#in all seriousness I loved worked there but like. I've read what some of y'all think it's like

[shadowed-dancer]

I hate flower shop aus because as someone who worked in a flower shop it is NOT romantic. 9% of your day is taking, making, and delivering orders, and 90% is cleaning flowers and trying to stay sane because it's Valentine's Day and your boss needs 12 dozen roses cleaned by hand by the end of the day. Also, yes, I said TWELVE DOZEN. As in 144. And that's just the red ones, there's 8 dozen yellow ones and 4 dozen white ones. Do you know how much my hands bled? Despite the fact that I was wearing gloves?

The final 1% of your day is sweeping up the leaves that evaded the garbage can, emptying the garbage can, and then slipping on more leaves because there's never not leaves on the floor

If you want to write an au, at least make it realistic

[beannoss]

So I've been thinking about them:

Specifically I was wondering what the moment was (if there even was a specific moment) that cinched it for Twilight developing feelings for Yor.

[Spoiler warning: this post references manga chapters not yet animated]

I think for Yor it's pretty quick. Like, this moment here:

Not that Yor fell in love with Twilight then (ymmv) or that she's fully aware of her feelings, but it's explicit that she felt connected to him here and attached in meaningful ways.

But for Twilight, it wasn't so clear. For a while I'd kind of decided that it just came over him slowly (and I think there is something to that) and that there wasn't any singular moment which stood out. But that didn't feel quite right. The more I thought about it, the more I thought there were two stand-out moments, only one of which Twilight actually (semi-)clocks.

The first, which I think passes him by entirely, is this:

In my view, this laugh is an entirely authentic response. I think he is, despite himself, delighted by this woman who 1. just unexpectedly saved him from being stabbed, and 2. did it by sending the guy flying across an entire alleyway.

This is accentuated in the anime, I think, by the jaunty, puckish music that makes up the first part of their marriage theme song. I am dying for the reappearance of this music in some fashion, btw, it's so fun and cheeky and I'm hoping foreshadows their vibe after various revelations and particularly when they start working together as Agent Twilight and Thorn Princess:

The second moment for Twilight, I think, is more subtle for all it's more impactful. Or at least, the degree of its importance passed me by on initial read/watch, and I think it's deliberately downplayed by Twilight himself. Because he does actually clock it but if he looks more closely at it, well... then he might have to do something about it. And maybe that something won't comport with what the mission needs, and then what?

It happens when Twilight first bugs Yor, and then poses with Franky as SSS agents to test whether she knows Yuri is with the SSS.

It's clear in the lead up that Twilight recognises he has some feelings about/for Yor, and he doesn't want to spy on her; he doesn't want to mistrust her at all. He has to convince himself to take seriously that she may be a potential threat.

And even then, the convincing only sort of mostly works, because he hesitates again:

Which is, by the way, bananas. At this point, they've been a fake family for maybe a handful of weeks? Twilight is an experienced, accomplished spy with a finely honed and necessary sense of paranoia. Of course he should be suspicious. Her brother is an SSS agent! Canonically, the SSS are both Twilight- and SSS self-described as Twilight's greatest existential threat. It shouldn't be a question whether or not to verify Yor's knowledge here. And yet.

We all know how the rest plays out. He decides that listening in isn't enough, he needs to confront her insofar as he's able. I wrote previously about Twilight's relationship with Anya and the pivotal moment for him in how his view of his relationship with Anya changes based on Anya's (and Endo's) choices. I think a similar thing happens in this scene with Yor.

See, it would have been enough for Yor to continue to deny, continue to not call on Yuri's help, to prove she didn't know, and to put Twilight's mind at ease.

Endo takes it further.

Y'all: THIS IS ABSOLUTELY WILD. It borders on levels of impulsive foolhardiness that Twilight should actually take as a negative for the person playing his wife for Operation Strix. Yor even alludes later to the problems this could cause!

The SSS are indiscriminate; if Yor was facing down actual SSS agents, first assaulting and then threatening them would 100000% land her in custody. Were it not for Yuri, it may even get her disappeared, based on how casually and frequently Yuri references having people executed. It would absolutely put the Forgers at risk, in general and in the implicitly sexist Ostanian society, because if Mrs Forger behaves this way, how does Mr Forger behave? And why can't he control his wife? The Secret Police are not known for their leniency, their modesty, their discerning, their temperateness, their mercy. They are known for the exact opposite of those things. And due to being a spy, Twilight probably knows they're actually much worse than even their public reputation.

And here's Yor saying: you can question me but if you threaten my brother or my husband, I will fucking end you. Bodily.

Of course, it's entirely in keeping with her character, and it's an entirely revealing moment of who she is. And I think this is the moment for Twilight. He's already been trusting her bit by bit, as he says above, intuitively. I'd suggest that maybe even more than that though, Yor taps into something Twilight deeply wants: backup. Someone and somewhere safe. Maybe we could describe a person fulfilling that role in an adult relationship as a partner...?

It's because he doubts his intuition (his wants, his feelings, things he shouldn't be countenancing) that we get to this point where he (overzealously) tests her.

She blows his test right out of the water.

The SSS are basically the group he fears most; this is reiterated throughout the story. He doesn't trust them specifically because of who he is and also just generally. He doesn't trust their judgment. He doesn't share their values or their priorities. He doesn't like them around. He doesn't like them looking. He doesn't like being anywhere near them. (Also, he's right.)

And here's Yor. Not only standing up to them on his behalf but actually going on active defence on his behalf.

(I pause here to note 'on his behalf' is a bit, mm, tricky, since it's actually technically on Loid's behalf and I have Thoughts and Feelings about Twilight & Identity. But for the sake of the impact of this moment on Twilight, we'll take it as writ that in this moment there's no appreciable difference between Twilight and Loid.)

I think from here on out, it's incredibly difficult for Twilight to ever doubt or distrust Yor. He perceives her as firmly in his corner, that if the chips are down — if his worst enemy and his worst fear come knocking — she'll be on his team, unflinchingly. He may not think there will be much she can do (heh.) or much she can offer given the power of the SSS and her civilian status (I reiterate: heh.), but it matters that he believes that she'll be by his side.

And you know what? He's right. She will be.

That isn't something he's had since he was a little boy. Even WISE doesn't seem to offer that to its agents, given Nightfall's thought here:

Twilight's had to rely on himself for decades and now here's this astonishing woman who will threaten the Secret Police for his sake. Of course he trusts Yor. Of course this moment widens the cracks in his barriers. And further: of course those cracks start to reach into those walls deep, deep inside that protect his heart. This is all before getting to other moments, like when he reflects on how Yor is creating a better world in ways he (thinks he) can never aspire to do himself. That she loves Anya openly, freely, with such dedication, to the point of sacrificing her own needs. That she just never gives up, she persists and persists and persists, always doing her best. That she reminds him it's okay to accept peace and to rest. That she wants and tries to take care of him... On and on and on.

Of course we get to this point:

I'm particularly taken with his body language a little later in the scene. He manages to get himself to sitting but he's still sprawled, open, even as he can't wrap his mind around what exactly is happening or why, and he's feeling vulnerable for all that. But at the same time, this is Yor. And she's safe.

In my view, if the Mole Arc hadn't happened immediately between this moment and the earlier where Yor declares herself unhappy, it would have been clearer how much stress he felt specifically due to Yor's apparent sudden unhappiness with their arrangement. The stress got subsumed (conveniently, ahem, Endo) into the stress and violence of the Mole Arc, but I think it rattled him pretty profoundly. It's also additionally why her warm greeting hit him as hard as it did: relief across multiple lines, such that he had to remind himself not to relax, despite Yor's apparent return to normal.

And there may be added layers to Twilight's reactions to Yor's bad moods due to his familial history, as pointed out by @unhappy-sometimes in this post; the inverse, of course, is that Yor's general good-naturedness would add layers to Twilight's sense of security with her. And the apparent loss of that, all the more devastating.

Rounding out the original moment though, I think this in many ways demonstrates the point:

Twilight throws away the bug. That is also wild. It isn't like that bug could only be used on Yor; it wasn't somehow modified to only respond to her person. It was a device that could be used and reused on different targets, on people who actually are worthy of being bugged, etc. But instead of pocketing it for later use, Twilight throws it away.

Actually: he not only throws it away, he crushes it first. Perhaps because he couldn't stand to have that particular device around, the device he used when he doubted Yor?

Seems kind of irrational, Twilight.

Seems kind of telling.

I mentioned my last Twilight meta about his relationship with Anya: in that, I suggest Twilight recognised entering into a compact with Anya, which subtly modifies, for him, the motivations around Strix. I think something like that happens here, too. If Yor is willing to go to such apparent extremes to protect him, he'll do his utmost to protect her.

I've had this meta in my drafts for a while, but I'm chuffed by this panel from the most recent chapter, as it kind of underscores all this by Yor's positioning of herself:

(Of course the point is there isn't a dichotomy: they'll protect each other, as indicated by Yor's if I had to choose: she won't have to choose.)

Back to Twilight, at this point, he can still justify all this as being within mission parameters. Of course he should protect Yor: she is an innocent civilian and if anything happens to her it would threaten Strix. But if/when this line is tested, if/when there comes a point where protecting Yor is actually the option that may put Strix at risk or put him somehow in opposition to WISE, then we'll see.

And more importantly, Twilight will see, too.

[bad268]

Hello my friend! I've recently discovered your work for the frog boys and also saw you have requests open (if this isn't true anymore I'm terribly sorry!) I was wondering if you could write something about Pezzy (and maybe the rest of the frog house included if you want) playing horror games with his s/o? Have a good day!

Scared in Love (Frog Boys X Reader)

Fandom: RPF/Miscellaneous

Requested: Clearly (I decided to make this part of [Blank] in Love. I could be read alone though. Thank you my friend <3)

Warnings: Horror games

POV: First Person (I/me)

W.C. 1027 (about 250 each)

Summary: Horror games are scary, who knew?

As always, my requests are OPEN

MASTERLIST // HITLIST

Technically can be read alone, but Part 4 <-

~~

Puffer (At Dead of Night)

“This is stupid! All we’re doing is running from a bald guy,” I laughed as I controlled the movements in the game as we ran between rooms. Puffer had been asked to play At Dead of Night. Despite knowing he did not like horror games, he agreed as long as I was there for it. Neither of us had heard much of this game, and so far it was pretty boring. “Am I supposed to lock this door?”

“Maybe? Isn’t the guy chasing you?” Puffer answered as he leaned closer to the screen. He broke his glasses recently, so he was blind for this stream, and that’s the main reason he asked me to join. “Wait, why is that light flickering?”

“Like I know,” I scoffed as I immediately moved toward it. Nothing happened. “See chat, y'all just be hyping up this game, and it's plain.” I turned around in the game and jumped in my seat as some random person showed up. “Holy shit!”

“Dr. Bose was accused of the worst crime possible,” Puffer joked with mock seriousness. “We need to go to the ground floor now to see the police lights!” He took over the controls, again leaning close to the screen to see.

“Maybe you shouldn’t speed run out of the room,” I advised.

“Nah, we’ll be fine,” And almost like Jimmy was listening, he jumped out from around the corner to kill us. Puffer jumped back in his chair, causing it to fall back.

“What did I fucking say!?”

~~

Pezzy (Doors)

“It’s Roblox. How scary can it possibly be?” were going to be my famous last words. I was sure of it.

“I swear to god if one more of these things pulls me out of the closet again, I will throw my controller at the screen!” I shouted as I died once again. 

