#i was so absorbed in being Me that i forget that i am part of this universe

[hadesknockedupintheunderworld]

Ngl it's weird finishing the Knuckles tv show and going to tumblr about it only for people (even who I consider bigger name fans) who also watched the entire show to claim that it "confirmed Knuckles Wachowski"

Like

I'm sorry

Did you somehow miss the part in the last episode where Knuckles had a whole montage of hanging with the Whipple family and Wade and saying "home" or something?

[uncanny-tranny]

On the "darker" side of being comforted by one's immortality (not in the physical, but metaphorical), I've always been comforted by bone needles.

The idea that even after death, you've still been remembered by how you are used. No, bone needles probably weren't used with human bones, but it's a reminder that you aren't just going to... disappear. I'm comforted in the knowledge that I don't end in a "me" but in a "we," in nature. Everything about me is reused material so much more ancient than I am, and knowing that, I feel so much closer to the world.

[imabiscuitinthousandworlds]

wish i could post my paintings of theatre stuff here bc i'm really proud of those (my theatre keeps making amazing adaptations with SUPER COOL costume and lighting and setting and colour and visual symbolism choices) but alas. the chance is low but very definitely above zero that i'd doxx myself HARDCORE. but maaaan. trust me when i say that stage is just plain amazing. i need to live in the theatre

[weirdmageddon]

the shift in lore literacy in homestuck’s fandom

i was thinking about how the people who got into homestuck after it ended—whose interactions with the comic are in a static, archived state, not an ongoing thing—missed out on information that was more common knowledge in the fandom at that time. i don’t know if this is true since i’m not on tiktok, but i wouldn’t be surprised if it was. the fandom certainly isn’t the same as it was before.

ive found that many people reading homestuck now simply do not understand things in homestuck that were common knowledge back in the day, with calls for “homestuck literacy classes to become mandatory” in response to baffling takes because so many people just now seem to have glazed over the comic without absorbing important plot points, and i think i know why this may be. i ended up writing a post reflecting on my time with the comic, my perspective and how ive seen this change. i still think and write about homestuck because it still fascinates me. earlier i quote retweeted that call in my thread talking about the temporal relativity of dave and rose’s god tier ascension in the green sun, saying “my homestuck literacy is 100% so guess im doing my part as a teacher by pointing out whatever i think is really cool about it”. this post im writing now started out as a reply to this tweet i got in response.

i joined the fandom in 2013. i was 11. i had been aware of it since at least late 2011, early 2012 when my friend ryan in fifth grade told me to read it but i couldn’t get past the first few pages. i remember writing a journal on deviantart around this time (late 2011-early 2012) that was mocking people who typed like gamzee, which ironically was very karkat of me. and i remember someone on flipnote hatena i was following was making flipnotes with the alpha kids.

i dont know what caused me to flip the switch into reading it but 2013. i got into it somewhere between april (i think closer to april—i remember it being quite a span of time between the last update before HOMOSUCK dropped.) this was the most recent page the comic, meaning there was no > [S] ACT 6 ACT 6 at the bottom.

i got into it during a pause in updates, which looking into it, was the year 4 megapause. i wasn’t sure of the month until seeing the news post detailing the reason for the hiatus and the status report of the comic’s development at that time. pretty cool i could narrow it down by referencing the dates of those updates and the news post to correspond with the pause!

according to readmspa, the year 4 megapause was a 59 day hiatus from Apr 14, 2013 ==> (EOA6A5) running to 12 Jun 2013, [S] ACT 6 ACT 6. then for a few months there were the first updates that i was apart of the fandom for.

and what an exciting time during the story get into the webcomic! when the updates resumed in june, part 4 of homestuck had begun. here was a glimpse of the updates in that span of time before the next hiatus began in october.

that hiatus was none other than the gigapause, the longest hiatus in the comic, which started october 2013 and lasted for a YEAR, and i already posted about what happened on the date of return.

but here were the main events happening in the story at the time i first actually got interested in it. i wasn’t aware of the full context of them then like i am now, but i was looking at the most recent updates anyway with interest:

the alpha kids just emerged as god tiers from their slabs in derse and prospit, blown up by the condesce and caliborn / lil cal-possessed b2 jack noir.

the journey to the new session started 24 hours after jack called an early reckoning in descend—for context that was about when dave entered around midnight central time and before jade even entered. it’s pretty easy to forget that side 1 of homestuck basically happens within the span of a single day—and at this point in the story, the 3 year journey (which was also 3 real life years) had just ended. john and jade emerged from the other side of the yellow yard through the fenestrated plane on LOMAX. john’s real body was asleep upon arrival in the new session, while his dreaming projection out in the dream bubbles came across vriska’s ghost ship to learn lord english lore with vriska and aranea, and go on the treasure hunt where they found the ultimate weapon at the X mark out in in the furthest ring. in the dream john stuck his hand in the juju, started warping all over canon which removed his real body from the ship on LOMAX. he zapped around for a while but eventually zapped back to LOMAX, now awake, completely out of the loop of what everyone else is up to, and bored as fuck. what was everyone else getting up to while john was asleep?

jade was now once again within the domain of the green sun. im pretty sure her space god doggy essence comes with the power to sense what was anywhere within the domain of the session since her face looks like she arrived at that spot with intent (and she literally has jack noir’s exact powers from bec’s prototyping. also this panel). she immediately dispatched b2 jack to the edge of the incinisphere, defending the newly god-tiered jane and jake. i think even if they weren’t in any danger, she would have warped to them instantly anyway because she COULD now, and i can imagine she wouldve been sooooo eager to meet everyone. even davesprite comments about her rapid departure.

the pre-scratch refugees arrived during the only time serious shit ever went down in the nobles’ months-long inert void session. the condesce used her freak psychic bronze-cerulean powers to commune with jade’s bestial side and mind controlled her, which is super dangerous as someone with the powers of a first guardian. she then used jade’s powers to corrupt jane with the tiaratop. no funtime meetup allowed!

the trolls’ meteor with rose, dave, and the remaining trolls was pulling up into the new session with no way to slow it down. grimbark jade warped there once it was in the incinisphere and took active control. she warped everyone off the trolls’ meteor and sent them to LOMAX.

as john was losing his mind on LOMAX waiting for everyone, the meteor crew warped in. after 3 years he finally reunited with rose and dave, and at least saw the trolls in person. close curtains, end of A6A5. this was the newest [S] flash page at the time, one of my first impressions of this comic, and still one of my favorite flashes. knowing the context of the flash in the story only enhances the retrospective joy i have at getting into the comic at the time i did because it’s such an anticipated moment in the story for everyone, while for someone with no context of the story it was still enjoyable.

so that’s what was going on plotwise when i joined the fandom.

from this time, through those few months of updates and through the gigapause, i was familarizing myself with the characters in the story and overseeing the state of fanbase, getting myself acquainted with the story and wrapping my head around everything.

at that time i found that a new-ish group called colab HQ who were producing a let’s read homestuck series on youtube. hearing the voices and the pacing of it like that really, really eased me into it (maybe it was my adhd that gave me trouble actually starting it?). i caught up to a certain point using lets read homestuck and from that point was able to continue with the comic on my own, and by the time the gigapause came to a close i was fully caught up. i remember the rebranding of colab hq into voxus about a year and a half after i discovered them.

but.. back to the main point of my post. even these posts from hussie’s tumblr exist in archived states. how many new fans know about hussie’s old tumblr? i don’t know, unless theyre a new fan that must scour the internet for more deep more dives on homestuck and its fandom as a whole. but since hussie deleted his tumblr (it exists archived now on homestuck.net which, alongside from the unofficial homestuck collection, has nearly singlehandedly kept the most important relics of the fandom and lore archived), that page is not an active part of the fandom now, because it’s gone. it’s a pile of bones. it’s not living and breathing. it’s in an archived state. the whole thing is already there. homestuck and its fandom history is something you now binge instead of slowly consume and meld with as it comes out. it’s now this rapid information intake that you might forget about if you read it now instead of engaged alongside it. you’re not surrounded by people actively talking and theorizing about developments anymore. the ability to have those sorts of conversations during the ongoing development of the story reinforced concepts, ideas, and lore over and over as we tried to make sense of it.

being in a fandom when the author is still delivering the story is like nothing else. it allows you grow alongside the characters and engage meaningfully with the media and people in the fandom space around you. it feels like you’re participating IN the media itself, especially if you’re interfacing with the creator. it’s in always having something to theorize or talk about and speculate. and people become very aware of these sorts of forgotten story facts because they were applying the logic of the newest official post from hussie into making their sburb ocs or something and share resources and discussion posts about “what just happened in this update?? recap????” it was this cultural osmosis thing. i think this is why homestuck literacy is now at an all time low, at least from what i can see on twitter.

reading homestuck then vs now is like the difference between serialized shows with spaces between episodes to discuss stuff and time to reflect and learn and become attached to the story, narrative, worldbuilding and its characters, vs the netflix model where it’s all dropped all at once and people forget about it after binging.

at this point in time im getting the sense that “homestuck elders” now are no longer just people who were there since 2009-2010, but now also people who were there while it was still updating, probably stretching into 2014-2015. there are many sources of lore that were common knowledge in the fandom at the time that, since becoming susceptible to the deletion of content and link rot, and with the thanosing of mspaforums, are no longer accessible at the source. and a lot of people moved on after it ended, especially following the epilogues, the kate drama, and the whatpumpkin-sarah z drama, leaving a void of information behind if not for archivists and people such as me who continue to keep old facts relevant in discussions. my friend has called me a fandom scholar before and seeing this post i think i get what they mean.

EDIT: there is a series of video essays ive watched multiple times (because theyre that good) and they are exactly what modern fans need to see more of. they really help contextualize the comic and the themes present in it help you appreciate the basic fabric of homestuck a hell of a lot more. i highly recommend them and encourage any fan of homestuck to watch them, or someone considering getting into homestuck to watch the first one.

i think this is arguably as close to the “mandatory literacy class for homestuck” that person was talking about as you can get, especially the first video.

additionally, there is also the website https://rafe.name/homestuck which is essentially a sparknotes for homestuck and can help you follow developments in the comic itself.

[themultifanshipper]

hello it's me again! requesting for the 2nd time for a Sebastian Vettel fic (I'm horrendously down bad for this man🙇‍♀️) could you please do Rb!Seb x Button!reader because I'm a sucker for brother's best friend trope. Jenson invites Seb over after a night out of partying and he stays there for a couple of days. Seb has a couple of small interactions with reader mostly Jenson stepping in which it doesn't lead into something more lol. so here's the juicy part reader accidentally walks in on Seb taking a bath and like she's so embarrassed she decides to( lock herself in her room even Jenson was concerned. Seb decides to talk to reader alone in her room and it leads to them passionately making out so they have their little "we shouldn't be doing this" "your brother doesn't have to know" moment LOL and they uh do it ig.

this is awkward to even ask for I feel like squidward begging for change in that one ep 😭 like I feel so GUILTY LMAO but anyways please don't rush yourself into writing this please do it in your own pace I really don't mind waiting 🫶 I also would like to say how much I adore your writing and the effort you put into your work so I understand if it takes a while to write all of this down. Don't forget to take yourself as well while you're writing 🩷🩷 -🐇

You had seen Seb in a number of embarrassing situations and positions, him being your brother’s best friend ever since he joined F1, but this was definitely the first time you had seen him quite this naked.

Warnings: Uhhhhhh… I don’t know what came over me I’ll be honest, Seb is super dominant in this one guys, like… overstimulation, praise kink, degrading a bit? Slapping? I need to be waterboarded in holy water at this point, I fear… the dialogue is cringe enough to make me question my worth as a person (this was written at 3 am)also I think I overused the word princess but oh well

Jenson and Seb were partying for a few days to wind down during winter break after an intense season, and you partied with them. You were much younger than your brother, he was in his early 30s and you only 21, so you were technically closer to Seb’s age, which led to a friendship blossoming between the two of you. You’d been on numerous trips and holidays with the pair of them, and you’d been to a fair few races to cheer them on.

Of course with the proximity and the similar ages, Jenson was terrified that Seb would try something with you, and he threatened him several times over the course of their friendship. Him being so much older than you meant he was extremely protective, sometimes bordering on overbearing. And you noticed that as you got older, Jenson rarely left you and Seb alone in the same room for more than 5 minutes without checking in on whether you “needed a drink” or “have you seen my charger? I swear I left it near your stuff could you please look for me thanks” …

This particular weekend had been quite intense, the three of you going out several nights in a row, and you finally managed to get some alone time in the peace and quiet of your brother’s house while the boys went to pick up some pizza for dinner before you all went out again afterward.

Which is why you were so shocked when you opened the bathroom door to pee and got an eyeful of Seb in the bath, very naked, and with the way his hand flew out of the water (splashing half the room in the process) you were pretty sure he had just been caught touching himself. You had caught him. Touching himself.  In the bath.  Naked.  In the bath naked, touching himself.  In your bathroom.  You had caught him touching himself in your bathroom, in the bath.  Naked.

It took you a few seconds to absorb the situation before you shouted “Oh my god! I am so sorry!” and covered your eyes (about 30 seconds too late but it’s the thought that counts!) before backing out and shutting the door, ignoring Seb’s yells about it being his fault for not locking the door.

You hightailed it straight to your bedroom and slammed the door, locked it, and slid to the floor, with your head in your hands.

…

Seb’s dick.

…

That’s the only thought your mind could conjure up for the next several minutes. You didn’t even get a great look at it, being more entranced by the blush quickly spreading down Seb’s neck and toned chest at your intrusion, and it was distorted by the rippling water, but it was there. It existed. And now it refused to leave your mind for even a second.

That’s when you heard the tell-tale noise of the front door closing and Jenson coming back from his pizza run. He called out for you, but the lack of an answer made him come looking for you.

He knocked on your door and tried opening it but failed, immediately making him worry.

“You alright in there, love? I’ve got the pizzas” he spoke softly through the door.

You huffed, you really didn’t want to face Seb after that, so you played the illness card.

“I really don’t feel well Jense, I’m going to sit this one out!” you called out.

He frowned, you seemed fine 20 minutes ago when he left. “You sure? I got you your favourite!” “I’m sorry! You can have it, and you two go have fun tonight! I need to sleep last night off, and I’ll go out with you guys tomorrow!”

He wasn’t convinced but there was no point in arguing with you, so he eventually agreed and left you alone. He and Seb went out an hour later and you were left to your own devices, so you got into your pyjamas (which consisted of a large t-shirt and not much else), made yourself some food and slinked back to your room as thoughts of Seb kept plaguing your mind.

It’s not like you’d never realised Seb was attractive, of course you’d noticed, look at the man for god’s sake. But seeing him all flushed and naked and wet had awoken something in you. Something very dangerous, given the nature of your relationship.

Your thoughts soon drifted to rather lewd areas, as you pictured Seb in multiple situations. Running his hands up and down your naked body in the shower. Sinking to his knees at your feet as he devoured you. Fucking you into the mattress with a hand over your mouth to not alert your brother with your moans. Fucking you in his driver’s room next time you went to a race. Making you come over and over while whispering dirty things in your ear.

Your fantasies were interrupted by the sound of the front door again. You glanced at the clock, it read 3:26.  It seems time flies when you’re thirsting over your brother’s best friend, but it was still oddly early for them to be coming home.

You heard footsteps shuffling along the corridor and they stopped right in front of your door, the owner of the feet seemingly listening for any noise coming from your room.

“Jense?” you called out.

“No” Seb’s voice answered, “It’s me, can I come in?”

“Yeah” you sighed, you couldn’t avoid him forever.

He poked his head in, smiling softly at you before padding over to the bed as you sat on the edge next to him, consciously crossing your legs to avoid another incident, given your lack of underwear.

“Couldn’t sleep?” he asked.

“Not really, although I’ll admit I didn’t see the time pass at all… What about you guys? This is rather early for you two, isn’t it?”

He chuckled and looked deep into your eyes. “I’m here on my own, actually”.

For some reason that made a shiver go down your spine. “Jenson found a companion to go home with, and I didn’t feel like partying alone.”

“Aaah” you sighed comically “slagclaren strikes again”

He laughed softly. “Yeah…”

You looked at each other for a while before the tension became unbearable and you looked away, blushing.

“So about earlier-” he started but you stood up suddenly and interrupted him.

“Please Seb, I really don’t want to talk about it, it was super embarrassing, and I don’t want to make things uncomfortable for you, I’m so sorry”

He cocked his head to the side, frowning at you. “Why would I be uncomfortable? It was an accident, and I’m not exactly embarrassed by my body so… no harm done” he smiled sweetly when your gaze snapped to him.

You laughed in disbelief “Well I should hope you’re not embarrassed by your body! It’s so -”

The image of his wet, muscular body flashed through your mind, along with all the other images you’d conjured up since “uhhhmm…” your brain took a second to reboot.

