your eyes followed him as he went ahead and gathered various things from around the room. Setting them on a smaller table next to you. A deep breath settled in him as he scanned your body.

You felt vulnerable in this state, not much you could do about it but still. He got a clipboard and read through it. "Y/n…" your name rolled off his tongue like a small prayer. He circled you, tapping gently at different parts of your body as he went along. Assessing your situation and what he would have to make "presentable" no doubt. Then he stopped. Pausing as he made his way back towards your head. Another sigh as he gazed at you.

"You were so pretty. I wish we had met under other circumstances y/n."

If a heart was in your body it would be beating so fast right now. His hand reached out and grazed your forehead. Is he moving the hair from your face? If you had working veins you would be blushing wildly.

This is crazy. You've decided that this is crazy. Your soul for some reason has decided to stick to your body instead of following the heavenly trumpets towards the pearly gates of paradise. And here you were, prisoner in your own skin, unable to move or speak or do much of anything. And the only thing on your mind is the man who is preparing your body???

Oh, Christ. What the actual hell is happening?

Also, why does it seem like the mortician is just as invested in you? Are morticians supposed to have organ jars in their preparation rooms? You suppose they do take care of those sorts of things, plus he's the professional in this situation, right?

"The more I look at you…The more I wish…What am I saying?" he shook his head with a huff.

Your eyes were open, not like you could willingly close them, but you were somehow able to see in this state. You could see the way the protective gown fell on his arm, very faintly outlining some sort of muscle. The way his breath caught on the mask, not shallowly at all either, a heavy breath. Almost like when he looked at you you had taken it away and he was grasping to get it back. The gloves that held snug to his big fingers, his warm hands, the ones that graced you gently with every touch. So caught up in memorizing his features you hadn't noticed that he was tracing your inner arm and staring right back at your lifeless eyes.

"Actually, you might be perfect and these might just be perfect circumstances y/n…" he tilted his head as he said those words, gazing deeply at all of you, taking you in like some person at the other end of the bar.

Why was he walking away? What did he mean by perfect? Is he walking over with one of those jars right now? Lord, you should've followed the trumpets you thought. And then the giggle came in. Like a wrecking ball to the heart, the man let out a sound of excitement and happiness. The confusion that writhed through you at this moment was unparalleled by anything experienced by anyone before. Not only are you dead but now you have some sort of weird mortician, handsome, but weird on your hands.

He came back, his arms full of the organ jars from the shelves. "Y'know some of your own should suffice for this little experiment but I always tend to keep extras…", he said this in haste as he set up a plethora of equipment around your body. For what it's worth you could listen to him talk about whatever nonsense he was on about for hours.

"I always was a fan of Frankenstein. It inspired me to do this profession, actually. I know strange but even stranger is my need for you at this moment. Sorry. Not in that way, not in a disrespectful manner at all if I am being forward. But your circumstance saddened me and well- it does not help that you are so beautiful. AH! I am getting ahead of myself. I must wait until I know that you are here and that you are mine, y/n. Forgive my rudeness."

He was frazzled and all over the place. His speech was punctuated by heavy breaths and before you can even begin to process his mess of words he is discarding the protective gear. The only things he thinks worth keeping on being his apron and gloves.

In the corner, although you cannot see it from this angle, sits a computer. Mingyu weaves around wires to get to it. His fingers work at a fast pace as he types. "I knew it. It's all just perfect. It truly is. I could just jump with joy!". Mingyu had confirmed his suspicions or rather confirmed if his memory was correct. There was a chance for a storm tonight and everything just kept lining up for him. As if a gift from god themself here you are, there the storm is, and here's Mingyu ready to conduct a risky experiment, one that he's been building up in his head for years, one that he honestly did not think would happen within his lifetime. It was just a hobby, a thing not meant to occur, and more than that it was probably illegal.

But he didn't care. He just knew, a gut instinct if you will, that you were the one. The person he was meant to be with. Love at first sight some might call it, he sure thinks it is anyway.

Hours passed as he continued with his ministrations of gathering items and setting them up. The sun began to set and Mingyu's confidence rose. The table where you lay was wheeled into the middle of the room, you hadn't noticed it before but there was a skylight in the ceiling. A large one at that. He centered you as best he could to match the opening and began to dig metal hooks into your skin at different points. Although gruesome in my wording these punctures did not hurt you. They felt like a pinch to the skin that left nothing in the way of actual pain.

He hummed and smiled as he went about this work. The last thing he did as he began to hear the pitter-patter of rain outside was give you another once over. His eyes were at their most intense. Taking great care in making sure all of your details were perfect. Fixing your hair in the way the picture he had of you instructed, moving your hands to be at your navel, and stretching out your joints which had been effected by rigor mortis many hours prior.

"Perfect. Really and truly." he tried to calm himself of the adrenaline rush that had been keeping him on his feet the entire time. He sat on the rolling stool near the computer using his feet to make his way towards you once again. From a lower angle, you could just barely see his figure from here. He gathered himself and a sad look overtook his face.

"God, what are you doing Mingyu? This is crazy. The probability is so so so low. And look at you. Sat here in front of the most enchanting person you've ever met and they're dead… If this doesn't work then what? I give up on love? I try to date again? Knowing that no one has set my heart ablaze so immediately as the one before me now? No. If this does not work I will just have to admit myself. This would be the heartbreak to define my life." He took in a big breath before allowing it to leave his lungs completely empty. He took off his gloves and rolled his sweaty palms along the length of his thighs.

"I have gotten this far, it is time."

Rolling thunder shattered through the night sky. Mingyu began to pull a chain and the skylight opened. Droplets of water started to saturate your skin. He turned his attention to the computer bringing up some program that allowed him to control the various devices he had set up. The whirring of machinery is all you can hear as he sets lighting rods to lift up at the top of the mortuary.

A crack of thunder whips through the air. 1…2…3…Then the lightning scorched its bright head in the sky. The storm kicked up, your body was at this point soaked in rainwater as the shallow table tried its best to keep the surface tension of the water at bay. WRSHKKK the thunder once again, 1…2…The lightning seemed all the more close as it flashed before your eyes.

Then time stood still, what was nothing but seconds stretched until you were almost sure you were outside of space and time. The water hits your face, seeping into your eyes because you cannot close them. Your view only being the sky but what you heard could bring you tears, thankfully the rain allowed your face to communicate your emotional intent as beads fell from your eyes like the statue of Mary. Amongst the chaos of the storm, a chant-like prayer is whispered as Mingyu makes his towards you in strides. Standing at your head, towering over you, he leans down and with the gentleness of a man defined by love that makes him soft, his lips graze your forehead as he says "Please y/n, please." repeatedly finishing each prayer with a peck to your cold, wet skin.

KRSHHK the thunder growled with ferocity, 1…The lightning finally answered the plea.

A forceful blast flung Mingyu back, leaving him to hold onto the counter behind him. Every device alight as electricity surged through their wires, all of them leading to you in a maze of information and metal.

And as that energy reached your body you were enraptured in pain and ecstasy and every single physical feeling a human could possibly feel. As if you were being held gently while needles pierced your nerves, like floating on a cloud of cotton as you were being burnt alive. Every sensation came online all at once and it was exhilarating. The rain on your skin felt cold and burning. Your soul and body finally connect with existential bliss as they reunite. You felt everything.

Then your lungs finally filled with air. Your chest began to heave as your heart caught up to the fact that you were here again. Blood coursed through your veins and warmed your skin.

With a jolt you were alive and awake.

…And also falling off the table.

A/N: It's out! I really do hope you all enjoy the weirdness that is this fic. I tried my best to not be too descriptive with the details of death and the body, trying to focus more on the emotional than anything. Let me know what you think and please reblog if you liked it and would like to see more!

{If you're interested in being on the Taglist for this series please let me know!!}

[macsimagines]

hello 👋 are you getting questions? if not just ignore but if so I would like to order one of the kawata yandere twins, baby trap

My boys!!! Trash demons

TW: YANDERE BEHAVIOR, BABY TRAPPING

Yandere! Souya & Nahoya Kawata (AKA Smiley & Angry)

They love you so much. Since the day they met you in grade school you had belonged to the boys heart and soul. Or more accurately they belonged to you.

The boys had ended up fighting over whose bride you would be and your resolution had been saying that they would both be your wives.

They ended up agreeing to that with no problems, except for the fact that they took your vow of loyalty and plans of future marriage very seriously.

Now all these years later they proudly proclaim to be married to you, much to your indifference. "Ya, they're my besties. They're only joking." "Y/N, I just watched them run over someone with their bike."

It starts to become very clear to the boys that you don't intend on keeping your promise and that they need to hold you to your word. After all, you did say you'd take responsibility for them.

Nahoya comes up with the idea first. "Sex friends," he explains to you and Souya both, "I mean, we're so close already, and if we mess up or embarrass ourselves it won't be so bad. We're already best friends right?"

And Souya doesn't want to agree, he wants sex with you to be meaningful, beautiful even. But Big bro knows best and he promises the rewards will all be worth it in the end.

And You? Well you're too stupid to really find a solid argument against it. You've never had a boyfriend and your inexperience was starting to bother you. You never really got the chance to experiment or date, every time any guy even tried anything with you they'd just mysteriously ghost you.

So you all agree. Casual sex that's it. But then the sex gets.. a lot. Way more than what you were expecting. One twin always needs attention and it seems like you can never catch a break.

"Nii-Chan got to do it raw, why not me?" "I heard you rode Souya till he cried, its my turn now, right?" "I wanna cum inside, Y/N."

Of course you got pregnant. Of course they were lying when they said they'd pull out. Of course you believed them when they told you it would be fine...

"Don't worry, Y/N, we'll take responsibility." "Ya! We'll actually keep our promise." "You're gonna be the prettiest bride~"

[signanothername]

The way u format ur drawings and comics are SO GOOD its so easy to read but I can get SO MUCH FEELJNG FROM IT it's my favorite thing ever pls don't explode 🎀

Oh my god thank you so much dygdgdgdh

Formating is something that I actually get a bit anxious about during the arting process, especially for comics that have a lot of dialogue

Cause other than making sure that the art and dialogue are easy to follow along, i need to account for differences in how people perceive said art and dialogue, a lil example of this is this lil panel

Most people are going to read it like this:

however people are different and i know there are people who tend to read it like this:

So I try my damn best to make the dialogue is easy to follow along so even people who usually read dialogue the second way, actually read it in the first way (aka the way i intend it to be read, whether I succeed or not isn’t something I’m aware of but I sure do hope so hahaha)

And I also love to experiment with panels to see how to make the comic look a lot cooler while still maintaining simplicity and its easiness to follow along

Here’s a quick example of the same page but after playing around with the panels, the first is the og page look, the second is the final page look (you’re lucky to see a page from an unreleased yet to be finished comic dbhdhdhdh)

Needless to say comics are hard to make but still are very fun

Knowing my comics are easy to follow yet they still get the feelings i want across makes me happy actually so thank you for telling me that <3333

Dw would never explode just for you 🫵❤️🌷✨

[dingochef]

Instructions for a Good Time

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x You (OFC-Elsa Matthews)

Warnings: Swearing, Smut (MDNI 18+ Only), blow jobs, fingering (all kinds), rimming, pegging,

Summary: An innocent question from Boys Night Out ™ leads Jake to an entirely new way of pleasure, and you're more than happy to give it to him. AKA, the long awaited pegging Jake fic.

Word Count: 5.5k (a quick drabble my ass….pun intended).

A gift for you all lovely lovelies and just in time for Christmas. What started as a tiny idea for a drabble/ficlet to celebrate 200 followers….here we are. Enjoy, fellow sluts reblog, and let me know where you got to awkwardly read this during the holidays!

Masterlist

“How was your boys' night, Jake?” you ask, noticing how your boyfriend sways slightly as he hangs up his jacket and takes off his shoes.

“T’was good,” he responds, a slight slur emphasizing the slight Texas twang usually hiding in his accent. He shuffles into the kitchen and returns with a glass of water.

You move over on the couch to allow him a spot to plop down, making sure your wine glass is safe on the table. Jake had gone out with some of the guys from the Dagger Squad, a few of them, including his bestie Coyote, being in town as guest lecturers for Top Gun. Rooster declared it a “Boyz Night,” which Jake only agreed to when it was spelled correctly, the sucker for details he is.

Jake settles in next to you, leaning his head on your shoulder, languid and relaxed, a tipsy amount inebriated, not sloppy. You put your book down on the coffee table, exchanging it for your wine glass. You're about to take a sip when Jake asks, in perhaps the most casual manner ever given what is about to come out of his mouth,

“Have you ever pegged anyone?”

You're grateful that your wine glass has just reached your lips and you hadn't fully tilted it up to drink, or there would be a fine mist of merlot spraying across your living room.

“I'll answer, but where did that come from?” you ask, gently, looking down to see the wheels turning in his head.

“Got talking about sex stuff with the guys,” he replies.

You raise an eyebrow in concern that some of the intimate details of your sex life with Jake were up for public discussion. He clocks the gesture and reassures you quickly,

“In general terms, nothing too detailed. And, it came up.”

“And?”

“And what?”

“There has to be more discussion than there's a sex act called pegging. Moving on,” you counter and Jake slightly blushes.

“Coyote talked about the difference of being with a woman versus a man, specifically receiving instead of giving. Said it would blow your mind.”

Coyote, Jake's best friend and his ride or die for many years, is gay. A simple fact that no one in the Dagger Squad, especially Jake, had ever batted an eyelash at.

“Makes sense,” you hum, combing your fingers through Jake's hair, “Men do have a prostate.”

Jake chuckles and then says,

“I did choke on my beer when Rooster agreed.”

You and Jake sit comfortably for a few minutes, before you respond.

“Yes, I have pegged someone.”

Jake perks up, waiting for more details.

“I had a boyfriend in grad school who liked…to explore…that side,” you pause,

“Is that something you'd be interested in exploring?”

Jake turns a satisfying shade of red as he considers the offer,

“With you, yes.”

You let out a sound halfway between a whimper and a moan at the thought of that experience with Jake. The boyfriend from grad school had a more feminine, softer body, and a more submissive vibe to him. The idea of taking Jake in all his muscled alpha male glory does things to you, those things mostly being getting your thong very damp.

Before your imagination goes too far thinking about how each muscle in his back would ripple deliciously every time you thrusted, you remember there are some practical matters to attend to, you ask,

“Have you ever engaged in ass play?”

It's Jake's turn to have his eyes bug out in surprise, he coughs on his water before answering,

“Umm, no. No, I haven't.”

You slide your hand into his,

“That's good information to know, we're going to have to work up to actual pegging. As much as you like to go balls to the wall with everything,” he laughs quietly, shaking his head slightly at your terrible joke. Your other hand cups his jaw, a light graze of stubble tickling your palm,

“I don't want to hurt you, Jake. I want to take care of you.”

He leans into your hand and kisses your palm.

“Okay, El. I trust you, completely. I know you'll take care of me and I'll have a very good time.”

“I will Jake, you okay to try something tonight?” you ask, a little unsure, “Like blowjob with some extras?”

Jake laughs, bright and loud,

“El, I will always say yes to a blowjob. And yes, we can try some stuff.”

After a quick peck on his lips you spring off the couch, and tell him,

“Stay there, I'll be right back.”

He nods as you slide across the hardwood to your bedroom where you find the lube in your bedside table.

You return to the living room, where Jake is sitting on the couch awaiting your return. Placing the lube on the table you straddle Jake's lap and pull him in for a deep kiss, your tongues melding together as you rock your hips. You sigh when his hardening cock puts pressure on your clit through your thin sleep shorts and underwear.

He reaches down to pull your shirt over your head and you let him guide the soft fabric of one of his worn Navy tees off your body. You return the favor and slide his shirt off, dropping it on the couch. Instantly his mouth is on your breasts, teasing and licking at the nipples. The sensation is so good that he almost distracts you from your original mission. Reluctantly, you slide off Jake and kneel on the floor in front of him.

You snicker to yourself as you ease his belt through the Texas Longhorns belt buckle, like anyone would ever forget Jake is from Texas. Jake lifts his hips to allow you to pull off his jeans, leaving them in a small heap next to the sofa. Lightly you run your nails up Jake's leg to the top of his boxer briefs and pull them down, releasing his hard cock, precum visible on the ruddy red tip. His underwear joins his pants on the floor and you turn your attention to him and his gorgeous cock.