“Welcome to the club,” Pezzy laughed, “It only gets worse.”

“I’m going to cry,” I joked as I respawned. “This is literally torture! I did not agree to do this!”

“Yes, you did!” Leave it to Pezzy to pull up the receipts in the form of a text you sent him a while ago. He briefly showed it to the camera before clearing his throat, and imitating my voice, “I doubt it’s even that hard. I bet that I could speed run it faster than you.”

“I don’t remember saying that sober,” I admitted as I ran through the doors, ignoring Pezzy’s laugh. “I really don’t. In fact, I think a certain someone stole my phone and texted someone while we were drunk. I wouldn’t put it past you honestly.”

“I cannot believe you would accuse me of such a thing,” Pezzy gasped as he put a hand to his chest. “I seem to remember you bragging about not being scared of anything. You’re eating your words now, huh?”

“Never,” I said definitively. It didn’t last long as, almost immediately, the red skull thing chased me through the rooms. “I swear! PLEASE!”

~~

Droid (FNAF Help Wanted)

“It’s not even that bad,” I laughed as I glanced at chat while Droid stood behind me playing Five Nights at Freddy’s: Help Wanted. I had played it before since I was practically a FNAF channel, so Droid made it his subgoal to play it when they hit 5,000 subs. Granted, he did not think it would happen that quickly. “Just wait until you get to the third game.”

“You’re kidding me!” He shouted as he frantically looked around the room. “There’s no way it gets worse than this! You’re capping!”

“Nah, you’re just a baby,” I laughed as a highlighted chat caught my eye.

“You should shove him.” it read. Thankfully, he could not read chat while in the game, so I took this as my opportunity. With a smirk, I stood up and walked around to stand behind Droid. Just as the music picked up in the game, I grabbed his shoulders and he was jumpscared. From me and the game as Bonnie jumped out at him. 

He flung his arms back to try and drab me, but I ducked and ran back to my chair. He pulled the headset off and immediately glared at me. He let go of the joycons as he pointed and slowly approached me. 

“I will murder you,” He joked as he leaned down to be at eye level with me. “I will threaten domestic violence live on Twitch.”

“Don’t threaten me with a good time,” I joked back as I raised my eyebrows.

“WOAH! WOAH! WOAH! Nah, don’t even!”

~~

Grizzy (GMod Horror Maps)

“I don’t like the squidward-looking thing or the witches,” I cried as I ran my character through the dark maze. “Why did you mod them in?”

“Because I knew you didn’t like them,” Grizzy laughed as his character followed mine around. “I can remove one of them if you want.”

“Please do,” I laughed as I purposely let myself get killed by Squidward, so I would respawn. Grizzy exited the game to fix the mod as I stayed on the call with him, entertaining his chat. Eventually, he got it changed but did not tell me what he put in. 

“Can I know what was spawned?” I asked as I reloaded the game. I had to update it since the mods changed, and I got stuck on the loading screen for a minute. I thought he would have told me at that point, but no. When I loaded into the game, I saw a hoard of witches immediately. I slowly looked over to Discord to see Grizzy’s face cam, and of course, he’s got that malicious smile. “I will murder you.”

“You always say you could outrun the witches,” Grizzy laughed as his character also loaded it. As soon as he spawned, he threw a bomb at the group. “I’m testing you.”

I screamed as I ran my character the opposite way through the maze, “What the fuck is wrong with you!”

“See!? It’s not so easy, huh?” Grizzly laughed as he watched my character run. ”What are you mumbling?”