He smirked “Go on, what is it?”

You blushed profusely and stuttered “Uh, well, it’s uhmm… It’s good”  and then you went and gave him a fucking thumbs up.

Jesus, you couldn’t be more lame if you tried.

He raised his eyebrows and smirked even wider “It’s good??”

 “You know what I mean!” you whined defensively, face becoming redder by the second “You’re a high-performance athlete! You’re all muscly and… and hot, you know? Like my brother!”

What. The. Fuck.

Your eyes widened in shock “I’m sorry I don’t know why I said that! I panicked! I don’t think my brother’s hot! I mean objectively he is, I guess! But I just-”

Seb was laughing, and he stood up to pull you into a hug.

“Hey, it’s okay I was just teasing you.” he whispered into your ear. “The look on your face when you opened the door and saw me in the bath told me everything I needed to know about what you think of my body…”

Your breath hitched. “Wh- what?”

“You couldn’t take your eyes off of me” he leaned back to look at you “And I think you know what I was doing when you came in…”

He spoke so softly you could barely hear him through the pounding of your heart, and he slowly leaned in and whispered, “Do you know what I was thinking about while I touched myself in your bathroom?”

You whimpered and closed your eyes, the smell of his cologne was overwhelming your senses, and you were on the brink of doing something incredibly stupid. You shook your head. “No, I don’t…”

He chuckled “No?” his hands slid down to wrap around your waist “Let me show you then”

The feeling of his lips on yours didn’t exactly come as a shock, but it was electrifying, and you deepened the kiss immediately, despite the alarm bells ringing in your mind. Your hands went up to grip his hair and he groaned, his hips bucking into yours as he slotted a thigh between your legs for you to grind on.

His hands slid further down and gripped your ass and you gasped, throwing your head back, and he took the opportunity to start kissing down your neck.

"We shouldn't be doing this" you panted, but it sounded weak and shaky even to you.

"Your brother doesn't have to know" he responded, lowering himself down to the ground. He patted the bed and winked at you. “Sit on the edge for me, princess”

You hesitated, and he suddenly looked worried. “I don’t want to force you into anything. If you want, we can just forget everything and go back to being friends”

The thought of that made your heart sink into your stomach.

“It’s just… my brother’s going to kill us if he finds out” you chewed on your bottom lip.

“I won’t tell him if you don’t” he flashed his signature grin, and when yougave him a shy smile in return, he tapped the bed again.

“Now are you going to sit down like a good girl or do I have to make you sit?”

You were almost a blur with how fast you moved.

Once you were settled, Seb spread your legs and glanced down, finally noticing that you were bare before him. He gasped and lightly bit your knee to stop himself from jumping on you immediately.

“Baby, you’re going to be the death of me” he said, nosing up your thigh and you giggled at his reaction, and the feel of his stubble on your sensitive skin.

“Naughty girl, not wearing any panties with your brother’s best friend in your room. One could think you had an ulterior motive…”

He hiked up your legs over his shoulders and pulled your hips almost over the edge, forcing you to lay down and cling to the bed as he licked a stripe up your already wet pussy. He savoured the taste for a second, muttering a curse in German, before diving in completely, lips and tongue working in tandem to drive you crazy.

When his fingers joined the party, it took you no time at all to fall over the precipice, lips chanting his name as your fingers gripped the sheets for dear life.

But he didn’t stop there, he was like a man starved and you writhed in pleasure as he just kept going and you got close to edge again in record time.

“Are you going to be a good girl for me and give me another one?” He mumbled into your pussy as his fingers continued their assault. But you were so close you couldn’t speak, which displeased him greatly, so he pulled away, your orgasm slowly fading as you whined.

“Words, princess, I need words”

But you were incapable of words, so he slapped you. Right on your abused cunt as you cried out. The shock of it turned you on so much you couldn’t think straight.

He waited, but your lack of response warranted another slap, this time slightly higher up on your clit and you squeaked.

“I’ll ask again. Are you going to be a good girl for me and come on my fingers when I say so?”

He’d barely finished his sentence before you wailed “Yes Seb! Anything for you, fuck- please!”

He chuckled “So desperate for it” he slid three fingers in easily and started a brutal pace “Fuck, you’re so much wetter, you like me abusing your pretty pussy, hmm? Making it all puffy and red when you disobey me?”

“Yes Seb, fuck I’m so close!”

“Good girl, go on then, come for me princess”

And you did, so hard that you almost blacked out.

You’d barely recovered before you found yourself being dragged up the bed, legs hooked around his waist, his arms wrapped around you tight as he pounded into you desperately, panting and groaning into your neck.

“You feel so good, so tight around me, fuck- I’ve wanted to do this for so long, schatz…”

You gasped and he deepened his thrusts, hitting all the perfect spots inside you.

“I never want to leave this pussy, so fucking good for me, taking me so well, princess” he reached up, grabbed a pillow and placed it under your hips to raise them up a bit. Then he grabbed your waist for leverage to deepen the angle of his thrusts even more, making you see stars.

“I’m so close, Seb… fuck, can I come please?” you gasped, and his hand moved to rub tight circles around your puffy, sensitive clit.

“Come for me baby, such a good girl, all over my cock, that’s it…” he cooed as your body arched off the bed and your nails dug into his shoulders as you came around him.

Your pussy was like a vice around his cock and his hips stuttered, he was so close.

He came after only a few more thrusts, groaning out broken sentences as his hips slammed into yours, eyes locked on to where his cock disappeared inside you.

“Going to fucking fill you up, princess… Deep inside this cunt… all mine… Squeezing so perfect around me… fucking take it, take it all, … fuck- ”

He collapsed on top of you, breathing hard as he came down from his high, face buried in your neck.

The next few minutes should have been awkward. You had just fucked your brother’s best friend. He had just come inside his best friend’s little sister.  But, weirdly, it all felt stupidly natural.

“You want to take a shower with me?” You asked, standing up on shaky legs as you felt his come drip down your inner thighs “Or would you prefer a bath?” You smirked at him and waddled into the bathroom.

“Shower please, I don’t like baths.” he replied.

You hummed as it took you a few seconds for your brain to catch up with that statement.

But then it hit you like a bucket of freezing water.

“ You. What?!!”

[nadas-dirthalen]

I Saw Solas's Origin in an Achievement Icon and It Opened My Eyes on 15 Years of Lore

— PART THREE: if you haven't read previous parts, do it now! —

[ 1 ] [ 2 ] [ 4 ] [ 5 ] [ 6 ] [ 7 ] [ 8 ] [ 9 ] [ 10 ]

Welcome, friends and travelers! I wanted to get some thoughts recorded before Veilguard's release so I could see if I am right about an absolute BOATLOAD of theories I have.

In short: I saw the achievement list when it was released. I have seen the backstory hints for Solas included in said list. AND MY MIND WAS BLOWN.

You have been warned: THIS COLLECTION OF THEORIES INCLUDES SPOILERS FOR EVERY DRAGON AGE GAME AND ALL PROMOTIONAL MATERIAL UP TO AND INCLUDING OCTOBER 18, 2024.

Come sit down with me. Make a nice cup of tea (and hide it from Solas). We've got a lot of unpacking to do.

(this photo isn't the spoiler, I just like it.)

Today's Discussion:

So far, we've covered a few things. We know Solas was "born" from (or manifested from) a branch of raw lyrium while he was still connected to a Titan. We know there were hints toward this from across all three previous games, plus a lot of external media. We know his "birth" was initiated/instigated by Mythal.

We also know that there are quite a lot of hints about memory and forgetting across what we've covered so far, from Cole's dialogue to old elvhen lullabies.

But from here, we must ask ourselves: What ARE the Forgotten Ones? And if Solas really IS Titan-born, what does that say about the rest of everything we know about the world of Thedas and its magic?

Why the Titans are the Forgotten Ones

Fen'Harel Walked Between Both Clans of Gods

The Abyss and the Fade

Lyrium: Titans' Blood, Emerald Waters of the Fade

What IS a Spirit, Then?

Solas's Magic: What Was He Born With?

Solas and Petrification

Solas and "Blood" Magic // The Red Lyrium Idol

What Did Solas Absorb at the End of DA:I?

Why the Titans are the Forgotten Ones

Okay. This, I admit, could have been its own post. There is a LOT to cover with just this topic. I was in the midst of outlining such a post when one of my favourite Dragon Age theorycrafters (girltriesgames) came out with this video, which summarizes every point I'd gave gone into at length. Go watch it, if you want the full deep-dive!

For now, I will summarize some of the video's points:

There were two clans of gods, according to Merrill. The first was the Evanuris, and the Forgotten Gods were the second.

Fen'Harel walked among both clans without fear, and both believed he was one of them.

The Forgotten Ones have been "sealed" in the Abyss, which we know is the deep underground from the Descent DLC and other sources such as the Anvil of the Void.

The Forgotten Ones are cited by Merrill and the World of Thedas books as being at war with the Evanuris, namely Mythal and Elgar'nan being at war with four Forgotten Ones; in the Trespasser DLC, it mentions that the Titans were at war with the Evanuris, and slain by Mythal and Elgar'nan.

The Hissing Wastes features codices from ancient dwarves who fled to the surface to escape a war that was ultimately... forgotten, featuring dragons being used as weapons that slaughtered their kin. Obviously an above-ground enemy!

There are countless mentions of the word "Forgotten" around the Titans and dwarves. The Titans have been forgotten. They do not exist in the Memories of Orzammar. The sleeping Titans have forgotten how to wake up.

Cole makes many mentions of forgotten songs in relation to the sleeping Titans and also to the dwarves. Curiously, he even ties these concepts to the Templars, who employ the same magic (according to Cole).

Fen'Harel Walked Between Both Clans of Gods

Once I knew that Solas is made from lyrium and that the Titans are the Forgotten Ones, everything clicked into place for me. The legends say that Fen'Harel walked between both "clans" of gods because each one believed him to be one of their own. That sentence made less sense to me before, because I wondered: how does an elf fool an entire other clan of gods into believing he belongs to them?

Understanding that the Titans are the Forgotten Ones, famously the clan of gods that the Evanuris (namely Mythal and Elgar'nan) warred with... well, it makes sense now, doesn't it? Solas was able to walk between both clans of gods because he DOES have roots in both. Solas is crafted FROM a Titan. Solas BECAME an Evanuris. The Titan would recognize him as one of its own; the Evanuris accept him as one of their own.

This is backed up even further by a piece of Solas's dialogue in The Threat Remains.

"I have journeyed deep into the Fade in ancient ruins and battlefields to see the dreams of lost civilizations. I’ve watched as hosts of spirits clash to reenact the bloody past of ancient wars both famous and forgotten."

The Titans' existence was struck from Orzammar's Memories. Cole makes endless mentions of forgotten songs, old songs. Beings that are sleeping and don't remember how to wake up. Beings that have forgotten even themselves. Solas refers to dwarves as the severed arm of a once mighty hero.

"Wars both famous and forgotten," therefore, might refer to a war that was famous among the ancient elvhen, but forgotten by the rest of the world. One side takes pride in the mining of lyrium from slain titans. The other is doomed never to know what was lost.

But the question remains: When Solas created the Veil to imprison the Evanuris, what exactly happened to the Titans?

The Abyss and the Fade

To truly understand what happened to the Titans, we must first understand what, exactly, the Veil was making a divide between. We know much of what happened to the Fade: that Solas says it was once a state of nature like the wind, flowing through everything. That now it is mutable and unpredictable, with little in the way of permanence in anything. That it takes the shape of the thoughts and memories of those within it. That magic functions unpredictably within it.

But what about what that meant for the Titans? What happened to them with this split? And, more importantly, what was the Fade in relation to them?

Let's start with what we know about the Titans' domain. Frequently called the Abyss or the Void, the realm of the Titans is below the surface. Yet, in much elvhen literature found in Trespasser, their domain is referred to as the Earth.

I believe, based on the context of those codices, that the Earth and the Abyss are not the same. The Abyss refers to the caverns in the deep underground. The Earth, specifically, is the Titans who live within the Abyss. Earth, in the ancient elvhen, pre-Veil context, may refer to the Titans' bodies—lyrium—while "Pillars of the Earth" refers to the Titans as sentient beings. The Song to Elgar'nan talks about wanting victory over the Earth, capital 'E.'

Though the Chant of Light describes the Void as more a state of being, the ancient elvhen describe it as Andruil's old hunting grounds.

One day Andruil grew tired of hunting mortal men and beasts. She began stalking the Forgotten Ones, wicked things that thrive in the abyss. Yet even a god should not linger there, and each time she entered the Void, Andruil suffered longer and longer periods of madness after returning. Andruil put on armor made of the Void, and all forgot her true face. She made weapons of darkness, and plague ate her lands. She howled things meant to be forgotten, and the other gods became fearful Andruil would hunt them in turn.

The time of Andruil using the Void as her hunting grounds predates the Veil. Overall, we already know much of what this codex implies about the Void: that it is dark, underground, and that there is reason we know of that would send Andruil back with madness (the abundance of raw lyrium and the fact that the Evanuris are mages, plus Andruil's lyrium armor).

What I want to focus on is that the Forgotten Ones were thriving in the Abyss before the Veil went up. They were alive and, ostensibly, able to fight back. They had access to their will and to their consciousness.

That consciousness seems to have disappeared with the creation of the Veil. Let me rephrase.

The Titans lost access to their consciousness with the creation of the Veil. At the same time. And what did the Veil do? What is the SOLE thing it did?

Separated the Fade from the waking world.

A collection of facts, when taken together, lead me to my conclusion about the relationship between the Abyss, the Fade, and the Titans.

The Forgotten Ones (Titans) live in the Abyss

They were conscious and "thriving" before the Veil went up

Cole remarks that they have "forgotten" how to wake up in the time since

No one has memory of the Titans, not even the dwarves

Lyrium is the blood of the Titans

and lyrium grows in the Fade.

Lyrium: Titans' Blood, and the Emerald Waters of the Fade

I think a lot of us (me included) have been thinking about the Fade all wrong. I think a lot of people consider the Fade to be this Other Thing™ that was once a part of the world, and is now separate. Now, I believe differently. I think that the Fade and the Titans were once two pieces of one whole, and creating the Veil effectively sundered all Titans' consciousness from their bodies.

In short: I think the Fade is the Titans' missing consciousness.

That's why I think it is very important not just that Lyrium exists in the Fade, but that it grows there. It implies that the Fade is still alive, just like the Titans are still alive, but asleep.

When Solas says, "I seek... regeneration" in Vows & Vengeance, I think this is what he means: reconnecting these two sundered pieces.

We've always thought as the Fade as the realm of spirits. Those characters who contemplate the Veil being torn down immediately think about how many spirits and demons that might unleash upon Thedas.

But I must ask: If the Fade is the consciousness of sundered Titans, where did the first spirits come from, before the creation of the Veil? What relation could Titans have with spirits?

What IS a Spirit, Then?

I'm sure that I am not alone when I say that my original guess for Solas's origin story is that he was a spirit that took mortal, corporeal shape. We've all heard Cole say, "He did not want a body, but she asked him to come." We all know that the Dread Wolf's six eyes greatly resemble a Pride demon, and we have seen that Solas' Manifestation achievement icon features those same six eyes.

If you're like me, you might've seen that and wondered how exactly this is all related. How can Solas be a spirit of Wisdom turned to Pride if he came from a Titan?

I'm here to tell you: I think those are the same thing.

And the Chant of Light agrees with me.

Here lies the abyss, the well of all souls. From these emerald waters doth life begin anew. Come to me, child, and I shall embrace you. In my arms lies Eternity. —Andraste 14:11

Many believe that the well of sorrows and the waters of the Fade must have elemental associations with, well... water. But I'd like to put forth a different interpretation.

Lyrium exists in liquid form, once refined. The Bastion of the Pure in the Descent DLC has a literal underground sea. We know that lyrium is the Titans' blood, growing both in the Abyss and the Fade. We also know that the Fade, domain of spirits, is likely the Titans' sundered consciousness.

The "well of all souls," then, is the same as the "emerald waters." Both of them refer not to water, not to oceans, but to lyrium.

I think every spirit on Thedas, not just the dwarves, came from the Titans originally.

To test the validity of my idea, I then asked myself: what do we know of spirits and their nature?

We know that spirits all boil down to one singular quality: Wisdom, Compassion, Purpose, Love, Justice, etc etc etc.

We know that those qualities can change back and forth from "virtuous" to "demonic" depending on the spirit's own feelings and reactions to the world. The trauma of crossing the Veil or being bound can force Wisdom to become Pride (Solas's personal quest) or Compassion to Rage (Down Among the Dead Men from Tevinter Nights).

Not all spirits are named for "virtues" or "sins." For instance, there are Hunger demons, and hunger is not a sin.