Peppering light kisses along the shaft you work your way up to tip, pausing a moment before you take him into your mouth. You take a little bit more of him on every bob up and down till his dick is hitting the back of your throat. A natural steady rhythm forms as you work Jake up, listening to his moans, grunts, and words of praise.

“Fuck, El, that feels good. You suck my cock so well,” he murmurs, holding back your hair as you pleasure him. He is getting close, so you pull off of him and drag a finger down the shaft wet with your spit, past his balls, and very gently circle around his hole.

“Can I touch you here?” you ask, almost breathless in anticipation of his answer, you've kept your other hand slowly jerking him up and down.

“Yes, fuck, El. Yes, touch me,” he pants out, his green eyes hazed over with lust. Grabbing the lube from the table you squeeze some out on your hand, enjoying the little whine from Jake when you pull your hand away from his cock.

After the lube has warmed up, you lean back down, taking him in your mouth as you press your middle finger gently against his hole. You tease just the tip of your digit past the ring of strong muscles. Your other hand stroking his cock. Jake moans softly above you,

“Color?” you ask Jake, pulling off his cock for a brief moment.

“Green, El. Green,” he responds, voice calm.

Emboldened by his answer you push your finger slowly up inside him up to the second knuckle. The way he moans only gives you some more confidence. Making sure there is enough lube, you push your finger further into him, seeking his prostate.

The moment you find the small rubbery bump with the thin tip of your finger, you know Jake understands how it feels to have your clit sucked. He lets out the deepest, most primal grunt mixed with a moan you've ever heard from him.

“Oh, fuck, fuck, El…yes, there, keep touching me, ugh, there,”

Jake grunts. His breath catches every time you surge up on his prostate with your finger. You slide your mouth back down on him.

Syncing up your finger thrusts into Jake along with each slide of your hand and head up and down his cock.

Above you Jake is losing his mind,

“Fuck, El, not gonna last long..too good,” he pants out.

It only takes a few more repetitions for Jake to come undone, his entire body spasming from head to toe. Jake is lightly thrusting as he falls over the edge. He is speaking but not forming any words you recognize.

“Oh my, fuck, good, so good,” he says, interspersed with grunts and moans.

His release floods your mouth, some spilling out the corner of your mouth. Slowly and gently you slide off Jake's and pull your finger from him, earning a light sigh from him.

He is looking down at you, sated and face filled with love and tenderness that seems out of place with what you just did. He runs his thumb to collect the come that has dribbled down your chin. He swipes his thumb across your lips and your tongue darts out to taste him.

“Damn, El. You're going to kill me if you keep on like that,” he groans and pulls you up to his lap, grabbing your head for a deep kiss.

“How was that, Jake?” you ask, curious about his reaction. He smirks and nuzzles his face into your neck.

“Really fucking good,” he responds, smiling shyly in the skin of your neck.

“I’m glad,” you say, wrapping your arms around him and kissing him on the forehead, mindful to keep your lube covered hand away from Jake and your upholstery. Jake yawns, causing you to yawn.

“Let's head to bed, sweetheart,” Jake offers and you nod in agreement,

“I need to take care of my girl.”

–

“Couldn't we just order this online?” Jake, slightly whines, stepping into the sex shop behind you.

“I think this is the best way to, I don't know..., pick out something that's going in your body. Just think of all the other terrible Amazon purchases you've made. Do I need to remind you of the Tiny Chair Debacle™ ?” you respond.

“To be fair they didn't say it was for a dollhouse,” he counters.

“It was an armchair for ten dollars, Jake,” you remind him.

“Okay, okay, you're right,” Jake concedes and lets his shoulders relax as he follows you deeper into the store towards the toy section.

“Here we go. Which one do you want to take home?” you ask, big smirk on your face. Jake glares at you,

“You're loving this aren't you?”

“Yup, for such a sexual person, you being all bashful when it comes to sex toys is endearing,” you answer, going up on tip toe to to give his mildly grumpy mouth a kiss. He sighs and points to an all black dildo of rather substantial size, asking,

“How about this one?”

Tilting your head and picking up the object, you offer some advice,

“Mm, seems too stiff,” Jake snickers at your word choice, “And a little ambitious for a first time.”

Setting it down you walk down the wall where dildos of all sizes, shapes, and colors are perched on clear plastic shelves, Jake trailing behind you.

You select a slimmer blue model with some give and a slight curve and hand it to Jake. He takes it and considers it.

“This one would be good, reasonable girth, flexible, and it's shaped to hit your prostate.”

Jake stops and looks at you, a smirk on his face,

“You researched this, didn't you?”

“Of course, you didn't think we'd just go into this blind? I want this to be good for you.”

“God, you are such an engineer. And it's really hot,” he places the dildo in your hand, “Yes, let's get this one.”

Quickly you find a harness and some other lubes. A few minutes later you've got an entire pegging starter pack in a bright magenta shopping bag.

When you get home you place the bag on the bed, Jake follows you in and slides up behind you. His hands on your hips, he starts to kiss a line down your neck.

“Can we try it out?” he asks as his hands toy with the hem of your shirt.

“Yes, I'm game,” you reply and Jake pulls your shirt off. Turning around you return the favor and shed Jake's shirt.

“Let's start with a shower,” you suggest. Jake grins and slides his strong hands down your back over your ass and under your thighs pulling you up to him. On instinct you wrap your arms around his broad shoulders and your legs around his waist. Jake captures your lips into a deep kiss and walks you both to the bathroom.

“Showoff,” you tease as he sets you down. Jake continues to strip as you start the shower. Your clothes hit the floor as the water warms up. Stepping into the water you hold out your hand for Jake to follow and he does eagerly.

Your arms wrap around Jake and his around you as the warm water envelops you both. He leans down to kiss you and you both sink into the kiss. You slide your arms down Jake’s back massaging the muscles as you trace his lips with your tongue. He sighs and allows your tongue into mouth and his into yours.

You let yourselves get lost in each other's mouth, embrace, and bodies. Hands sliding easily with the water, gently caressing each other.

Knowing just how long your water heater will last, you finally break apart and grab a washcloth. As you pull Jake's body wash off the rack you say,

“Turn around, let me wash you.”

Jake takes a deep breath, turning quickly and slapping his hands on the wall with his legs spread like he's preparing for a cavity search. The gesture pulls a laugh out of you.

Jake turns and looks at you confused.

“Come here,” you say softly, squeezing some body wash on the cloth. He steps back to you as you run the sudsy cloth along his shoulders.

“This is about relaxing you, not just some perfunctory step in the process. Let me take care of you. Just like you take care of me.”

His face loses the tightness it had before as you run the cloth on his chest, enjoying your touch.

When you're satisfied with his chest, you gently place your hand on his shoulder and he turns around.

You reassure him with a hug, even if your face mashes in between his shoulder blades because of your height difference. He sinks back into your embrace, folding his arms over yours.

Starting at his shoulders you swipe the cloth around, making sure to massage each muscle earning you some sighs and groans along the way.

“Feeling good?” you ask, continuing to work your way down his back.

“Yes, El. I should have you do this more often. You have magic hands,” he replies, arching his back to allow you more access to some of his lower back muscles.

“I think that can be arranged,” you reply, sweetly kissing between his shoulder blades. Convinced that Jake is relaxed and close to being putty in your hands, you let the wash cloth slide down the sharp slope of his ass making sure to gently caress the firm muscles with your other hand.

Trailing kisses down his spine you kneel down continuing your worship of his body. You make sure to kiss both dimples on his ass; the thought that you want to leave lipstick marks on them someday flashes in your brain.

You lead with the washcloth and gently swipe across his hole as you drop more kisses on his firm ass. Dropping the washcloth you place both hands symmetrically on each cheek, your thumbs just at the top of his crack. Massaging small circles you slide down his crack, pulling apart his cheeks as your tongue follows the same path.

Stopping just shy of his hole, you ask,

“Color, baby?”

From above you hear Jake's head thunk onto his forearm planted on the tile.

“Green, El. So green,” he pants out. Satisfied with his answer you dart your tongue out to trace the delicate muscles around his hole.

“Fuck, El…feels good,” Jake moans, slightly muffled by his arm.

Slowly and methodically you swirl around him, enjoying the sounds you're pulling out of him.

“More, please, El, more,” he begs and you oblige him and push the point of your tongue into the center.

“El, fuck…,” Jake's words fade as you thrust in and out with your tongue. It's when Jake starts to push back at your face that you know it's time. Settling one last kiss on his ass you stand up.

“Ready for more, baby?” you coo into his ear. He stands upright turning to look at you and catch you in a kiss.

“Fuck me, please El. Fuck me,” he moans into your mouth.

Getting out of the shower, dried, and back to the bedroom is a blur of hands, kisses, and a few giggles as you maneuver down the hall to your bedroom.

When you reach the edge of the bed, you direct Jake to lie down,

“Get comfy. On your back.”

He lays down with his easy grace for a man so large and looks at you in anticipation, the bright magenta shopping bag still on the bed. Flexing his arms to put his hands behind his head he watches your movements as you pull out the dildo, strap, and one of the new lubes. A lube the lady at the store swore by for anal. You lean down to give a quick peck before saying,

“Let me go make sure this is clean and open the lube. Be right back.”

A quick rinse with some soap and water and opening of the lube later you’re back at the bed stepping into the harness, an understated neoprene number in black. (Recommend because it's machine washable, it appealed to your practical side.)

Jake watches you intently as you adjust the straps to your liking and attach the dildo. With the final adjustments completed, a slight look of apprehension crosses Jake's face as he reaches out and touches the dildo and considers its size. Sensing the tension you decide to crack a joke,

“So tell me the truth. Who wore it better?” you ask, grinning and swinging the dildo back forth comically. Jake cracks a grin and laughs.

“Well, I hope I wore it better, but mine’s not blue,” he replies, his patented smirk on his face.

Leaning down to kiss your favorite smile in the all world, you answer back, against his lips,

“Without a doubt you wear it and me better, lie back and let me take care of you.”

He sighs into the kiss and lies back, settling into the pillows, and letting any tension ebb out of his body in one long breath out. You chase his lips down and kneel on the bed, taking your time to drag your lips along his jaw, neck, and chest leaving kisses on your wake. Your hands come up to cup Jake's pecs and gently brush against his nipples with your thumbs.

Looking up at Jake you can see is relaxed, his eyes hazy and watching you worship his body. You meet his gaze and tell him,

“You are so beautiful, Jake.”

He blushes at the comment, but graciously accepts it and cradles your face in a loving gesture. Planting firm kisses down the midline of his abs you slide into place between his legs.

Jake's half hard when you draw him in your mouth, and you enjoy the heady feeling of him plumping up in your mouth as you work down his cock. You slide up and down with your mouth and hands a few times, letting your spit run down to his balls. You leave your hand on his shaft and trail your lips down to his balls, licking them generously.

“Feels good, El,” Jake pants from above. You give each ball one last kiss and lick your tongue across his taint and finally to his hole.

“I'm going to open you up, Jake. Is that okay?” you ask, you've been gently stroking his cock this whole time.

“Yes, El. Green,” he answers. You grab the lube and squeeze a dollop on your fingers and try to warm it up.

“This might be cold,” you warm Jake as you smear the lube on his hole, he starts a little and then relaxes again. Slowly and methodically you start with one finger, not getting deep enough to hit his prostate, a second, and finally a third. You check in at each stage and receive a breathier “Green” each time from Jake.

“Are you ready for my cock, Jake?” you ask as you kneel up, making sure to make eye contact with Jake.

“Jesus, El. Yes, I'm ready for your cock, please fuck me, it's been hours,” he answers more strung out than whiney.

“Roll over on your knees,” you instruct him and he complies. A few pillows are stuffed under his hips and he leans down crossing his forearms and resting his turned head on them. It takes a few adjustments from both of you to find the right height and angle for the mechanics of it all to work. Those details worked out with a few giggles and laughs, you lube up the dildo and place it at his hole.

“Ready? We can always stop,” you reassure him.

“Yes, please, El. I'm aching for it,” he answers. With that all clear you guide the tip of the dildo to his hole with your hand and gently, slowly insert the tip into the tight ring of muscles. It glides in easily, all of the prep worth it. You slide a bit farther and pull back out just a little, testing the waters.

“Fuuuck, fuck that feels good,” Jake practically shouts. He starts to push back at you in an effort to get more of the dildo. You smile to yourself, feeling accomplished as you thrust in. The push and pull repeats itself a few more times and a low moan is pulled from Jake and a frenzied,

“There, fucking there, so good, please more.”

Triumphant you've found his prostate you keep thrusting at the same depth, determined to get Jake to that edge in a new way. Your hands grip hard on his hips, just where his Adonis belt meets his quads, to keep you in place as you pull in and out of him. The rhythm established, you take the time to savor and thoroughly enjoy the vision before you. Jake has lifted up onto his forearms, no doubt to get more leverage to push back. His head oscillates between being thrown back, neck stretched out as he moans, and hanging down as the pleasure overwhelms him. Every time you surge forward he meets you halfway. You let one hand wander to catalog each of the muscles in his back and how they flex and twitch each beat of the rhythm. You can't help but be transfixed watching the dildo, your cock as you've started calling it now, slide in and out of Jake. The absolute ecstasy you're giving him is a heady feeling and ratchets up your arousal, soaking the neoprene of the harness.

“Fuck, Jake, you look so good damn hot, can't believe I'm the one who gets to see you like this, fuck you like this, make you feel so good,” you pant out between each push of your hips.

“So good, El, so fuckin’ good. You fuck me so well,” he responds, the words scattered between each ebb and surge of your bodies.

“Think you can come just like this, Jake?” you ask, knowing your stamina for this position is waning.

“Need more, touch me, please, please,” Jake begs, “Something please.”

“Okay, one sec,” you reply. You pull all the way out on your next beat, earning an anguished moan from Jake, words of confusion tumble out of his mouth,

“No, where? What? El?”

Laying a reassuring kiss at the small of his back and stroking his flank in a soothing manner, you instruct him,

“Flip over.”

He complies with amazing speed as you sweep the pillows off the bed and slide up to meet him. Sweat is beaded up on his face, hair in a dozen different directions, and his eyes are glazed over with pleasure. His cock pulses on his abdomen, a sheen of precum on his abs.

“Hands here,” you direct him, taking his hands in yours and sliding them under his thighs as you lift his legs up for a better angle, “Hold them, right there.”

He complies and lets them bend at the knee. Shuffling the last few inches, you rest the tip of your cock at his hole as you apply more lube.

“Ready?” you ask and are startled by how fast Jake replies.

“Fuck yes, please just get in me, El.”

Happy with that answer you slide in smoothly as deep as you'd been going before, the same feral reaction from Jake when you find that special bundle of nerves.

“Ungh, right…fucking…there, El,” he pants out between thrusts. Satisfied with your rhythm you grab the sides of Jake's waist and hold hard against his prostate on one thrust in and gently massage his prostate with a slight rocking of your hips, Jake's moans change in response.

“Fuck…good…ahhahh…there, ungh.”

You lean down, thankful for all your gymnastics training and twice weekly yoga, because you know Jake is about to lose his mind, and you're more than happy to do it for him. You slide one hand from his waist to the base of his cock to hold it one place and with no warning take Jake's cock as far in your mouth as you can and suck hard. The overwhelming combination of your cock in his ass, your hand jerking at the base of his dick, and your mouth are the explosive elements Jake needs for total liftoff.

Jake's orgasm is a whole body experience, his hand flies down to the back of your head holding it there as he thrusts up into your mouth flooding it with his come, and his ass clenches around the strap on and puts a delicious pressure on your clit. He comes with a loud shout,

“Ohmyfuckin’ god, fuuuuck.”

His release floods your mouth and you can't hold it all in or swallow it and it drips out of your mouth onto his abs.

Wave after wave of pleasure rolls through his body accompanied by another spurt of come. The waves decrease in intensity and Jake falls back to the bed limp, his hand sliding off your head. You take that as your cue to release him from your mouth.

Leaning up, you warn him,

“I'm pulling out, okay?” and he feebly waves a hand in answer. Gently you pull the strap on out and quickly unclip the straps releasing it to the bed.

You climb over Jake, mindful of his oversensitive cock where it rests on his belly in a puddle of come. Sliding up his lax body, you position your knees on either side of his chest and lean up so he has a front row seat of your glistening cunt.