“California girls were unforgettable,” I said a little louder than before as my voice got higher. “Daisy dukes bikinis on top.”

~~~~~

© BAD268 2024. DO NOT REPOST WITHOUT PERMISSION.

[giggly-squiggily]

AHHH REQUESTS I cant wait to read everything you come up with!!😭💖Since I can’t get these two out of my mind I’m going to try my luck with satosugu if any of this inspires you, feel free to switch it up in any way you like❤️

Gojo is being beyond arrogant and claims he wouldn’t even need Infinity to win a fight. Geto disagrees with “I bet I can make you activate Infinity in less than 5 minutes”

Hehehehhehhehe Yes! I love satosugu so much y'all don't even KNOW- it's been a hot minute since I've written for the boys! I've gotcha covered, friend!

CW: swearing

Cloud 9 (Taglist Peeps):

@thatbigbisexual29 @duckymcdoorknob @gladdygirl18 @baby-tickles2022 @cupcake-spice13 @rachi-roo @chibisstuff @imjusthere07 @sevenincubistolemyheart @riisada @sp1racle @happy-trenchcoated-impala

“You’re full of shit.”

“And you’re full of piss.” Gojo replied back automatically, grinning around his soda. “Seriously though- I could absolutely win in a fight against you- even without my limitless ability.”

“Sure- that’s why it’s still on now?” Geto cocked a brow, watching Gojo choke on his drink. “You can’t even release it when you’re around me.”

“That’s cause I don’t want to catch your ugly.” The white haired teen grinned, laughing when Geto punched him in the shoulder. “I’m practicing holding it up for hours on end. Mr. Masamichi told me to do it- said it’d be helpful down the road.”

“That makes sense. Cursed energy is like muscles- the more you work them the stronger they get.” Still- Geto didn’t like how smug Gojo sounded a few moments ago. “I highly doubt you’d beat me without it.”

“Bet?” Gojo grinned. Got em.

“Bet.” Geto stood, getting into a fighting stance. Gojo tossed his can into the nearest recycle bin before doing the same, rolling out his shoulders. “Any last words before I kick your ass?”

“Yeah. I bet I can make you activate infinity in less than five seconds.”

Gojo grinned, a feral expression. “You’re on.”

The time was ticking- Geto and Gojo sized each other up as they crouched like alley cats; ready to fight. Gojo let his invisible aura fade.

Then- Geto struck.

“Whoa- gotcha!” Gojo laughed as he was tackled around the middle, Geto holding on tight. Was he gonna suplex him? Please- he had this in the bag. “Take this!” He raised his arms for a two handed slam when-

“GAH!” Gojo yelped when he was pulled to his feet- suddenly weakened. “No fair! No fahhahahir!”

“Yes fair, you shit!” Geto growled in his face, smirking while his hands prodded up and down Gojo’s sides. “I told you I can make you turn it back on in under five seconds!”

“Ihiiht’s nohohot on yehhehet! Aheahhahaha- yohohoohu cahahhan’t juhuhust gohhoho and tihiihihckle sohoohmeone like thahahaht! Aheahahha Suuhuhuhuguuhuuhru!” The pale haired teen swatted and shoved at Geto’s shoulders, trying his best to knock him away. Somehow in the time he was practicing Infinity, Geto was buffing up. “Whhiihihy ahahahhre yoohohu sohoohoho heheahhahavy?”

“Heavy? Oh hell nah- you did not just call me that!” Geto growled more, mock offended by the comment as he drilled into Gojo’s ribs, earning an arch and a squeal. “I’ll show you what happens when you go around calling people heavy! Take this!”

“Aheahhahahahaha! Gehahahahha nohoohoho! Nohohoht theehehhe rihiihibs! Yohoohhou’re kihihihihling mehehehehe!” Gojo thrashed and writhed like a snake, his arms pressed against his sides as his hands pinched at Geto’s collarbone in hopes of revenge tickles. “Thahahahke thahahaht!”

“Eh-ehehehehe! Iihhit’s gonna tahahke a lot more thahahn a few tihihihickles thehehre to get mehehehhe!” Geto scrunched some at the feeling, doubling his efforts to get Gojo to use his curse technique. He moved to the deadly spot near his lower ribs, pinching rapidly with four fingers.

“AH!” Gojo all but exploded into mirth, arching against him and throwing his head back in mirth. “SUHUHUHUGUHUUURUUHUHU!”

“Yes, Satoru? You know what you have to do.” Geto felt pride swell within. He was gonna get him to use it!

Gojo made a last ditch effort- reaching for Geto’s hips just as the other began drilling two fingers into that terrible spot on his waist. It was a close call, but seconds before he could make contact, Infinity kicked in- properly stopping Geto’s fingers where they were.

“Yes! AHH!” Geto’s whoop of victory was quickly cut short as Gojo squeezed his hips, making him shoot back frantically. The other teen was gasping for air, a hand on his belly and the other over his eyes as he slowly composed himself. “Goohohtcha! I told you I could mahahke you do it!”

“Nohoho..I won.” Gojo sat up, recovering fast. “You said you could make me activate it in five seconds or less. That was way longer.”

Geto didn’t have a response to that, leaving Gojo to whoop in his place. “Take that! Whoo! Why…why are you smiling at me like that.”

“A win is a win.” Geto shrugged, earning an even more confused glare. “Sure- you may have won the bet- but I got to tickle you for way longer than I planned. So thanks for that.”

Gojo blushed- another small win for Geto. “Why you son of a- COME HERE!” Flustered, the white haired teen threw himself at him, tackling him to the ground and going straight for the hips- making Geto shriek and cackle near instantly.

He didn’t regret it one bit.

Thanks for reading!

[lokavisi]

So about two nights ago, I had a really solid conversation with Loki. A friend got some cues from him through their pendulum, we were both very confused, and then my wife (who barely gives a shit about the Guy lol) interprets this message so pristinely. It was like getting slapped upside the head when she gave her explanation. So I started free writing to continue the conversation more directly with Loki. There were a few big points made in this conversation.

First, he expressed frustration that, in spite of working with him for 4 years now, I still don't seem to "get" him. Like I keep coming to him to vent about some bullshit that's winding me up, he offers a suggestion to help me unwind, and then I brush it off or forget or just straight up ignore it. So he was like, "I've been telling you the same shit for 4 years now... It feels like you're just fundamentally ignoring all the parts of me that make me, ME." So...naturally I felt really fucking stupid and shitty.

Then he very lovingly affirmed that "this isn't me being facetious or angry or trying to put you down. I'm frustrated and irritated, yes, but surely you do realize by now that I fucking love you and you're stuck with me." This meant a lot to me more so than it might for others because my ADHD comes with mad rejection sensitivity dysphoria. Any time anyone says something that indicates some level of upset at me, my brain catastrophizes and breaks down because "clearly" it means they hate me. (This is basically never the case.) This leads me to the primary nugget of wisdom that came from this conversation.

I realized this whole time (once my wife interpreted the initial message) I was hearing him more clearly than I had in a long time. It was nearly as if a physical person sat next to me speaking. As the conversation was wrapping up, I made a note of this and asked, "Why do I feel l hear you clearest when you're frustrated with me?" We've had plenty of similar conversations, and when I look back at past moments when I simply couldn't deny the messages were coming from outside myself, he usually had some level of frustration with me. But to answer my question, he said:

"Because that's all you wanna hear. That's all you think you deserve. Even when you seek love or comfort and I provide, you don't always fully receive it. I try to be funny to cheer you up and you won't have it, just calling me stupid. You are terrible at receiving input that doesn't put you down or reinforce any negative thoughts you believe about yourself. So stop it. Seriously. Fucking stop believing bad shit about yourself."

He went on to talk about the rune readings I did for a bunch you on here (thanks again for the practice❤️), and how I should be pumping myself up from all the positive feedback I got from it. And we exchanged some jokes and "I love you"'s before calling it a night.

As per usual, I share my story in a giant block of text to remind everyone of what Loki reminded me: to not just take in the messaging that supports a negative view of yourself. Allow yourself to believe that you are the gods' gift to humanity. (I just heard him say, "Seriously. I do it all the time. It works wonders for your self-esteem." 😂❤️) Maybe that verbage doesn't have the greatest connotations, but the point is to think more highly of yourself. Believe in the power and confidence that you possess. Even if it doesn't feel like you have either of these things, fake it til you make it - until you realize they've been here this whole time.

I'm on this struggle bus, too, y'all. We're gonna find ourselves together. Hail Loki ❤️

[molinaesque]

Cooper Howard and Lucy MacLean's rare and wonderful dynamic (and how it's ultimately alright if they don't become "endgame" or whatever)

First off... I'm saying this as a HUGE ghoulcy shipper btw. I don't wanna hear about some bullshit about how "you just don't like the ship" or something dumb like that (have you SEEN the state of my blog??). I ADORE this ship. These are also ultimately my own thoughts. Do not be affronted if this somehow doesn't apply to your hcs. At the end of the day, this is fiction, nothing more.

Something I have to note on about the wonderful dynamic between Cooper and Lucy. Even if ghoulcy stays platonic, I'm fine with it because this is the closest dynamic to Jack/Liz from 30 Rock that l've seen, and if anyone's seen that show, you KNOW what I'm talking about. Let me explain.

Jack/Liz were two v complex characters that had so much chemistry but the way their "relationship" worked was so unique in that they were never romantic but they're WAY more than just colleagues/ friends, etc. There was literally an article titled like "why you'll never see this kind of relationship in television again" and ghoulcy has the potential to be that again which is still GREAT! It even goes on to talk about how they're COMPLETE AND POLAR OPPOSITES but the dynamic still works and how they feed off of each other in the only way no other characters can. The "dynamic" is THEIRS and theirs only. Seem familiar?

From what we're getting not just in the Fallout show but from interviews with the actors and creatives involved, we're already getting that special dynamic. However, I must stress that many of the comments and those interviews (imo) are sometimes taken TOO literally. The existing text and subtext of the ship is already abundant and ripe so I feel like not EVERYTHING has to be referred to the ship and the ship only. I know it's mostly funsies but I legit wonder if some of this is taken too seriously to the point of misconstruing an actor's words and getting tunnel vision JUST for the sake of the ship and ship only, in turn cheapening what is already there. Kinda like what I've seen with people having to vilify Barb further with unnecessary inferences to scenes that give her more layers (like questioning her genuine love for Janey and Cooper. She can be loving AND a villain y'all. Both things don't have to be mutually exclusive) EVEN THOUGH SHE IS CLEARLY VILIFIED BY THE SHOW BY THE REVEAL SO WHY MAKE UP STUFF? To "punish" her more?? Apologies but this kinda reads as "I need to prop up my ship further so I MUST degrade the other ship" even though it's again... SUPER UNNECESSARY (I must stress I've seen this on ALL sides of shipping/character stanning. Both sides suck when you engage in this behaviour). Have fun and faith in the strength of your ships (ESPECIALLY if they're not "canon" adjacent)!

Anyway, as I was saying...

Going back to 30 Rock, there's literally a scene in the show where they get married due to shenanigans, they get in a big fight the whole episode and in the end sit down and have the most revealing discussion with a councilor about why they're so much more complex than typical relationship. And another scene where they sleep in the same bed together and addressed why they never hooked up with each other and why that's okay. By the way, I was also a HUGE shipper of these two... But I was fine with how they ended up with because the story of their special relationship that makes them uniquely THEM was clear and concise. This did not stop me from reading fics where they make kissy faces. It is possible to do both and I think some ppl tend to forget this.

I'm not saying this for the antis (don't like what you don't like, but if you harass shippers then you can suck eggs and leave. This applies to shippers to non shippers too btw. Be. Nice.), I'm saying all this because I want shippers to not "despair" if the ship that they've become so invested in doesn't come to fruition (and not go overboard into thinking that writers should listen to whatever audiences want all the time, we've been down this road SO many times, it's terrible. Do we REALLY need to talk about how The Rise of Skywalker turned out the way it did due to unnecessary pressure from the loudest antis/asshats in fandom? I think not). Maybe this is also more towards the younger audience members as a cautionary tale because we old ass millenials have seen and been through this but didn't have the immediacy of social media at our finger tips, so it was kinda easier to not be as reactionary. I don't like playing the "you youngins don't know what it was like" card, but at some points it is just a statement of reality. Some of you are/were LITERALLY too young to have experienced this.

Ultimately, what I'm saying is even if ghoulcy doesn't become "romantic", I'm fine with it as long as they stay within the "something more/beyond definition" dynamic which is ALWAYS refreshing to see. Give us more "what are we"! Give us more "it's complicated"! Give us more "we can't be summarized in neat little boxes"!

As long as they don't end up in the pit of "one dimensional interpretation of the Found Family trope which is somehow only just Familial and in this instance Father-Daughter". Please, I BEG. Nothing wrong for people to like this dynamic, but to immediately categorize this into that box is just... Tiresome. You can make the same arguments about "shipping two living beings together on screen all the time" too for sure... But again it leads to my point of if we're going the platonic route how about we NOT just shove it in the same boring dynamic of Father-Daughter that if you want, can find in multitudes of other forms of existing fictional media.

Tldr; have fun but always remember this is all fictional media in the end where we play with dolls in a sandbox. Just remember to BE. NORMAL. and not forget this and start shitting in it and flinging poo at each other. That goes with relationships with creators of said media too. Do NOT become parasocial and expect everything to be catered to you. The creators want to tell a story THEY came up with in the first place.