Spirits can be killed outright. When that happens, they may reform, but they are never quite the same when they coalesce again. There are also "ancient spirits" mentioned throughout the franchise, which tells me that not all spirits are the same age. They were not all created at the same time.

Many spirits are mere wisps, without one of those one-word qualities. They must gain power before they take such a shape.

To me, that sounds a lot like how thoughts work.

Our singular thoughts could also be boiled down to singular qualities, if framed in a certain way. For instance, my current craving for food is very much a Hunger thought. My constant joy in reading World of Thedas stems from Curiosity. Terrible traffic conditions inspire fleeting Rage, which changes when I remember my Compassion for other drivers who might be erratic because they're going through an emergency or something traumatic.

People don't remember every single thought they have. The ones that stick with us over time? They remain with us because they are powerful. Stronger memories stick around longer; the rest fade away or become shapeless until we try really hard to remember them again.

But when we do remember things we have forgotten? We never remember them exactly the same, do we? If I remember I thought I had as a child, I have to remember it with the context of my current 30-year-old self. I will never experience the thought exactly as my 5-year-old self did.

As long as I have access to my own consciousness, I will constantly produce new thoughts and memories.

Therefore?

Specifically, I think that all spirits on Thedas are the thoughts of Titans, once either held in lyrium or free to drift through the Fade before the Veil existed. Those spirits may then manifest into a corporeal shape, like Cole does, if they have enough power.

And Solas? Solas is one such thought-spirit, who used to be held in lyrium, who Mythal convinced (or coerced) to take shape.

Which explains a great deal about every type of magic we see him use.

Solas's Magic: What Was He Born With?

Oh, Solas, you beautiful enigma. For so long, we thought of you as an ordinary mage. Then, with the big Fen'Harel reveal and the way you began petrifying people in Trespasser, we thought you were something else.

Mages draw their power from the Fade. It looks like the dwarven magic we're seeing (from Harding, from Valta, from Sandal) draws its power from the Stone, in addition to manipulating it. So what gives? How is Solas able to pull from both schools of magic? Is he a mage? Is he kin with the dwarves?

Now, with all the knowledge we've gained through one singular achievement icon jpeg, I understand: you are both, and you are neither.

We must remember that all ancient elvhen are born in a pre-Veil era. With the knowledge we have, that means an era when the Titans were not sundered from their thoughts, and all magic in the world was one thing. If all spirits are the thoughts of Titans made manifest (either as living concepts or as corporeal beings) and the Fade is just one part of Titans' whole existence, then a world without the Veil is a world where we don't need to think of those magics as two separate things.

Rather, they are both magic, but opposing schools of the same magic. When we think of the four elements here in OUR world, we think of earth and air as opposites—but in a lot of media, magic users have access to both. Often, they are weak to each other, one cancelling out the other.

We see this laid out more clearly in this codex from the Vir Dirthara.

"The unchanging world is delicate: spells of power invite disaster and annihilation. The unchanging world is stubborn: the pull of the earth fiercely resists making fire run like water or stone rise like mist. The unchanging world rings with its own harmony. Listen with fearless hearts, and great works will unfold."

This codex is actively encouraging the magic users of ancient elvhen (AKA, all people from that time) to listen with fearless hearts to the "unchanging world" to exert will over the "pull of the earth." They're not saying to avoid the Titans, or to dominate them with an abundance of their own (Fade) magic. By tapping into the Titans' rhythm, even the magic of the Fade is embellished. Made stronger.

To be alive in that time is to be able to wield both magics interchangeably—but just like Aang in Avatar: the Last Airbender, the pull of the earth is a notoriously difficult thing for "air" (Fade) magic-users to grasp, and vice versa.

(A tiny aside: I believe these discoveries about spirits and magic teach us the distinction between elven and elvhen. The latter translates to "spirit-soul," loosely—the spirits that came out of the Titans. I believe elven refers to the corporeal descendants of those elvhen that sexually reproduced.)

Solas and Petrification

Many of us speculated for a long, long time that Solas's ability to petrify people—an ability associated with Sandal and Harding—was something he took from a dwarven or Titan-aligned source. People speculated that Urthemiel, the archdemon, must be somehow connected to the magic of the Stone.

I have a different theory: Solas has always had this capability, but the power he absorbed from Mythal is what has allowed him to once again perform the magic of the Stone from whence he came.

Maybe utilizing both magics to such a powerful degree (remember his Mind Blast from Trespasser?) requires that a mage be more powerful than most, carrying two "sects" of magic within them and using both in such a great and terrible capacity (like how the Avatar is more powerful than other benders, able to carry multiple elements because of bonding with the spirit of Raava, to continue with my previous example).

Solas and "Blood" Magic // The Red Lyrium Idol

I'll preface this by saying: no, I have no idea why Solas has changed his tune about blood magic in DA:tV. I hope to find out in five days!

I do want to suggest that, for Solas, blood magic might mean something different than it does for everyone else. Solas's blood, while he has taken a corporeal shape almost identical to any other elven person, may not be the same chemical make as the blood of mortals. That might explain why he has not experimented with it much during the time of Inquisition, and might explain why he does not want to use his own blood in DA:tV.

Instead, his blood might be closer to lyrium than we expected. And the red lyrium idol might be HIS idol.

Some of you might remember that way back in part 1, I noted that a hint for Solas's origin from previous games and external media is that, in Tevinter Nights, the Dread Wolf refers to the red lyrium idol as "my idol" before slaying the Mortalitasi trying to perform a blood magic ritual with it. It confused me, for a long time, why the Dread Wolf (the big wolf form, not necessarily one with Solas) would refer to the idol as "my idol" before actually retrieving it to keep. The explanation seems simple: it was his first.

This makes me wonder, given everything we know, if the idol first belonged to the Dread Wolf because it is made from the Dread Wolf's blood. Since the Dread Wolf is a piece of a Titan, that would make its blood likely at least related to lyrium, right?

Many have also speculated that Solas's ritual dagger, which gets passed on to Rook, is made from a purified/reforged red lyrium idol. Given the blood connection between Rook and Solas, it makes sense to me that if the dagger is indeed made from the blood of the Dread Wolf (and/or Solas), that is why Rook has access to its abilities.

What Did Solas Absorb at the End of DA:I?

I cannot for the life of me find a well-cropped image, but this post on Reddit talks about a designer note from the post-credits scene of DA:I between Solas and Flemeth. Namely that Solas does not take Mythal's soul when he absorbs power from her. Before he absorbs that power, Mythal passes her soul on to Morrigan.

While David Gaider had previously advised fans to not necessarily take this as canon, it seems to be proving true in Morrigan's design change, featuring Flemeth's crown.

That means there are two things Solas may have still absorbed from Mythal, since her soul was already "spoken for."

Raw power

The soul of Urthemiel, the archdragon slain in Origins. This is true in every world state with Kieran, but I would wager that Urthemiel's soul belongs with Mythal in every world state, since Flemeth said she had an "appointment to keep" in the prologue of DA2, which is why she did not travel with Hawke. My guess is she went to Denerim, poking at the remains of the slain archdemon until, 10 years later in Inquisition, she was in possession of Urthemiel's soul no matter what.

We know, however, that archdemons are sundered pieces of the Evanuris. We've been able to suspect this since Inquisition, where we see Corypheus's archdemon is in possession of a piece of his soul and is therefore the secret to his immortality.

I don't think either of this gave Solas access to any new spells. Rather, I think either one (or both!) might have granted him the power necessary to access spells he already knows from both Fade magic and Stone magic.

However, I'd like to touch on just one thing before this post concludes.

I believe that Urthemiel is June's archdemon. The Chant of Light references an Architect of Beauty, just as it references Corypheus, the Conductor of Silence. These are high priests of the so-called "Old Gods," which were revealed as archdemons when Dumat appeared during the First Blight. Corypheus was the high priest of Dumat, the old god of Silence.

I believe the word Architect being used as the title for the high priest of Urthemiel is indicative of the Evanuris that Urthemiel belongs to. There is one Evanuris known for craftsmanship: June, who we know nothing about.

The reason I mention this is that, if nothing else, June's abilities may have allowed Solas to "purify" and shape the red lyrium idol into his ritual dagger that we see in Veilguard.

In conclusion: I believe Solas has always had access to the Stone, but it would certainly be interesting to see if each Evanuris has their own suite of magical abilities, potentially due to the Titan from which some of them originated (more on THAT in a later post, stay tuned!).

If you read this far, THANK YOU, as always! The collective hype of everyone reading and sharing these is making me all the more excited for Veilguard.

Keep an eye out for the next instalment in this series: What the Chant of Light teaches us about Solas, Mythal, and the Evanuris at large.

[projectbluearcadia]

Happy Birthday, Lucifer! '24

NSFW Lucifer x F!MC Spice Rating - 4/4 HOLY F*CK THAT'S HOT

[ Scenario: It's Lucifer's birthday, and you've decided to give him some special stress relief as his present. ]

---

Winner, winner, girlie dinner: As of 6/5 13:15, the vote was for Lucifer to dominate the shit out of you and use you as his stress ball with 28.7% of the votes. 6% higher (roughly 17 people) than the vote to spoil him.  That being said, Lucifer may still be spoiled in a week or so because it was such a close contest for a while... --- To those who fear my masochistic tastes, I kept it relatively vanilla. Mostly. With that said, CW: Spanking (open hand); Orgasm denial; Overstimulation; Creampie; Ripping clothing(?) ---

Also, this was supposed to be gender-neutral. But I ended up making it centered towards female genitalia again because I am a whore for details. To male-identifying individuals who either do not want their muffin used for sex or only possess the fabled cucumber,

I am very sorry. > ~ <

---

Wordcount: 3972 (Don't worry; it's mostly sex.)

smutty notes (consult if you haven’t read my smut before.)

“Lucifer?” you say softly as you knock on his door frame. He’s too busy mumbling under his breath, his hair disheveled and the muscles in his left cheek twitching with annoyance. His room is a disaster area, his belongings scattered on the floor as he tromps his way across his bedroom, shoving things around in his wardrobe. “Luci? Honey, hello? What’s the matter?”

“Oh…” Lucifer finally glances at you, his face softening a little. “MC. Hi. Hello. What do you want? Don’t look at the mess.” Difficult, but okay. 

“Are you looking for something?” 

“No,” he says, a little too sharply before he stubbornly looks away. Did the poor baby lose his necklace again? Honestly… I thought I already told him not to worry about it. 

“Then why are you so worked up when Diavolo and I made sure you could take today off? You know we’re not letting you forget your birthday exists again.” You fold your arms, and Lucifer stares at his fireplace before he kneels and starts raking the ashes restlessly. 

“I’m not worked up,” he grumbles. 

“Lucifer, you’re not going to gain anything by lying to me. Come on; what’s the matter?” You crouch next to him, stopping his hand from raking, and he looks at you. “Remember, I can help you, but I can only help you out if you tell me what you’re looking for.” 

Lucifer is silent for a long, awkward several moments. Then:

“My necklace. I don’t know how, because I made sure that I always drape it on the skeleton’s hand, but I’ve looked everywhere.” Lucifer’s eyes shine. “As if it wasn’t bad enough that Diavolo has been frosty with me, my brothers have been trying to hog you all to themselves, and now I’m losing my sanity. I swear I put it on the skeleton. I always put it there, and now it’s gone.” 

You let out a low groan. Yeah. Being secretive was a mistake; this idiot would have been too absorbed in work anyway to realize we were talking about his birthday.

“Lucifer, you’re not going crazy. We can look for it later. I just want you to enjoy your birthday today, okay? That’s your only job today. Enjoy your birthday. I even have a nice surprise for you tonight. Now, how about we go downstairs and get some breakfast in you? I cut some Princess Poison Apples.” 

“...fine,” he mumbles, though it seems as if he’s still hovering in a sea of annoyance and worry as he stands and follows you into the dining room to find what you made for him, even as you dart to the corner, where you put one of his favorite cursed records into a gramophone and start it playing.

It fills up the silence left by his brothers currently taking care of his work at R.A.D. A part of you feels bad for having him share breakfast with you alone, but as the morning goes on, some of his stress seems to dissolve. You smile to yourself, arrogantly believing that he’d start to wind down by evening. 

Unfortunately, that evening, you find out that the reason Lucifer couldn’t find his necklace that morning was because Mammon nicked it. Not because he was going to pawn it; instead, he had it enchanted by a sorceress so that it would let out an alarming cry—so that was why Belphie was recording you screaming! Bitch!—when Lucifer overworked himself. It really is a thoughtful gift, which is the only reason you’re able to stop Lucifer from hanging Mammon from the ceiling. 

Lucifer calms down at your behest, but it becomes quite clear to you that he majorly bottled up his stress throughout the past few days. A part of you feels guilty, since you’ve been so busy trying to help throw this party for Lucifer that he must have felt left out. Even if he seemed like he enjoyed most of the day… 

You find yourself changing your plan for the night; you were originally going to shower him with praise and pleasure the shit out of him, but you think he needs to let off some steam. He’ll probably like it if you told him to mark you up after he spent several days feeling jealous and maybe even irritated with you.

“Use me like your stress ball.” 

“...what?” Lucifer asks, confused as he closes the door behind you, locking it, the door briefly glowing blue before returning to normal. “MC, I could never do that to you…” His words trail off as he watches you slide your shirt off, then your pants, his eyes lingering on every inch of your lingerie-clad body. “Is that part of my present tonight?” 

You saunter up to Lucifer, laying your fingers on the back of his neck, rubbing his cheek as you reply, “Part of it, yes.”

“You were wearing that… all day?” It seems as if he’s just as annoyed as he is excited by that fact as you nod your head. “Just how do you think something like that is acceptable…? You couldn’t have told me earlier? I’ve wanted to touch you all day, but I didn’t because you put so much thought and effort into celebrating with me.” 

“Oh, honey…” You kiss his cheek, only for him to snatch up your lips like a hungry wolf. He kisses you, his tongue smashing up against yours, quickly overpowering you and claiming your mouth like it’s his first time doing so. You moan as you break for air, softly panting. “Dominate the shit out of me; let out all of that stress.” 

“Are you sure you want to give me a blank check like that?” Lucifer asks softly, almost dangerously, and you get yourself close to his ear to whisper:

“It’s your birthday present, Lucifer. Do things to me that you wouldn’t normally dare ask for. I’ll tell you if I don’t want it.” 

Those words snap whatever tether is keeping him in check. 

In the next instant, he has you pinned against the wall, both your wrists in one hand and clamped high above your head. His other hand is busy feeling your body up and down as he smashes his lips back over yours, a startled grunt leaving your mouth as he does so. His fingers drag just under your skimpy underwear, teasing you sweetly with the offer of getting closer to your sensitive spots.

When he breaks from you again, your chest heaves for breath, saliva dropping from your mouth as he moves away. Dammit, not that look… have mercy, you find yourself thinking as Lucifer fucks you with his eyes, his mind undoubtedly racing with all the possibilities of all the different ways he can wreck you.

“Do you… have any idea how much it gets under my skin when I ask you for the smallest amount of time, and you refuse me?” 

“Well, I—”

“No.” he growls, pressing his index finger firmly over your swollen lips. “I already know what you’re going to say. You’re going to say it was for my surprise, but I hated it. I don’t like being ignored. I don’t like not getting what I want. You’re all mine, so why did I have to watch you go off and do things with my brothers? Things I want to do with you?” 

“We can do those—” you try to say, but Lucifer puts his gloved finger in your mouth. Then another, stroking your tongue, and the taste of leather fills your mouth. 

“We can, and we will,” he whispered darkly. “But that doesn’t mean you’re getting off the hook. I think you deserve a punishment. A punishment that will ensure you won’t do that to me again.” 

An eager moan slips out of your mouth, and Lucifer starts to gently thrust his fingers back and forth, as if giving you a taste of what he’s going to do to you later. His knee finds its way between your legs, grinding into your core. You close your eyes, grinding back, and he stops. 

“Do you think you’re allowed to cum?” Lucifer chuckles, nipping your ear, making you almost bite his fingers in surprise. “Guess again. I’m the only one who can give you permission, and you don’t have it. Now suck my fingers before I stuff your mouth full with something much less pleasant.” Like what? Like rope? Like a gag? You don’t mean your cock, do you? Lucifer, I will suck all of them, and I will fucking relish it when it puts that happy look on your face. 

“Hn..gmh…” you groan onto his fingers as you wrap your tongue around them, hollowing out your cheeks. Lucifer hums with approval, dragging his lips down your neck with open-mouthed kisses. His teeth scrape you as he starts to suck on the skin. Muffled noises, some startled and others needy, leave your throat as he attacks your sensitive spots. This was the right choice, you think as he leans away, his tongue darting out briefly over his lower lip.

He takes his saliva-coated fingers out of your mouth before he pulls closer to you, those fingers dragging up your exposed belly and leaving a wet streak across the skin. You shiver as his lips ghost over yours, not giving you the kiss you desire. 