“Fuck, Jake. That was so hot, so fucking sexy. Fucking you got me this wet. Feel,” you pant as your hand slides to give your clit some relief. Jake is mesmerized by your frenzied movements on your clit and brings his hand up to offer you two fingers to fuck yourself on. They slide in easily with how turned on you are, it takes a few pumps of his thick fingers and tight circles around your clit to fall over the edge, a gush of your slick coating Jake's hand and arm as you clench on his fingers.

“I'm coming,” you shriek as your pent up arousal bursts forth. Unable to hold yourself up you lean forward planting a hand in the pillow next to Jake's head. Under you Jake groans as you clench on his fingers as each wave hits you. The pleasure ebbs as Jake pulls his hand from you and both are left panting gazing into each other's eyes. A few moments of silence and you both crack a giddy smile.

“Wow,” you say, at a loss for more eloquent words.

“Wow,” he repeats, making you both laugh. Rolling to Jake's side, you lie on your back catching your breath. When you look over, Jake is lying peacefully, eyes closed and a wide smile on face.

“I'll be right back,” you tell him and slide off the bed, he nods lazily. You head to the bathroom for thorough hand washing and tooth brush before grabbing a bottle of water and some dark chocolate squares.

Back in the bedroom, you sit on the bed and brush Jake's shoulder gently, he stirs looking up at you in a way that can only be described as “dreamy”.

“Here, sit up. I got some water and chocolate for you. Drink and eat this while I get the shower going.”

He sits up and leans against the headboard and takes the water and chocolate from your hands. You give him a quick kiss on the forehead before you grab the strap to bring to the bathroom.

As you let the water heat up, you disassemble the strap, throwing the harness in the dirty laundry and washing the dildo off with a gentle soap per the directions. Those tasks completed you go and gather Jake, he has dutifully drank the water and eaten the chocolate.

He follows you when you take him by the hand to the bathroom and settles on the bench in the shower. You pull down his shampoo and tilt him forward to get his hair wet. Standing in front of him you lather his hair, making sure to comb your nails through Jake's hair in the way that he likes. Jake leans his head against your stomach and wraps his arms around your back. You grab the hand sprayer to rinse Jake's hair so you don't have to break this embrace and closeness. Rinsed and just luxuriating in the water you hook a gentle finger under Jake's chin to direct his gaze to you. Satisfied his gorgeous green eyes are meeting yours you ask, softly,

“How do you feel, Jake?”

He smiles in response and pulls you down to straddle his lap, in a gesture that clocks as intimate rather than physical.

“Really fucking good. I liked it, well loved it, obviously, it was different in a way I didn't know my body could do. But I think the part I enjoyed most was just how focused you were on taking care of me. It made me feel…,” he pauses, a bashful look creeps onto his face,

“Incredibly loved.”

Your face softens and you surge forth to give him a reassuring kiss,

“You are incredibly loved, by me. Everything I give back to you is a reflection of the love you give me, Jake. I love you so fucking much, it takes my breath away sometimes. I always want you to feel our love.”

A brilliant smile blooms on his face as he kisses the side of your neck in a sweet gesture.

“Thank you, El. I love you so much too,” he replies, trailing his lips up to meet yours for a kiss. It's sweet and followed up by a few playful pecks. You and Jake sit wrapped up in each other, the sound of the water soothing as you lean your foreheads together soaking up the warmth and intimacy of the moment.

You startle slightly when Jake breaks the silence,

“I didn't know you were that flexible,” he says.

The thought that Jake was surprised by your flexibility makes you laugh, bright and loud, it echoes around the shower.

You lean back to look Jake in the eyes.

“Really, Jake? Think of all the ways you've fucked me like a pretzel,” you say, eyebrow raised. A dirty montage floats through Jake's brain, bringing an equally dirty smile to his face, as you say the next thing,

“I'm not a former gymnast who does twice weekly yoga for nothing.”

He laughs and tilts head in agreement, a mischievous look appears in his eyes, one you know well.

“Just think of what we could do with yoga three times a week, sweetheart,” he says, signature smirk in place.

“Jake!”

–

Of course I couldn't write these two disgustingly in love people doing something as intense as pegging as a quick ficlet. No, we HAVE to know why they're fucking and all those gooey emotions with it. Hope you enjoyed it.

@kmc1989

@starswholistenanddreamsanswered

@mamachasesmayhem

@callmemana

@dempy

@hangmanscoming

@lanie-k

@callsign-viper

@senjoritanana

@djs8891

@atarmychick007

@memoriesat30

@midnightmagpiemama

[monstersandmaw]

First time romancing Astarion, and I'm all aboard the ace-spec interpretation of Astarion that I've seen floating around. As someone who's ace, I definitely resonated with him in this scene anyway. That hug reaction from Astarion. Oof.

And the fact that if you also romance Halsin, one of the dialogue options Astarion can give you is to say something like: 'it's not because... we haven't... in a while... is it?'... My heart cracked painfully at that, I'm not going to lie. I have spoken almost exactly that sentence before, worrying that just kissing and physical affection is not enough for someone who's not ace. To have that validated by Astarion was really special for me.

(aka, I really didn't get to know Astarion very well in my first playthrough because he didn't approve of my absolute doormat of a Tav (Kaerlyn the drow) and I didn't spend much time with him, but now with my sassy monk...? I get it. I totally get why you all love Astarion so much).

EDIT: additional dialogue from Raphael talking about Cazador indicates that it might be linked to vampirism (my own headcanon for vampires anyway is they can't get aroused without having fed recently, not just BG3 vamps, but in general)

[some poly-ace-astarion thoughts under the cut too]

I'm not 100% convinced that Astarion is really ok with the consensual poly situation in-game, because he famously doesn't say what he actually wants and is the king of manipulating others, especially in sexual situations (e.g. what Cazador sent him out to do, and how). I'm not sure if I'll reload a save and just have Halsin as a friend...

The dialogue when you check in with Astarion before the Halsin scene is... strained? Odd??? Maybe it's just me over-analysing it. He sounded strained though - his tone high pitched and more grandiose than he'd been in previous cut-scenes, where he was more softly-spoken. It sounded more like early-game Astarion to me...

Also, my dialogue options may have been totally randomised the next time I approached Astarion after a steamy night with Halsin, but they sounded kind of strained there too, and I got the 'I can never say no to you' one, which set my ace people-pleaser alarm bells ringing...

As someone who's poly-romantic but asexual, I can project/imagine here that Astarion has come to care for Tav a lot (more than he ever expected, for sure), and he genuinely wants Tav to be happy. He trusts Tav enough to know that Tav respects his autonomy and right to decide things for himself, and values Astarion for who he is, so Astarion is intellectually/conceptually happy for Tav to get something from Halsin that Astarion is not providing (sex), but perhaps emotionally that additional fact and dynamic is harder to deal with.

That could totally be me projecting though, because that's how I'd react if my husband (not ace) and I (ace) were in that situation (we've discussed it between us, actually XD). Feelings of guilt and inadequacy around sex itself are apparently very common with us ace folks, even in very healthy and happy relationships.

Anyway, that turned into a ramble I didn't intend on a rainy Sunday afternoon. I'm not looking to start any discourse about this though. If you don't see Astarion that way, or had a different experience and interpretation, that's all totally valid and I'm not trying to invalidate it in anyway.

[asnowfern]

When Words Fail

Summary: Elain doesn’t get out of the town house much. But on a rare occasion that she did, she runs into Lucien at a piano studio.

Rating: G

WC: 2.5k

Read on AO3

A/N: Happy @elucienweekofficial (aka one of the best times of the year🥰)! This was originally intended for the day 2 prompt: Golden. BUT I was in bed with a flu so you get it on day 3 instead 🤧 Enjoy ☺️

When words fail, music speaks

- Hans Christian Anderson

The city of dreamers buzzes around Elain, comes to life with energetic shouts across the streets advertising for new shows and wafts of delectable street snacks. Doe eyes widen to take them all in.

A biting wind passes her by and Elain pulls her cloak closer around her, enveloping herself entirely in the thick feathered coat. Tugging the soft hat to cover the pinked edged tips of her ears, delicate button nose twitches slightly to sniff the wondrous buttery scent.

The middle Archeron rarely leaves the confines of the town house, usually content to bide her time in the greenhouse or in the kitchens. But just for today, astounded by Feyre’s artistic depiction of the Rainbow, did it occur to her just how much of the city that she has lived in for years but still has yet to see, so much that she has yet to experience. It stokes the long dormant part of her that once dreamt of adventures on the continent. All before…

Elain shakes her head with a grimace. Tonight is not a night for dwelling. Her thoughts short-circuit when a particularly fragrant scent hits her. The edges of her lips quirk upwards as she holds herself back from bouncing towards the street stall.

She exchanges a silver coin for a rich buttery pastry, wincing as molten chocolate ganache floods her mouth from the very first bite. With a palm still cradling the hot soft pastry, she continues her way through the bustling street.

Then her feet halts in front of a plain beige unassuming building.

Despite the lively chatter of the Rainbow, the sound of light flowing keys of a piano effortlessly reaches her. She turns towards it, stuffing the remainder of her snack into her mouth and hastily swipes the crumbs away from her cheeks. Her feet move mechanically on its own accord, like a rope that has been tied around her waist and pulls her into the building.

The city noises muffle, blocked by the wooden door frame of the building entrance. Elain is able to clearly hear the melody now, muted and uncertain, supported by the gentle running chords in the lower register. A simple but melancholic beauty that tugs on her chest and pulls in the most heart twisting manner.

The music turns as she passes by door after door within the studio. The same melody returns, bright and daring. Her chin tilts upwards, chocolate brown orbs widening. At last, her feet stop. Exactly where she needs to be.

It is a cozy quaint space, barely larger than her bedroom. The room is bare save for a grand piano plonked in the middle, the walls are lined with oak panes with a full length bookshelf pushed into a corner.

A golden spotlight streams down on the pianist, gliding along long auburn hair which has been pulled back into a simple low ponytail. A featherlight caresses an all too beautiful face and neckline, accentuating the contrast of his white billowing sleeves.

He doesn’t see her, she thinks.

Not as his fingers gracefully glide up and down the midnight and ivory keys, never ceasing to stop the flow of the music. Not even the slightest hitch in its tempo.

At that moment, Elain admits quietly to herself.

He is truly the most beautiful being she has ever seen.

She doesn’t sit and neither does she linger. After the piece ends, she gives a curt nod before turning around. It is only in the safe space of her own solitude does she acknowledge the melody that is still a constant flutter in her ears, her chest, her heart.

She returns the following night at the same time.

Foolishly, maybe. She doesn’t even know how long he will be in the city, doesn’t even know if he has left. Yet as she stands, just two steps beyond the doorway, so quiet that not even the sharpest fae ears can register a sound, there is no denying the little part of her that went, oh thank the Mother he is still here.

When the piece ends, the embers in her chest are fanned by a raised eyebrow, an open challenge in the dancing flame of a russet eye. She takes a seat next to him, the bench barely long enough to fit the two of them. Close enough to feel the heat emanating between the narrow space.

She resists the urge to shudder for a different reason and lifts her hands to the keyboard.

He doesn’t rush her, sitting in patient silence as she considers the different pieces she could play. Her mind skips through numerous music, each as showy as the last, each learnt under strict tutelage with the very intention of impressing guests and suitors. She gives herself a mental smack of a head (no, that will not do, she chides) and settles for a simple folk melody from her childhood.

Perhaps it’s anticlimactic and a letdown. Perhaps it’s a peep into years past that she hasn’t shown anyone in Prythian. One that draws a quirk of lips in her peripherals that she pays no mind.

It surprises her when skilled hands join her when she plays a repeated section, effortlessly complements her with his counter melody. A smile plays on her lips in the simple joy of music. The vehicle in which they embark on their unspoken conversation. She goes up, he goes down, then they loop around. The piece stretches and reshapes into a dozen different variations.

But alas, it all comes to an end when another fae interrupts with a knock, signalling the end of the session. It shatters the spell that they have woven with black and white keys, a glass splintering into hundreds of pieces.

It is with a wry smile that they come to a stop. Elain’s hands drop from the board, her insides twisting in disappointment. Lifting her chin slightly, she sucks a breath in and asks, “Maybe another time?”

The smile that blossoms on Lucien’s face leaves her breathless. A crinkle of happiness that threatens to rip apart the seams of intricately weaved vines burying the golden thread deep, deep within her chest.

“I’ll be here.”

The thread lights up with promise.

“So will I.”

***

The duo steps outside back into the frigid night air of Velaris. Before they take a further step, Elain pauses, her hand raises to her cheek to shield her face from a passing wind. Her petite form shivers a little in time with the slap of freeze.

In that moment, her entire being is engulfed in a tall shadow, and a translucent curtain of shimmery maple drapes over her to shield her from the chill. The brunette tilts her head back at a carefully impassive face.

It is the simplest of magics. Something she should be used to after so long with the fae. Even then, it is still a simple gesture that causes rose to dust across her cheeks, a different type of warmth that spreads from her chest. She resists the urge to scoot a little closer to her mate.

“Walk me back?” She asks, brown eyes meeting russet head on, stubbornly holding the stare until the edges of Lucien’s lips slope upwards.

“In need of a personal heater?” He quips.

A smile spreads on her face as she points out, “It’s freezing.”

Elain loops an elbow around Lucien’s as she forces her speeding heart rate to settle.

I can hear your heart beating through the stone. Can you hear mine?

Surely, he must.

Cocooned in their little bubble of warmth, it feels like there isn’t anything that can be hidden from the other. Not the rhythmic drum beats the organ in her chest plays or the shimmery glow of thread tying them together. Thankfully, that doesn’t stop the tall redhead from tightening the space between their arms as they walk down the lively alleyway in companionable silence.

He takes a step back when the entrance to the Town House comes into view, their arms unwinding. And though the shimmering warmth still covers her, Elain feels a smidge colder.

“I will be returning to the Human Lands tomorrow morning.” Lucien informs her softly.

“Oh—”

“But if you would like,” he almost rushes to continue, “I’ll send you a note the next time I’m back in the city.”

“I would like that.” She returns finally as her mate raises one hand to brush the back of her palm. The flame in his eye returns with a spark.

The moment feels surreal and for just a moment, Elain could pretend that she is a simple lady out jn society, and him, a charming suitor. There is no mess of biting cold dark waters of the Cauldron between them. That the rushing beats of her heart and brush of lips on skin is nothing more than the promise of something new, something exciting, something hopeful.

***

Elain’s brows furrow as her fingers speed up to follow the fraught tempo the Autumn son had set. Her frown deepens as she feels herself get pushed out of the music. Two hands drop to one until she eventually lifts her hands back to her chest and sets her gaze higher to the male himself. His fingers continue to fly across the keyboard, so lost in the music that his lips are parted slightly, his mechanical eye clicks to follow the notes. He seemed unaware that she had even stopped.

He throws his weight into the wooden keys, the force of it unravelling strands from his low ponytail. The air rattles around them with the vibrations of his final chord until it dissipates into nothingness.

“Lucien?”

The thread between them pulls taut as her voice brings him out of his reverie and brings mismatched gold and russet eyes on her, round and tinged with the slightest hint of manic.

Even with all the time they had spent together the past few winter months, it is uncharted territory for them to share more than a piano or playful words that mean nothing. Still, Elain gingerly catches the hand that has just fallen back into his lap and draws it close to her.

“What happened?” She asks, rubbing light circles into the soft flesh of the back of his palm, where the index meets the thumb.

She feels his wordless response, of fingers that close around hers, of the tension simmering in each muscle fibre.

She tries again, “Shall we get out of here?”

With a simple nod, her world transforms into the warm licking golden flames of his winnow. It disappears to reveal a simple apartment where familiar city noises continue to trickle in from the windows.

It dawns on her immediately that this is Lucien’s apartment in Velaris.

Utilitarian. Perfunctory. Devoid of personality. Vastly different from the homeliness of the River House or even her own room in the Town House.

Elain had never seen his room in Spring or in the Human Lands but she can say with certainty that it did not look as empty as this. She ignores the slight lump forming in her throat and pulls him over to the plain brown couch. Without letting herself overthink her next actions, she tugged him down with her to settle his head on her lap.

Something twinges in her chest. The bond that she had tried so hard to submerge under the deepest hedge of thorns that threatens to give way to blinding light. She hastily covers his eyes with nimble fingers, lightly brushing the gnarly scars surrounding his left eye, tracing thick brows with her fingertips and easing the tension filled lines.