LET THEM.

[f-imaginings]

Hi! First of all, I hope you're recovering <3

Anyway, I was re-reading Book of Bill and the Billford parts (if we can call them that) and damn. All the conversations they have in the book are so… KMKY to me, I mean, I'm amazed at how you've studied and understood the characters so well that now, when the creator thinks about how their dynamic would be, it's IDENTICAL to KMKY. I can easily see those scenes as a KMKY scene and I'm in shock.

Just, congratulations on the writing, seriously, you're an inspiration to me in writing and character study!

Hi lovely,

Thank you for the kind words! I'm all done at the hospital and I'm cheering! Nothing was wrong and it looks like I'm healthy for the most part BC the treatment is working well ☺️

Omg no one was more surprised than me reading the book of bill about their dynamic. Especially their banter! You can call me anything just don't call me late for dinner and get out of my head, you first! were some of the highlight reels for me. It was just such a fun book to read and I'm so grateful it reignited my passion for writing so I can come back and finish the fic!

I've had ideas for spin offs and sequels too since getting such lovely feedback on the fic. I have plans and ideas for characterisation that hopefully are fairly unique (I haven't seen some of these ideas done before) and I'm cheering that folks have been enjoying what I put out so far.

I have always cherished the positive feedback ppl have given to the fic (I reread comments like non stop) but to have gone from getting maybe 1 comment a month to all of this attention has been wild. I think ppl assume this was always a popular fic but it had a lot of silent readers. I had the same four or five ppl tell me they vibed with it but they were the cherished few. Now however I've had folks actually tell me that they're reading and what parts they're enjoying and its given me boundless energy to work on chapters and put in 100% so I'm doing right by y'all and giving you my best work. I really appreciate folks like yourself telling me what you like about it so thank you for writing in to let me know. 💛💛💛

[thegreatwicked]

FicRecs

Enjoy some of my favorite stories I've come across on Tumblr! Seriously, I LOVE these stories and I reread them A LOT!

Please note: Virtually ALL OF THESE STORIES ARE SMUT. That means 18+ content, and you are responsible for managing your internet consumption. Minors DNI.

FicRecs

DC Comics

Dance for Daddy by @matth1w LAWD. I love me some Roman Sionis fics and this one DELIVERS. Sexy, kinky, smutty I give it a solid Chefs Kiss.

Joy Ride and Let Me Make You Feel Good, The Intern by @littleredwing89 More delicious Roman Sionis one shots Joy ride is about teasing Roman as he drives and Let Me Make You Feel Good is about a sweet smutty cure for a hangover. And the Intern, a fuck buddies to lovers story, god yum. Reader inserts. Drool. Go forth read and enjoy.

Bait the Beast by @more-cardigan-than-womanLord help me, I found a new little gem. You cause a bit of a ruckus with Coblepot and Roman thinks you need a lesson.

Yours by @tarrenterror25set in the AO! Verse Roman is having some trouble during the holidays overcoming everything the Joker did to him, good thing he has you. Because he does. You're his now. Melt. Sorry about the mess.

Star Wars

Water and Rock by @split-spectrum I honestly cannot say enough good things about this story It follows Obi-wan/Fem Reader in the classic Master/Padawan troupe and it. is. SPICY. Up to twelve chapters which I have read MULTIPLE TIMES and it hits so hard. Go read this story it is sexy as HELL and gives you the feels. She's so damn good at writing Obi-Wan it hurts, but like in a kinky good way.

The Gift by @ladyinwriting18 I have already spoke at length about the fabulousness that is Lady in Writing and her amazing content. This one is a favorite! Its a Maul/Reader Insert and it is smutty sxy and kinky. Seriously if Maul is your fictional crush (Hi me too!), go read this.

The Three Princes Part One: The Oldest Profession by @thenightmarketofdathomir This writer is freaking legendary. I do not know the collection of words in my own language to describe the eloquence and sophistication this writer possesses. Just go. Go read this and you let me know if you're ever the same again. This gem stars our boy Feral and is a you/reader insert. Oh damn, this story makes me want things...

Birthday Wish, Romancing the Pages, The Write Seduction, To Create Life, by @jedianjakenobi Y'all, this author holds a special place in my writer's heart. She's a published author on Amazon and she's truly amazing. Her works are all Obi-Wan-centered and reader inserts. Birthday Wish is a birthday crush from your sexy neighbor, Romancing the Pages is a fake relationship/summer romance with a reclusive shy librarian (Ben) and a best-selling author, The Write Seduction is a professor Kenobi/writing student story and it is SPICY. And my favorite To Create Life is a Jedi Council green lights a baby-making program and who else is the reader paired with? Their good friend Padawan Kenobi. My darlings, my friends, if you like Obi-Wan smut then you are doing yourselves a disservice by NOT reading these.

Empty Me Out by @221bshrlocked reader insert/DOM Obi-Wan I'm tellin y'all this story NEARLY killed me. I've lost track of how many times I've readit. You're an entertainer and Master Kenobi needs information from you, so you give him what he wants and then he gives you what you want. Where it Wasn't massage therapy reader insert/Obi-Wan, do I need to say more? Pretty sure I melted into the floor with this one.

His Loving Satine by @waterlily707 I love reader insterT and OCs but these two Obi-Wan and Satine are a joy to read. Temporary paralyzed Obi-Wan at the "mercy" of a slightly dom Satine. Juicy, gorgeous, little bit of fluff. Love it.

Room 24 by @murdockussy Little angsty Obi-Wan/reader insert enemies to lovers in an undercover assignment-type situation. Spicy, dom Obi-Wan give. Me. More.

Tea with Lemon, Tea with Honey by @wickedscribbles an established relationship as a reader insert and Obi-Wan. If you want honey then you get to take care of a sick Obi-Wan and kind out you have a new kink, if you want Lemon then Obi-Wan takes advantage of said kink and whisks you away to another planet for some R&R under the guise of "work." Enjoy!

Actors/Characters

Ben Hardy

Hold Me Close, Don't Let Me Go by @stray-kaz God. This one shot is just sxy as hell, it's a Billy/Four fro, 6 Underground/Female Reader. Our boy comes home to one hell of an 'I missed you, I need you right now' welcome. GO read it. Right now.

Such an Experience by @rogermyreligionOk. Guys... FUCK, this is a hot little oneshot Roger Taylor of Queen/Female reader and OMG. Just go read it. I've officially stopped counting how many times I've read this. Smutty/Sexy. I'm dead.

Long Distance by @acciotwinzwinz. Y'ALL. Sit your asses down and read this Roger Taylor/Reader insert/You. It's fluffy, its sexy, its cute and the smut is -chefs kiss- Yes, I read this one a lot too.

For now, these are some of my favorites that I frequently reread because I love them. I'll probably be adding more, it's more than likely I've forgotten some...

[rafesbabyg1rl]

Hiii pretties! Welcome to my blog!! Please keep things positive and stay slutty my friends!!!

~If you have any requests, please feel free to leave it in my inbox!!!~

Masterlist: The Watcher (Part One, Part Two, Part Three...)

you can read the rest if you wanna like know more about me n shit ig

Hello!! I'm Kay, or K, kat, whatever you wanna call me. I'm literally just a girl. I am a freakkkk. I do be a bit of a stoner y'all, and I usually am high when I write, so if I make a mistake, I'm blaming that. I'm from the United States (unfortunately) and I only speak English. This is a safe place; I am always here if anyone wants to talk. I do not discriminate; I do not spread hate. I do not and will not tolerate hate or unkind behavior towards me or others here on my blog. Like seriously guys I have bad anxiety, so please be nice and don't make it harder for me.

This is pretty much solely for Outer Banks, Rafe Cameron to be more specific. But, feel free to talk to me about other things!

Other things I'm interested in/passionate about: Taylor Swift, veterinary medicine, Breaking Bad, Better Call Saul, The Walking Dead, 13 Reasons Why, Supernatural, Jurassic Park/World, Harry Potter, The Maze Runner, The Hunger Games, comedy movies (Seth Rogen & James Franco). I love cold weather, books, and cats. Music is life and I listen to a little bit of everything so feel free to send songs.

I AM a student, so just keep in mind that I may be inactive because I’m in CLASS or doing work; because I will prioritize that over tumblr (well, i try). Other times I’m inactive because I am sleeping, or because I’m busy with LIFE. I am not tied to my tumblr and blog. I’ve had only positive experiences here so far, but I know that fanfic writers are often mistreated by readers, but guys we are all just people.

If you want me to hurry up and publish new work, don't tell me that, just interact with my blog and compliment my writing and that will motivate me more than anything else ever could. Also ASK AND REQUEST PLEASEEE!! I really enjoy and appreciate new ideas and feedback from other people's brains. I also appreciate constructive criticism. Don't be mean about it, but if you dislike or disagree with something, tell me politely. I like hearing feedback and am always working on improving my writing.

Seriously y'all, please please PLEASE do NOT be hateful. Do that on your own time, not here. I will not tolerate unnecessary attitude and hate. I believe in forgiveness, and I know that mistakes and misunderstandings happen. I will treat anyone and everyone with kindness and respect unless I have reason not to (really hoping I don't).

Who do I write for? I only write for Rafe Cameron. However, I'm not opposed to writing a little or sharing thoughts about other Outer Banks Characters!

What do I write? I will write literally almost anything. There’s no such thing as too much for me, so request away please. ------ As for darker topics, I will write them. Actually, a large portion of my work will include darker topics/themes/kinks, etc. I will write sensitive subjects too. But just because I live for that shit, doesn't mean everyone else does so I'll do my best to include warnings on all my work for any content that might potentially be triggering for others.

(Small warning: mentions of my mental struggles and self-destructive habits) I've always struggled mentally. I've always felt as though the way my brain works is different from everyone else; like something is wrong with me. But after many many years, I now have a better understanding of myself and how my brain works. Not to dump this on y'all, I swear I have a point, but I have diagnosed depression, anxiety, and ADHD. These things are all a big challenge I face in my day-to-day life and are often the leading cause of why I may take longer to write and publish things. I may take breaks, so don't worry if I'm not active, I will be back at some point. And I'll try my best to update you guys on when I'm gonna be less active or vice versa. Another way my mental health effects my writing is because when I write, a lot of the time my personal experiences or feelings will end up incorporated within my work, since well, it's all coming from my brain. I mostly write for myself to express my thoughts and feelings, having others read and actually enjoy my work is just an added bonus. But personally, I have struggled with self-harm for about one third of my life. I often get ideas for new works revolving around this theme and may publish things about it eventually. Themes such as mental illnesses, self-harm, abuse, insecurities, EDs, suicidal thoughts, unhealthy relationships (obv), toxic household, etc. will have a reoccurring appearance throughout my works. So just be prepared, I guess.

And like I said before, if anyone needs to talk, I am ALWAYS here and I am a very good listener.

Everyone is more than welcome to message me or leave anything in my inbox. Whether it's to chat, request something, ask something, literally whatever is welcome!! (Except hate I don't fw that)

Thank you for visiting my blog, I hope you enjoy! As always, be kind and stay slutty!

[missmaywemeetagain]

Pink Scarf - Part 20 (Elvis/Austin!Elvis x Reader)

Character/Fandom: Elvis - Elvis (2022)

Requested: kinda

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

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

TW: SEXXXXXXXX. Dom/sub stuff. Angst (as always). Fluff (finally)? Medication/drug use/overdose mentions. Dub con mentions(sort of?). Cussing. Infidelity. Historical inaccuracies in the Vegas timeline. Priscilla doesn't exist in this timeline.  

Rating: Explicit/Mature (NSFW, 18+, so minors Do NOT Interact)        ||     Word Count: 15.2k (CUZ Y'ALL DESERVE IT)

A/N:  🎶And now, the end is near/And so I face the final curtain🎶

Babies, we are at the end. I don't know what to say other than thank you all so very much, thank you for you patience, and I'm gonna miss the hell out of Reader and Elvis and their stupid, mutual pining asses. (I'm not crying, you are!) 😭 Oh, and I highly recommend listening to Without Love (I Have Nothing) (1969) before reading the middle section here. I've included the first takes to the final master version because the first takes are stripped down & give more of the intimate feel I was getting at, but the final master is excellent, so I wanted to give you listening options! It'll really give you an idea of what the moment feels and sounds like! (I'm such a nerd, I know. Also, only Elvis could nail a song like this in a few takes, lord have mercy.)

I will write a short Epilogue sometime soon, so stay tuned! Also, I am very seriously thinking about publishing a physical book of Pink Scarf (and a Kindle version, too) BUT ONLY IF people are wanting and willing to buy it! It would likely include new bonus chapters/material. Please let me know in the comments, asks, or DMs if this is something you want! Like I said, I don't wanna do it if no one wants it, so let me know!

I sincerely hope y'all will stick around for my next projects as I try to get my writing career off the ground. Y'all are the OG's and the best fans a girl could ask for! 💗

If you so desire, you should now have the ability to tip my blog or different chapters in the story! Some of you have been asking about this, and of course, no one is obligated to do so! If you do choose to tip, thank you so much! I've never had anyone want to pay for my work before, so this is a big step towards my romance novelist dreams. 💜