“Lucifer,” you whisper desperately, and his lips pass over yours to place a kiss on your cheek instead. 

“That’s better,” he softly purrs, his palm smoothing back downwards, so temptingly that you shake, trying to get him to get him to touch lower, but he denies you. “But it’s not enough.” Lucifer finally releases your wrists from his hand, and you hear his own wrist crack as he rotates the joint slowly.

He takes his tie off, unbuttoning his waistcoat before he grabs you by the waist, and the next thing you know, he has you up in the air. Then he has you slung over his shoulder, one hand tightly squeezing one ass-cheek as he carries you away from the wall. 

Startled, you yelp and struggle a little as all the blood goes rushing to your head, only for Lucifer’s hand to playfully slap your buttocks.  

“Kick me again,” he softly growls, “and I won’t show mercy.” 

Mentally, you make a note to kick him again later as he walks over to his bed and roughly flops you onto it, his bedsprings making a quiet but petty complaint in response. You expect him to crawl on top of you, or at the very least sit on the bed, but he remains standing, raking his hand through his hair as a loose strand gets in his eyes. 

“Fondle yourself,” he demands, his fingers tapping impatiently on his tricep as he folds his arms. “No, MC. Don’t take it off. That’s my privilege.” His domineering figure towers over your exposed, pathetic one, and you find yourself biting your lip in anticipation as you trace your fingers over your breasts, toying shyly with your nipples over your underwear. You mewl and gasp with need, aching for his fingers instead as you drag one hand down your stomach, down into your panties. 

“Lucifer, please,” you whisper desperately as you rub and stroke yourself with a fervor that grows by the second. Watch me more. “I want you… I want you to fuck me.” 

You tilt your head back, getting so into Lucifer watching you while lewd gasps and cries pour out of your lips that you’re already starting to lose it. You can feel your insides begging you, and how can you possibly deny yourself?

Lucifer, however, is perfectly fine denying you as he snaps up the hand under your underwear, stopping you from coming undone. Bastard! Bastard! You think, feeling whiny and defeated as he scolds you. 

“I thought I told you…” he rumbles against your ear, “that you need my permission to cum.” You wriggle under him, shivering and aching for any kind of stimulation, only for Lucifer to press his weight down on you. You wheeze, patting his shoulder, and he gives you an apologetic look as he picks himself back up, kissing your forehead. “Sometimes I forget that you’re weaker than me.” He smirks at you imperiously, and you’re about to fire something back before he kisses you again. “Now… you tried to disobey me.” You feel your insides jolt as Lucifer smirks. 

“Ah!” you cry out as he flips you onto your stomach, his hands lingering on your thighs before his body leaves you cold and wanting. 

“On your hands and knees,” he orders so calmly that it sends a chill down your spine. Or maybe that was just his finger, tracing down over your vertebrae, dropping off at the tailbone. Is it going to be doggy-style today? Is he going to do what I think he’s going to do?

Just as you manage to work yourself onto your hands and knees, he spreads your thighs further apart until you’re almost unbalanced. He takes a tight hold of the crotch of your underwear. He pulls, pressure building against the front as it digs into your clit, and you almost howl. 

…RIP!

Lucifer chortles, and you can hear him covering his mouth as you gasp and mewl at the sudden loss of the fabric as it makes a barely audible wet sound against the floor. You can feel how excited his heart is even through his gloves. The gloves which disappear in a matter of seconds as hot, damp skin meets your thigh. 

“What a naughty girl,” he murmurs, and his nails graze up your thigh. Up. Up. Up. 

“Mmm…mmm…” Slurp. Your mouth falls open, startled as Lucifer’s fingers easily slip inside you. One, two, three, in quick succession. Rubbing against your soaking wet walls as your legs tremble, desperately trying to keep yourself from slumping into a frog-like position. “Hgn… Luci—AGH!” His fingers curl, hard, right before he takes them back out again and brings them in front of your face. Dripping wet, just like you. Is he going to make me lick them???

“Were you looking forward to your punishment that much?” 

“Y-Yes…” you gasp out, and Lucifer drags his hand—and your fluids—down your lips, down your neck to give your breast a tender squeeze. And, a moment after that hand leaves, a loud, fleshy slap hits your ears, taking your breath away. “Ugh!” 

“Say you’re sorry,” he growls impatiently, his breathing getting irregular as you hear him snap his buttons open. (Evidently, someone’s finally getting sweaty in all that clothing.) His hand comes down on your ass again, harder than before, and you gasp with the impact. 

“I-I’m sor—” SLAP! “—RY!” Your head drops as your arms quiver. You hear a zipper, and almost instinctively buck your hips, needy. Lucifer’s response is another hard swat in the same spot, making tears bubble up in your eyes. 

“Louder,” he rasps through his teeth. He’s going fucking feral. Let me see his face. Please let me see it!  

“I’m sorry!” you wail, and you almost scream at the next slap. 

“Good girl,” his voice shudders, and just as your strength leaves your limbs with his praise, he has you on your back again, his beautiful chest in full view as he guides his swollen cock inside you, rosy and leaking a milky white. His expression beautifully crumples as he digs his fingers into your thighs, squeezing his eyes shut with his veins sharply standing out in his neck. Restraining himself, you realize, from just slamming into you. 

Of course, that thought goes out the window as you hook your legs around his waist and shove him closer. His crimson eyes dance with his lust before he thrusts into you harder, his pace picking up until you can’t follow it anymore. 

“Ugh! Oh! Ah! More!” you chant like a bird, and Lucifer rewards you by groaning right in your fucking ear. Like the sound of his cock getting slurped at by your sopping wet entrance wasn’t dirty enough, he just had to add that into the mix. 

“You’re the perfect… ghh… fit. I’m almost getting stuck from you clenching so hard. Do you need my cock inside you that badly that you won’t let me back out?” he whispers dirtily, teasingly pulling out by an inch before hitting your favorite spot harder. 

“AGH!” you gasp out, gripping Lucifer’s upper back, and he bites your collar with a moan. 

“Just… like that.” His lips trail down to the top of your breast, his hips working at you furiously, his bed now actively whining at the force of his thrusts. 

“Lucifer!” you cry out, your orgasm winding up further and further as he grinds onto your poor clit while he fucks you.  

“Say my name again,” he scrapes out, leaving another hickey on your chest. 

“Lucifer!” you wail. “Please! I’m going to—”

“Cum, now.” he growls, and that’s all it takes to set you off, scratching his back hard as Lucifer clenches his teeth, his expression focused on his task of finding his own release. It doesn’t take him long as you babble nonsense with stars in your vision, falling apart on Lucifer’s cock. 

Sense just barely returns to you when you notice Lucifer pulled himself out and came on your stomach, some of his hot semen soaking into what was left of your lingerie. A flicker of disappointment hits you, and apparently it shows, because Lucifer asks you, panting, what’s bothering you. 

“...you didn’t have to pull out,” you mumble, feeling your face warm as Lucifer’s eyes widen, and shortly afterwards, dance with new fire. His softening member revives itself, twitching with a new excitement.

“Is that so?” he grinds out, a hint of playfulness flitting into his voice. “You want me to cum inside you?” He leans closer, his grin almost manic. “Be careful what you wish for.” 

“Why? I’m not tired yet.” 

“No,” he says, “I mean that I might breed you.” 

Fuck! 

“Try it,” you dare, and Lucifer chuckles, rubbing your cheek with his thumb.  

“That’s cute, honey, but you don’t have that kind of stamina.” 

A stunted retort leaves your mouth as Lucifer thrusts himself back inside your noisy pussy, his breath feathering like torn fabric. It’s as you shake your stiff fingers, which have been curled into his back muscles for a hot minute, that you realize one of your fingertips is wet. 

“...Lucifer, you’re bleeding.” 

“Am I now? Are you trying to chicken out on me? On my birthday?” 

“No, but—” 

Slap! The sound of Lucifer’s balls hitting your skin as he offers you a deep thrust that sends your brain spinning. 

“Since when,” 

“AH! Oh!” 

“has that ever stopped me? I can’t even feel it, so you’d better make sure you tear into my back nice and hard for round two. Understand?” As you stupidly nod your head, you’re left wondering if he had been holding out on you the first time, because he’s even more energetic like the first time was just a warm-up. 

“AGH! AHN!” you screech, and drool starts to spill out of your mouth. He’s brutally nursing your clitoris with his thumb as his length pounds into you, as if it wasn’t enough that he was already doing a great job of giving you the friction you wanted. He shifts your hips up, hitting your g-spot harder as he plows into you. His brows scrunch together with his pleasure, his pace faltering as you squeeze him harder. 

“Ugh… Fucking hell, MC,” he groans, dipping his head. 

“What?” you ask, though your voice sounds wildly distorted like someone was playing with the frequency knobs on a mixing console. 

“I need… to do this right after you orgasm a lot more often… so you don’t fall asleep on me.” 

“I don’t always…!” you protest before your voice breaks as a jolt of pleasure ripples through your lower body. Lucifer lets out a fragmented chuckle, his flushed skin seeming to ripple before your eyes from his wild pulse. 

“What was that? I couldn’t… hear you,” he mocks, hammering you harder than ever as your mind slips further and further from your grasp. “Come… on, say it louder for me… your cunt is too noisy.”

You stopped listening, because the moment he said ‘Come’, your brain fogged over, expecting that to be an order. This time, your orgasm was more laborious to work up, but it destroyed all sense of self as it washed over you in wave after wave of pure, unadulterated ecstasy. 

And Lucifer is working you through it, now openly moaning as he furiously pleasures you, stroking and circling your sensitive little bud like it's his purpose in life. 

“You know, that wasn’t permission,” he purrs, biting the shell of your ear as you just barely manage to touch base with earth again. And now you’re screaming even louder because he’s overstimulating you, beaming like a lunatic. Sadist! Bully! you cry inside your head, but it’s too good for him to stop. You’re making all kinds of pretty faces for him, after all, and you’re enjoying yourself plenty, now aren’t you? How many orgasms are you going to show him tonight, hm?

It takes you a long moment to realize he came, and holy shit your insides are full of his semen. The thought almost sends you into a wild fit of arousal by itself without the warmth of his release reminding you of the fact. 

Lucifer simpers down at you, sweat dripping down his nude body as he flips his messy hair back out of his face, his chest lightly heaving with the exertion of his actions. 

“Happy?” he asks, his crimson eyes flickering with mischief as you pant, and you almost say ‘yes’ before you remember the whole point was to give him a present. 

“It’s your birthday, silly,” you croak, and he laughs a little to himself. 

“Yes, I am very happy, MC,” he replies, kissing you slowly and sweetly. “But it’s not my birthday if you didn’t like it.” 

“Of course I liked it, but was that even enough for you???” 

“It was enough. Ignore it,” he soothes. “It’ll go down again.” 

“Lucifer…” you groan. 

“You’re exhausted, darling; rest. You can wake me up with your mouth if you really feel that strongly about it.” Lucifer flops down next to you, squishing your tired body in his arms as contentment radiates off him. Well… if nothing else, I think he’s significantly less stressed right now, so goal accomplished? 

“You’re so sweaty,” you chuckle as your face rubs against his chest, and he laughs delightfully back.

“I’ll clean you up, and then I’ll get a shower,” he promises, kissing your cheekbone before relinquishing his hold on you. It isn’t what you meant, but he’s already pulling his trousers back on and making his way—shirtless—to the main bath across the hall.

He can be such a big dumb-dumb sometimes, you think with a little smile before he comes back, a faintly steaming rag in hand. He delicately—finally—takes off your lingerie before he wipes you down, saving the splattering of his seed for last. He finishes, about to leave to take his shower, only for you to grab hold of his arm like an overly affectionate cat. 

“Cuddle,” you demand. 

“I thought I was sweaty?” 

“And I didn’t say that was a bad thing. Get back here.” Lucifer smirks.

“As you wish,” he replies as he re-joins you on the bed, getting himself comfortable. “How about a bath together tomorrow morning? I promise I’ll behave.” 

“Sounds fine to me,” you reply, kissing him, full-well knowing you wouldn’t behave yourself. “I love you, Lucifer. Happy birthday.” 

“I love you too,” he whispers as your conscious mind fades, and you slowly lose the battle to sleep, nestled in each other’s arms. 

[mimzy630]

Today, October 18th, I'm saying happy birthday to my favorite Psyncer, Kuruto Ryuki!

The incredible @vividcitrus illustrated my transmasc Ryuki headcanon comfortably showing top surgery scars on the beach!

More on my story below the cut :)

Ryuki is absolutely the Psyncer I see myself in the most. I love all the Psyncers and really tons of the characters in AI: THE SOMNIUM FILES and nirvanA Initiative dearly, but Ryuki is the closest one I have to a kin.

When I first met him upon starting the game, I resonated immediately; he plays the somewhat asexual-coded straight-man to Tama's sexy routine which immediately endeared me, and his fluctuations between needing to prove himself and be the one to solve the case to being severely depressed at not being good enough... Yeah! No, hello, that's me lol.

I wasn't really a part of his little fanclub before release, but oh boy did I fall hard and fast for the scuffly little cutie, and that love only grew stronger as the game went on- seeing Ryuki getting so absorbed in his job he forgets himself, seeing him so focused on one way to solve things that he has to make impossible choices, seeing him get paralyzed by choice when it matters most... Yeah! I mean yeah that's all me yeah. Not to his extreme levels of course but oh yeah no every scene with him only made me love him more.

He's just adorable... Ahhh I want to put my hands through his hair... Ahem, anyways, as soon as I finished the game I was like damn... I might have a kinnie... And I don't think I'm exactly a Ryuki Kin per-se, but I do very much see myself when I look at him.

I am also transmasc! Specifically, agender, but who knows where my journey will take me. I have a hard time struggling to think of what I want to look like; I don't have a real sense of identity much at all, let alone visual identity. Most of my self-image is a big ole void.

But I know there are certain parts of me I'd love removed LOL to I reached out to m, the artist, and we chatted- I've always had a soft spot for transmasc Ryuki and been kinda hoping someone would draw him someday, so fuck it, I decided I make it happen myself. In the process of this commission, I forced myself to really think about how I'd want to look, how my scars would look, if I wanted nipple grafts, etc., and m was super happy to work with me on all of that!

The final version, with the more understated scars following the natural curve of the pecs that go from below the armpit to mid chest and no nipple grafts, makes me actually feel good... Like, hey, maybe someday I too could be topless on a beach, smiling and confident... It's a far-off dream that I have to save a lot for, but hey... That murky swirling void in my head has cleared up just a little bit, enough for me to be able to see a happier future for myself, and that's everything really.

I know I'll never look like Ryuki exactly, there are a lot of obstacles to this, but at the very least, when I find money and a surgeon, I can say "that. That's how I want to look, and that's how I'd feel looking like that." Which is more than I've ever been able to do! Dysphoria is my constant companion, but euphoria tends to elude me... @vividcitrus turned the tables on that!

[anyoldfandom]

I am actually. I am so emotional over the Salazar parents and I need to share this to tumblr too.

A lot of stories where the MC is adopted I feel. Either dismiss the biological parents and the impact they have on the kid's life, or makes them evil and abusive, framing the loss of the bio parents as a good thing, or at least something we shouldn't think about just look at this new family.

But Genrex doesn't do that. From the start, Rex wanted to find out more about his parents - it's one of his primary character motivations, next to helping people. He loves them, even though he doesn't know them.

And the more he finds out about them, the more he realizes they loved him. Rylander is consumed by guilt but as Rex's first connection to his pre-Event life, the first thing he does is hug him. And when he tells Rex about his parents, the two things Rex knows is that 1) they were scientists, and 2) that when he was in danger, they were desperate enough to use their secret, experimental technology to save him. Technology built from their desire to help the world, to save countless lives and end countless suffering.

And then. When he finds out that they were dead, he doesn't stop caring. It'd be so easy, too, to tie it up there - his parents were good people, he got his answer about them, the end. But they don't. He doesn't. Because the show is saying once again that they are his parents. He still calls them mom and dad, even as the show makes it clear Holiday and Six adopted Rex as their son. Even as the show even parallels Six and One with Rex and Six (and I will talk about that more later if I don't forget, trust me), to really drive home how much they're family. Rex even says he considers the two of them family, and later that he considers Noah, Claire and Annie family.

He has new family, the show tells us, but his old family still matters to him. He's upset that he never has the chance to meet his parents, that everything he hears about them, about his time with them, is secondhand knowledge. It tells us clearly that not only does Rex still love them, but that he still wants to know them. And everything we find out about them reinforces the love that they had for each other.

We see Abuela and the family in Mexico, who connect him to his birth family and tell him that he was so loved back then, and still is now. We see their office in Abysus through Rex's eyes. The picture of him and his dad on his desk. The drawing Rex drew, proudly pinned to the wall.