Slowly but surely, Elain feels the hard muscles relaxing into the plush skin of her thighs and the soft nuzzle of his face into her dress. She shifts her attention to those silky tresses, carding her fingers through them.

“We are losing Vassa,” he mumbles into the soft rolls of her stomach, “the transformations have always taken their toll but it’s getting even harder. To see those sharp cerulean eyes blank and empty, devoid of her usual sharpness and intelligence, even for just a few minutes.”

A sourness pulls at Elain, a sly voice starts to whisper in her ear. Yours. Thief. Claim. Her fingers tremble, entangling digits into thick locks.

“Have you told Rhysand?” She asks instead, not trusting herself to say more yet also, hating her response for its implied immediate deference.

Lucien pulls away, his head turning away as he replies bitterly, “We need more time to gather allied forces from the continent before we can take on Koschei. He’s not wrong,” his eyes flutter shut and the lines between his brows deepen, “but it’s hard to watch.”

“You care for her.” She wonders if she sounds as petulant as she feels.

The look he gives her is reproachful in answer. Yet, he still reassures her, “She’s a good friend.”

Friend, he had seemed to emphasise. But did she even have the right to lay a claim after all these years of nonchalance? Even as the hissing beast prowling the stairs of her ribs calm slightly, placated at the clarification.

Elain continues her ministrations, nimble fingers absentmindedly braiding then combing them out. The monotony diminishes the world around them into the random sounds of the Velarian nightlife and the occasional crackling wood of his fireplace. It envelopes her mind and lets her thoughts stray to the majestic firebird soaring through the skies, screeching as it flies over a lake black as coal. A cold scaly presence yanks her past the line splitting air and water.

It is cold, so cold. Like the Cauldron, like death, like—

CRACK

Elain’s eyes snap open, brown eyes wide with fear. They find mismatched russet and gold instantly, concern and alarm warring within them. She pauses, waiting for the questions that are sure to come.

None came. Just a wary gaze and a firm grip around her hand. Unyielding and grounding.

She asks finally after a few fraught moments, when her heartbeat resembles what felt like normalcy. “What if I can help?”

Lucien sits up, sending a flurry of movement as the mass of flesh and muscle moves in her lap. He is still impossibly near, the heat emanating from his body an entrancing addiction. He asks carefully, “Are you sure?”

“It’s better than…” she trails off because better than what? Better than the comfortable life accorded to her in her sister’s court, surrounded by everything she could ever need? She clears her throat before meeting those assessing eyes. “It’s better than just waiting passively for things to happen to me.”

Lucien stood from the sofa they were sharing, his body angled away from her. And just as Elain opens her mouth to backpedal her decision, he turns back. Eyes gleaming and determined.

“There’s a piano in the manor.”

Elain almost gasps in that moment. Her hand twitches by her side, itching to claw at her chest, to hover over where the golden thread has burst out of its burial site.

It’s bright, it’s dazzling.

It’s iridescent.

END

[chlobody]

What got you into posing nude? Like, how did you get comfortable sharing your body the way you do?

Here comes my novel response to this awesome question - sorry in advance!

Nature was my number one inspiration. I fell in love with being in my natural form outside, as we were intended to be. One thing I preach as a nudist - I AM NOT MY BODY. I am so much more than a flesh bag with limbs that my soul resides in. I am my heart, my mind and beliefs. Sharing your words, thoughts and love is so much more sacred and sexy than flashing a nude body ever could be. To me, being naked in front of people non-sexually couldn’t feel less awkward for me. Those who know my soul, my dreams and hopes… receive my true sacredness. Understand that just because someone saw your naked body, DOES NOT mean they own any part of you, or know anything about you on the inside. Nudity is not sacred unless you hold it in your mind as that. Then, you will forever feel uncomfortable being nude unless it’s with a special someone (which is totally fine, too). Just don’t judge others who ARE comfortable with something you view as the most vulnerable a human can get. Because it’s just not.

What got me into posing nude, is truly my journey of OnlyFans and content creation. I had no choice but to turn to creating content as a source of income during the pandemic while living in the rural country. Soon, “professional photographers” - aka, horny men with cameras - started to contact me asking to shoot, they could help me shoot content, etc.. as you might think, that did lead to some uncomfortable situations and learning lessons.

Diving into the world of posing nude is not easy nor self-explanatory. You eventually find your people, who respect you and have safety and comfort as top priorities, but that normally does not happen at first. I’m lucky to have learned all my lessons with who is and who isn’t safe to work with right off the bat. By learning how to get references for photographers and staying away from unsafe ones, I’ve gotten to embrace and open my nudist world up completely, meeting beautiful people in the process. I hate that I had to learn the hard way, but now I can give other aspiring nude artists a bit of guidance from my experience.

[be-my-ally]

Crash Landing

(aka Big Bunny 4)

Wheeew, only 6 months later than I intended! it's 4am and somehow, despite spending forever on this, I fear the grammar may be janky - so apologies for that. This follows directly from The Lisa-Marie, and the masterlist for the series is linked here!

This is the last of the planned ‘main’ chapters, but there are some time jumps in this and the last chapter, so if anyone has any requests for any bunny/elvis one shots pop them into my inbox and I’ll see what I can do. I have a few little plans to fill out some of the gaps, but no promises on when they might appear. 

warnings: 18+, some mild sexism, p in v, oral (v receiving), afab!reader, skiing, allusions to poor health, Elvis is swearing like… a lot in this chapter. Make of that what you will. References to drug use. THIS ENDS IN JULY 1977 - AUGUST IS IMPLIED. wc: 14k I don’t know what to say - there was meant to be a brief skiing interlude and then all of a sudden I’m 10k in and they’re still in Colorado. 

Early 1977  

Linda is gone for good, finally some of the guys would say, and you couldn’t totally say that you disagreed. It had been stressful - the ups and downs of their relationship, being caught in the crossfires. You had enough experience to know it wasn’t really specific to her but nonetheless it had still been somewhat difficult to witness. It had been hard to face her on the jet, knowing what Elvis was saying behind her back; how adamant he was for them to be over. On the way between stops in the October tour he’d sat on the couch on the plane, glistening with the sweat from the show and still dressed in his white jumpsuit with red flames jumping up his chest, he’d tugged you over, uncaring of the others in the room. Telling you that you were the only girl he could trust to have his back, that he didn’t even know why he kept her around. He didn’t seem to remember, and you didn’t care to remind him that he’d told you the same thing back in June too. Every time she’d suddenly reappear - his desperation to be looked after superseding any desire he may have had to say goodbye to her. Why you couldn’t be enough for him you didn’t know. 

Then, almost immediately after Linda’s gone - and, admittedly, briefly before she was too - you’re meeting this new girl, Ginger, albeit rarely. Elvis for some reason putting her on the Jetstar with her family more than with him. In some ways it helps - the fact that she’s not there all the time, in others it makes you feel awful — his rush fiancee and her family seemingly not even willing or wanting to travel with him. It’s mostly a slow season over the winter though and for some reason Georgia is getting more hours than you and so, you’re forced to say goodbye to your examination of the inner workings of his private life until after the New Year break. It ends up being early February before you get a call to come in for one of his vacation whims.  

It feels like it’s been an age since you last saw Elvis even though it had barely been a six weeks, and you felt guilty that it had felt so nice to relax a little. It was hard when you spoke to your friends, and all their careers or mothering sounded so stressful all the time, they were all jealous of your ‘easy’ job, the extra benefits sounding all too impressive.  Where else would you get a new wardrobe paid for? A shiny new car sat outside for you, or an apartment rented? But it was hard to explain without giving away too much, how it was impossible for you to ever really turn off; how you thought about him all the time, worried about him all the time, even when you were at home.  

He hadn’t been difficult to manage the last couple of months of the year, at least, not as bad as the middle and start of the year, but his moods had turned almost overwhelmingly blue, and it had been tricky to level your tone and actions to appropriately comfort him. You’d started feeling on edge every flight, worried and insecure. So, the break had been nice. It had given you a chance to re-evaluate, take a breather and consider what was best for you to do.  

Elvis himself called to wish you a Merry Christmas, he’d been sweet and kind and promised you a gift even as he made small talk that you knew he disliked, even if he was good at it in that southern way, and it had made you hate him just a little. Your chest aching with the feel that he was treating you like a total stranger. It hadn’t improved when you’d returned to your Memphis apartment from your parent’s house and discovered a card had been delivered in your absence. “Season's Greetings, Elvis and the Colonel and Friends.” You’d allowed yourself the briefest of cries staring at yourself in the mirror while the blotchiness crawled up your neck. You were still an ugly crier despite your best efforts. It’s the final straw, you thought to yourself as you stared at your wild eyes and messy hair where you’d tugged your hands through it. You’ll see it through the summer. Then you’re done. That’ll be just enough time to work out what to do next - maybe you’d go back to school. You dried your eyes, patting yourself on the cheeks. That’s it. Decision made. You refused to give it any more thought. Especially, about why you didn’t just quit immediately if you were planning on it later anyway, not willing to admit to yourself you wanted to give him another chance more than anything else. It was just altogether too much, being the girl on the side of the girl on the side, having to balance being his friend, employee and lover. But you’d had your moment, and you were using your trusty technique of just not. thinking. about. it. anymore.  

You were nervous as you tied your little necktie and pulled at your hem from where you were sure your dress had shrunk over the past month, preparing to greet the men loading onto the plane. It was informal, as it normally was, and you looked back somewhat fondly to your days on Big Bunny, where everything was written and handbooked out with the proper procedure for every situation. Now it was just up to you to decide what to do for every eventuality. In this situation you made the brave decision to hide. So, you tuck yourself away in the galley on the other side of the little half wall, waiting until enough of them have boarded that you’ll be forced to peek out and say hello. There were more people loading on than during the last tour, and despite the extra numbers you knew you were handling this mostly alone - Georgia had been unable to come in under such short notice; something about a grandmother. So not only were your nerves shot worrying about when you should tell Elvis you were quitting and how it felt like you were harbouring some awful secret, you were also having to steel yourself to be overworked and run down by the time you were able to get off the plane. When you peek out around the partition you get the first glance of him and you’re a little embarrassed at how you can feel a flush start to rise just from that look.  

He looks not dissimilar to how he did that first day on Big Bunny - open collared shirt and jogging jacket on - this time a navy blue with a baby blue stripe down the shoulder and arm. He looks good - like you could just burrow into him, and you’re relieved that the sudden demand for your appearance isn’t for something panic-inducing from the way he’s smiling and chatting - laughing with Charlie and Joe. You’d been a little concerned that the rapidity of the request was hiding a more sinister origin after a similar call had preceded a rush to the hospital last summer. But he was looking good, really good actually. Somehow his face had lost some of its puffiness it’d been holding onto and he was a far better colour than you’d gotten used to - perhaps a high from the success of his New Year’s concert as he’d been pleased with the reaction and reviews or maybe even just high off the excitement of his, apparently, serious relationship with Ginger. Although, evidently not altogether that serious since she wasn’t joining them; you’d already decided you’d keep your thoughts about that to yourself. You shyly watch him from across the plane where he’s already sat himself down, comfortable in his own space and leaning against the back - his legs spread wide, retelling some story you’ve already heard once before. You take a deep breath before heading around the little partition, fully intending on acting as if you had an important job to do by the door. You managed to keep the ruse up long enough to shut the door and let Ron know you were all set to go, long enough to hand out drinks and cigars and let them all settle in,  but you couldn’t pass directly by him again without him noticing you, and his arm shoots out, grabbing your wrist as you go to walk past. You barely have a chance to notice his hold on you before he’s pulling you in, forcing you to bend over in order to accept a kiss on the cheek in greeting. You can’t explain why you’re so nervous, but you find your tummy flipping at the close proximity to him. With anxiety or excitement, you can’t quite tell. In some ways it’s slightly more forward than you’d expected from him for having not seen him in a month, but perhaps you had just gotten used to him ignoring you in the months prior.  

“Good evening, Elvis.” It’s a fine line between polite and aloof, and you can already tell you’ll be reliving this interaction all night. His eyes are bright with amusement at your formality when he gazes back at you, his thumb still gently stroking over your wrist.   

“Well, it is now.” He grins as you visibly cringe at his cheesiness, “Good evening to you too, honey.” He looks you over as he lets go of your hand, allowing you to stand back up, and eyeing your hemline, “‘re you ready for the cold?”  

“Hopefully it’s not gonna be too cold on the plane,” You stumble over your words in nerves, “but I can always turn the heat up a little - “Elvis shakes his head, 

“Nah, I’ll keep you toasty, hon, snug as a, as a bug.” You struggle to regain your composure as your mind flickers with images of just how he could be keeping you warm.  

“Hmm, I suppose you’ll have to since someone makes me wear this. But I’m pretty well covered anyway.” You grin in response to his smirk when you gesture down at your stockinged legs.  

“Well, that’s real good doll,” He runs a hand through his thick hair, letting a hint of the grey around his temples show as he pushes it back, and you find yourself missing the steadying warmth of his grip, “but you know - we’re stopping in Vail.”  

You pause, unsure how to put it politely, “Mmhmm, that’s what Elwood tells me.” He frowns, leaning back and settling even further into the seat, arm spreading across the back rest and he shifts so his thighs are encasing you.  

“Alright then miss know-it-all, tell me what I was gonna say next.” He stares at you, and it makes your insides twist even as you can feel heat pooling in your stomach.  

“Uhhh,” You struggle, to try and think of what to say that will maintain the teasing playful tone, feeling like you’ve been called on daydreaming in the middle of class with everyone’s eyes on you and simultaneously totally distracted by the feel of his legs against yours. He smirks as you flounder, “Well, perhaps, that you uh,”  

“You can say you don’t know.” He sing-songs it, “Silly little girl like you can’t know everything, huh?” He raises an eyebrow, and you can feel the frustration rise at his teasing,  

“No. I suppose not.” He smiles crookedly, pleased he gets to tell you the next part, even as he explains it like you’re a little slow.  

“I was goin’ to say that I hope you’ve got a coat somewhere…” He pauses for dramatic effect, “since you’re comin’ with us.” Your brain goes blank.  

“Me?”  

“Why not?” He straightens a leg, it, perhaps inadvertently, knocks against yours and you immediately feel your gaze pulled to it, the heat of his thigh against your knee making your head go fuzzy. “Been a while since we’ve been off this plane together.” He’s looking at you hopefully, eyes wide behind his shades and you can feel your insides fizzing with excitement - even as you feel the need to protest,  

“Oh well that’s very kind but -”  

“C’mooon, honey - it’ll be fun! Hot cocoa, and, and skis, and playin’ in the snow.” His leg moves again, the soft cotton blend of his jogging suit catching on your nylons, “Dashin’ through the snow…” Your mouth opens, about to make a Paul Anka joke but one look at his encouraging smile puts you off,  

“Oh, well, like I said, that’s very kind - but I don’t, I don’t have any clothes or coats or boots or -” He cuts you off with a tut, rolling his eyes and shaking his head like you were being particularly stupid.  

“I was only kidding before.” He sounds a little petulant at the suggestion, “You don’t needta worry ‘bout that - we’ll get you sorted out.” He nods, as if you’d already given him your agreement.  

“That’s very generous Elvis, but I don’t know how to ski.”  

“Don’t worry I’ll teach ya!” He seems overwhelmingly confident considering you and he both know he doesn’t know how to ski, “You can just be - hey!” He sits himself back upright in his excitement, knocking against you enough that you shift on your feet, “You can just be my little snow bunny, can’t ya?” He laughs as he says it, and his laughter is infectious - you find yourself giggling along with him,  

“I suppose that would be fitting.” 

“ ‘Sides what else were you gonna do while we were out?”  

“Well…what I normally do - fly home or stay in whatever hotel I’ve had booked for me.” He looks curious for a second, “Sometimes I visit people if we’re close to someone I know.”  

“Do I book ‘em?”  

“Uh. Well. I think maybe your daddy does? Or, whoever’s organising everyone on your behalf yeah, sure.”  

“Oh…” He looks contemplative, before with a frown, “Are they nice?”  

“They’re fine El - it’s normally the same place the band is.” It’s sometimes a shithole but you’re not about to tell Elvis that.  

“Would you - why… did you not wanna come with me?” He half-whispers it and your brain stutters to a halt,  

“What? That’s not, that wasn’t ever an option Elvis.”  