Finally, I am so FREAKIN' GRATEFUL for every single one of you babies, honeys, and lil' mamas supporting me out there, YOU ARE EXTRAORDINARY! I didn't in a million years expect this kind of support and response for Pink Scarf, and your reactions, reblogs, messages, asks, and comments you've given me have been a blessing beyond expression. You all are the best community a writer could ask for! Thank you so much for your support. I am loving getting to know y'all better! I love every single reaction and comment and ask, and I'm sorry if I don't get back to them all as soon as I'd like but know that I love you all and am so excited to be making new friends! And a big "Hey, Y'all!" to our friends from Elvis Twitter, Elvis Discord, and Elvis Instagram--I see and appreciate you coming over to join us! 👀💋

If you feel so moved, please let me know what you think or how you're feeling (or send me asks)! I think I put everyone on the taglist who requested it, but please let me know if there are any issues or if I missed anyone. There seem to be some issues with tagging that I can't seem to fix, so please know I'm not leaving you out intentionally! Also, if you comment on a previous part that you want to be tagged, I might not always see it, so feel free to message me if I miss you!

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

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

(I did start cross-posting Pink Scarf to my AO3 account, as well as my NEW Wattpad account. so if you are so inclined, you can check it out/support me over there with kudos and votes and whatnot!)

Stop her, stop her, stop her…

The words echo in his head, but Elvis is frozen to the spot, watching your back as you walk out the door and possibly out of his life, feeling so raw he fears his heart might liquify and pour out of his mouth. The way you look so angry, more angry than he’s ever seen you, and so disappointed in him—it breaks his goddamn heart. Your vitriol paralyzes him, drying up the words that he can’t seem to tell you.

But he’s done it all for you, every stupid decision he made, he did in the name of love—and of keeping you safe and keeping you sane (you fuckin’ liar, you know that ain’t true, he lambasts himself).

“You screwed with our lives because you could. You and your fucking egomaniacal, insane, manipulative bullshit…” Your words cut like daggers into his skin. He wants those words to be utterly untrue, outright lies, but he knows—he knows—that you are not entirely off base.

And perhaps that’s been the problem all along: he doesn’t truly believe he deserves you. For all the reasons you spit at him and for the fact that he has ruined you in more ways than one.

But the one crucial thing you are dead wrong about is that he didn’t care, that he’d just fucked you and wanted to pretend it never happened. He may be many of the things you said—egotistical, manipulative, stupid for lying to you—but he loves you, more than he has ever been able to express.

If anything, he’s cared too much.

But you are convinced of the opposite and, stupidly, he didn’t tell you any different.

This is the thing that finally gets him moving. His heart thrums in his chest as he races out the door, desperate to catch up to you. He looks around frantically for you, barely processing the confused and pitied looks of the men around him and flies out the main door of the penthouse suite.

“Y/n!” he shouts, hoping he can salvage this because he needs you more than he needs air to breathe.

I love you, I love you, I love you! screams in his mind but not out of his mouth, for reasons he can’t entirely explain. He arrives in the hallway just in time to see the elevator doors close behind you.

He’s too late.

“Fuck!!” he screams, and without thinking turns and plunges his fist into the wall. Plaster and paint flake around the new divot and burning pain radiates up his arm.

He nearly collapses from the way his heart tears in two, the gravity of the situation hitting him all at once. He’s barely slept in days, what with taking care of you in the hospital, being wracked with worry, and then having to come back and give high quality performances as if life was normal. His heart is beating too fast and his limbs feel weak.

Suddenly, everything feels much too heavy.

His legs threaten to give way and he leans against the wall, furious at you for making him feel these things. But he is more furious at himself.

You didn’t even say you were sorry, you stupid fucker, a little voice berates him.

I have nothing to be sorry for, the stubborn part of him, the one driven by his ego, replies.

The inner voice laughs sardonically. You have everything to be sorry for.

“EP!” he hears Jerry’s alarmed voice from far away. But he’s beyond caring.

I’ve lost her, is all he can think as his vision blurs and narrows, After all this, I’ve still lost her.

Jerry rushes to his side, but the despair and fury within Elvis drives him back into the penthouse, causing destruction along the way. He barely registers tearing the rest of his room apart, only knowing that he needs some outlet, some release of these horrible feelings trapped inside of him. To purge himself of the fact that even with all he tried to do to prevent it, his worst fears had still come to pass. Distantly, he’s aware of the breaking glass and the ripping of fabric and the roaring sound coming from his mouth, but everything is unfocused and red in his mind.

Elvis does this until finally his body gives out and he collapses on the bed. As he comes back into himself, his heart is beating so hard and so fast that he’s actually a little afraid he will give himself a heart attack. Trying to steady his breathing, he looks up, and seeing himself in the mirror above the bed, he hardly recognizes the man lying there.

Self-pity descends rapidly. There’s no way she’ll ever love me after this. How could she?

Early in his life, he’d thought June had been his last hope of ever having a woman love him for who he truly is, stripped of fame, warts and all, but he’s long since realized that you are that woman. You are his last chance at having that kind of true love in his life. And now those dreams are dying right in front of him because of his own stupidity.

I’ll always be alone.

And with that thought, he closes his eyes and wishes he were anyone else but Elvis Presley.

*

The commotion outside his bedroom door has Elvis lifting his chin expectantly yet not hopefully. He’s spent the last three hours faking his way through his midnight show trying to push the horrified and angry look on your face out of his mind. Trying to forget that he let you walk out his door.

Needless to say, it wasn’t his best show, though bellowing out his feelings through the music was cathartic in its own way.

He’s not sure why he had frozen like he did. It certainly wasn’t like him to cow-tow in the midst of a fight, but he had promised himself in the hospital that he’d be gentler with you. Perhaps it was the shock of seeing you so completely furious. Maybe it was that you’d finally remembered what happened after so many years, unearthing his deepest, darkest secrets and mirroring them back to him in the worst of ways. Or maybe it was that so many of your words rang with truth, even though you’d misunderstood the core reasons behind his actions.

Either way, he feels like his heart was ripped out of his chest. Part of him yearns to do more self-destructive things, but instead he sits still on the edge of his giant bed, the one you should be in right now, trying to understand just how completely he managed to screw this up.

“Fuck you, Elvis Presley. It would’ve changed everything.”

Your words ring through his head again and again, like a broken record. What did you mean by that exactly? Because the crushed look on your face when you said it made it seem like you had feelings for him back then that if realized would’ve changed your relationship, and that sends a wave of heartache through him so strong that he feels like he might vomit.

“Jerry, I swear to God, if you don’t let me in there, you’ll be sleeping on the couch for the foreseeable future!” He hears Sandy’s voice through the door and closes his eyes, trying to prepare himself for what he thinks is coming.

The door bursts open and he opens his eyes to see Sandy storm in, Jerry looking incredibly apologetic and a bit mortified that he was unable (or unwilling) to stop his wife.

Elvis waves Jerry off. He knows he can’t stop the onslaught. Jerry raises his eyebrows in an, “Are you sure?” way, and Elvis sends him out with a look.

“You’re a fuckin’ idiot, Presley,” Sandy seethes, pointing at him once the door is closed behind her.

“Nice to see you, too, Sandra,” he responds wearily.

“Oh, don’t you ‘Sandra’ me,” she spits, then looks him over carefully, as if really seeing him. She surveys the disaster of the room, which he had completely torn to shreds after you left, then looks back at him. “You look like shit,” she adds matter-of-factly, almost as if she’s glad of it.

He can’t help shooting her a withering glare, but Sandy’s blood is up and does not falter under his gaze like most would.

“How is she?” he finally asks, dreading the answer.

“Well, let’s see…in the last three days her husband beat her up, her life imploded, and she just found out that her lover has been hiding some pretty crucial shit from her for over a decade. She sobbed for two hours straight and has been near catatonic since, so she’s just peachy, Elvis,” Sandy says sarcastically.

“Watch your tone, Sandra,” he warns, feeling his temper threaten.

“No, I don’t think I will, Elvis. Not when y/n is absolutely miserable and you are sitting up here doing nothing about it,” Sandy shoots back.

“This ain’t none of your business,” he says, vexed, standing and pointing a ring-clad finger at her. He likes Sandy, but he sure as hell doesn’t like her calling him out like this, not when he’s already been beating himself up about it.

Sandy laughs wickedly, “You made it my business the moment you let her tell me and started using me as cover for your lies.”

He can’t argue with that. Deflated, he runs his hand over his face. He is utterly miserable.

“What the hell were you thinking?” Sandy says, and this time, her voice is quieter, gentler. “How could you keep something like that a secret for this long?”

He doesn’t want to say and certainly doesn’t want to appear vulnerable, but the ache in him is so bad, he can’t hide it. And he knows for a fact Sandy won’t let this go. Finally, he relents.

“I-I-I was trying to protect her, to protect our friendship… I w-was terrified I’d hurt her, that I’d…taken her against her will, and I-I-I could barely live with myself. I couldn’t burden her with the enormity of what we’d done” he says.

“And what about pushing her and Jack together, all the interfering? How exactly does that line up, E?” Sandy asks pointedly.

Elvis clears his throat and looks down. That is not something he is proud of. He wants to say he didn’t mean for it to go that way, but it would be a lie.

“It wasn’t like that, not at first. By the time I realized how I really felt about her, Jack had already swooped in and asked her out. I had nothin’ to do with it,” he says defensively.

Sandy crosses her arms, not accepting that and waits for him to continue.

“Well, then…then I-I realized she’d be better off with a man who could give her the stability and the family she wanted. I couldn’t be there for her, not the way she deserved. My career was just takin’ off and I—well, hell, it didn’t even matter until that day at Graceland, and I was ready to throw it all out the window when I’d thought she felt the same way about me that I felt for her, but-but then she…the overdose, she didn’t even remember…How was I supposed to explain that to her, Sandra? How? How was I gonna look her in the eyes and tell her she came on to me and we made love on the floor and that it completely changed everything? Who was gonna believe that? You know as well as I that it would’ve ruined her!” he says, his heart pounding, voice quavering, and his blood up.

Sandy looks at him carefully. “You were afraid she didn’t feel the same way. And that she doesn’t now,” she states, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

His head snaps up to look at her, eyes wide and caught like a deer in headlights.

“I had to protect her. And I had to set her up so she’d always be taken care of. And if she was with Jack, I could do that for her, for them. They could be happy. I wanted them to be happy, I-I swear. I thought they’d be happy!” he yells, back off the rails, pacing the room like a caged tiger.“I-I-I could…w-w-well, if she wasn’t with me, at least with him I would always know she was okay, and I could see her and it wouldn’t be some random-ass man that I didn’t know or trust takin’ her away from me forever!”

Sandy stays quiet, her gaze intense and knowing, and just waits for him to continue.

“I-I-I needed her to still be in my life, Sandra. I didn’t know Jack would fall so deep into the hole that he’d throw everything away. I didn’t think he would ever, ever hurt her!”

The words of his confession ring out and then die. Silence sits heavy for a moment.

“Wow. I have to say, that’s some masterful denial there,” Sandy finally says harshly. “Did you really think it was gonna be good for their marriage to take him away for months at a time? To feed him women and drugs and then be like, ‘Ooops! I didn’t know! It’s not my fault!’? Really?” she adds cuttingly, but steadily.

She’s right and he knows it. And she’s pushing him to admit the one thing he’s not sure he can.

He wants to get angry. He wants to scream and throw her out for her audacity. Instead, he just feels a rock in the pit of his stomach, realizing the truth of what she’s getting at:

That he’d knowingly sabotaged your marriage and then, when it was really bad, he’d taken advantage of the situation.

“You need to own up to what you did and apologize, and then you need to tell her what you’re so afraid of, Elvis. I can’t emphasize enough how much she needs to know that you love her,” Sandy continues with conviction.

His mouth pops open and then closes again, wordlessly, at hearing his feelings shared out loud so easily when he’s been harboring them alone for so many years. “You didn’t see how angry she was with me, how betrayed she looked…There’s no way she feels how I do, not after this,” he shakes his head.

Sandy rolls her eyes and mutters something unintelligible under her breath. “Listen, I have a pretty good idea how pissed and betrayed she’s feeling. And I’m not gonna speak for her, but…” she worries her lip a little, “you two of you really need to talk about how you truly feel about each other. Without all the other shit in the way.”

Something in the way she says it gives him hope.

“You need to fix this, Elvis.”

“I-I-I don’t think I can,” he states, defeated.

“Oh, please. We both know you can do anything when you want it bad enough,” she smiles slyly.

Once again, she’s right. “Why are you helping me?” he asks.

“Because I love her, too, and she deserves to be happy. She deserves the best,” she says knowingly, “That and this mess has everyone on pins and needles. We all just wanna fucking relax.”