We see it in the familiarity of the drawing. That that robot, that build, was what Rex created when he was lost and scared and alone - that it was made to keep him safe. That it first appeared in his mind in a place he felt safe.

The show says, tenderly and softly, that the love is still there. That the fact these people died was nothing but a tragedy, that their love is a big part of what made Rex who he is today - that every molecule in his body is filled with their final gift to him. That every time he cures someone, every time he uses a build, every time he makes a machine - we see the love that they had for him.

And the way he quietly absorbs his father's face. The way he freezes and whispers "Mamá?" when he finds out Zag-Rs has their mother's voice. The fact that she even has her voice as a testament to Caesar's love, too - that it was meant to bring comfort and safety. The way Rex yells at Caesar when he finds out they have a family property, a connection to their past, the way he fights to protect it.

And, none of this takes away still from Six and Holiday being Rex's family too. None of this removes the work either set of parents did for him, the love either set has - the show says that it was unfair that the Salazar parents were lost. That Six and Holiday are not replacements, that they still love him as parents but play different roles in his life. They can not, and have no desire to, replace the Salazars. But Rex needs parents, he needs protectors, and so they will do what they can for him - at first out of necessity, to keep this kid they barely know safe, but then out of love. They aren't replacing what was lost, but are doing their best to do what Rex's bio parents would do. And they do mess up in it - they mess up in ways Rex's bio parents might not have. Six is clearly bad with showing affection, affection we saw the Salazars give Rex so easily, and Holiday is overworked and stressed constantly, sometimes breaking under the pressure and snapping at Rex and Six, things we never saw the Salazars do.

It's just. It's about how sometimes things will not be the same. They will be different. That doesn't mean the people you lost aren't still with you.

[pavlovianfuckery]

lets be mean to dream

MASTERLIST

linky for those AO3-ly inclined: https://archiveofourown.org/works/54292993

as usual there is no plot to be found here, only smut. i am so rusty and it shows but oh well, and also as per the usual, i'm welcome and you're sorry, 2.1k words of handjob under the cut

It's hard to pinpoint the exact moment where things had changed, but somewhere along the way what had started as an uneasy sense of companionship had grown into something more. It still felt surreal, especially when he would be totally absorbed in his work for days or weeks at a time. He would always come back to you eventually though, and if his shoulders seemed a fraction heavier you'd be there, to give whatever he needed. Neither of you had said it out loud but when you were alone, every small and private surrender spoke louder than words ever could.

Not that words are on your mind right now, because he's kissing you, nestled in a secluded corner of the library, the surrounding shelves hiding you from view. There is a quiet desperation to it, the way he presses in close, as if getting close enough would let you somehow absorb what's on his mind. Despite holding the collective unconscious of every living being, he is remarkably bad at outright telling you what he needs. It's equal parts sweet and frustrating, because he isn't shy, not precisely. Going outside of his function and asking for something solely for himself still doesn't come easy, but if there's one thing you've learnt from your time together it's to be patient with him.

"Will you slow down a bit?" You hold him gently back, giving yourself time to catch your breath. It's a gradual thing, but finally he simply rests his forehead on yours, eyes closed, his unneeded breath ghosting across your cheek. This is another thing you've noticed, the way he deliberately seems to make himself more human when he wants something from you. For a moment neither of you speaks, then you sigh and bump his nose with yours. "I can tell there's something. Talk to me?"

"There is something. I want..." he trails off, hesitating for a split second. The word 'want' sounds almost foreign in his mouth, as if it doesn't belong there. Wetting his lips he continues, still not looking at you, "I want you to hurt me."

"I can probably do that, if you elaborate a bit."

While things in that area aren't new to you, he's never asked for anything like that before. The thought doesn't lack appeal though, your mind almost instantly goes to bruises, marking his flawless skin. It's not much of a surprise when he frowns.

"How so? It should be fairly obvious what I am asking for."

You do your best to not roll your eyes at him. This isn't the first time he's been impatient and vague, so it's perhaps not entirely successful.

"To you, maybe. But I'm going to need a bit more detail than that. You want me to hit you? Or, I don't know, call you names?"

"Yes." He doesn't offer any more specifics, but at least it's a start.

"To both?" That gets you a nod, but not much more.

At least you know that he's not being coy or trying to be an ass, it's just...how he is.

"Fair enough. But let's keep it light for now. I'm not going to punch you in the face or get a cane out, especially not here." It's not clear if he had been considering either of those things as options, but better safe than sorry. "You good with that?"

"That is agreeable enough, for now."

"Great. So..." you peck his cheek before slowly kissing your way down the side of his neck, lips barely brushing his skin. "Do you remember that time on the stairs?"

"How could I forget?" He shivers almost imperceptibly at your touch, his lips twitching into a small smile.

"Then you remember what we agreed back then?"

He sighs, leaning back against the shelves.

"Nightmare." When he speaks, his adam's apple bobs and you have to fight the urge to chase it with your mouth.

"Good." You kiss him again, deep and slow. And then you slap him.

It's barely a love-tap, one on each cheek, just to test how he responds. It's only a small hitch of breath, eyes fluttering closed for a second, and he doesn't stop you. If anything he leans into your touch, daring you.

"Again."

At the next few strikes his cheeks gain just a hint of colour, and you can't help but wonder what the rest of his skin would look like, flushed and pretty, all for you. The next blow ends up a bit harder than you intended, catching his mouth. You half expect him to stop you this time, but instead his eyes gain a glazed-over quality as he spreads his legs slightly. You do it again a few times on each side, letting yourself be a bit rougher until his lips are puffy and red, his teeth faintly stained with pink.

"You alright?" You know that you couldn't hurt him any more than he'd let you, but it's hard keeping a tiny sliver of worry out of your voice.

"Perfectly," he grabs your waist and presses himself against your hip, letting you feel him. Even through those tight jeans he insists on wearing, you can tell that he's hard. "Unless you deem this a cause for concern?"

The cheeky attitude probably warrants another slap but instead you slide your leg in between his, guiding his hips with your hands.

"Go on, then."

He only hesitates for a moment before grinding down on your thigh. It's entirely undignified, the way the height difference forces him to slouch down, knees bent in order to get more friction. As he ruts against you until he's slightly out of breath it's easy to forget that he isn't human. When you finally take pity on him and kiss him, his lips are almost fever-warm against yours and the faint taste of iron lingers on your tongue. You run your fingers over the growing damp spot on his jeans.

"If you want something more you're going to have to ask." You give him one last slap. "Unless you'd rather stop now?"

"No." He's not quite squirming, but he's still trying to rub against you. "Touch me."

Knowing what he means doesn't mean that you can't tease him, just a little. Instead of giving him what he wants you slide your hand under his shirt, to the smooth plane of his chest. You can feel his heartbeat against your palm, as if nothing but his skin is keeping you from closing your fist around it.

"But I already am?" Trying to keep your expression innocent, you lightly ghost your fingers across one of his nipples, back and forth. When he lets himself feel he's always so responsive and this is no exception, the little nub stiffening readily as he shivers under your touch. Figuring that now's as good a time as any to experiment a bit, you do the same to the other side but this time you drag a nail lightly across it as well. That earns you a low moan and a twitch of his hips.

"You know very well what I meant." There is no real annoyance in his voice though, so you let yourself play with him just a few moments longer. It's almost hard to stop, especially when it's so clear that he's enjoying this. When you give him a pinch he lets out a small gasp, brows knitting together. "Touch me."

You take your time undoing his zipper, the sound of the teeth parting loud in the quiet of the library. Finally, his erection springs free, throbbing in time with his heartbeat in the cool air.

"Poor Dream," you trail a finger over him, all the way from root to flushed tip, "that looks uncomfortable. Would you like me to help you?" Not waiting for an answer, you tap his mouth with your finger. "Open."

This time there is no hesitation, his lips parting eagerly to let your finger inside. When you add a second one, he accepts that just as well, letting you trace the edges of his teeth and the soft slickness of his tongue. You sigh to yourself, pinching his nipple again, making him pant around your fingers.

"You look lovely like this, you know. One more." Not wanting to push him too much, you settle on three fingers, gathering as much of his saliva as you can before pulling them from his mouth with a wet little 'pop'.

When you finally wrap your slicked-up fingers around his length he lets out a long shuddering breath. He's nice and thick in your hand, skin soft against your palm as you stroke him slowly from root to tip. Swiping your thumb over the slit causes his hips to buck, and when you tighten the grip so the dripping head pops through the ring of your fingers the noise he makes is a wavering broken thing.

"The mighty King of Dreams," you tease, "all it takes to turn you into a useless mess is someone getting their hands around your cock."

For a moment he almost looks annoyed, but when you twist your fingers around him, his mouth goes slack and all that comes out is a breathy moan, eyes falling shut. As you keep working his cock, the rest of his composure crumbles until he's like putty in your hands, desperate little sounds falling freely from his pretty mouth.

"Somebody could walk in at any moment, you know." Your eyes flick between your hand and his face. "What would your subjects say if they saw you like this, leaking like a sieve for me?"

Every time he gets close, you dial the touch back until it's feather-light, denying him release until he's trembling against the shelves, the steady dribble of precome forming a small puddle on the floor. As his cock starts to swell again you squeeze the base, holding him off one more time. He makes a frustrated noise and ruts uselessly against your hand, body tense like a bowstring. Cradling the back of his head you thread your fingers through his hair, pulling his head back.

"You really need to come, don't you?" Kissing your way down his exposed neck, you can't help but smile at how easily he falls apart for you when he gives in and lets it happen. "Do you think you deserve it, though? Because I'm not sure."

"You would leave me wanting?" He really must be getting painfully close, his voice barely more than a rasp, "I have never known you to be cruel."

"Ask nicely and I might let you." You circle the tip of his cock with the pad of your thumb, torturously slowly, careful not to end it just yet.

"Please?" His voice is breathless but still too firm for your liking and you tut disapprovingly, squeezing around his shaft, teasing.

"Please, what?"

"Please, let me come." This time he sounds almost desperate, and you figure that's good enough for now.

"Come for me then," you grab his chin, forcing him to look at you,"but eyes on me."

Rather than finishing him off quickly, you keep your pace slow and steady, patiently working him until he's right on that razor edge. His eyes are unfocused and so dark that they're nearly black but he does as he's told, letting you see every small change in expression as he gets close. He has either forgotten exactly where you are or simply stopped caring because when he finally comes, he is loud. Despite your earlier quip, you weren't keen on anybody actually walking in on you, though. Slapping your free hand over his mouth, you do your best to quiet his moans as he spills all over the marble floor.

"Shhh, love..." You hush him as you stroke him through it, dragging his release out until he sags against your shoulder, utterly spent.

When he gathers himself enough to lean back against the shelves, there is nothing regal about him, all wild hair and rumpled clothes, cheeks and mouth high with colour. It suits him though, the satedness in his eyes and almost relaxed set to his shoulders.

"Still good?" You kiss his cheek and gently tuck him back into his jeans, taking extra care with the zipper.

"You." He pulls you to him and buries his face in the crook of your neck. With a deep sigh, he continues, "You...indulge me, more than anyone I have ever known."

"No more than you do for me." You stroke his hair, but rather than smooth it down, it just seems to make things worse. It doesn't deter you though. When he presses a quick kiss to the side of your neck your heart just feels full, of him and the words that, while unsaid, hang almost palpable in the air between you. With his voice muffled against your skin, you can't really hear what he says next, despite straining your ears. "I'm sorry, what?"

"I said, next time you need not be so gentle with me."

Next time? You can hardly wait.

[circulars-reasoning]

Recovery

“If you’re having this easy of a time with recovery, it means it wasn’t as bad as you made it out to be.”

A little over two years ago at this point, I began therapy for the first time. I was absolutely fucking terrified of it. I was terrified of opening up about the lie I'd clearly been living. I was terrified of a well-mannered person looking at me, listening to me, and saying "Is this way of viewing yourself really healthy?" And kindly and calmly explaining to me that I'd fabricated all that trauma, that my abusers weren't actually abusers -- that emotional neglect is more severe than what I'd experienced, and the reason I couldn't remember anything "bad" was because there was nothing bad to remember.

Instead, my therapist had one session with me, had me take a test to see the severity of my symptoms, and diagnosed me faster than I've ever heard of someone being diagnosed.

Just like that.

I have had so much integration since then. I can hear everyone clearly, without straining for it on purpose. I see my life around me, and I forget there's a whole life in my head that I used to spend 24/7 at until a friend reminds me of a time back then, and I remember who I used to be in full detail.

This week in therapy, we discussed my recovery. We discussed how I, as a part, am doing so, so much better than I've ever done -- and how I almost feel bad about it, because other parts aren't doing nearly as well right now. I'm not as depressed, I'm not as suicidal, and I have a lot of things I'm passionate about that I can rely on rather than harmful coping mechanisms -- and I talked about how other parts are more stressed than ever. "It's like they took the worst parts of who I used to be, because we're integrating now, so they have to carry the burden."

And my therapist looked at me, and said, "Why is who you used to be such a burden?"

Recovery hasn't been easy -- but I've definitely gone faster through some of these obstacles than I've seen others in my situation. I take the lessons and I absorb them like a sponge; in a matter of weeks, I completely stop spirals that would've wrecked me before, and push away relapse thoughts with a simple distraction rather than a mental breakdown. It hasn't been easy -- but god, is it easier than what I've seen my friends experience.

I look at my friends, and I see how much they struggle... I feel the need to express the struggles I've gone through. "Oh yeah, I was such a mess in college," I'd say. "I was such a wreck, constantly. My dissociation was so bad. I hated myself so much."

Why is who I used to be a burden?

Why is who I used to be someone I must kick down?

Will it really make me taller?

My homework for this week was very simple, and incredibly complex all the same -- and at the time, when he gave me the assignment, I had my doubts it was really as severe as he suggested. It wasn't until I got to the car with my partner of 6 years, and I told them about the homework that it clicked.

"He told me I need to be kind to my younger self, who I -- as a part -- used to be. He told me I needed to be more positive about that guy." "You know... I fell in love with that version of you." And I winced, because I wanted to laugh and cringe at what a mistake that was.

It clicked for me, today. How this connects to all that self doubt.

“If you’re having this easy of a time with recovery, it means it wasn’t as bad as you made it out to be.”

It always was just that bad. It was exactly as bad as I made it out to be.

But I was far better than I made myself out to be.

[hxhhasmysoul]

Okay so I have read this other translations where sukuna said kenjaku sealed his finger in yuji making him cg player by birth and to strengthen his body as host so yuuji carries a part of sukuna's soul . If you want panel I can send you.

What you said about reincarnations is right and gege also pretty much followed the similar route.

The hair thing yuji has might be because of assimilation of sukuna's finger in him coz body=soul and this kind of make me want to consider yuji as similar to cursed corpse... And we still haven't seen jin hair color and wasuke was old .

Another thing I was reminded by your ans was, it was always said maki chose HR and rejected jujutsu first by maki then sukuna implying she did it out of her own volition but when could this have happened, now sukuna's eating his brother in womb statement reminds me of a phenomenon in certain religion where they say babies retains memories and when in womb but forgets after their birth . I am saying this coz both maki and sukuna are twins so they might be conscious enough to do things while in womb.

Not to forget womb / pregnancy itself is a significant theme in jjk and of course womb realm...

Lol I am babbling at this point coz I am happy that yuuji is not twin and not even biologically related as I wanted him to be..

Your ask and this reply by @cursedvibes got me to reread what Sukuna says. His words may be mistranslated, the official translation isn't out yet and I don't have the raws, but he could kinda hung up on his first murder.

The hair thing was a joke, you're absolutely right that we don't know if Jin's hair is peach, I hope it is :D

As to the finger the translation vary whether the finger sealing and the culling games player things are connected.

But the womb thing.

I kinda think it's funny how Sukuna talks about his twin in some of the translation and I'm curious what it looks like in the original. He talks about consuming part of himself, but then the translation says "our soul" and "his soul". If he really use some for of "we" and a third person pronoun (gendered or not), it's really interesting.

He kinda bounces between acknowledging his twin as a separate being and talking about the twin like something that belonged to Sukuna. I also don't think he's ever before justified a murder he committed. He uses the circumstances as a justification, he puts blame on his/their mother.

He first says he rejected the fate of being a twin and it sounds like: I did it for power. As if he knee back then that being a twin in the jujutsu world sucks. So maybe he was actually conscious in the womb, he had memories, memories of jujutsu. Of course he might be rationalising here something the regularly occurs with twins, aka one absorbing the other without any conscious decision being involved.

But then he talks about self-preservation. He never says he killed his twin, he absorbed part of himself which also kinda sounds like a justification. If he sees the twin as part of himself, if it's "their" soul, he saved them both by consuming the twin. If he didn't eat his twin, all parts of him would've died. He and his twin.