“Well. It is today. Come with us.” He holds out a hand, serious for the first time in the conversation and with his eyes looking at you like that even if you’d wanted to refuse you couldn’t. You nod in agreement, acquiescing to his demand. 

 “C’mere then.” He tugs you down against him and you wriggle into place on his lap, the fabric of his trousers catching on your nylons as you settle against his sturdy thighs. He rubs gently at your calf, his thumb and forefinger encircling your ankle and you feel yourself relax out of your self-consciousness to enjoy the closeness.  

You laugh at a terrible joke at Joe’s expense and Elvis’ legs shake underneath you as you collapse against him in a fit of giggles. Your giggles taper off as you feel him twitch against your thigh. You school your face but can’t stop yourself turning to look at him in surprise, and more than a little excitement. His expression is unchanged, and you wiggle almost imperceptibly, come out, come out and play. It twitches again, and Elvis shifts as if in discomfort, you glance around but no one else seems to be paying you any attention - already distracted by something or someone else so you feel comfortable you’re not about to get caught as you try to wriggle your hand down to him. He immediately clamps an arm around your waist, holding you tight in place - your arm caught between you both. He looks down at you amused and you bite your lip - a pretty pitiful attempt at seduction,  

“Shh.”  

You indicate to the bedroom, more than a little disappointed when he shakes his head. “Later baby.”  

He keeps you trapped on his lap, making it impossible for you to go and do anything, making the boys make their own drinks even when they try and ask you. Even when you try to whisper that you need to get up, he holds you there, gently soothing you back into compliance with a press of his lips, a whispered promise, a stroke of his fingers.  

“Elvis I really hafta get up - we’ll be comin’ down soon and I’ve gotta make sure - “ 

“It’ll be fine baby, don’t worry ‘bout it.”  

“Well, we can’t just sit here forever - at the very least I’ll have to go and open the doors.”  

“Shit baby, Ron or Jim or God, I’m sure even fucking Elwood can manage that. No offense doll but I think they might even be more qualified at it than you. Besides I ain’t payin you to open doors.”  

You push off his chest, turning to face him and interjecting before he can even continue that thought,  

“You sure as hell aren’t paying me to keep you ‘company’ either.” He rolls his eyes,  

“We’ve been through this, I don’t give a fuck about the plane or anything else. Your job is to care for me.” His eyes burn behind his shades, and the intensity of his frown takes you a little by surprise. You stroke the wrinkle on his brow,  

“‘m sorry but look - I have a couple of things I have to do and anyway you’re gonna have to put a seatbelt on in a second, because it’ll get bumpy - and if you hit your head, I’m not being responsible for it.” You wag one of the heavy gold seatbelts at him and he sighs,  

“Well, fine, but you’re mine soon as we land. No excuses then.” His hand strokes your thigh, and your tummy flips,  

“No excuses. I’ll be yours as long as you want me.” There’s a hum, and you both suddenly realise Larry has come a lot closer than before, “Your hostess I mean.”  

——————————— 

Ron patted your arm as you disembarked with the others. “Remember we’ll be there soon too,” He looks at you, “We’re staying at Betty’s aunt’s place, but I’m sure we’ll be invited round.” You nod, reading between the lines and you smile, 

“I’ll bear that in mind.” 

“You do that. Have fun.” He winks, disappearing back into the cockpit and you take a breath before rejoining the group dispersing into a collection of cars.  

“What’s she doin’?” The whisper travels as you climb into the car, Larry and Joe start to reply but Elvis jumps in before either could get their words out too.  

“Goddamnit,” He kicks the seat in front although it certainly wasn’t Joe who had piped up, “She’s coming too - so shut yer fuckin’ mouth before I shut it for you.”  He shouts out the open door and slamming it shut. He slides across the bench seat to be pressed close against you, his hand curling over your thigh.  

You smile shyly, pleased when Shirley turns around to smile at you, you weren’t her biggest fan - she’d never been overly friendly, but at least she was now acknowledging you.  

A whirlwind shopping excursion ensued while Elvis sent the other car to scout out where he wanted to stay. You were a little taken aback, but not altogether surprised, that he’d demanded the trip on such a whim that he hadn’t even secured proper accommodation, but he did a fairly good job of explaining himself while you were being sent back and forth from different stores for the appropriate clothing.  

“The thing is …” You kind of zone out while he talks, the story leading from one to another, before returning to the actual point he was trying to get to, but you appreciate the rumble of his voice and the gossipy tone that makes you feel a part of his exclusive little group. You manage to capture the gist though; that he was pretty sure they could stay at the same lodge as last time, because it was a friends but he hadn’t actually asked - since the decision to go away hadn’t been made until yesterday, and that he couldn’t see any reason why not - but if they had problem with it there was surely other, bigger better lodges to stay that would be overjoyed to host him.  

You were tired by the time he decreed that you finally had a suitable wardrobe and he looked over the collection of bags with satisfaction, although - despite the three other coats he bought you, he still felt the need to lament that it was a; 

“Damn near trav’sty,  none of these backwater stores have white fur. Can’t be a proper little snow bunny,” He sighs, “Joe - make sure we order her one for next time.”  

Your chest glows at the nonchalant way he says it - like he just expects you to be there again. Like it’s no big deal. The other car returns with good news, and they all filter up to the same lodge as the year before. 

“I reckon Ron and Bob’ll regret being such fucking, well, they’ll regret it anyhow now - once they see this and know they could’ve been here too.” You don’t know what to say, so you stick with saying nothing and Elvis tuts and shakes his head, shifting to stare out of the window, although he doesn’t pull his hand away from where you’re making little circles on his palm.  

It’s dark and late outside, and yet Elvis demands everyone get suited up to go and play in the snow, and everyone is in high enough spirits not to protest. You’ve not yet had a lesson though, and as you pull on your brand-new ski suit you playfully refuse to even entertain the prospect of heading anywhere on actual skis - Elvis doesn’t seem to be disappointed, grinning at you under his mask and gesturing for you to clamber onto the back of his snowmobile.  

Despite his promises on the plane, things never did, that first night, progress past heavy petting in the bedroom - but it was something just to have his thick weight next to you in the bed, laughing and joking as he pressed kisses down your face and throat. His little huffs of laughter as you returned the favour tickling his chest made you feel the same pleasurable contentment as if he’d decided to fuck you for hours.  

It was rare, recently, for him to be in such high spirits and still lucid - and you couldn’t help but wonder whether Dr Nick had managed to work out the exact right combination of drugs to keep him perfectly stable, or if he was contributing more placebos. Either way, you weren’t privy to their intimate conversations, nor allowed to witness his daily dosing. The most you saw was the little pills he put into his palm, twice as many as he tipped into yours, before bed and in the morning alongside the occasional couple that he nonchalantly explained them away simply as “Jus’ a little painkiller.” Shrugging his shoulders.  But either he was being a lot sneakier - and you weren’t sure you should be viewing that as a good thing - or he was finally listening to concern and easing himself off a little.  

It felt like it had in those first few weeks after you’d met him - carefree and fun. And somehow you felt yourself relaxing from the tense feeling you’d had since the start of last year. The worries falling off of your shoulders. You spent the first two days joined at the hip - not even really partaking in the snow sports on offer; snuggling up on the snowmobile and then taking yourselves off to curl up in the lodge instead.  

The third day, or really night - since as always with Elvis you soon found your days and nights flipped around - he was ecstatic about the fresh, perfect snow and clear weather and you’d all been sent out to play.  

It felt like a long night by the time Elvis was happy to let everyone return to the house. He hadn’t even joined you on the slopes properly, instead choosing to order everyone about from the comfort of his snowmobile.   

“C’mon fellas - get into a line! Go on! I’ll chase ya!”  

“For god’s sake Billy, move it along! You nearly made me take your whole damn leg off!” A pause, before raucous laughter ensued, “Again!”  

Still, you hadn’t minded this turn of events since it meant you hadn’t had to try and remember your rushed and hurried lesson on the nursery slopes that afternoon. Instead, you’d given it one go accompanied by his shouts of laughter at your falling,  

“How’d a dancer get to be so goddamn clumsy?”  

“I wasn’t a dancer!” You’d protested from your position flat on your back in the snow.  

“You danced real pretty for me though doll.” You rolled your eyes, scrambling back to your feet, trying not to pout as you brushed yourself off, he shook his head laughing once more before shouting back at you.  

“Aw now darlin’, that ain’t a pretty sight. C’mon, better hop onto the back of here, it’ll be a bit safer for you.” He’d said it through giggles, and you felt the determination to get down by yourself rise up again,  

“That won’t be necessary!” You attempted to take off again, and just as you were attempting to straighten your skis, about 12 feet from where you had last fallen, you were on your side again in the snow. Elvis didn’t give you a choice this time, angrily killing the engine completely and storming over as best he could through the thick snow, yanking you up by your arm and dusting you off himself.  

“‘S not the time to be stubborn, C’mon now.” You can’t see his facial expression, obscured by his layers and the dark but you can hear that his annoyed words would be accompanied by tightly knitted eyebrows and a frown. 

“I can do it.” You angrily pulled your arm out of his grasp, the momentum immediately making you start to lose your balance again, and Elvis catches you before you could fall for a third time. 

“For heaven’s sake,” You can practically hear his eyes roll, accompanied by a sigh as he tries to change tact, “I’m sure you can, but it’s dark, and you’ve already tripped twice.” You frown, and he placates, a soothing hand rubbing down your arm, “I just, I just worry about you baby, c’mon, let me look after you - you’re liable to break - no no no, don’t look at me like that,” His hand comes up to cup your face, “I just care about you s’all, don’t want you to get hurt.” He says it so honestly and affectionately that you find yourself nodding in agreement, and truthfully, despite your obstinance, you couldn’t have agreed more - you probably would break a leg if he’d let you go on. He grins at you, “There we are, you know it makes sense, don’t you - there’s my good little bunny. C’mon then, hop to it,” He pats your ass encouragingly, although the padding makes the action redundant, and you slowly make your way over to the snowmobile. 

You climbed onto the back slightly awkwardly, almost reluctant to be too close in front of all the guys, despite your cuddling the days before - they’d always been a little more distracted by their own activities to spend much time assessing yours. But Elvis yanked your arm around at the first possible chance, patting your hand where it lay against his padded stomach and tugging you to press yourself against him. You were getting a little bored, and nervous, of all the commotion so you found yourself totally content to curl against his body for warmth and tuck your chin into his shoulder. Despite your brand-new base layers, and soft down ski suit, there had still been enough of a chill in the night air, and from laying in the cold snow, that you were eager to be as close as possible. Elvis’ figure was more padded than you were used to feeling him, his coat also puffy and filled with down. You took immense pleasure in squeezing him tightly enough that you felt the padding compress, eager hands trying to find his body underneath. You found yourself considering, as one hand came to play with the little hairs escaping his mask and goggles at the base of his neck, that it was a damn shame you were both so covered up, since you couldn’t smell him. If you’d been less love-drunk on him you’d have been amazed at yourself; at thinking it was a damn shame, you were unable to smell an undoubtedly sweaty man.  

You have no idea how long you spent on the back of the snowmobile, hands roving all over him; only that you quickly lost all sense of self-consciousness and instead felt a rising feeling of possession. A dangerous feeling if ever there was one, but enough that you felt your manicured hands staking their claim, rubbing over his arms and back. Elvis seemed to be enjoying it, shifting to be closer to you whenever you moved away, and patting at your arm.  

When he finally, at speeds far too reckless for the early morning night sky, drove you back to the lodge he barely said a word to the rest of the group grabbing your hand and pulling you straight to the master bedroom. It was exciting and, whilst you were almost reluctant to get your hopes up too high, your thighs had been clenching of their own accord for the past hour and you could feel the dampness of your underwear against your warm delicate skin - it was impossible not to; you’d been on edge for hours.  

He’s sweaty from his layers, his red face revealed when he pulls his ski mask and goggles off, there’s a hint of stubble coming through and his face looks alive, cheeks plump with his grin. You were happy to be back in the comfort of the wood-panelled bedroom, although its cozy feel belied the chill that seemed to remain in the air of the wintry cabin. Elvis doesn’t say anything as he concentrates on taking off layer after layer until he’s mostly down to his bare, pinkened skin. You smile when it’s revealed he hadn’t backed down from his childlike refusal to wear proper base layers, silk shirt coming into view but at least you can tell from the sweat patches and his damp skin that he’d certainly been warm enough. You feel like you’re melting from the inside out from the sheer fondness overtaking you until he tugs it over his head, an unusual lack of care shown to it.  You meet his eyes in pleased surprise, and you’re further taken aback at how he manages to make his eyes twinkle so much, playfully glittering in the low light of the room. You can see his smirk growing as your eyes travel down his bare chest, an involuntary noise spilling out of your mouth. It’s been so long since you had the chance to stare at him like this. Elvis gestures at you, disrupting your intense focus, and you suddenly realise you’ve been standing still staring at him for almost too long, so you rapidly start to unboot yourself. You don’t get any further than kicking your shoes off before Elvis is suddenly in front of you. He brushes your hands off of yourself, fingering at your zipper himself. He twirls it between his fingers, ever so gently with one hand - the other coming to distract you from the anticipation by cupping your face, drawing you around to look into your eyes.  

Elvis’ hair has always been long enough for you to run your fingers through, but it seems to have grown almost thicker, and you inch even closer to stroke his cheeks, pushing back his hair - frizzy from its woollen containment. Despite Larry’s accompaniment on the trip when you brush back the hair at his temples you can see the same hint of grey starting to show through as before, and you can’t resist stroking the strands there.   

He smiles at you, pulling you into him to kiss you, making you breathless. As soon as you were distracted, he was unzipping the jacket of your snowsuit, shoving it off your shoulders and down to your waist. It falls to your feet by itself and you immediately pull off your under layers. It simultaneously feels frenzied but also slower than before; like both of you couldn’t wait even though you knew you had the chance to take your time. You lean back so he can tug your undershirt over your head, barely breaking contact with his lips. He pulls back, grinning, after fiddling with your bra clasp, the straps falling from your shoulders. Soon you’re practically nude, your naked chest pressed against his.  

He feels solid against you; it’s been a long time since you both had the opportunity to take your time like this, and his body feels slightly different than before. He still had that uniquely Elvis feel but he was sturdier, and though you doubted it could possibly be true, it felt as if his soft carpet of chest and stomach hair had grown larger, trailing down into the swell of his stomach like a tantalising arrow. He’s surer of himself than he was the last time you found yourself naked with him, reminding you of how he was back on Big Bunny, his broad yet slender hands firmly spanning your sides. You couldn’t help but wonder if you were finding him so attractive because it had been a while, or if it really was just that he always looks good. Any thought was swept from your mind though when he recaptures your mouth, his lips soft and firm against yours, and his tongue insistently presses past yours in a way that could only be described as eager.  

The movement of your chests against each other is enough for you to gasp against him - desperately moving to be closer, trying to practically become one with him. You can feel him smile at your desperate noises, before he moves a little. One of his hands slide down to rest at your waist, the other encircling your wrist. He holds it at your side, your other arm is trapped between you, and you whine at him between gasping breaths that it’s not fair, “C’mon El, that’s unfair, let me touch you,” He grins against your cheek, his spare hand moving to palm up at you.  

Elvis presses a kiss against the side of your mouth, and as you start to voice your protests at his movement he mutters, “I just need - let me light the fire, hon.” against your skin, the vibration of his voice causing you to shiver. He pulls away with a final tug to your bottom lip, and you find yourself pouting at the loss of his heat. You fold your arms across your chest, a little self-conscious now he’s moved away and besides it was slightly chilly, but you couldn’t bear to let him leave you - besides weren’t you about to warm each other up? Although, maybe you were more ready than he was; as he was soft still, and the thought of him tending to the fire - the domesticity of the combination made your stomach clench perhaps more than if he’d been hard and ready to go. But still, you were reluctant to allow him to move away.  

“I’m sure I’m hot enough,” He shakes his head, kissing your hand as he lets go of you entirely, “Honestly - we-we’ll be under the covers in a moment anyway, and I’m, I’m already burning babe.” But he’s already wandered over to the fireplace; thankfully it had been left pretty well set-up, and all that really has to be done is the physical lighting of the kindling already in place and you console yourself with the knowledge that it should only take a few seconds.   