Maybe she’s right. Maybe he can salvage this. Just not right now. He is too exhausted and things feel too raw.

"Just...wait a little bit," Sandy adds carefully, as if reading his mind. “I think you both need a little breather.”

He nods.

“But don’t wait too long,” she says on her way out the door, her voice warning him of his worst fear: if he waits too long, he will lose her.

The door clicks shut behind her and silence falls once again. He glances at the bottles on the bedside table. As exhausted as he is, he’s still keyed up too much to sleep.

He doesn’t want to rely on the sleeping pills, in fact, he hadn’t needed them at all when you were in his bed, but his body craves them and he doesn’t have the wherewithal to resist at the moment. So, he pops a few down and waits for the drowsy effect to take hold of him.

When he closes his eyes, all he can see is you.

**

You are itching to play, yearning to feel the white and black ivories under your fingertips. It feels like it might be the only thing keeping you sane these past few days—this need to pour your entire heart into something beyond yourself.

Unfortunately for you, the only pianos you know of are in Elvis’ suite, on his stage, and in the rehearsal room. Two of those aren’t even options at this point. It’s bad enough that anywhere you go in the hotel, all you see is his visage, all you hear is his music feeding through the speakers. An ever-constant reminder of how stupid you are to have ever thought you’d be more to him than just a friend.

You can’t seem to escape him.

You are able, with little effort, to convince Sandy to talk Jerry into letting you into the rehearsal space. Both of them keep looking at you with kind yet sad eyes, as they’ve been witness to all your special humiliations these past few weeks. You suppose it’s good that you are not alone with this, but sometimes all you want is to scream bloody murder and get as far away as possible from Vegas, from Jack, from Elvis.

But you can’t go home, not right now. You learned that Elvis sent Jack back to Memphis to “get himself together” and that Red is his babysitter. But that means you can’t go back to Tennessee, not yet. You can’t face him with all this still up in the air.

So, you are stuck in the limbo that is Las Vegas. You have nothing of your own, no money, no way to get home even if you wanted to. You are exactly where you feared you would be: Alone and heartbroken and stuck.

You hadn’t counted on also being beat to hell, both physically and emotionally.

Which is why you are so desperate to get to a piano. It’s the only way you can get these awful feelings out of your system. You just need to lose yourself in music, in creating it.

But when Jerry lets you in to the large rehearsal space, you are not alone. Someone is already at the piano, their back to you, playing a mournful gospel-style ballad. Someone is already leaning into the keys and singing.

I awakened this morning, I was filled with despair All my dreams turned to ashes and gone, oh yeah

You frantically backpedal and look at Jerry in a panic, but he shakes his head only somewhat apologetically and will barely look you in the eyes as he closes the door, shutting you in with the very person you are trying to escape.

Damn him and Sandy both.

As I looked at my life it was barren and bare Without love I've had nothing at all

You lean your forehead against the door and close your eyes, not wanting to turn around and face him. Instead, you breathe shaking breaths and press your palms into the cool door in order

to not to let the intense waves of anger and sadness that are crashing over you drown you.

You’re not even sure that he knows you are here, his voice ricocheting and echoing throughout the large space. He sounds so consumed by the music that your presence may have gone unnoticed. You aren’t sure if you want him to know you are here or not, but either way, you are swept up into the music with him, your soul clamoring for any part of him despite your mind’s warnings.

Without love I've had nothing Without love I've had nothing at all I have conquered the world All but one thing did I have Without love I've had nothing at all

You don’t want to hear him, not at all (liar), but his melodic voice is hypnotizing, drawing you in with its rich baritone and crying tenor notes and possessed vibrato. And whatever headspace he is currently in has his voice sounding absolutely hauntingly beautiful. It makes you shiver. You are forced to listen, to hear the meaning behind the words.

Once I had a sweetheart who loved only me There was nothing, oh that she would not give, oh no

It's unfair, just how good his voice is at making you listen to it, more than just his words alone, making you hear his soul through the sound. You suppose that is his true talent: being able to pour emotion into a song in such a way that it transcends the music itself. With your eyes shut, it threads through your mind, simultaneously lulling you and making you want to weep. You know you are getting a window into his heart by listening, and it is telling you what you want to hear the most but are terrified to accept.

But I was blind to her goodness and I could not see That a heart without love cannot live

Oh god, oh god, oh god, your inner voice cries because you are suddenly and all at once bombarded with memories. His voice strips you bare, cutting through all the anger and fear and heartache, finally let yourself realize what your subconscious has been trying to tell you for a long time.

Echoes from both the near and distant past trigger inside your mind, your head aching with the residuals of the concussion. First, it’s your own voice, calling back to that moment on the lawn so many years ago, telling Elvis about how you knew Jack was the one: He’s there when I need him. He makes me feel special, like the only girl in the world. I know he’ll always take care of me. He is mine and I am his. Sometimes I almost feel like we were made for each other, ya’ know, like we were meant to be…

Without love I've had nothing Without love I've had nothing at all

Then, Elvis’ words flood your mind, flashing from one moment to the next:

“I just want you to be happy, baby. I wanna make you happy.”

“I take care of what’s mine.”

“You were made for me.”

“You belong here with me.”

“It’s meant to be…”

Your heart slams against your ribcage, making it hard to breathe. It’s like he’s been telling you all along, yet you’ve been too blinded by fear and guilt and the sheer impossibility of it all to truly see.

I have conquered the world All but one thing did I have Without love I've had nothing

 At all

The final phrase is nearly a wail in the most beautiful of ways, the last run falling away and leaving a hollow silence in the room.

The memories come quickly now, a barrage of feelings and images: A boy backstage nervous as hell and his smile as you made him laugh. His eyes searching yours oh-so-closely in a diner booth as you tried to get over Ted. His melancholy the night you got engaged. Dancing, no, clinging onto you at the wedding before his world changed completely, and then again that mournful Christmas he’d returned, when you swore that Elvis wanted you more than anything in the world.

It’s the same way he looked when you climbed into his lap and rode him that fateful, forgotten day at Graceland.

His words from the other day, the ones that felt so possessive and manipulative take on different meaning as the puzzle pieces finally click into place, one by one:

“You are all I’ve been able to concentrate on, ya know that? You’re all I fuckin’ think about. I want you. I want you to be with me. Be with me.”

“Baby, you have me, you’ll always have me. You’re mine, and I’m yours, and I’ll take care of you, no matter what happens.”

“Let me take care of you. Let me be your everything.”

“I thought I told you, honey—I always get what I want, and I think I’ve made it quite fuckin’ clear who I want.”

“I need you.”

You are nearly brought to your knees with overwhelm, breathing too fast as you cling to the wall, anything, to ground you.

Then, like a freight train, it finally hits you, finally clicks, the thing he’s still hiding from you.

You suddenly remember the blanket of Elvis’ warmth surrounding you as you turned cold, bleeding out in his arms. The way his crystalline blues were terrified and beautiful and pleading. He rocked you in his arms, begging you not to leave him.

“No, no, no! Oh, God, don’t—please don’t go…”

Your heart stops. And you finally remember.

“…I-I love you, y/n, please, I love you.”

He’s loved you all along.

All of his cagey behavior, his deceit, the manipulations, it wasn’t to mess with you. It wasn’t because he didn’t care. It was because he loves you.

Tears stream freely down your cheeks as you turn around to face him. And as always, he’s right there, right where you need him.

“I…I…” is all you can manage to eek out.

He grabs your tear-stained cheeks in his big hands, his azure eyes deep and soulful, looking at you imploringly, and he whispers, “I love you. I’m in love with you. I love you more than anything in this life. I think I loved you the moment you steamrolled me in the hallway at school.”

Shock courses through you at hearing the words come out of his mouth, right here, in the present. You let out a choked, tearful laugh. It cuts through the anger you still feel and banishes your heartache, letting a swell of warmth overtake you. Despite all your feelings for him, you hadn’t even let yourself truly hope that he could feel the same way about you that you do about him. And to learn he’d felt this way for so long without your knowing…it feels inconceivable.

“I-I-I…and I’m so sorry, y/n.”

Elvis Presley doesn’t apologize. He buys obscenely lavish gifts. He skirts around the subject and gets really nice with those puppy dog eyes, but he doesn’t apologize, so this in itself floors you.

“I-I-I shoulda told you…but I thought…,” he steels himself against the emotions that are so obviously plaguing him before continuing, “that I’d taken advantage of you when you weren’t yourself, that I’d hurt you. I couldn’t live with myself, y/n. The guilt was eatin’ me alive and goddamn if I was gonna subject you to that pain. And I figured God wanted me to take on that burden for you, that there had to be a reason you didn’t remember. You wouldn’t have to face your betrayal of Jack or your regret for bein’ with me. I thought I was protectin’ you, protectin’ us.” He stops there, voice trembling, eyes open and honest, and you know then that while it had been wrong of him to hide this from you, he had truly believed that he was doing what was best for you. As mad as you are, part of you hurts for him because he’d gone through it all alone.

“I knew I couldn’t give you what you deserved, so I went meddlin’ in your life in the selfish need t’keep ya close to me, t’have some part of you as mine,” he rambles, racing through the words, utterly focused on getting out what he needs to say.

“I just needed you in my life. And I-I-I need you now. I needja more than anythin’,” he keeps going, his voice still shaking and the pads of his thumbs caressing your cheeks before trailing down your neck and your arms. You can feel them shaking, too, a sweaty heat emanating from them as he grabs your hands in his. His eyes are stormy and grey and deep with emotion, pulling you in, forcing you to accept his words.

He takes a deep, steadying breath before continuing. “It w-was wrong of me to-to sabotage what you had with Jack. And then to swoop in when you were vulnerable—it’s unforgivable. And if ya can’t forgive me…well, I-I’m gonna hafta understand. But I-I-I hope you do, that you can. I know I ain’t always a good man, y/n. I try to be, but bein’ with me—well, you already know it ain’t easy, the way my life is…” he trails off.

Part of you wants to interrupt him, to shout your love for him to the heavens, but frankly, his words have you speechless. And you know by his demeanor that he needs to get this out.

Tears pool in his eyes as he struggles to go on. “I know it’s been hard on you, all this. And if you can forgive me, if you wanna be with me, I promise I’ll do better t’make this work for ya. You make me a better man, y/n. You keep me on the ground, and God knows I need that more than anythin’,” he chuckles a little at that before his face drops into something much more serious.

“Come back to me, y/n. Please, come back to me. I love you,” he whispers, eyes imploring you. He is so used to demanding, but this he begs of you.

You are outwardly quiet, though your blood rushes in your ears. You want more than anything to concede to him with these revelations, to fall haplessly into his arms, and any other woman might. Honestly, you would have, just a few days ago, but Elvis cannot erase the harm he caused you with these welcome words or soulful singing or puppy dog eyes. You cannot escape the feelings of betrayal that have permeated through you these past few days.

“Elvis, I…I want to trust you again. I really do,” you finally get out, “because…because I love you, too. I think I have for a long, long time.”

Saying the words aloud lifts a weight from your shoulders, making you feel almost lightheaded.  You were so scared to say them, to reveal this hidden part of you, and the way his face lights up in such a hopeful way, it almost makes you start crying again. He squeezes your hands so hard that it hurts. But you have more to say and can’t let this distract you.

“But my mind it—it made me forget. I don’t know exactly why or how. I think I was so afraid that I could never have you, that there was no way you’d ever in a million years have those kinds of feelings for me…I think I had to protect myself,” you explain.

An inner strength you didn’t know you had until this very moment allows you to keep going. You take a deep breath. “Elvis, I want to forgive you, and I want to be with you, I do. But I am exhausted. I am weary. And I am still angry at you, and at Jack, and at myself. I need a little time to figure out what my world is now, without the oppressiveness of Vegas pushing in on me.”

You look up at him, hoping he understands, hoping he is willing to give you what you so desperately need.

He blinks as if coming out of a trance, surprise and confusion and dismay playing out on his features so quickly. You know he expected something different from you, and as much as you want to give it to him immediately, you know you cannot.

“I need to leave Vegas, E. I need space. I want to forgive you, but I need to heal,” you say firmly, looking into his eyes, holding back the sob that wants to break through. You can only hope that he sees and hears the truth in you. “I can’t start a life with you like this, bruised and broken.”

He shakes his head, small at first and then in outright protest. “No, no, baby, please, I need you here. I love you,” he says with a mixture of frustration and pleading and hurt, grabbing your cheeks again.