He also seems to see Yuuji as a separate being from himself. A vessel made for him, for sure, someone related to him, but not like with his twin, not like a part of himself. Yuuji has inherited things from Sukuna's twin and Sukuna acknowledges it, but I can't imagine him thinking that he and Yuuji have the same soul.

He also doesn't seem mad that his twin's soul lead a separate life from him. And he doesn't seem to see it as his own life. It's also interesting how all his disgust and annoyance is at Kenjaku, he never questions that his twin had kids with Kenjaku. He never considers that his twin might hold a grudge against him, regardless whether it was how the twin felt or not. Is it him being selfish? Emotionally inept? Protecting himself from the thought that his twin might hate him? Thus from the thought that he'd done wrong by him?

It kinda makes me think he's got a lot of feelings related to the twin and to what happened between them in womb, consciously or not, and he's just refusing to feel these feelings XD

[pet-pet-peet]

I don’t know if my request got through, I’m sorry in advance if it and I’m wasting your time reading this. I asked for some platonic headcanons for azul, floyd, and malleus where they visit readers school in their world for the event. (Malleus uses magic to hide his horns)

Omg wait this is super cute! The Malleus part gives me vibes to My Inner Demons (Aphmau)

I am trying to go through my drafts and post the ones I had done, this will not be inspired by canon!

Story: They visit your school in your world with you for a week

Tw: cafeteria food slander from personal experience; lmk!

Pairing(s): Azul, Floyd, Malleus x gn reader going to their school (separate) (platonic)

𝕬𝖟𝖚𝖑

He stands out a bit because of his hair, but otherwise everyone sees him normally

For the most part- he does have moments where he’s caught being confused over a piece of history everyone in your world has learned-

Very interested in seeing how different schools in your world function, even if the differences are slight

He’s a little bit thrown off when he learns there’s no magic at all, makes him overly aware of his magic and when he uses it

He likes to talk to your other friends to get dirt on you, just in case he ever needs it

Probably becomes really popular through the time he attends your school

Also picks up the academics really easily, which makes the teachers like him

You have to tell him not to set up his deals in your world- he probably does so anyway, though

Hates your cafeteria’s food, it doesn’t taste how he likes and feels unhealthy, so he convinces you to either bring him food from home or buy him more (but he does it in an Azul way that’ll end up with him not being in your debt, probably makes deals with you to help you with something)

Probably has a lot of fun, learns some things he’s definitely gonna find a way to incorporate into his business practices

𝕱𝖑𝖔𝖞𝖉

He’s very clingy to you, so even if teachers want him to go somewhere else he’ll stay with you or force you to go with him

On the chance he’s not feeling the classes, he’ll ditch them and just wander around and explore the school grounds

He doesn’t usually feel like learning things from your world, doesn’t really see the point in it, so he probably just distracts you while you’re in class together

Stands out immediately, probably one of the tallest guys in your school so everyone notices him immediately in the halls. That on top of his hair and eyes, he becomes very popular very quickly

Drags you around in between periods to show you places he thought were cool hiding spots from teacher (he confirms he used them when you ask)

Even though he’s only there for a week, he gets random love letters everyday and makes you read them to him because he can’t be bothered to focus long enough to do so himself

Doesn’t mind the school food, but probably doesn’t eat much of it anyway cause it’s still not the best

Doodles on all the paperwork he’s given instead of actually filling them out; that said, art is his best subject in your world (Unless you’re also in a music class, then that’s his favorite and best subject)

Probably antagonizes some of the staff because he thinks it's funny, doesn't end too well for you though

Mixed bag, finds it incredibly boring some days, finds it interesting for others

𝕸𝖆𝖑𝖑𝖊𝖚𝖘

He makes sure to stick by the strict rule: he isn't allowed to use magic except to hide his horns and ears

He towers over everyone and quickly becomes notorious for it, if he didn't actively seek you out you'd probably never be able to get through the crowds that always surround him

His high class vibe gets a lot of people's attention, so he gets invited to quite a bit of parties for a change. He's pretty prideful of it, but usually forgets or just doesn't go cause you aren't going

He absorbs your history relatively easily, but will still ask you for more details on the different subjects you learn

Definitely almost forgot to hide his horns one day and you had to panic remind him before he left the apartment

Gets lost when walking around your school sometimes since he's trying to find any sign of gargoyles that may have been removed

Sometimes he just wants to ditch with you, the history of your world is fascinating and all but he wants to see it more instead of just hearing about it

Pretty sensitive when people try to tease his eyes and fangs, but hides it behind snarky remarks and sarcasm

Absolutely refuses to eat food from the cafeteria, also refuses to call it food. You have to bring him lunch or buy it from somewhere better if you want him to eat

Remembers quite a few of the stories he learned, both real and fake, and made sure to recite them to the rest of Diasomnia (he never clarified which were real or not. Have fun explaining to the gang that the Wizard of Oz doesn't exist)

[those70scomics]

Fictober Day 19: "this is getting ridiculous"

That '70s Show Fanfiction

Hyde was recovering from Thursday-night sex with Jackie. They'd both been too busy with work, too tired, to go longer than a half-hour. But he'd felt deeply the absence of that connection between them. Their mutual need finally overrode the stress from their daily lives. October nineteenth, 1989 was a date he wouldn't soon forget.

Now they were cozy together on their bed, enjoying each other's company a different way. Her head laid on his chest; his arm was draped around her waist, and his hand played with her fingers. This night would've epitomized the concept of perfection, but he didn't believe in perfection -- and the phone ringing validated his lack of belief.

"Ignore it," Jackie mumbled. "Machine -- "

But Hyde withdrew his arm from Jackie and picked up the phone on his nightstand. "'Lo?"

"Oh, Steven, you're awake!" Mrs. Forman said through the earpiece. "Is Jackie with you?'

"Yup."

"Then put me on the speaker-thing."

He grunted as he sat up. Jackie said, "Who is it?" He told her, and she also sat up in the bed.

"Laurie gave Red and me the most wonderful gift today!" Mrs. Forman's said through the phone speaker. Her voice was slightly distorted, but her elation wasn't. "A painting of herself -- pregnant! She's going to have a baby!"

Hyde rubbed his eyes but smiled. "Congrats on havin' your first grandkid in about nine months."

"Oh, it'll be a bit sooner than that."

"What?" Jackie leaned over Hyde's body to shout into the phone. "Laurie hid the pregnancy from you?"

"No, no. Donna -- "

Mrs. Forman stopped in mid-sentence, but both Hyde and Jackie said, "Donna what?"

A static-y breath preceded Mrs. Forman's next words: "Donna's a little jealous Laurie beat her to it. I called her and Eric before you. ... Speaking of you two, when do you think you'll give me a grandchild?"

Hyde and Jackie glanced at each other. He scratched the back of his neck, and she gripped the comforter tightly. Their silence must've gone on too long because Mrs. Forman said, "Jackie isn't getting any younger, and you don't want to be one of those dads people think are their children's grandparents."

"Me and Jackie are plenty young, man. Hell, I haven't even turned twenty-nine yet. My birthday's not 'til the end of next month ... and why am I justifyin' our choices? You'll get plenty of grandkids from Laurie and Eric."

"But, Steven -- "

"Love you," he said. "Talk later." He pressed the speaker button on the phone, hanging up on Mrs. Forman. She was his mom in the truist sense of the term, and he laid his head back on his pillow and groaned. "Well, now I feel like shit."

"This is getting ridiculous." Jackie curled up beside him. "Everyone's baby crazy lately."

"Yeah. Thought they were Halloween crazy, but maybe the Formans are keeping something from us."

"Donna threw up in the middle of our interview on Monday. What if she's pregnant already?" She brushed her fingers through his hair. "Our careers are our children. There's nothing wrong with that."

He turned toward her on the bed, and memories surfaced of their time with Betsy from when she was infant to a few days ago. "Maybe us havin' a human kid wouldn't be a terrible thing."

"I thought we agreed we'd be horrible parents. I'm too absorbed in my work ... okay, in myself. Like mom-and-dad, like daughter. And you're just as worried about being like your parents, the ones who raised you. Or shutting down emotionally."

"We've been too hard on ourselves, grasshopper." He stroked the side of her face and pecked her lips. "We went from skirting responsibility as teenagers to bein' hyper responsible as adults. There's a middle ground -- for everything."

Jackie studied her engagement ring. It glimmered in the ambient light from their bedroom windows. "We're not even getting married until next summer."

"So that gives us more time to talk about this. Does any part of you want a kid?"

She didn't answer at first. Her breaths grew fast, but she eventually whispered, "Yes."

"Got a few parts in me that've also changed their position."

'That didn't come out right," she said with a laugh, "but I know what you mean." She rubbed his bare chest and stomach but didn't go lower, which would've made his last statement literal. "You should get your record label set up and going. I've got to pull off my winter fashion show and the spring/summer collection it'll showcase. Then we need to focus more on their wedding. Then, maybe, we can think about having a child. If it feels more like a sacrifice than a gift to either of us, no."

Hyde grasped her hand over his heart. "Sometimes sacrifices can also be gifts."

[topazadine]

A masterclass in how not to market your books, in one singular tweet

Yes, I have redacted the username because I don't want you to go harass said writer. Don't do that.

Now, let's look at how we can learn how NOT to market ourselves using this tweet.

Stop trying to justify yourself.

Don't bother telling me that it is a "purposeful stylistic decision" because frankly, I do not care about your stylistic decisions, same as no one cares about my stylistic decisions when reading my books. I care about how I engage with the work. Your feelings as an author do not matter to me, and I know they don't matter to my own readers, either.

If you are constantly getting criticism for your prose being too dense, then that is a YOU problem. The market is telling you that your writing is unpopular because you're making it too difficult for the average person. Instead of doubling down and insisting that you are right and special and perfect, listen to the criticisms you're receiving.

Do not talk down to readers.

If you condescendingly tell me that "it's okay to look up words when you're reading," I am not going to read your books, even if I am perfectly capable of doing so. You have just told me that you think I'm an idiot. The last thing I need in my life is to be sneered at by an author whose product I have purchased.

I have a BA in British Literature and an MA in International Relations. To say that I am familiar with dense prose would be an understatement. Read some Robert O. Keohane and you, too, can hear your brain cells liquifying in real time.

And that's fine, because not only is Robert O. Keohane a celebrated scholar of international relations, he is explaining complicated concepts that involve a lot of moving parts. Your fantasy book should not be so complicated that I need to take notes so I know what the hell is going on. (I have ranted about this before.)

I will suffer through this kind of prose if I am paying significant amounts of money to do so. I will not struggle through this kind of prose if I am under no compulsion.

Unless your book is required reading in a class (highly unlikely), people are reading for enjoyment during their limited free time. It's one thing to have a few funky words here and there that are clear through context cues, quite another to litter your books with so many weird words that I have to spend half my time hunting through a dictionary.

Don't try to tell people how to read.

You, as an author, do not get to tell readers how to read your books. That's not your job. You don't have the right to patronizingly tell people to "take it slow." You provide a product, and then the readers take it from there and get to engage with it however they so choose.

Yes, I roll my eyes at TikTok girlies who say they skip long paragraphs or only read dialogue. I have the right to say I think this is stupid, but ultimately, I don't get to tell them how to read.

If that's how they want to engage with the product they have purchased, that is their right, same as I'm entitled to make bread in my rice cooker or turn my iron into a doorstop if I want to.

Your readers don't care about you, but you need to care about them.

You know those directors who have a clearly obvious fetish because they include that same thing in every single movie? Yeah, we laugh at them. We don't think it's cute and quirky, we think it's weird and gross. If you're forcing your reader to think about you constantly by interjecting your own opinions and needs into your work, it's off-putting.

A good book does not force you to think about the author at all. You are absorbed in the story and forget that someone even created this because it feels real. It feels genuine.

Yes, it's your handiwork, and your essence will be in it, but that should not be the primary focus.

Stop letting your ego get in the way.

Your readers are not sitting there going "waow, so cool" when you churn out a 500-page screed of PhD dissertation prose to talk about two elves fucking. They're probably thinking, "wow, this author is really far up their own ass."

Then they have a few options:

Continue reading because they think it will make them cool and intellectual to finish a self-important screed about elves fucking

Put the book down because it's annoying and they don't care

Grit their teeth and keep going even though they hate it because they are a completionist

None of those bode well for your reputation as an author. Except maybe the first one, if you are attempting to appeal to an extremely limited audience of pretentious nerds.

If you are trying to sell a book for profit, then you need to know what people want from a book they purchase. Clearly, the author has faced complaints about the dense prose, and instead of realizing they have a market mismatch, they make it everyone else's problem because their ego won't let them change.

The instant you feel the need to defend yourself against justified criticism, you have failed.

Of course, if someone misinterprets your work or uses it as their own soapbox, or attacks you as a person, then you are more than welcome to defend yourself.

But if you get worked up over someone complaining about your prose and condescendingly tell them that they need to just get good, you have failed as a writer. You've failed to tell a story people want to read because you just had to ensure everyone knew you're super special and smart.

I've seen a lot of queer writers do this, sadly: get sucked into stupid drama because of their ego and then turned a bunch of people off.

This person writes books that are within my genre and interests, but they've just told me that if I want to read a book for idle pleasure and not devote all my brainpower to it, I'm stupid and not reading it correctly. So why should I give them money to spit in my face and tell me I'm an idiot? No thanks, not my kink.

I will tell you right now that you're more than welcome to dislike my books. You can think 9 Years Yearning is the stupidest fucking thing you've ever read if you want. You can say that on the internet for everyone to see. In fact, I encourage you to. Leave a brutally honest review.

DNF it, tell your friends you didn't like it. Whatever. I can't control your thoughts and I can't tell you how to read it.

That's your right as a consumer. If I failed to tell a story you enjoy, that's my fault.

Will it hurt my feelings? Sure. No one likes to be told they didn't do a good job. I want you to like my work because I wrote it for people to enjoy. I made up these little guys and put them in a situation, hoping you'd experience a fraction of the happiness I feel when writing.

But ultimately, I know you don't care about my feelings as the author. You care about your enjoyment of the work and your experience, as you should.

Don't listen to authors who talk down to you and imply that you're stupid if they write a book whose prose style you don't like. They're speaking from a place of ego, and that's their problem, not yours.

[be-my-ally]

Autumn Leaves Falling Down

(Like Pieces into Place)

I've inserted the sneak peak/1st part from last week into this to make it easier to locate and read, so if the first 1k reads as familiar that's why.

summary: it's autumn 1972, and Elvis' girl on the side, Laura (from All Revved Up), who is no longer the girl on the side -- has come to stay at Graceland. There's the Memphian, an attempt at a trip to the morgue, and Elvis in a sweater - oh, and smut.

wc: 7.6k

warnings: 18+, kissing, making out at the cinema, there's an argument with Red that results in a gun being drawn but doesn't go off, mentions of dead bodies, p in v sex. this could probably do with a ton of editing but i am fundamentally lazy.

the memphian scenes are totally inspired by @whositmcwhatsit’s The Gate Girl — I've avoided rereading the past couple of weeks to try and forget it but i’ve read it upwards of 55 times and i think i’ve absorbed it all into my brain as fact - and really, she does it much better than me so everyone (if you haven't) pls go and check it out.

October 19th 1972 Graceland.

It’s quiet as Laura pads down the stairs, suspicious of the silence in the house - hoping that Elvis hadn’t actually up and left her on her own. She hadn’t bothered to get dressed, hoping to find him quickly and work out what she should wear today, and besides, it was early - knowing him they’d end up back in bed soon. But she hadn’t really anticipated having to go all the way downstairs before she could call to him. She wraps her arm around herself as she looks around, it’s the first time she’s been cold at Graceland, really she’s only been there a handful of times anyway - and last year in the colder months he’d had her over in Palm Springs. Sure, he kept his room at a frankly ridiculous temperature but under the warmth of his heavy comforter and arm she barely felt it. Now though it feels as though there’s a cool breeze running through the house. The late summer having certainly given way to autumn, bronzed leaves starting to fall off the trees.

Elvis is nowhere to be found as she peeks around doorways and arches, and she wonders if she should give up and just wait for him to show up in the bedroom - but she’s sure he’d have woken her up if he was leaving, so he must be around here somewhere. She’s grateful there’s carpet in the kitchen for her bare toes when she creeps around the corner, the breeze suddenly stronger. The mystery is quickly solved; the door to the hallway flapping from the exterior door being left open. Laura huffs as she slams them shut, but it does at least explain where they’ve all gone (and why it was so breezy in the house). She looks down at herself, considering if she was prepared to venture out, but it’s just this side of too cold, and besides she’s pretty sure Elvis would flip out at her parading outside in just her silk robe. She heads down to the den, intending on just getting a little glimpse before going to get changed.