“Not gonna let my bitty baby bunny get cold, hims gotta take care of herses.” He mutters seemingly mostly to himself although he was more than loud enough for you to hear. It does the job he intended it to, and you can feel yourself start to melt in response. He glances back at you as he crouches by the fireplace.  

“Hadta do this in the army baby,” You start to laugh at his tangent, “Yeah I did!” He ardently refutes your chuckle, “- with none of these fancy tools,” He’s holding up a box of firelighters, “No siree, just two sticks and a rock and I could light anything up.” You giggle, finding the situation all the more amusing when you notice he seems to be struggling to light it now. He keeps trying with the book of matches from the side, but for some reason they just won’t seem to take and he huffs, swearing, standing himself back up from his kneeling position to storm over to his jacket, fumbling in his pocket for one of his lighters. Your jaw drops as you watch him reach inside the fire to hold one of the crumbling firelighters in his hand, and he lights it to the accompaniments of your shrieks and admonishments;  

“Elvis! Oh god put that down! You’ll set your - oh lord, you’ll set your chest on fire doing that!” He turns to grin at you, before swearing as the fire licks his fingers, throwing the flaming chunk into the fire, and finally - finally watching as the kindling starts to flicker.  

“Told you, honey, no problem at all.” He shrugs his shoulders, but your heart rate hasn’t yet levelled back out and you can’t help but continue to scold him.  

“Jesus, what would I have told everyone! I swear -” He stands up, away from the fire now crackling to life, holding his hands out placatingly,  

“No, no, no,” He grins, “No sweat, baby, I knew what I was doin’.” He’s got that boyish glint in his eyes, happy as only a man who has achieved a stupidly primal action like lighting a fire or setting off a firework can be, and when you continue to scold him he suddenly rushes at you, knocking you off your feet and sending you tumbling together onto the bed. His broad arms come around you, holding you like a movie starlet swooning in his arms.  

“Shhhh…. honey, bunny, I knew what I was doin’ ok? You see, I was just foolin’ around, pretendin’ I couldn’t light it - you know, just messin’ with you a little, just - just for fun.” You snort in disbelief, although you’re quickly distracted as he kisses the crook of your neck, following an invisible line down to your shoulder and back up to your neck, one of his hands coming to hold the back of your neck while the other traces circle on your stomach. You gasp, and you can feel his grin against you.  

“El—vis, oh - god, you can, let me get these off - please,” and you wriggle out of your panties, shoving them to your knees and kicking them off, when you manage to flick them off of your ankle  your legs return to the bed, slightly more parted than before, desperately inviting Elvis to do more.  

“You believe me don’t you honey?” His fingertips dance over you,  

“Wha-” He repeats the question, 

“You believe me, right, bunny? Y’know I could’ve lit it in seconds?”  his fingers trace below your belly button.  

“Uh, yeah, yeah, of course - who needs firelighters! Not Elvis!” He grins at you, and the sight of it makes you tease further, “Boy, you could, you could,” You giggle breathlessly, “You could make it a part of your show, you know - what can’t Elvis set on fire?!” You do a jazz hands gesture for emphasis. Elvis throws his head back in laughter, his head hitting the pillows and you wriggle in pleased amusement next to him for a moment before he sits back up,  

“Oh ho - you take that back, little girl,” His fingers prod into you, tickling your sides and you scrunch up as you giggle more,  

“I take it - oh! I take it back! You did, you did an excellent job.” He nods in self-satisfaction,  

“Now,” his hands soothe the pinkened skin from where he’d jabbed into you, “Let me make you feel good, baby.” Elvis leans up and over you, cupping your face to pull you into another, deep, kiss while his hand finally travels down past your navel, brushing over your inner thighs. Your hips jerk up, as if offering yourself up to him. You can feel his arousal growing against your thigh, twitching like the little bunny nose he claimed you had. 

“Lord, bunny, you’re so soft, can barely feel ya, s’like silk down here I swear to god.” Your eyes slip closed, your back arching at the feel of his soft pads sliding through the silky wetness of your folds, and your legs opening a little wider of their own accord in invitation, begging him to go lower or higher or something. When all of a sudden you feel a chill at the loss of his presence as he moves away. Your eyes flutter back open to see him, bare ass on show, bent over and poking at the fire - adding an additional log that immediately crackles and spits, onto the top.  

“El-Elvis.” The situation catches you by surprise; to be abandoned in favour of fiddling with a fire could be seen as a little offensive in some ways, but it tickles you and the giggles overcome you before you can ask what exactly he was playing at.  

“Ah, sorry honey, I didn’t mean to leave you hanging’ there but it was in danger of goin’ out.” He runs his hand through his hair as he stands back up, his hands falling to just below his hips for a second while he surveys the fire - making doubly sure he’d gotten it set up.  He stretches, and you admire the muscles in his back as they move with his arms for a moment. He turns and stalks back over to the bed - immediately jumping beside you, bouncing you up before he gathers you back into his arms. His hand reaching across you to cling you to him, arm over your waist, finger barely brushing a nipple.  

“You should worry about me going out at this rate -” He laughs at you, rubbing his thick fingers down your sides.  

“Ohh-ho, but baby, bunny, I thought you were burnin’ for me? “He does his famous lip movement, somewhat self-deprecatingly, “just a...” He moves his hips next to you, “burnin’ love. Uh-huh? Bunny love?” You bite your lip at him - it was funny, but more than anything you can feel the arousal growing again in the pit of your stomach. He smiles at you, not expecting a response before he shakes his head, leaning over to press a soft kiss to the corner of your mouth before flopping back to stretch out on his back. You roll with him, lazily kissing his chest. It’s the most relaxed you’ve felt with him in months, maybe even in the past year.  

He slides his hand back down, one of his long, thicker but still fundamentally slender, fingers preceding the others. You’re more than ready for him, and while your hips move in response to him pressing it past your entrance it’s not enough for the desire burning inside you.  

“’S no good - can I - are you, are you ready for me?” He looks at you a little surprised,  

“Yeah, sure, just - how d’you want the pillows.” He makes as if to get up and move himself off of his back, but you stop him with a hand to his chest. Your fingertips tweak his nipple, just the tiniest bit and you take pleasure in his open-mouthed reaction; perhaps a little surprised at your initiative and he looks wide-eyed when you tell him,  

“Well, maybe I could…uhh..y’know,” You gesture vaguely towards his cock, he blinks at you, “Climb on?” His mouth stays open for a moment before he seems to remember himself, remember that such an offer shouldn’t seem a surprise to him. If you had the brain power to think you would consider it a little sad; the confidence he’d had on Big Bunny in comparison to now. He shakes his head, even as he settles back against the headboard, seeming to recollect himself, smirking.  

“Sure thing, honey, I just thought women didn’t like doin’ any of the work.” You roll your eyes, not bothering to mention that this wasn’t even the first time you’d ridden him, but still, you swing your leg over him and with a helping hand from him to position himself you settle down, your thighs straining over the breadth of his lap. You immediately regret your decision to face him when you realise it means he’s watching your face almost too closely, and you say a silent prayer of thanks that you had had enough experience with him that you weren’t overly intimidated.  He holds himself steady, letting you sink yourself down onto the sturdy length of him. His own face screws up, falling back onto the pillow behind him at the feel of the warmth of your wet heat pressing down onto him. You struggle for balance for a second, before your hands find their way onto his shoulders for a moment while you adjust to him. It’s been a while, a fact Elvis points out as he gasps at you that,  

“Oh - lord, Jesus, honey, you been waitin’ for me? Ain’t - God, takin’ me so goddamn perfectly; feels just right for little Elvie, such a good little bunny, all for me.” Your hands scramble down his chest to his, admittedly thicker and softer middle, to push back and hold yourself up.  

“Elvis - you feel, oh, I, I’ve missed this,” You shudder around him,  

“Can tell,” He huffs as you start to lift up on your knees, “Can tell you’ve been so good for me, huh baby,” He grips your hipbones, “just a itty bitty baby bun bein’ good for me, holdin’ on jus for me.” You moan at the feel of the different angle he hits inside of you from this position, and as you find your momentum rising up and rocking yourself back down you feel your confidence growing.  

“Oh, uh-huuh, good girl, oh lord that’s sexy…” You moan in response as you lean backwards a little, encouraging him to come up to play with your breasts. It amuses you how he still tweaks and pulls like a teen in the back of his daddy’s car, yet somehow, he manages to get the pressure just right, grinning at you knowingly as he licks his fingertips before bringing them back to your nipples twisting them just enough that the combination sends a rush of wetness. It’s a distraction for a second, but mere moments later and your thighs are screaming at you. Unlike on Big Bunny though this time you’re determined to see it through, and you blink through half-closed eyes at him, his own sweaty face staring back at you, mouth-open. Your hands paw at his chest, struggling to find something to grip to get the leverage you need, fingertips scratching at his chest hair, and Elvis eventually puts his hands back to your waist, his own hips moving to help you bounce on him.  

You can no longer bring yourself to care about how you look - entirely lost in the sensations - groaning a little in annoyance as your hair falls over your face and into your eyes. You struggle to try and brush it away while still keeping your balance and momentum but quickly you feel Elvis’ hands move from your waist, one large sweaty paw coming up to push your hair off your face, his thumb stroking down your cheek after it’s tucked back. You let him slip it past your mouth as you rock onto him, moaning against his soft skin. His mouth stays open watching you with heated eyes,   

“C’mon now, mama, finish the job.” You nod rapidly, his thumb tumbling out of your mouth, and he trails the spit-soaked digit down to rub along your thigh, letting his hips jerk into you, rolling with the movement. His hand sinks down, and your hands come to his shoulders as he starts to roll his thumb against your clit, his hand resting on the joint of your thigh and his other coming to back down to clutch at your hipbone. You’re almost there when you feel his hand suddenly pause as his hips thrust up more aggressively than before - more like how he used to perform and you’re about to shriek in protest, tell him off for stopping you right at the precipice, until you see his face screwed up, perfect lips open.  

“Oh - Oh, fuck, fu-fu-uck.” He stutters the word, relief palpable, as if releasing after an immeasurable time. His hand moves back to play with you, his thumb moving rapidly, rubbing exactly over the right spot and it’s almost too much, the overstimulation making you lose your words as he slips and slides it back and forth. You’re begging him for something, although you’re not sure what and he praises you as you grind against him.  

“That’s it, that’s it,” Elvis is breathless still as he encourages you, “C’mon bunny, you can give it to me baby, c’mon baby, c’mon.” He’s growling in your ear and you fall forward, his softening cock rubbing wetly against your folds as you land against his chest. His voice is enough to tip you over the edge, and you find yourself rutting against him, gasping into his collarbone before going stiff, stomach muscles and thighs convulsing as you twitchingly hurtle through an orgasm.  “Shit.” He swipes his thumb over you again and you flinch away, but he pulls it away himself, shushing you before he pats his other hand onto your back and you jolt at what amounted to a an unintentionally heavy thump, his thumb stroking and soothing you back to quiet. His lips press against your shoulder blade, I love you it feels like he whispers against your skin, and you shout it back to him in your mind.  

The next day you think to get ahead of Elvis, sending him to go and play with the guys while you rush back into the house, claiming a headache and a desire for an early night. You’ve lit the fire by the time he gets in and while you’d debated waiting for him naked and ready, you’d grown too self-conscious in his absence, so you were tucked under the covers; supposedly reading his book he’d left on the nightstand although you’d done more listening out for their return than actual reading.  

You can hear him shouting to the boys on his way through, no regard for the idea that you might be asleep. He comes bounding through the door, coming to an abrupt halt at the sight of you. The door falling closed behind him with a clunk.  

“You waitin’ up for me, bunny?” You swallow, trying your best at seduction, shoving the covers off to unveil your lingerie clad body,  

“Uh-huh,” You nod, “Waiting and waiting just for you.” He grins, unzipping his jacket and starting to stalk towards you. The fire crackles and he pauses, his head turning to look at it.  

“Oh. You lit it without me?” Your mind runs in circles as you try to work out his tone,  

“Um, yeah - it was cold, so…” He frowns, looking back at you, huffing as he shoves off his jacket entirely, you come to the realisation that he’s actually a little annoyed, “I, I, just thought it would save you a job - you know, it would all be done, and you could just…” You gesture down yourself. He doesn’t respond, finishing stripping himself off and collecting up his pyjamas to take them into the bathroom with him. 

“Elvis? You’re not, don’t be mad at me - I really was just trying to be helpful.” He shakes his head,  

“I’m not mad, baby.” Elvis disappears into the bathroom leaving you to squirm on the bed, your tummy in knots. You’ve put his book back on his nightstand and have tucked yourself back under the sheets, feeling too exposed to stay as you were, by the time he comes back out clearly ready for bed himself. He throws back the sheets, climbing in,  

“I-I like doin’ it honey, honest -” He opens up his arms for you to curl into, “I know the place has proper heat and all, but it just feels more, uh, atmospheric, doesn’t it?”  

“I know El, that’s, that’s why I lit it?” He hums against the top of your head,  

“I know sweetheart, uh, thank you, but I like taking care of you.” You nod in understanding, trying not to be too disappointed that your attempt at doing something nice seemed to have derailed your night. “So, what did you think?” He nods towards his book, 

“Oh, I- I barely got a chapter in, I didn’t wanna lose your place,” You settle against his chest, 

“Oh no, honey, I’ve - I’ve read it over and over, not got a place to lose - you go right ahead.” You mumble a thank you, but make no attempt to move, “Or I could read it to you?” His hand strokes your back, and you nod your head against his chest,  

“That would be nice - yes, thank you.”  

“Did you like it?”  

“Mmhmm…. what, what do you like about it?” He never picks the book back up and you happily drift off to the sounds of his deep voice rumbling on about his spiritual conclusions from the text.  

——————————— 

The next morning you find yourself waking up much earlier than everyone else, and you end up unable to fall back to sleep. You eye the bottle of pills on Elvis’ nightstand, but you would be too nervous to take something without waking him up and he looks so peaceful, gently snuffling beside you. Instead, you end up pottering about in the kitchen, making yourself a drink and curling up onto the couch in the living room with his book. An hour or so later Billy stumbles across you on his own hunt for a cup of coffee, and it’s almost awkwardly silent for a second as he stares at you from across the room. You’re just about to ask if there was something he wanted you to do when he breaks the silence first,  

“You know…he’s really going for Ginger.” He looks you up and down, “But, you could - well, what I mean to say is that the boys like you.” You’re taken aback, unsure what he even means by that, and you stumble over your response,  

“Oh, I don’t - I don’t wanna step on anyone’s toes or anything, you know I’m just - I’ve never been skiing so Elvis asked and -” He cuts you off mid-sentence,  

“Look I’m not saying you’ve gotta go around acting like you’re off the streets, but just you know. If you wanted,” He gestures in the general direction of the hallway and Elvis’ bedroom. “I’m sure… well I know I wouldn’t protest.” You swallow hard as you try to consider the correct response.  

“That’s very kind of you to say. I appreciate it.” You’re a little nervous this is a test and while part of you wants to bombard him with questions about what the issue is with Ginger - and does he really think you have a chance with Elvis? Like his girlfriend? You’re not sure how much will get back to Elvis and you’d rather be painted as cold than desperately vying for Ginger’s spot.  Part of you cringes at the implication that all the guys were out discussing his relationships; that they all thought they knew best, on the other hand the little you’d seen of Ginger did little to change your perception from the same as theirs. She seemed nice enough, but Elvis certainly seemed a lot more hot and heavy than her. Even if there hadn’t been a lot of hot and heavy lately - except, apparently with you.  

Later, when everyone but Elvis was up and despite everyone else’s protestations (and Billy’s attempts) you stayed firm in your resolve not to let them light the fire in even the main room. If Elvis wanted to do it and liked doing it, you were going to be damn sure it was there for him to do. It was storming quite heavily outside, and while you waited for Elvis to wake up, you’d all decided it was best to hang around inside.  

You settled down on the floor by the coffee table to set up some cards, pretending to be nonchalant about where you’d placed yourself even as you hoped your position would put you exactly by his legs, and the perfect distance for optimum warmth from the, soon to be lit, fire. Elvis chooses that moment to walk in from the bedroom, in yet another strange silk shirt and tracksuit combination.  

“Hi doll,” He bends over to press a kiss the top of your head, and you lean up into it. He rubs his hands together in an exaggerated motion as if for warmth when he stands back up.  