Tears pool and fall freely now, but you stay resolute, grabbing his wrists. “No, right now you need to be Elvis Presley and finish this engagement strong. You need to show the world that you are back and to spread that joy of music and performing as only you can.”

“None of that matters, baby. No, I need to be with you. I’ll cancel the rest of the performances,” he says, leaning his forehead against yours, fighting you every step of the way.

“The hell you will, Elvis Aron Presley. That’s not what I want, not for me or for you,” you say fervently, pulling away to look at him, bringing your hands to his face this time. “You need this. Seeing you up there…you are more alive now than you’ve been in years. I know how much you love this and your fans—”

“I love you more,” he interrupts, and it both makes your heart soar and breaks it at the same time. You close your eyes briefly to center yourself before looking back at him.

“And I love you. But I need space, and you have to finish this. Once it’s done, once I’ve had time to heal and forgive, then you come back to me, you hear?” you say, unable to keep the emotion from your voice but keeping it resolute all the same.

You watch him struggle. You can see how young he looks all of a sudden and you know he’s afraid you’re abandoning him. You’re afraid, too, but if the two of you have made it this long, you can stand it a while longer. Ultimately, you know if you fall back into him now, you’ll always hold resentment and that will poison you both over time, and you can’t have that.

Elvis closes his eyes and nods once. “Okay,” he whispers, so quietly you can barely hear it. A lone tear streaks down his cheek.

“Okay,” you whisper back.

He kisses you then, so softly, so gently, that you can’t help but lean into it. The chaste kiss is mournful and longing and hopeful all at once. It’s a kiss that is laced with the possibility that it could be the last one. You desperately hope that isn’t true, but only time will tell.

When you both pull away, you can feel the tether between you, the one that has always been there, tighten.

“Will you go to Hillcrest?” he asks, raising his eyes to yours hopefully, but it is more an offer than a question. The house in Beverly Hills is his home away from home.

You consider this and realize, other than going home to your parents (who you don’t quite feel ready to face yet, either), it’s your only option. It’s also a concession that will keep you connected to him, and you are comfortable giving him that. With its gorgeous views and serene setting, it will be a perfect solace.

“Yes,” you respond, and he seems sated by that. “Thank you,” you add quietly, then before you can second guess yourself, you tear yourself gently from his grasp and walk out the door.

Graciously and swiftly, he has Jerry take care of all the arrangements. Sandy is set to join you, and once you are both packed and ready, Jerry takes you to the airport and sees you both off.

Before he leaves, Jerry stops you. “He wanted me to give you this,” he says quietly, then opens your hand and places something soft in it.

Surprised, you look down, and see the familiar pink silk scarf folded there. You haven’t seen it since Jack ripped it from your neck that horrible night. Your fingers close around it. The message is clear: The ball is in your court.

“Send it when you’re ready for him,” Jerry adds with a knowing look.

You nod. You put the scarf in your purse.

Elvis Presley loves me, you think as you sit on the plane, but that feels trite, knowing other women have been able to say the same at some point or another.

Elvis has loved me since we were teenagers. He’s in love with me and has been all this time.

Now that is something that sends a thrill right through you.

You reach into your purse and run the silk between your fingers.

When it’s time, I’ll know.

**

Four Weeks Later

The hot California morning sun beats down on the umbrella that shades you. You had been reading and wanted to get some fresh air, the cold of the air conditioning giving you a bit of a chill in your white sundress but you cannot help but close your eyes drowsily as the heat swallows you like a blanket.

The last month was restorative, to say the least. It had been such a relief to get out of the stifling cacophony of Vegas, and it had allowed your brain to rest and recover from your concussion. Your bruises healed, and Sandy was there to both listen and have a good time when you needed it. You talked and thought through all your memories, working to understand both your reasons and Elvis’ for the way things had gone for your entire relationship.

You hadn’t heard from Elvis, as he was taking your need for space seriously, but Elvis’ lawyer had visited a few times, drawing up divorce papers that surprisingly took you a few days to sign. Not because you didn’t want to, of course, but because you had to fully process all that had happened and what it all meant to you. Sandy sat through your crying and guilt and shame like a champ, supporting you wholeheartedly once you finally picked up the pen and signed away your destructive marriage.

Once the lawyer had called back a week later saying that Jack had signed the papers, you felt like a new woman. Like you could finally start anew. Part of you had expected more of a fight out of Jack, but you did not dwell on the reasons he might have signed so willingly.

Sandy had headed home to Memphis to join Jerry once the Vegas engagement and resulting celebrations were over. You sent the pink scarf with her, with instructions to give it to Elvis only once you called her to do so, once you were finally ready. She’d smirked and rolled her eyes but was happy to do it all the same.

“Whatever I can do to finally get you two idiots on the same page,” she’d said lovingly.

You’d called her last night.

You can’t help but feel nervous. Even though a month was certainly not the longest you two had gone without speaking, this time it felt poignant and heavy in another way entirely. Your thoughts ran away from you at times: What if he’s changed his mind? What if he met someone else in Vegas?

It was possible and even probable that he’d been with other women since you left. You know how he is, and a man like him is not liable to change overnight. But you’ve spent most of your relationship with other people, and he still loved you after all this time, so even if he had been with someone else, you doubted it meant anything at all.

Of course, it still sends a red heat of jealously through you all the same. You push the thought as far away as you can, swinging your legs off the lounge chair, puttering back inside.

The cool air hits you like a wall of ice, and you close the sliding glass door quickly, goosebumps raising on your skin.

“Y/n.”

The familiar drawling baritone freezes you in your tracks. As your eyes adjust to the darkness inside the house, his tall frame becomes apparent across the living room and goosebumps rise over your skin for an entirely different reason than the cool air.

He looks incredible, magnificent even, wearing a silky white button up, the buttons undone at the top to reveal his tan chest, a pair of perfectly tailored black pants flattering him in all the right ways. But most significantly, the pink and black scarf is draped around his neck.

“Elvis,” you whisper, your heart fluttering in your chest.

That tether that you’ve learned has always been subconsciously tying you two together yanks you towards him. Your book drops to the floor and your bare feet run for him before your brain can catch up to you.

He meets you halfway and you throw yourself into his open, waiting arms. Your lips crash together with fervor, thirsty for each other after such a long drought. Soft, sweet, pillowy lips drink you in as your heart races and he pulls you in tighter. His familiar scent and warmth engulf you in such a comforting way that it brings tears to your eyes.

When your kiss finally slows and you both come up for air, you whisper, “You came.”

“Of course, I came.” As if there was ever any doubt.

Elvis pulls you to the couch, cradling you in his lap as he showers you with gentle but intense kisses. The heat between you builds but unlike in Vegas, it is more patient—openly full of love and admiration.

“I missed you,” he says into your mouth, his statuesquely perfect nose nuzzling into yours.

“I missed you, too,” you admit with a smile.

“Good,” he smiles, that lip of his curling up almost shyly.

His lips find your cheek, then placing soft kisses over your nose and eyelids and your forehead, as if committing your bone structure to memory with his mouth. It is unhurried because, for once, you have all the time and privacy in the world. You sigh underneath the reverence of his kisses as they trail down your jaw.

“Baby,” you say, stopping him, “as much as I want to continue this, I have things I need to say before that happens.”

He gives you one last kiss before bringing his attention to you. His gorgeous azure eyes fix in on you in such a way that you feel overwhelmed. It’s amazing to you how, even after all these years, he still has the ability to completely render you speechless with his magnetism and beauty.

“Yes?” he says, steeling himself for what may or may not be coming.

You tear your gaze from him enough to refocus. “I’ve been doing a lot of thinking and I need you to know that I forgive you, for all of it. I forgive you, and more than anything, I love you. I want to be with you, though I know we need to figure out what that looks like. I mean, if that’s what you still want, of course,” you fumble, looking away, not wanting to make assumptions.

“Oh, it’s very much what I want, lil’ mama,” he purrs happily and seductively, using his pointer finger under your chin to turn your head, bringing his lips once more to yours. Fire blooms in your chest and radiates down into your belly as his tongue dips into your mouth. “I love you. I want you to be with me. Always have, baby.”

“I signed the divorce papers, and so did Jack,” you blurt out, needing to make sure he knows and understands.

Elvis chuckles, the low rumbling vibrating under your hand on his chest. “I know, Satnin,” he drawls, his bedroom eyes sharp underneath the haze of lust you see in them.

“Of course, you do,” you laugh, shaking your head, taking the moment to run your fingers through his coiffed dark hair.

He looks at you deeply, firmly but gently grabbing your chin in his hand. “Let me be your everything,” he whispers. It is somehow both a question and a command.

Your stomach drops, but not out of fear this time. No, it is a tingling anticipation that wafts over you and makes your breath catch. You run your finger over his lips, pulling down on that full bottom one.

“Yes,” you nod. You unfurl from his arms and stand, reaching for his hand.

Elvis looks up at you through those long, dark lashes with something between wonder and eagerness. You pull him off the couch wordlessly, his fingers intertwining with yours as you lead him through the house to the master bedroom.

When you finally arrive, you look up at him almost bashfully. “I was wondering if we could try something new?” you ask. You’d been thinking about this for weeks now, all the different ways you want him, but this one thing had stuck in your mind after all you’d been through.

His eyes sparkle almost gleefully with curiosity and lust. “What’re you thinkin’, baby?” he purrs.

You take a deep breath before speaking. You’re not sure if he’ll go for it, but you figure it won’t hurt to ask. “I want to be in charge,” you finally say, matter-of-factly.

His dazed look at your request quickly turns to interest as his brow furrows with consideration. He doesn’t mull long, however, much to your pleasure, before uttering, “Hmm, why not, baby? Let’s try it.” He smiles coyly before bringing you in for a long kiss.

Your heart begins to thump in your chest. You’ve never done this, and you bite your lip, knowing that you have to change your attitude for him to take you seriously. You draw on the strength you’ve gained over these past weeks and take a deep breath to steady yourself.

“On your knees,” you command.

Elvis looks at you with amused surprise at the order. “What?”

“Did I stutter?”

His left eyebrow shoots up so far you think it may try to escape his pretty face and his brilliant blues go wide.

“No, ma’am,” he says, his voice getting breathy and quiet. His eyes don’t leave yours as he slowly sinks, his knees finally touching the floor.

A thrill shoots through you seeing him like this, humbled before you. This man who commands and dominates every room he walks into, brought to his knees for you. You doubt anyone in his adult life has truly had him like this. You relish in the way it makes your heart race in your ribcage.

“Say it again,” you whisper. He seems to know what you mean.

“I love you,” he replies quietly, his eyes open and shining up at you. There is an innocent and boyish quality to them.

With everything that has happened, you have a renewed sense of purpose and confidence which makes you bold.

You lean down and grab his chin in your hand firmly, feeling the light scratch of dark stubble under your fingers.

“Show me,” you command.

He nods furiously in compliance, that look of innocence tempered by sparks of lust in the depths of his oceanic blues. He is more than willing and up for the challenge, and the look sends a shiver of anticipation through you so strong that you can already feel warmth gathering low in your belly. It’s been over a month now since you had him last and each day felt like torture.

Elvis runs his hands up the backs of your calves, caressing your bare legs and resting on the backs of your thighs, his eagerness and yearning evident in his speed. He wants you, too, and he is oh so used to getting what he wants that it gives you pleasure to stop him.

“Uh uh,” you tsk, grabbing his chin again, “you’re gonna take it nice and slow, baby boy, and then maybe, if you’re really good, then you’ll get what you want.” It comes out like a purr, dangerous but alluring, surprising even you. But the look on his face is worth it, the way he nearly crumbles when you call him baby boy, the way his pouty mouth falls open slightly, the way he squirms on his knees, itching to take you but following your lead instead.

“Now, are you gonna be a good boy and do what I tell you?” you coo with an edge of warning. You’ve never in your life have done anything like this before, and you hadn’t planned this, but the control, the power just comes naturally, his responses fueling you forward.

He nods again, unconsciously wetting his plump lips with the tip of his tongue.

“Use your words,” you order.

“Uh-um, y-yeah, yes, I-I-I promise…mama,” he stutters out, picking up your cues and nodding, eyes are wide and becoming more yielding as he begins to submit to you.

Something about the way he does it has that warmth surging in your belly yet again.

“Good,” you say, running your nails up and through his raven locks, scraping his scalp and making his eyes roll back at your touch. You pull back quickly, leaving him a little breathless.