She quickly spots some of the guys, as she peeks out of the glass, but they’re all just a little too far to the side for her to see everyone. She leans against the windowsill to help her stretch to peer as far as she can out, tiptoes rubbing into the plush green carpet. A football comes flying and Joe comes running past, red-faced and struggling to breathe in an attempt to catch it. She can’t help but giggle watching him as the collection of men come trotting around the corner to join him. Elvis at the end of the group, looking pleased with what had clearly been his throw. Laura leans as close as possible to the window, ducking her head under the little curtain, appreciating the look of him having fun. He’s practically bouncing around outside, dressed casually in a way she hasn’t really seen before - his velour zip-up looking particularly cosy. He’s a little thicker than he was in the height of the summer and in Laura’s opinion it looks good on him; she’s a fan of how he’s styling his hair at the moment too - the slightly longer shaggy length of it that seems to look like he’s either just combed it into a gentle swoop or like he’s been rolling around on it. Both looks make her tummy flip if she looks at them for too long. He’s foregone his tinted glasses, whether because it was overcast and therefore the light manageable to his eyes, or simply from fear of the football being thrown Laura didn’t know. She could, however, just from looking at the set of his shoulders tell that for once he seemed untroubled. As calm as he could ever be, his carefree attitude was evident even from a distance. He spots her at the window after a couple more passes, his face lighting up as he jogged over to the window.

Even though Laura was watching him she still startles when he taps the glass, through the decorative metal, grinning at her. She beams back - thrilled at his happy face.

“How’d’you sleep honey?” He shouts at her, muffled but still audible, she giggles in response - shaking her head at his antics. She’s pretty sure she’s somehow alone in the house, but she wasn’t about to start shouting through a window at him. He folds his arms, leaning back to look her up and down, frowning suddenly and insistently tapping the glass again in mock outrage.

“Get dressed!” Laura shakes her head again, teasing him and watches as he signals something to the boys who all jog off to one side. She’s too distracted by all the movement to notice Elvis himself disappearing, until the door slams open. She stumbles, caught in the drape when she attempts to whirl herself around - but before she can right herself there’s an arm suddenly wrapping around her middle, holding her tight and close. Despite the plush velour rubbing against her back, she can feel the chill on him; they must have been out there playing for a while already.

“Jesus Elvis! You’re freezing!” He shakes his head, laughing and shoving his cold nose into the crook of her neck, “Elvis!” She tries to dance and wriggle out of his hold, but he has a surprisingly tight grip onto her.

“Not my fault Lor! Y’gotta get dressed, honey, catch yer death runnin’ round like this!” He tugs her away from the window, bundling them towards the middle of the room.

“Didn’t need - didn’t need to before.” His hands brush up her sides and she squirms as he tickles her. “‘Fore someone kept shoving their nose places it didn’t be-” Laura yelps when his nose makes another appearance, now with accompanying snuffle-snorting noises. “-long!”

“Oh yes you do. Can’t have you like this -” Elvis holds her with one arm, the other hand trailing down to brush across her bare thigh, large hand parting her robe and pushing up her nightgown. Laura involuntarily clenches her thighs and immediately feels his huff of laughter as he feels it. His voice lowering as he leans closer to her ear, the gentle vibration sending goose-pimples across her skin. “Not like this.” He flicks at the hem, now high enough to send a gust of air across the crease of her upper thigh, just the threat of exposure enough to make her gasp.

He smooths the fabric back down, mock outrage back in his voice; “Anyone could see you!” As if he wasn’t the one exposing her. He prods his long fingers into her tummy, making her crunch in an attempt to squirm away from his tickling, giggling the whole time.

“No, no!” She shrieks, “No more! I give!” He stills his hands and between gulps of air she tells him, “I’ll get dressed! I give.”

“Y’better!” he growls against her ear, squeezing her tight to his torso for a long second before releasing her with a grunt. Self-satisfied smile on his face when he pulls her around to face him, her own rosy cheeks matching his. He flicks at the hem of her nightgown again, shaking his head at her.

“Go on then.” He turns her to the stairs, slapping her behind as she stumbles calling out to her as she heads up the stairs and back up to his bedroom “Hurry! Want you to be my little cheerleader out there!”

So, Laura hurries. She gets ready as quickly as possible; dabbing on a little makeup and brushing her hair. She’s casually dressed when she heads back down towards the back door - jeans and a ribbed rollneck, fully expecting to change again later in the day. She grabs one of Elvis’ coats out of the coat closet on the way, wrapping herself in the thick fabric and liking how it fell past her knees - she’d really not been prepared for this early fall chill, having brought with her light jackets and layers instead of anything with a focus on warmth. Elvis grins over at her, pretending to throw the ball at her when she finally exits the house, and she giggles back at him, standing to the side of their playing space,

“Gimme a E!” She shouts at him, and he roars with laughter, shaking his head as he loudly tells the boys;

“Oh, you’re in for it now! Got my little good luck charm out here, haven’t I? Where’s all your missus’ huh?” Jokingly shoving and jostling as they come in closer. The game continues - seemingly some sort of bastardised version of football wherein it was every man for himself, and Laura contented herself with watching from the sidelines, every now and again giving Elvis an encouraging cheer at what she hoped was a particularly decent run or pass. It was growing a little boring watching by herself and she wondered where all the other wives and girlfriends were, if they’d had other plans or turned down an invitation to watch - or, as she hoped (despite her boredom) if she’d been specially invited out to the boys-only impromptu game. But Elvis looked happy, practically beaming at her every time he ran close by and so she was more than happy to burrow into the lapels and collar of the large overcoat, enveloping herself in his scent while she watched on. It’s only about ten minutes later that he runs past and pauses, hands outstretched,

“Aw, Lor, baby, I’m all chilled to my booones, you gotta warm me up ‘fore I freeze!” He tries to shove his cold hands up her sweater and she shrieks, dashing away from him -

“Oh no you don’t!” He pouts, arms crossed, and she shakes her head, “Not gonna work this time mister, you’ve got icicles for hands, and you can keep them to yourself!” Elvis huff in a faux put upon manner, and calls the boys in;

“C’mon guys, I’m gettin’ bored of kickin’ all your asses… and ‘m hungry - let’s go have somethin’ to eat and warm up a bit.” Laura goes where he nods towards the house, slowing to let him catch up with her and letting him curl his cold hands onto her warm stomach from behind as they walked in together.

Hours later, after the afternoon light had turned to darkness and they’d spent the day fooling around in the house - if she didn’t know better she’d be wondering where all their energy was still coming from - Elvis was again calling for her to get dressed so they could leave for the Memphian.

“Maybe you wanna get changed sweetheart? You know, into, uh, just something, you know, honey, just, just a bit more, uh, flattering…” He’d followed her up the stairs, and she found it hard to be annoyed at his disparaging comment towards her jeans when he’d playfully chased her into the bedroom. Laura shrieked and danced out of his hands, screeching when he got close enough to dig his fingers into the sensitive flesh just above her knee. She careened through the door and they both fell together once he tackled her when she was close enough to the bed.

They ended up rolling around on the bed for a moment, both laughing. She allows him to pepper her face with kisses, rolling on top of him to return the favour. He clings to her, unwilling to let her wiggle off of him even when she tries to lean back fearing she was squishing him. “Elvis, you’ve got to let me get offa you; I bet you can hardly breathe under me!” He rolls his eyes, flexing his forearms as he squeezed her even tighter to him,

“Can’t breathe! I’ll show you can’t breathe.” She can practically feel her ribs cracking and she yelps,

“Elvis!” Elvis laughs, releasing her, making Laura relax on top of him, sinking against his body. She leans back to observe his face, running a gentle hand over his cheek, stroking the side of his intense eyes and trailing it down to trace his plush lips. He playfully nips at her finger, growling and she blushes at how the noise immediately sent her tummy into somersaults. She feels herself tingle at the sensation of his breath on her now damp finger, and her eyes slip closed for a long second. When they reopen he’s staring at her, mouth slightly open, eyes lidded and she no longer cares about being on top of him, his hands sliding down her sides to hold her as she bucks her hips, manoeuvring her to slip her legs on either side of one of his. She grinds down, tangling her fingertips into his sideburns as she captures his mouth again. It’s delicate for one short moment before they both seem to sense an urgency in the situation and she suddenly feels like she’s a willing victim being devoured, his tongue and teeth everywhere all at once. She pulls back to catch her breath, and he chases her lips even then, kissing the side of her mouth until she recaptures his. He ruts up against her once, twice, before stilling and rolling her to the side - Laura lays there panting,

“El, what’s? what’s wrong?” She pauses, she doesn’t want to embarrass him but she can’t help but ask, “Did you - did you, uh, finish?” Elvis smiles a little bashfully, eyes crinkling at the sides as he shakes his head,

“No, no, honey, no just, just gonna save myself - be better later if we just wait; I’ve got plans for you this evening, jus - just lemme hold off for the mo.’” She nods, it makes sense, even if she impatiently wanted him now - and she whispers as much against his jaw.

“Want you all the time, want you in the morning, in the evening in the - god, Elvis, I just - I want to be here all the time, want you right now.” He rolls them so he’s leaning over her, caging her in with his arms and wrapping one of his legs between hers.

“You got me darling, you got me - we just, I want to make it special, tonight - just, just cool it baby yeah? Gotta,” He leans forward into her to kiss her, pressing his mouth hard against hers, tongue licking into her long and slow, before pulling back, breathing heavily again. Elvis reluctantly stood up. “Gotta get ready now. Get ourselves looking uh, presentable.” He cracks his back, stretching his arms and Laura feels abruptly cold at the loss of his warm body heat, panting as her heartbeat slows and the throbbing between her legs cools to a faintly warm glow.

—------------

Laura stares at her hair in the mirror, pinning half of it up, brushing through the rest gently, trying not to lose too much of the volume from the day. Her mousy roots are showing from where she dyes it near-black and she absentmindedly makes a mental note to ask if Elvis knows where she can get some dye, or if there’s time for her to go to the hairdressers. He’d already left for downstairs, having gotten changed unusually faster than she had and left the bedroom long before she was done in the bathroom, telling her,

“Take your time, baby, ain’t going nowhere without you.” She’d blushed at her own reflection at her reaction to his words - it had clearly been a throwaway sentence for him, not something she should take to heart and yet she couldn’t resist it. It was too much, too soon, too close to everything she wanted that she could practically feel it fluttering around her head, feeling herself locking it away tight in her chest. It had been on the edge of every interaction with him the past couple of years, the knowing that she was kept around for a reason, and that she kept coming back for a reason. She’d never been much of a fan of the men in Vegas; they were all too lecherous and desperate – even those that weren’t there to partake in all the sins and pleasures. The few dates she’d been on with guys she’d met while working out there had ended fast, and often slightly uncomfortably. Elvis wasn’t like that though. She’d thought he might be, expected he would be - had rolled her eyes at herself when her stomach flipped at his fingers calling her over. Had lain in bed telling herself it was just her stupid crush from years ago rearing its ugly head, making her see things that weren’t there. She wouldn’t ever even see him again, and don’t be stupid Laura, he probably wasn’t all that nice anyway. Besides, he has a wife and she knew enough not to get involved.

But somehow, her feelings and heart ruled over her sense and before she knew it her life revolved around him in a not unwanted way. She’d not had to worry as much about the men in Vegas then, they could behave how they wished — her dating life that had previously been slim was pared down even more, too anxious that she might be out when Elvis would choose to call and she’d miss him or have to explain where she was. It meant dates were few and far between, but as much as she thought herself a terrible idiot - she couldn’t bear to let anything get far enough that she might have to turn Elvis down.

She shakes her head at the reminiscence, it's been years since that first encounter during one of his early residencies. She’s getting too emotional about it now she’s allowed to be here, tangled in the domesticity of Graceland life, allowed to be photographed, and publicised. She just needs to stay in the moment, worry about how her feelings are getting involved when she gets home - she’s only here for a month, she should just make the most of it. She finishes getting ready quicker with that in mind, rushing through her make-up, a voice in her head telling her not to stupidly waste time. Before long she had her mini dress on and shoes quickly buckled before she headed down the stairs.

Laura had seen photos of Elvis when he was younger, knew that he wasn’t opposed to knits, it just wasn’t something she’d yet had the good fortune of witnessing. But there he was, sat on the couch in the music room, waiting for her and everyone else to be ready. Open V neck knitted sweater with a little collar. She stilled in the hallway, reluctant to break his silence. He’s just sat there with his thighs spread and his legs stretched out, arms across the back of the sofa, his eyes closed and head tipped back. She must make a noise, or something, because he suddenly jolts his head up to look over at her. They make eye-contact and she freezes even more still, trapped in his intense gaze. He looks well, like she wanted to climb into him and never crawl out, cuddly and soft and yet thick and masculine. Laura swallowed, her hands shaking a little, as he pats his thigh. How ridiculous that something as little as that could make someone so nervous - she’s just about to take a step towards him, ready to curl into the plush fuzzy softness of his sweater and tangle her fingers in the similarly plush fuzzy softness of his chest hair when there’s a sudden ruckus from seemingly all sides as all the other men and woman, ready for a night out, suddenly appear. Laura mourns the loss of her cuddle, but Elvis’ hand in hers as he effectively shows her off on their way out makes up for it a little.

The step out into the late evening air was even chillier than the day, Laura shivered in her thin jacket - it was downright unseasonable for Tennessee in October to be this cold and she wishes for the second time that day that she’d thought to bring a heavier coat, but then the heavy thump of Elvis’ arm comes down around her shoulder, enveloping her in him. She finds she doesn’t mind the cold so much then, able to enjoy the scent of the wet, crisp fall air and how it just feels different to the summer within the warmth of his grasp.

They’d filtered into the Memphian and Elvis immediately grasped her wrist, pulling Laura with him. He ignored the hustle of the others to head straight up the stairs to the balcony, she goes where he leads - he’d taken her to the Crosstown the last time she’d been in Memphis, so she didn’t really have much choice; not knowing where he was going beyond the ‘balcony’ sign on the door. The door slams behind her, and she jumps at its loud echo in the empty movie theatre.

“I didn’t wanna ‘embarrass you ‘round the guys, I just, uh, want you all to myself.” He pauses while he shuffles down the aisle, “Figured this way,” He settled himself into a chair one row back, in the very centre, “this way you can - “

Elvis suddenly realises she hasn’t followed him down the aisle and laughs, “C’mon, darling, what’chyu standing out there for?” Laura hurries down to him, and he clasps her hand as she gets herself comfortable in the seat next to his, bringing it to his lips. She blushes at the feeling - it was so startlingly romantic that she can’t think of what to say, her heart beating like a hummingbird’s. He settles back into his chair, dropping her hand to stretch his arm across the back of her chair. A couple of the others come thundering up the stairs, laughing and joking, but they go silent when coming through the doors, taking seats right along the back wall - Laura’s head turns to see who it was but Elvis’ hand from her chair blocks its path, two fingers pressed against her cheek as he cups her face - keeping her looking directly at him.

“Don’ worry about them - they won’t bother us none.” She nods, unable to stop herself leaning her head further into his hand — he smiles softly - cheeks crinkling into his eyes. His hand falls to stroke at her shoulder,

“There we are. Now, what was I saying?” He pauses, “Oh, yeah, if - this way if y’get scared I can cuddle ya.” He pauses, “You’re alright with a…. uh…. slasher flick aren’t ya?” He prods her far shoulder.

She nodded enthusiastically, although her head was ringing alarm bells - she wasn’t normally a huge fan of any kind of horror. She lived alone - life was scary enough without worrying about x hiding behind her doors at night.

But any reservations Laura had were quickly lost when after the title card came across the screen accompanied by some ominous instrumentals Elvis’ hand came creeping across to her thigh,

“You scared?” She shakes her head.

“Course not.” He nods, although his smirk suggests he’s unconvinced,

“Good, but just so you know - ‘m packing…. I could protect you from anything. ‘Specially a man.” He’s looking at her almost too seriously, and she feels trapped under his intense gaze, all she can do is nod.

“Of course - I know, I know you would.” He stares a second longer, before leaning back into his chair, and he indicates with his head the unoccupied seat next to him.

“Besides, if you’re just scared, I got my big ol’ flashlight with me too.” She nods again, not quite knowing what to say in reply - she can tell he’s waiting for her to speak though so all that spills out of her mouth is,

“That’s-that’s the police one, right?”

“Mmhmm… got it direct offa the sheriff.” She turns to say something else, but the opening scene starts to play and he shushes her, pulling his hand off her thigh, enrapt in the movie.

Clearly, it fails in holding his attention for very long. Mere minutes later he leans over, sighing, not bothering to try and keep quiet. She squeaks in surprise as his hands grip hold of her arms - tugging her, she scrabbles over the arm of the chair to go where he’s pulling her — arranging her to be sat on his lap. She looks around, suddenly coming to the realisation that at some point he must have shooed away everyone else from the balcony. He tuts, a finger going to her mouth in a keep quiet gesture when she opens it to speak, pointing at the screen as if telling her to keep watching. Laura does, but she’s lost track of whatever was going on and can’t find it in herself to care when she feels one of his hands curl around to creep gently up her uncovered thigh, the other gripping tight on her side, just below her breast. He teases her like that for a few minutes, although Laura’s lost all sense of time, too focussed on the tickle of his fingers and breath on her neck. She can’t take it anymore, turning to throw an arm around his neck, shifting on his lap to draw him into a kiss. Elvis pulls her tighter, fingers tensing, and she moans into him.