 “Shit. It’s fucking freezing in here.” He looks around, “Why’d no-one light the fire?” They all turn to glare at you, and you start to explain, stumbling over your words.  

“Yesterday! Yesterday - you, you were offended, when I - I just thought you’d enjoy it!” You protest, and Elvis stares at you, eyes narrowing as if you were the white witch putting the cabin into permanent winter. 

“Offended! Lord, the whole goddamn world will be fuckin’ offended when I can’t sing for shit b’cause I’ve caught pneu-neu-monia and my throat’s scratched to all hell!”  

“Oh, I didn’t - I mean, the main heat is on - I didn’t think…” He ignores you to plop himself down opposite to where you were sitting, miles away from where you’d been planning and anticipating for him to sit. Elvis angrily gestures towards the fire and both Ed and Dick rush towards it, making sure it was lit quickly. You can feel the other girls look at you sympathetically, even as you desperately try to avoid everyone else’s eye, annoyed and upset at being publicly scolded. It’s bad enough for Elvis to be pissed off with you in public, you didn’t need their pity too. It felt like you were being judged for not knowing how to deal with him like this, you can feel some of them - Joe and Shirley for sure - rolling their eyes at you, but you didn’t know better; every time he’d been annoyed in the past you could escape with the excuse of needing to get something from the galley or you were alone in the bedroom together - and you could use other methods to soothe him. But to be in this situation in public was completely unchartered territory, and though you knew everyone there had to be aware of your relationship and situation, it still made you uncomfortable to be having an argument out in the open. At the first opportunity you have you excuse yourself, claiming another headache and shaking your head at Dr Nick’s offers of painkillers you head off to the bedroom. 

Elvis comes barging in an hour or so later, and you flinch at the bang of the door against the wall, already bracing yourself to be accused of sulking or some other continuation of the argument but you remain where you lay in bed, on your side facing away from the doorway and try to concentrate on the words on the page of his book again. He sighs, and just as loudly as he’d opened it he slams the door closed. He makes his way over to you, sitting on the other side of the bed and looking over at you.  

“My little bunny isn’t mad at me is she?” His tone is almost contrite, and you immediately roll yourself over to look at him. He’s got a boyish look on his face and you can feel yourself starting to melt, but you’re not entirely ready to forgive him yet.  

“I’m not mad at you Elvis.” He frowns, titling his head like a confused golden retriever. He lets his head flop into his shoulder as he peers at you.  

“Come on baby, you know I didn’t mean it.” You hum back at him, trying hard not to be swayed by his expressive blue eyes. He clambers up onto the bed, to cuddle into the side of you, running a finger down your arm, “Oh you can’t be mad at me, bunny can’t be mad at him - not when he yuvs her so so much,” He curls his arm around you to tug you closer to him, and you struggle not to smile as he continues baby-talking you, “not his bitty bunny,” He presses a kiss into your arm, shifting himself to place several leading up the back of your neck, and then leaning over to press them against your shoulder, he murmurs against your skin, “she wouldn’t ever be mad at him, his bitty, baby, bunny who he yuvs…” Your heart clenches. You know he’s manipulating you, and you’re still embarrassed, but he sounds so sincere. Even if he’s only saying it so he doesn’t have to outright apologise Elvis suggesting he loves you in any way is enough to make you forgive him.  

“I’m not mad at you, I promise.” You roll around to look at him, staring into his eyes, “I swear Elvis - I’m not. I’m sorry for trying to control the situation.”  

“Nah, nah you were just, you were just tryin’ to take care of me - I see that, let me, let me make it up to you baby,” His fingers glide over your stomach and sides, toying with the waistband of the corduroy trousers you were wearing. He looks deep into your eyes, searching for something, and he smiles a moment later, “C’mon bunny, lemme make you feel good. Let hims make it up to hers.” His fingers wriggle under the waistband while the other pops the buttons and you lift your hips to allow him to take them off.   

He presses his lips to yours, ever so briefly, and you try to chase him even as he pulls away, his palm holding you down while he moves his mouth down your neck. He sucks a bruise onto your collarbone, and you shift in his grip, rubbing your thighs together as he laps at the little maroon mark. He sits up, settling himself between your legs but keeps his hand on your stomach, its wide span pinning you against the bed. No rings this time to dig into your skin, just the intimate feel of his fingers flexing against your abdomen. He brings his other to pat your legs apart. You flop onto your back, unable to stay in a crunch staring at him, the look on his face as he stares at your pussy too much to take.  

You’ve been tense waiting for him, and though you feel yourself automatically relax into his thick hands you still worry momentarily that it’s going to be hard to get you to finish. You don’t want to disappoint him, and you open your mouth to tell him as much when his rough tongue laps at your soft folds, twirling around your clit. His tongue has lost none of its finesse, and he has no difficulty, with the help of two of his fingers to bring you to the brink within a few minutes.  He laps against you, sideburns tickling your inner thighs, for what feels like forever and you’re struggling to keep your legs open and not wrap your thighs around his head, contenting yourself with tangling your fingers into his hair, holding him into place with the little strength you could muster. He’s not quiet when he does this - Elvis never is, uttering his own pleased little hums that seem to harmonise with your own, much louder moans and curses, the vibrations rebounding around your core. It’s not long before he sits up, mouth glistening - clearly ever so pleased with himself while you pant away the white spots behind your eyes.  

“There’s a good girl now.” He pats at you, “C’mon back out now - ‘s no good sulking in here.” And though you never were sulking you find yourself tiredly nodding at his instruction, more than willing to do whatever he asks of you, boneless and biddable.  

——————————— 

It’s strange when you get back home - It felt like you’d been away for months, wrapped up in your little Elvis vacation bubble, and yet it had scarcely been two weeks. It’s absurd that it’s such a struggle to adjust again. You’d let yourself get so close during the trip that it was painful to have to force yourself to watch and listen as he calls Ginger before you take off on the way home, or to be totally ignored as they all clamber out of the plane when you hit the ground in Tennessee. The trouble with Elvis, you thought to yourself as you finally sunk back into your own bed, was that he was everything. More than everything - everything revolved around him, like planets orbiting the sun and it felt near impossible to escape his gravitational pull. You knew your mother would say, “Baby, finish on a high; keep the memories.”  The issue with that is that now you’ve had a little you want more. There’s no way in hell you can quit now. Not before you’ve had just a little taste more, just one more fumble, one more heated look from him, one more whispered I love you into your neck. But you have no idea if the desire is reciprocal; it’s hard not to read too much into it when your presence is conspicuously absent in March. You didn’t even know they were going to Hawaii, or that they had gone until Georgia told you about it while mentioning their rushed return home. Did he think you’d have a problem flying him and Ginger somewhere? Or did he think you wouldn’t be able to be discrete; a laughable idea since you’d been proving yourself in that department for the past three years. Elvis doesn’t mention it to you, so you keep quiet too, and almost immediately after regular service seems to resume.  

You weren’t pleased for long, when it became clear that while he hadn’t looked much worse for wear after the apparent ordeal in Hawaii, and his voice sounded as good as before - none of this was to last. The monotony of the road, the easy habits of most of a decade immediately flooding back to him.  

Despite having spent as much, if not more, time with him than a girlfriend would have done in the past three or four years, the long days and nights spent together you can feel him drifting. You had been there when other girls were there, there when they weren’t - watched over him awake and asleep. But you weren’t. You weren’t his girl, you were, at your core, essentially an addition to his jet. An amenity. So, when you get the call that a couple of tour dates were cancelled and that your services weren’t needed, before an almost immediate redaction and urgent request for your services, to get him ostensibly home, and in reality, quickly to the comfort of a hospital. You were at once concerned - you weren’t allowed to be worried, that was for family and friends - for Ginger and Vernon to pace back and forth in a waiting room. Your job was to remain calm. Professional and calm, even if you knew that had he been more conscious he’d have demanded your presence. He’d said as much after Linda had left - that you were his first choice. Maybe not just an amenity after all. That you would have been the one with his head in your lap, dabbing at his forehead - rather than Ginger’s hesitant pats to his arm. But it’s not you, and you have to simply take a deep breath, hoping that you’d at least get an update. 

There were, by May, so many signs that things are going wrong, even to your untrained eye. Maybe because you saw him less and less, the flights short between tour stops, the requests to see you at the hotels suddenly lacking, that it doesn’t feel like a gradual change in the way the men describe it to be. The paranoia, the fear, and the sheer absurdity of his behaviour all seem to hit you all the more because you were able to directly compare to when he was doing alright, to how, mere weeks ago, you’d been having a grand time in Vail together.  

The guns. The guns had become a symbol of his sheer level of turbulence. He’d threatened you before, at a time where it had seemed so out of the blue it was laughable - now, if he’d done the same thing you’d be more worried - he wasn’t as careful as he had always been. You weren’t a pilot, you didn’t have the same responsibilities, but even so the guns at Binghampton had almost cost you your job and would have certainly cost you your reputation had it all gone south. Had Elvis not somehow, despite his state, been able to effectively charm the officer in charge into forgetting his apparent oversight; although how, considering the guns had tumbled out right in front of them, was anyone’s guess. The ramifications were awful though, you and Ron and Elwood stressed about the ‘cargo’ on the plane, while Elvis shouted to anyone who would listen that he could do what he goddamn liked, waving his narcotics badge at anyone who tried to tactfully protest. You hated it.   

It’s a long flight, at the end of a long week. It’s been trying for all involved, although Elvis has spent a lot of the time that you’ve seen him in a half-asleep state, desperately trying to recover from the strains and stresses of the brutal tour schedule he’s been put on again. You’ve corralled him into the bedroom on the Lisa-Marie, it’s a six-hour flight - not nearly long enough for him to recuperate properly, but enough that you actually have a fighting chance for once. He’d been playful and handsy the day before, the way he was sometimes - likely having taken one too many uppers, but you could tell from the lines and bags under his make-up that, though it’s been ages - to try and tease or play with him now would be borderline cruel. Instead, you focus on making him comfortable, tucking him up with you under the soft covers of the large bed, petting him exactly as he likes it. He’s just starting to calm himself down and you continue to murmur to the top of his head when he suddenly starts talking,  

“I don’t, don’t wanna marry-marry her.” His speech is slurring, and you can’t be sure if it’s from sleep, or the effects of the palmful of pills he’d taken an hour ago, or some combination of it all. Oh, so maybe that’s why he’s gone off the rails?  

“You don’t, - you don’t have to El- if you don’t want to,” You murmur back to him, acknowledging internally that he must be both absolutely exhausted and feeling miserable if his immediate response wasn’t to tell you to mind your own goddamn business.  

“I’ve gotta take care of it - get the boys to take care of it…. Daddy'll do it for me. He should.” He nods to himself, but his eyes stay closed.  

“Elvis, sweetheart,” You whisper to him, “you can’t make your daddy do that for you, you’ve… gotta do it yourself.” You pat his back, and he burrows his head further into your lap, your fingers finding their way into his scalp, curling around and into the hairs at the nape of his neck as you gently stroke his head and back. “She’s, she’s a reasonable girl - I’m sure she’ll understand-”  

“That’s…” There’s a long enough pause as his breathing evens out that you’re fairly sure he’s asleep, but then he mumbles back, “’S not her ‘m worried about…’s her, her folks.”  

You try desperately to reassure him, muttering about how no-one could judge him for making a sensible decision, and better to cool it off now than later, but it’s too late, and the only response you get back is the sound of him snuffling in his sleep, his eyelids and forehead relaxing as he curls his legs into you, snuggling against your warm heat, tucked against the thick gold comforter.  

You try to relax yourself, but your mind is whirring at a thousand thoughts a minute; all too many of which were imagining poor Vernon being gifted with the unfortunate task of breaking up with his son’s girlfriend.  

You feel sorry for him, you never believe when the husbands of your friends make jokes about how they’ve been ‘trapped’ - it’s a man’s world, and it seems absurd to suggest that someone’s womanly wiles were solely the root of their relationship crisis and yet, his description of his relationship is starting to sound less like young fun and more like a calculated entrapment. For perhaps not the first time in his life. You sigh again, and jump when Elvis pats your arm,  

“Shhh, s’ok, s’ok baby, I got you,” He’s fast asleep, eyes twitching being their lids — but still, his hands swipe over your side as he clumsily pats at you, shushing you while he does. The notion makes your eyes fill with tears, how could he still be so utterly sweet and dependent? 

The next morning he made no reference to the night before, or his whispered confession and you dressed and continued on as normal. Your mind though kept floating back to the words Billy had said to you back in early February. Should you attempt to make a move? Or at least, make sure Elvis knew you were totally available? Before you have the chance to act on any of these impulses though there’s a rumour spreading across the group - that Elvis wasn’t coping, that he needed a break, that the tour was going to have to be cancelled. You’d pushed it out of your head, hopeful he’d just need a decent rest that would be enough to rejuvenate him to get through the tour. But tragically, the rumour had turned out to be true and you’d delivered him home to Memphis amidst cancelled shows and runs to the hospital. He’d looked terrible when you’d left him, looking back at you at the top of the plane steps. You want to turn up, check he’s ok, check that he’s sure about Ginger, that if he’s not going to end things then that she knows how to take care of him. That she’s doing the best she can.  

It had been radio silence since that last flight and perhaps you should be assuming that no news is good news, but you find yourself thinking about him most days. Worrying and waiting. You wonder if he would let you in if you went to Graceland to see him, or if that was altogether too presumptuous, hell you’d heard all about how he hated girls that were too forward. But he loved to be taken care of - you supposed it all came down to control, and though you were desperate that he be well looked after, and you wished you could supervise that yourself, you were otherwise happy to let him take the lead – it was just altogether too scary to do anything else.  

——————————— 

Finally, in the middle of the third week of July you get a call reminding you of the upcoming tour, and then, almost immediately after you agree, an unusual call from Elvis himself. The phone ringing insistently less than 5 minutes after you’d agreed to the tour details.  

“How’re you doing baby?” He’s talking in that slow drawl he does when he’s sleepy, worn out from the day - from rehearsals maybe, or just life in general. “My bitty baby doin’ ok, huh?” 

“I’m just fine,” You’re impossibly hungry for details, but reluctant to sound too eager, 

“My yittle bun-bun lookin’ after herself?” You’d basically already told him this, but the wording makes you blush, and you don’t mind repeating yourself for him, “Of course. I’m ‘cited to see you.”  

“That’s good, well, that’s reeeall good honey, because, uh, you see,” His voice takes on the explanatory tone he so enjoys, both didactic and gossiping, “I don’t know if you’ve heard… or I suppose you wouldn’t have yet, but uh, Ginger’s not, she’s not coming on this tour with me, we’re, uh, we’re well…” He trails off, and there’s little breathy noises down the phone to you, which lets you picture the way he would have just taken off his glasses, rubbing his fingers along the bridge of his nose.  

“Oh,” What else is there to say? ‘Oh Elvis, I’m glad you’ve ditched your fiancee?’ Hardly.  

“She was just, just a lil too young, jus’ a baby, not, she just - it wouldn’t be right to make her settle down with me right now. Not, not when I don’t know if she really…well you know.” You don’t know what to say, and Elvis waits only for a brief second before filling the silence himself,  

“The thing is - I wasn’t sure, I don’t know if you’d heard, I’ve uh, I’ve been, well, I’ve been real sick to tell you the truth. Weren’t sure I were gonna make it out to this tour and we thought for sure we were gonna have to cancel but well, here we are.”  

“You’re not… you’re feeling better?”  

“Yes ma’am.” At least that sounds confident, “Got myself a new doctor, and ‘m, uh, on some new, uh, treatments and uh stuff.” He pauses, “Playin’ a lot of racquetball.”   He sounds slightly sheepish, and while you’re endlessly curious you don’t press the point.  

“Were you just ringing to confirm I’d be around?”  

“Well, here’s the thing, the thing is, honey, the thing is - I know you’ve already had a call, but you see, I was sorta hoping maybe you’d be happy to cancel them plans?”  

“Oh. You don’t want me on the plane?” There’s a moment of silence before he swears to himself, muttering down the phone that he’d learn to have some balls one of these days.  

“No, No, you misunnerstand - I want you on the plane, and off the plane - I just want you to come with me.”  

“Oh.”  

“If you can’t, well, I understand.” He sounds resigned, and your heart breaks a little, “But, I want company baby, and I want yours.” You twist the phone cord around your fingers, breathless in your excited agreement, 

“I want yours too! I’ve been - Billy said, well I’ve been hopin’ for months El, I miss you so much when we’re at home, and oh, I’d love to.” Somehow you can hear him shaking his head through the phone,  

“That meddlin’ shit.” You giggle back at him, and he laughs in response before he keeps talking, “So - pack your bags, honey, and I’ll send a car to get you at the usual time?”  

“So, am I - like working?” He huffs at you, 

“No - no, not workin’ for me no more - just being there for me. Want you to be my girl baby - be good just for me - not chasing down the other guys to make ‘em drinks.” You shake your head, brain skipping over the important part of the statement to the last part for a moment.  

“I don’t believe I’ve ever ‘chased’ the other guys,” He huffs down the phone,  

“Well lemme tell you they’ve been chasin’ you, wolves chasin’ their lil bunny,”  

“Hmm, there’s only one wolf I want to eat me though Elvis.”  

“S’that right?” 

“That’s right.”  

“Well then, I’ll have it all ready for you, s’probably easier, y’know this late notice and all,” You read between the lines that Ginger’s still at Graceland, “that I’ll uh, you’ll be waitin’ for me on the Lisa-Marie?” You cringe, but he does sound more like himself than he has in weeks, and hopefully - unlike with Linda and Ginger he’ll keep to his promise and actually get rid of her before you get on board.  

“Mmhmm, that should be fine.” You hear him move away from the phone for a second, talking to someone else for a moment,  

“Right, honey, I’ve - I’ve, I’m bein’ told I’ve gotta go now - got a meeting in a minute, but don’t be afraid to call - anytime, you’re to be put straight through to me, y’hear?”  

“Yep, Elvis, I hear,”  

“Alright then, I’ll see you in a couple of weeks, then - you take care of yourself baby,”  

“You too El,” You’re about to say something stupid, like I love you, but with one last,  

“Ok - buh-bye.” The line’s gone dead.  

——————————— 

TAGLIST:

i’m just gonna tag anyone that’s specifically msged me about it and/or anyone who commented/reblogged the last three chapters -

@lookingforrainbows @ooihcnoiwlerh @ellie-24, @whositmcwhatsit, @thatbanditqueen, @vintageshanny, @doll-elvis @18lkpeters @prompted-wordsmith @richardslady121 @meetmeatyourworst @marriedtopresley @steph-speaks @a-literal-no-name @elvisabutler @precious-little-scoundrel @eliseinmemphis @iloveelvis @literally-just-elvis-fics @livelaughlove-talia @angelborn1 @amydarcimarie @peskybedtime @shakerattlescroll @i-r-i-n-a-a @saintomie @literally-just-elvis-fics

[thebearme]

Any tf2 headcanons?

I was hoarding this ask for when I have alot of hcs but I now realize that that was an awful idea becuz now there too much going on in my brain. So I'll tell you the ones I can remember rn.

(btw this is gonna be a mess of silly and sad contention into a blender, so sorry for any whiplash)

Everyones business last name is TF2. It's canon, Ms Pauling said so.

Scout and Ms Pauling have one thing in common, they're simps for women out of their league and it's sad.

My current idea of the plot is that Ms Pauling is now the new administrator and the mercs are still working for her but now instead of a war they are now a Hire-A-Merc organization. Why, so they can pay the blood pact that the old administrator got them in from Abraham Lincoln.

The team is a merge for BLU and RED team members.

BLU: Scout, Medic, Soldier, Engineer | RED: Heavy, Demo, Spy, Sniper, Pyro

Engie has an gaming channel.

Engie is a little person. (you can't convince otherwise LOOK AT HIM)

Engie does his own surgery, not that he doesn't trust Medic. He just doesn't trust Medic. He has more trust that in his drunken state he could chop his arm off cleaner than Medic because of his god complex.

Engie says trans rights.

Engie has two moods: Wholesome bumpkin or manic "i am better than all of you".

Medic and Heavy are married. (but to be fair thats just canon)

Medic never had a medical license but he did go to school... for animal care.

Medic has a Doctor of Veterinary Medicine degree and lied ALOT to military when he got drafted to get out safely.

He got a nazi skeleton and dead parents out of that.

Medic burn his documents so now the only people that knows is the people he tells like Heavy.

Medic only have two reasons for being here- 1) to experiment on everyone. 2) Heavy

Medic eats like a cat eating a dragon fruit. And so does Archimedes.

Medic is the definition of "no rules no boundaries he doesn't flinch at torture and sells blood for money. He's your new best friend."

Medic is slowly going more insane with time and can't tell if it's because he sold his soul to the devil or because someone is secretly fucking with him. (it's Spy)

Heavy met Medic before joining the team.

Heavy has a cooking channel.

He's a masochist. (he has too if he's with Medic.)

Heavy will kill Soldier before he starts having kids with Zhanna. He's still not ok with him.

Heavy has lots of cute moles on him. (Medic makes sure to kiss each one and make sure they're not lethal.)

While Im at it Heavy family is cursed to fall in-love with insane men.

Pyro-vision is just Pyro going through a heat stroke.

Pyro is the leader of the hate spy club.

Pyro has kids that live in the ocean with his mermaid wife. Don't ask how, it's Pyro.

Engie and Scout are the only ones that understand what Pyro is saying completely.

Engie adopted Pyro unofficially but that's his son right there.

Soldier and Zhanna are gonna have twins.

Soldier and Demo had kiss once- with their socks on.

Medic did a blood test on Soldier and he actually is not 100% American, he doesn't know and everyone intends it to stay that way.

Soldier and Scout actually know each other from before getting hired by BLU. They were comrade in the 100,000 new men program in Vietnam.

After Scout left in general discharge from a land mine incident he thought that would be the laat time he sees him. He was wrong.

Don't worry they're chill, well as chill as man can be when their hand is somehow a magnet to your neck.

Sniper is a social smoker.

Sniper is like a lizard, he doesn't fuck with the cold.

Sniper is younger than Scout. He just spent too much time in the sun and now he looks like a divorce 40 y/o dad struggling with his mortgage. Or just a brown Adam Sandler.

Sniper got those old man bones AKA my bones. His knees be cracking down the hall.

Sniper hops round different peoples places for the holidays. He spent the most time at Engie's house with Pyro; he had spent a Christmas or two with Scout's family but a "certain someone" doesn't appreciate the bushman there and ruining his holiday with his family.

When Scout has to give directions or details of the area he just draws it. Because NO ONE understands this mans writing.

Scout's life mission is to be Gods greatest gift and not just for the women. Like the bible said "a hole is a hole"... or atleast thats what Scout remembers from church.

Scout while being illiterate CAN speak Spanish, Italian, Vietnamese and French. (but he doesn't remember where he learned french from tho.)

Scout is resistant to radiation at this point.

Before becoming a merc, Scout was working at a diner that fitted him quite well.

Waffle House at the graveyard shift.

Scout's fuckboy attitude comes from daddy issues while Spy slut attitude comes from mommy issues.

Spy came from a rich family until he ran away to help in the war effort and became a spy. He doesn't regret his decision nor miss his home but does wish he did a proper goodbye to his brother.

The reason Spy has teeth capsules in his mouth to begin with is because one time him and a his fellow spy were getting torture by the enemy by having their teeth removed. Now all his teeth are fake.

Speaking of teeth, Scout got his buck-teeth from Spy.

Spy HAS gotten lungs transplanted several times from Medic because this mf refuses to chill out and get help with his smoking problem.

Spy is gender fluid.

Spy is a furry.

Demo is going to kill him one day.

That day is when he finds his DA account.

[ilgaksu]

i will now be referring to this situation as weimargate, because i must laugh or i will dissolve into the void.

aka i have had a VERY weird experience of it in fandom lately, and it has escalated to memes in lieu of interpretative dance*, but also i want to talk about it because i think, in more general terms, it's relevant for discussion about how fandom is evolving.

(*as illustrated by @difeisheng because i am personally intimidated by photoshop. interpretative dance would've only had me to blame.)

so. hi! if you don't know me, i am an ao3 writer who goes by the pen name ilgaksu. i have 179 fics on my ao3 account, and of those, 46 of these are for DMBJ or grave robber's chronicles. i've been writing in this fandom for roughly three years, which means according to the laws of mathematics and my own inability to stop posting about my favourite blorbos, that's a new fic every 3.39 weeks. i have not counted chapter updates in this count, but given several have multiple chapters, i think we can see there's....a lot. one ongoing series is currently sitting at about 200k, word-count wise. i like to write, overall, about disability, reclamation, legacy and memory. i also overuse semi-colons.

i am also a very private person at this point in my fandom career. this will be the first post i've made in a while talking about myself where i have allowed there to be reblogs on it. this isn't intended as an affront to anyone else in fandom. my ask box is open, sans anon, and in the last few years, i chose to reply to every comment i could to make sure i still get to engage about the characters i love without compromising my own desire for privacy about my personal life. i choose to work under an explicit persona - because we all do on the internet but i have made mine obvious and enunciated and almost a brand - because i think there is something freeing about allowing myself that experience. it's allowed me to write work that i relate to deeply without having to divulge my life to be analysed by strangers on the internet. generally, i like to post my silly little stories, talk to people about them, and then go about my day offline.

anyway, so this week, i seriously considered walking away wholesale from my current fandom, and i'd actually like to talk about why, and talk about me as a person as opposed to the narrative of persona that i've crafted.

because the reality of a persona is that a real, living person is required to animate it. if i am the person who is small and human and anxious to even speak about this, then i am also the reason the operation is running. it's a one-man show. as much as i want my work to speak for itself without my need to justify its meaning or worth, without my experiences, research and choices about my time, the work would not exist. that's just fact. it's fact for every writer and artist and podficcer and person who labours out of love you see. i also deliberately consider myself a writer as opposed to a content creator, because i believe that label mimics a wider culture i have no interest in - that of someone creating a consumable, ownable object. my fanfiction is a hobby. it cannot be owned by other people. unlike my original work, where it can be bought, there is no formal, explicit contract between me and the reader. there is, however, in fandom, an implicit social contract of equality and collaboration, where we are all equals. i am fundamentally no better than someone who never writes fic and never wants to and never will. i reject the idea of superiority among fans because i do not engage in subculture to mimic the dominant culture, the one that tells me stories are something only certain people are allowed to see themselves in, or even tell to others; that production is the only means of social capital and intrinsic worth.

i am aware, also, that by being private the way i am, i end up sacrificing some experiences that i could have by being more accessible, but i want to reiterate that i have never gone out of my way to conceal my tumblr, nor ignored people who contacted me directly to talk about my fic. in fact, if you show up to talk about my fic, i will probably be so thrilled i'll never let you leave - especially since, when it comes to a majority of it - i spend a lot of time on research, something i enjoy, and deliberately cite my research in the notes because i want to share it as part of the experience of my writing. clearly, i want ideas i have come up with to be enjoyed and loved and shared, because otherwise why would i take the risk of putting them out online, where i then cannot control how they're received or transformed?

however, since about a year ago, i've maintained a policy of works based on my own that i've had outlined clearly in my profile on ao3 here:

as someone who is playing in someone else's sandbox for free myself, my only request is if when you use an idea, usually a headcanon, which is one i created, which you can as much and in whatever way you want because that is the nature of collaborative fandom and the reason i love it so much, you cite that i was the originator of the idea. and secondly, that you let me know. this is a personal request based on how writing can be a very lonely project, even in fandom. you put your work out into the world, with no sense of who it will reach and if it will mean anything to them, and you have to work on the faith that even if it doesn't, the work itself was worthwhile. but you hope it will, because everyone hopes it will.

all of this is outlining so it's understandable to people that read this how i was completely off my face bewildered when i found out a headcanon of mine had reached the level of fanon popularity where it's been mistaken for canon, and has been for over a year at the very least, and i had literally no idea this had happened.

which, frankly, was both hilarious, in a very bizarre way, and completely, deeply sucked.

i know this is my idea because of how distinctive it is, and how much it contravenes canon - namely, that a character, hei xiazi, was a medical student in berlin during the weimar republic. i know it's mine because the timeline with the canon we're told by the actual writer of the source material doesn't match up, which i was aware of and chose to retcon. it was designed and fitted to a personal interpretation of canon material i had been working on for years, and involved a lot of time and research and intense love for the era, the character, and the ways a story about being alone in a foreign country had intertwined with my own personal life. ever since i wrote it, i assumed that the one or two people who had used it with credit were the only ones who had, and because they had honoured my request i was honestly completely thrilled. i still am that those fics exist. that's because it was collaborative.

i want to be clear: nothing about the situation as it stands has been collaborative. a writer being the last to know about the commonality of their own idea in a small fandom is not collaborative. and while it might not bother everyone, it's bothered me to the point i've had serious consideration for several days about whether i should walk away from the fandom.

but ilgaksu, surely you should be flattered that people liked the idea so much?

yes. this was never about the use of the idea. it's about the way this idea has been isolated and used with an assumption that i would have no interest in knowing, or that i would even need to know. i'm not sure what has caused this - whether the persona element of my work has led people to believe i would not have any emotions about finding this out, but i am not, actually, a persona. i am the person who uses it. and as the person who uses it, this is how it felt to find this out. it felt, and still feels uncomfortable, hurtful and isolating to find out your idea has been so beloved but that nobody considered whether you would like to know. it feels like the collaborative element of fandom has been severed from you, specifically, and that your fanwork has been treated as entirely other from you as a fan. i hope nobody else making work feels like this, and i've been told this situation is so strange as to ensure that's hopefully not the case, but i think this is an ongoing issue more widely - the idea that writers are separate from fan culture, and their works are products as opposed to the shared results of a hobby.

do i think this was deliberate? not at all. do i think this was intended to be hurtful? not even in the slightest. but i want to be clear how personal this feels.

i don't have an answer for this situation. the cat is out of the bag, ilgaksu knows about the fanon, and hei xiazi is, despite all canon, going to medical school in 1920s germany. expressing my discomfort with how this has gone down feels important to me anyway, and it's also important to me that i do it in this very detailed way so that people who were unaware do not feel personally at fault, or feel like by me expressing this i am taking this idea back from them. i always wanted this idea to be loved and to be shared.

i also always hoped this idea would find people who wanted and needed a story about someone a long way from home following an ambition, and how much fear and hope and desire goes into the decision to do something like that, and what it means to be a disabled person in a foreign country, and what it means to be queer in a foreign country, and overall what it means to be a stranger in a strange land. i want to be clear that while i wrote this for me, i also wrote it for everyone who has also lived that. i want my work to feel like someone is holding your hand, not that they're at a distance and disregarding you, the reader, and the relationship we have together during the time you read my work.

i hope in future that if you use my headcanons and are aware of that being the case, you let me know. i don't have to read the work itself if you find that intimidating. i will not go out of my way to find it. whatever you've done with the idea, i will fundamentally see it as a compliment and evidence of an exchange between us as a fandom. but i want to know because otherwise, all i see is you taking something i loved and wanted to share and enjoying it with a door firmly shut between us. i am too old to care if i'm not invited to a party, but if the party is themed around a concept i put so much thought and love - for the source material, the people who were going to read it and myself - i can't help but care. it's hard to feel like a vending machine, even if the process of making the fic is so joyful for me that i won't stop until the joy is gone. it hasn't gone yet, but this week it's been dented a bit.

anyway - if you got to the end of this, thank you. please be considerate of how much this has taken for me to express, regardless of your own feelings on it, and how unusual it is for me to make a post that is able to be shared. if you use the idea in future, you do so with my blessing, which was always there. if you want primary sources, places to start, or anything like that - fashion, language, visuals - i want to be clear you can ask me and i will be beyond thrilled to help. i always have been and i'm concerned that because of this that hasn't been clear. but i also feel like if i don't state this experience in this way at this time, and how it was experienced by me, odds are i will now forever look over my shoulder and wonder if this will happen again, and i love writing for this fandom so much that i will not allow something like that to dim that love. i know you love these characters so much too - it's why you're here. i actually used to make a lot more meta posts like this, about fan culture, and i've been considering if i will again - just less personal and less anxiety-inducing to post next time. until and beyond then, i just hope we can all consider things like this in future - that i can treat you with the same grace - and understand the pressures and anxieties of writers in fandom at this point in time especially. a lot of us have hearts far more made of glass about the things we love, like our work, than can be immediately apparent.

anyway, i'm going back into hiding now.

your friendly local cryptid fanwriter,

ao3 user ilgaksu <3