He tugs Laura’s leg a little, pulling her to be straddling his lap. She’s embarrassed almost, or would be if there were anyone around, to be sat on his knee like this, rocking against him and necking him like a goddamn teenager. She’s not done this since college, and he feels so different. He’s got solid thighs and sure hands, manoeuvring her and masterfully keeping his lips on hers - just the right amount of pressure, of tongue, and nibbling bites.

Elvis’ fingers slide up her skirt, toying with the fabric of her slip while his other comes around to palm at her like a teenager himself, hand roving over her breast. She gasps into him, pressing open-mouthed kisses to his jaw as she grinds against him. He seems to gain confidence at her reaction, moving to push the wide strap of her dress off her shoulder, tugging it low enough to reach the soft cotton of her bra. His fiddles with her nipples, pinching one just the tiniest bit between his fingers and Laura’s eyes roll back in pleasure. He bumps her panties with the other, but goes no further, moving to grip her back in an attempt to keep her balance on his legs.

She pants, uncaring now if she’s louder than the actors, gasping as he pulls away. She’s never been gladder he’s wearing a v-neck when she rocks against his thigh, leaning forward to suck a bruise against his collarbone. His hips dislodge her accidentally when the pressure gets too much and he bucks up, jerking her away. Laura’s fingers tangle into the fabric on his shoulders, her nails making little divots in the knit; he was going to have to have someone steam this sweater to get it straight again. He’s breathing rapidly against her cheek, hot breath tickling her nose,

“‘s no good baby, I got - I got plans for you tonight.” Laura grinds against him, unabashed at her wanton display.

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah baby, wanna,” His thumb rubs a circle on her hip as he slows his own jerking pelvis. “Wanna show you something. Something a lil’ spooky” Laura grins back at him, hand slipping down between them -

“Oh yeah, you got something you want to show me?” She attempts a particularly awful Transylvanian accent, “Something spooky you wanna show me?” She brushes her hand over the not insignificant bulge of his trousers, the outline of his cock clearly displaying he’d forgone underwear. He moans, eyes closing for a moment before he shakes his head, clasping her wrist and tugging her hand away.

“No, no baby, honey, I got, ah, lord, got something serious I wanna show you.” Laura pauses from her playful wriggling, curious.

“Oh yeah?”

“Uh-huh Lor, but, uh, let it be a surprise.” He pulls up her strap, patting her shoulder.

“A surprise?” She’s unsure now that he’s not joking about sex.

“You trust me, don’t you?” He’s looking at her so earnestly, lip caught in his teeth that she couldn’t dream of refusing him.

“Of course!” He pushes her off his lap, brushing himself off and straightening her collar when he joins her in standing up,

“Well then darlin’ let’s go.” He holds out a hand and seems to take a mischievous glee in practically running away; leaving the boys downstairs none the wiser to their disappearance. He opens the car door for her with an exaggerated wave and bow before trotting around the front to climb in himself.

They pull up to the nearby funeral home and Elvis starts to climb out of the car but Laura stays frozen where she’s sat, more uncertain than ever. “El I’m not sure about this,” He cuts her off,

“Nah baby, trust…you said you trusted me.” He leans down to peer through the door at her, “Don’t go lying to me now, doll, Cilla liked it - she told me herself it was uh, enlightening!” He’s tripping over his words in his haste to convince her. He’d mentioned his trips to the morgue before - endlessly fascinated with the spiritual and scientific notion of the still bodies. But Laura’s conflicted - she can’t help but feel it’s fundamentally disrespectful to stand there gawking at some poor person’s body but, on the other hand, the reverent way he spoke about the trips and his persistent aura of peace means that she can’t help but feel that it’s ok. As long as she’s with him. She nods, climbing out to follow him. He once again takes her hand, and the unease builds again the closer they get to the door - she was concerned before with the morality of going in there but now it’s her squeamish nature that’s starting to make her tummy hurt.

“C’mon hon, it’ll be good for you.”

“If you say so -“ She mutters back. He raps on the door that was now in front of them. There are no lights on, and she shakes her head,

“Elvis - I don’t think there’s anyone in there, they’re closed.” He tilts his head, frowning, as if confused that a door might remain shut to him before insistently knocking again.

“I got, got special permission, Laura, they - they can’t just lock us out. Hello?” He bangs on the window to the side of the door, he huffs, turning away when there’s a sudden loud crash from inside. Both him and Laura jump at the noise, both whirling back - Elvis jogs down the path, standing back to be able to see all the windows but still no light turns on to indicate anyone inside. He marches back up to the door, raising his arm to pound on it again but Laura catches his forearm, tugging it back to her;

“C’mon El - we’ll come back another night. I’m - I’m scared now, and maybe if they know we’re coming they’ll have the lights on…” He looks down at her, gaze softening at the way she’s quivering a tiny bit - a combination of the anticipatory fear, her jumpiness, and the cold.

“Goddamnit.” He swears, “Well, guess we’ll have to come back another night.” He makes it sound like his idea and accompanies it with a shake of his head. Laura had fully expected him to be more annoyed - and he is, somewhat, ranting the whole way back to Graceland; but thankfully less at the funeral home and his inability to sneak in and more at the movie they’d left. Blaming it for his rash idea to come here with no planning involved.

Most of the cars were already back and parked along the driveway when they got there; either the movie had finished and they’d all left before they started another, or more likely - they’d noticed Elvis’ disappearance and abandoned the movie all together. Red shook his head at Elvis as they walked in,

“Man - don’t you go looking at me like that.” Red baulks at the suggestion,

“I wasn’t Boss, wasn’t looking at you like anything, swear it -” Laura tactfully takes a step back, removing her jacket and taking Elvis’ coat in an attempt to remove herself from the conversation. She goes to the kitchen in the hope of finding someone to hand them off to, before taking a second to collect herself to be, hopefully, a calming influence on the raised voices she could now hear. She slinks back into the hallway,

“I can go where I goddamn like - you sayin’ I can’t protect myself?” Elvis’ waving his pistol in the air like he’s in a western, and Laura bites her lip to stop from giggling. Red’s backtracking now, his hands up as if warding Elvis off,

“Of course, I wasn’t - I wasn’t suggesting that I’m jus’ - just sayin’ you disappeared is all and what with the threats -”

“You hear about anybody threatenin’ me at home?” Elvis roars back, his finger inching ever so slightly to the trigger; Laura panics desperate for them to not get into this now - God forbid there had been a threat made, they’d all be up for hours while they reassessed the security. Red shakes his head,

“Well, no - but people move about, EP, they don’t just stay in one-” Laura takes her chance and steps in, lightly touching Elvis’ arm,

“Baby, I’m tired.” Elvis does a double take at her, completely ignoring Red still talking. “Can we go to bed please?” She blinks owlishly at him to convince him to leave it be, and Elvis seemed to relax, his tense shoulders coming down as he lowers his arm with the gun in hand. There’s a long pause,

“Sure, sure, doll, sure.” He gestures for her to go ahead, pausing at the bottom of the stairs, “Get him the fuck out of my house, I’ll talk to y’all tomorrow.” Elvis ignores Red’s reply, climbing the stairs himself. He shushes Laura when they reach his bedroom, fiddling with the security camera feed until he watches Red leave. He sighs, heavily, and shakes his whole body out, “Awh, baby, I didn’t - didn’t need to get all worked up like that, just - those assholes just don’t understand what it’s like to be me. I can’t be all, all, all cooped up like this all the time.” He whines, gesturing expressively as he talks.

“It’s ok.” She shrugs, running her manicured hands gently up his arm, “They can be pretty overbearing huh?” She presses her chin into the crook of his shoulder as he sighs, kneading his biceps. He sighs back at her,

“I know he’s just doin’ his job, but…” He trails off, taking another deep breath, “Anyway, enough of that now. I want to get back to the night - all m’plans were ruined tonight - you deserve well, you deserve the perfect night.” He turns in her arms, and Laura frowns up at him,

“Why don’t you let me worry about that. I’m fine, I’ve had a great night; such a shame about not being let into the morgue…. How about you let me take care of you?” He shakes his head,

“Naw, naw darlin’ I want to -” He cups her face in his hands, the size of his palms dwarfing her cheeks, “want to show you how much I like having you here.” Elvis tips her head up, bending over a little to reach her lips even as she’s stood on her tiptoes.

She’s enrapt in the moment, not really even conscious of his hands fiddling with her zipper on her back until she suddenly feels his fingertips on her bare skin, chasing the zip all the way down until it's falling off her on its own. His hand comes up to clasp her face to his when she moves as if to pull away, using his free hand to shove her dress to pool at her feet. He pulls back with a tug on her bottom lip, and Laura surges forward to hurriedly tug at his sweater - he takes the hint, pulling it over his head and Laura turns her attention to his trousers. He rushes to unhook her bra, even as he stumbles out of his pants, and it's only a few seconds later before her panties join her dress on the floor.

“C’mon now, honey, s’ok, just - just wanna love on you some,” He pulls on her wrist again, smiling almost shyly down at her naked form. Gently lowering her on top of the covers, he kisses her neck, gentle presses of his lips - every few seconds sucking down with a little more pressure in one spot, before moving to the next. He moves down Laura’s chest, one hand on her waist keeping her still, the other joining his mouth. He kisses across her breasts — capturing her nipple in his mouth, he wets it with his saliva, pulling back to blow his breath across it, Laura’s skin pebbling in response as she quivers. Her hands come up to tangle in his hair, and Elvis stills when she tugs just a little too hard - the sting sparkling down his spine. He pants against her, eyes closed as he rests his head on her chest, trying to regain any semblance of self-control so he could continue, his hands splayed across her stomach. The heat that had been building in Laura’s body all day is back with a vengeance, and already she can feel her heartbeat throbbing between her legs.

He presses little kisses down the soft folds of her stomach, and he grunts as he repositions himself up onto his knees. Laura takes a moment to drink in the sight of him - the way his hair is fluffed out from where her hands were just in it, the dark shadow that hints at stubble around his chin catching her attention, and below that a flush that matches hers colours his chest. She’s almost embarrassed at the little moan that slips out of her mouth as she follows, with her eyes, the thick patch of chest hair past his necklaces, and down, down his soft tummy before she rests them onto Little Elvis. Who’s already popped up to say hello, rosy and chubby. He takes her moment of stillness as his cue to go on and shifts one hand to tweak her nipple, the other going down to gently trail across her thigh. Laura gasps, urging him on. He dances his fingers across, hovering them over her until she’s about to beg. The moment his rough fingertip finally touches her she jolts, legs falling open even as her thighs clench.

“Oh Lord, you’re, you’re, Christ Lor, you’re ready for me already.” He strokes his finger up her wetness, adding a second to the mix to expertly spread her sticky folds. Laura tries to respond but all she can manage is a frantic nod as she struggles to find her words while Elvis busies himself with teasing her in little circles, dipping his finger in just the teeniest bit to gather more wetness and bring it back to circle almost directly on her clit. He’s got the same burning focus he does on stage, eyes blazing and his mouth open a little in concentration, pouty lips looking even more appealing in their bitten state. Laura’s eyes fall closed and she feels Elvis’ hand come back to her stomach, pinning her in place while his other plays with her, stilling her jerking hips a little. Laura doesn’t know what to do with her hands, but the problem quickly resolves itself when Elvis leans back to rub his wet hand over himself, before lining himself up and sinking into her hot, soaking, heat. Laura’s hands fall to grip at his shoulders, uncaring of her nails sinking into his delicate flesh.

“El-Oh, god, bit, bit of warning - next time, would be, ah, would be ni-ice.” She was ready but it didn’t stop her from feeling the stretch of him pushing into her. He pauses,

“You want, you want me to, fuck, come out?” He looks pained as he says it, and Laura grins,

“Christ no! Just, give me a-,” She wiggles a little, “No, no. It’s fine.”

“Yeah? You sure, honey? I don’t wanna - meant to be about you baby,” He says this, even as he can’t help but nudge further into her, his eyes begging her to say he can stay.

“Elvis. God, you can move.” He’s slow at first, barely rocking his famous hips, eyebrow quirking as he teases her.

“Yeah, baby? That - that what you wanted?” She groans, red-faced and sweaty,

“Elvis. Please.” It’s the magic word for a reason and he smiles before he concentrates again, his own eyes rolling back a little at the pleasure of it all as he builds up speed, rapidly fucking into her.

Laura rocks her hips into the air, legs shaking as Elvis brings his thumb down to rub directly over her clit, and their tight connection keeps her in precisely the right position even as her legs seem to flail. Her orgasm hits suddenly, and she falls off the precipice with a yell, mouth open and eyes wide as she catches sight of them both in the mirror, Elvis’ sweaty self-satisfied grin as he slows his fingers.

She shivers with the aftershocks, suddenly realising there were tears streaming down her face.

“Oh - Lord, what’s, ugh, what’s wrong baby, am I - am I hurting you?” He slows himself until he’s almost completely still, although, not totally. His voice strains with the effort of not moving, high-pitched, and Laura just shakes her head, “No - honey, I gotta know, you want me, you want me to stop?”

“No, no,” Laura sniffles, “‘s just, just a bit much - please Elvis, I want more.”

“Bit much?” Elvis takes her at her word and thrusts into her again,

“Just can’t get over you wanting me - ‘s just,” she moans, “just over, oh, overwhelming.”

“Baby, you feel what you do to me? What you done to me all day?” He pushes the hair from her face, staring down at her. She gazes back at him, glossy-eyed. “Awh, now baby, don’t look like that - you’re so pretty - Jesus, Lord, even,” He thrusts again, starting to fuck into her at a solid pace, “Even, fuck, even crying baby - makes your eyes all big, and your cheeks all rosy … god you look so fucking pretty.” He drags her even closer to him, his hands tight on her hips and waist, finger bruises being left - she babbles at him that he looks good too, pretty, and handsome and sexy. He doesn’t last much longer, maybe another thirty seconds before he’s shouting,

“Oh fuck, baby,” and his hips still, mouth falling open and his eyes rolling back as he groans. He collapses half on her, half on the bed and despite the almost overwhelming heat of him Laura welcomes the sensation of his heavy presence over her and the way he rubs his face on her shoulder. It should disgust her, the fact that he’s essentially covering her in his musk and sweat, but instead she finds it endearing, her pulse jumping in reaction to it. She kisses the top of his head and he responds by gently pulling out of her, rolling to one side. She tries to find it in herself to be brave, the afterglow making her bolder than she would normally be, but still not quite enough on her own.

“Can feel them cogs whirrin’ from here - did I not give you ‘nough attention?” He rolls over to face her. Laura shakes her head, taking a deep breath - it’s hard to have this conversation when she can literally feel his cum still sliding out of her, and she doesn’t know what she’ll do if he refuses.

“Elvis, can I - I want to stay here. Can I stay?” He pauses,

“For Christmas?” Laura frowns, starting to shiver at the cooling sweat and her stress at the discussion. Elvis tuts, rubbing her arm,

“Well, maybe? I mean I’d love to - if you’ll have me. But I mean, maybe that could - I’d really like to stay with you.” He hums, as if finally understanding what she’s getting at, there’s a long enough pause that Laura opens her mouth to say she didn’t mean it, explain that she was caught up in the emotions of the evening and she didn’t want to - honest, but Elvis beats her to it.

“Well, hon-ey,” He’s talking slower than normal, his southern drawl even more pronounced, “I don’t, I don’t see why not - I sure like having you around.” Laura turns to face him, finally,

“You mean it?”

“Wouldn’t say if I didn’t.” He says it sarcastically but he’s smiling softly at her and Laura grins,

“Oh! Thank you,” He strokes a circle against her arm, and she continues the only thing she can think in her mind that’s not just Elvis Presley agreed I could live with him is the next thing that comes falling out of her mouth, “I’m gonna need a thicker coat.” Elvis laughs,

“Baby, you wait ‘til Christmas - I’ll get you the warmest coat you’ve ever seen.” She smiles back laughing a little with relief, “Now, let’s get you warmed up again.” He rolls himself back over her and she giggles as he digs his fingers into her sides and his lips find hers once again.

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@thatbanditqueen @whositmcwhatsit @vintageshanny @ellie-24 @lookingforrainbows @literally-just-elvis-fics @missmaywemeetagain @peskybedtime @shakerattlescroll  @arrolyn1114 @from-memphis-with-love @powerofelvis @dkayfixates @18lkpeters @lettersfromvenus