“No hands. Use your mouth,” you order with a smirk.

You watch his Adam’s apple bob with a gulp. “Yes, ma’am,” he replies, faster this time. He’s adapting quickly to your game, and the way he bows down to your feet, kissing the bare skin so softly as he makes his way slowly up your ankle to your calf has a thrill shivering through you. His pillowy lips and the tip of his tongue brush and lick their way up your legs, as he alternates one to the other. The sensation, especially after being deprived of his touch for so long, has you sighing softly, and his eyes roll up to yours, framed deliciously by those impossibly long and dark lashes. The blue of them has darkened with lust, but they remain compliant and eager to please.

That alone has the coil in your belly rapidly tightening, and you feel wetness begin to seep into your panties the closer his mouth comes to the place you want him the most.

Your breathing speeds up with this teasing when he meanders under your dress, peppering kisses along your panty line until his hot breath ghosts over the thin cotton of your panties. It puffs over your clit, and you pull your dress up with one hand to watch. His hands fly up to your ass of their own accord, squeezing and clutching at your panties to bring them down.

Using your other hand, you fist it tightly in his hair, yanking his head back and forcing him to look at you. “What did I say about hands, baby boy? I thought you were gonna be good for mama,” you tsk, shaking your head.

It’s a test. You relish in watching him quell the dominant urges he’s having by biting back a smirk of insolence, his lip sandwiched between his teeth so hard he could break the skin. The fire in his eyes almost dares you until he sees the serious look in your own and you tighten your grip in his hair. He winces a little and you watch him consider his options. You don’t let up during this battle of wills, unyielding and unbreaking of the eye contact that might usually level you.

No, after the last six weeks, this time you are going to get what you want.

Finally, he gets it, letting his arms drop to his sides. His face smooths, that innocence returning, and he submits completely to you.

“Good boy,” you breathe, releasing the grip on his hair and running your thumb over his lush bottom lip. His mouth opens and you push your thumb in, scraping at his teeth, then pushing into the soft warmth of his pink tongue. A low moan escapes him as his eyelashes flutter, and you allow him to suck it in, rolling his tongue over your thumb. A pleasured hum escapes your lips at the sensual sensation, and you feel it tingle straight down into your pussy.

“Try again,” you say, looking down at him, pulling out your thumb. You pull up your dress once more.

“Yes, ma’am,” he whispers eagerly, and you see the wheels turning for a moment before he continues. This time, he sits on his hands before he kisses directly over your sensitive nub, wetting the fabric with his tongue before kissing upwards. Then, he snaps the elastic between his teeth and slowly but surely pulls your panties down your legs. Your slick is already evident in the fabric, leaving little trails down your thighs. Gravity takes hold once they reach your knees, and they drop to the floor.

“There’s my clever boy,” you praise him, stepping out of your underwear, running your thumb over his high cheekbone. This causes that signature crooked, boyish smile to spread across his features, reminding you just how incredibly beautiful he is.

And he’s all yours.

As he lathes his tongue back up your thighs, cleaning the slick from them on the way back up to your core, your body shudders with delight and you feel him smiling against your skin. Looking down you see it is not a smirk, but genuine pleasure at making you feel good, and that sends warmth through your chest in addition to the heat rapidly building in your core.

You cannot help the moan of pleasure that escapes you when he finally reaches the apex between your legs and flattens his tongue over your folds. He drags it slowly, deliberately, ending with little flicks on your clit. Heat rolls over you, setting every nerve aflame, and this time when you grab his hair, it is to pull him encouragingly closer into your wet curls.

“Yes, good boy, just like that,” you sigh breathlessly as he begins to shower your pussy with attention, going slowly as you requested. He is soft and persistent, swathing gently through your folds, parting your labia with his tongue before rolling back to your clit. Oh, lord, he is so very versed in this, you remember quickly, as he suckles and presses soft kisses to that most sensitive place.

Your eyes fall shut as you grip his head and shoulder for balance. You cannot help the keening and panting that begins to emanate through you as the coil in your pelvis tightens. Even after only a short amount of time together, he somehow knows exactly how to play you for the most pleasure.

In a daze, your eyes open and you look down at him, his dark hair messy from your hands. That’s when you notice it: he is not touching you with his hands, as promised, but you see how he’s somehow undone his trousers without your knowing. You watch silently for a moment as one of his ring clad hands fondles and tugs at his cock, and it sends a thrill of arousal through you to catch a glimpse of him pleasuring himself like this when he doesn’t know you’re watching. Battling the swell of ecstasy that rockets through you, you curiously watch how his hand slides up and down over his length, pulling at the foreskin that mostly envelops his red tip, how his long thumb glides effortlessly over it, swirling the slick of precum around and over and down. It’s a well-practiced motion and it almost seems unconscious considering the way he is utterly focused on your pussy.

You gasp with pleasure as he massages your clit deftly with his tongue, and coupled with watching him jack off, you feel a desperation for more friction, more of him, building until you realize that it is you who is in control of this moment, not him. With a swell of need you push him back abruptly, his eyes bewildered, and lips shining with your arousal, hand still on his cock, wondering what he did wrong.

“Oh, what a naughty little boy you are. I didn’t say you could touch yourself. I didn’t say you could get yourself off, did I?” you say in a chastising tone.

And, oh god, the bashful look he gives you, dropping his cock, and how his cheeks redden at being caught as he looks down, those lashes fanning out, has you biting back a smile and more heat swelling under your dress.

“No, ma’am,” he says mournfully, shaking his head slightly. And then he’s blinking up at you with those deep blues, waiting for what you are going to do next, what his “punishment” might be, you realize.

“I guess I’m gonna need to teach you a lesson then,” you sigh with exasperation. But his disobeying you only serves to make you more aroused. You put your foot on his chest and push him down and backwards with a low growl. It’s like something primal has come over you, not only your need to dominate him, but also this flaming heat consuming your body and needing his mouth on you more definitively.

“Get on your back,” you demand.

Elvis scrambles backwards quickly and you are grateful for his flexibility as he easily untangles his legs from underneath him and falls back onto the thick shag carpeting. You step over him, sliding your dress up and over your head as you do so, leaving you in only your bra. When you look down, you see his blissed-out eyes wandering over your body with something akin to awe.

You lower yourself down to your knees, straddling his chest, which is already heaving from his arousal. He’s wearing the pink silk scarf, the one from your first night together, and it feels fitting, you think, as you lord over him and unravel it from around his neck. He watches you so intently in any other circumstance you might falter under his gaze, but while blown with lust, you can see by that bashful look in his eyes that he is committed to following your lead here.

“Hands above your head, baby boy,” you coo, running your hands up the underside of his arms, guiding them over his head. “Since you can’t seem to keep from doing naughty things with them, I’ll have to make you stop,” you admonish.

You sit fully on his chest then, feeling as the wetness of your cunt stains the front of his lovely silky shirt, and then you lean over, fully aware that it puts your breasts temptingly over his face. You hear him whimper, knowing he can’t touch you, and you smile as you use the black and pink scarf to tie his wrists together above his head.

You intertwine your fingers with his as you slowly pull back over his body, scooting your hips back as you go until your face is hovering just above his. He’s panting now, little puffs of breath coming from his lips as you ghost your own over his face. Tipping his chin up to try and capture a kiss, you pull back a bit.

“Nuh uh, baby boy. You have work to do first,” you shake your head, kissing the tip of his nose. Then you tempt him by flicking the tip of your tongue over the beautifully perfect cupid’s bow of his upper lip, and he fully whines and squirms under you.

You laugh at that, the fact that you are able to put him in this position, to make him want you enough to be vulnerable and needy like this. Then you become more serious, looking him in the eyes.

“Now use that wicked little mouth of yours to make me come,” you say in a low, sultry, daring tone. “And no touching unless I say so!”

“Y-y-yes, ma’am,” Elvis moans as you maneuver your body up and over his head, bracketing it in with your thighs. Your need for him is quite evident as you lower your already-soaking pussy onto his face and as his pouty mouth kisses your most sensitive areas, you know you are so wound already from this little game of yours that you fear you might come undone too soon.

You’ve never done this before and while part of you is a little worried about the mechanics and fears smothering him, that primal, instinctual part of you starts rocking your hips over his mouth.

“Oh!” you gasp quietly, unable and unwilling to contain the soft moans that his lips and tongue begin drawing out of you as you begin to ride his mouth. When he fully groans against you, the vibrations send a shockwave through your core, nearly snapping that coil inside you already. You steady yourself, finding a comfortable rhythm, and experimentally run your hands up your torso, using them to grope your breasts. You feel him moan again and look down to see him carefully watching you, his eyes blown black.

Sensing how it’s driving him wild, you lift your hips a little to give him air and reach down under the lace of your bra, using the pads of your fingers to lightly drag against the sensitive areola, taunting him and pinching your nipples to attention with a moan of your own.

“Fuckkkk,” he breathes out, the air tickling your labia.

“Language!” you hush him and plant back down on his face. His arms fight to come down and grab you, but between being tied and the way your weight is, he cannot, and groans against you again instead. He works you tirelessly now as you writhe over him and you feel that telltale tightening begin in earnest. You are nearly desperate as his tongue lathes against your folds again and again, dipping in and out of your hole, circling your clit and back again. He eats you expertly, willingly, and you ache for him.

“Good boy, there’s my good baby,” you pant quietly as your heart flutters and your breathing starts to hitch.

But when his tongue slips daringly lower, perhaps accidentally, perhaps not, you careen forward with a shocked gasp as it grazes your other hole.

“Elvis!” you gulp, clasping his hands with your own to steady yourself, stilling your hips. You aren’t quite sure how you feel about that slip yet, only knowing that it’s a place that has been forbidden before now. Your heart pounds so hard you hear the blood in your ears, your body on high alert.

“Hmmm?” is his only response before he tests you again, gently, letting his tongue circle that illicit spot lightly.

“Elvissss…” The moan escapes you before you can stop it because the unfamiliar feeling of his tongue there has your already aroused body teeming with the new sensation and you know you shouldn’t like it, you’re not supposed to like it…

“Yes? You like that mama?” he replies surprisingly bashful, submissively, compared to the sensual dominance that you are used to from him.

“I-I-I’m not sure, baby boy,” you finally stammer out honestly.

You feel him nod underneath you, as if understanding, and he goes back to suckle your clit, making you jump a little and roll your hips. And when his tongue travels back through your swollen folds and he goes a little farther to include that little secret spot, you can’t help but cry out in pleasure this time.

He smiles against you, and you respond by rolling harder on his face, effectively shutting him up. The carnality that flows through you banishes your prudishness and you let him kiss and eat you fully now, from hole to clit, letting the sensations consume you completely.

You fuck his face wildly. You don’t try to stop the keening noises crying from your lips, you just grip his hands for dear life as the coil inside you constricts, your body flooded with fire, desperate for the blast of release his talented mouth promises you. Frantic now, chasing that high, your body tenses over him and he groans loudly into your cunt, his tongue deep inside you, as your thighs squeeze his head.

The peak hits you incredibly hard and you cry out as you shatter above him. White stars flash behind your eyes followed by inky blackness. You can barely breathe for the way it hits you. He continues to lick and suck you through your orgasm, coaxing you, moaning into you in order to continue your pleasure for as long as possible. He devours every drop of your arousal. Shaking and shuddering and oversensitive, you finally scoot your hips back, allowing him to come up for air with his own gasp.

“Did I do good, mama?” he puffs, looking pleased, his face covered in your slick.

“You did perfect, baby boy,” you breathe out, kissing his cheeks, then his swollen lips, tasting your tangy sweetness there. Your body shivers with aftershocks as you come back into yourself, your mind concocting all the ways you want him tonight, all the ways in which you can show him your love and vice versa.

You look down at him, enjoying the sight of pussy-drunk lust on his boyish features, the vulnerability of his hands restrained above his head, the way his bedroom blues dreamily follow your gaze and your lead.

Your need for him feels insatiable. You want to wreck him, ruin him, in the best way possible. Biting your lip you roll your hips into his waist, feeling the cold of his belt sear into your bare core and Elvis’ eyes roll back a little as you drag your nails down over the part of his chest that is exposed above his shirt.

“You gonna continue to be good for mama, baby boy?” you lean down to coo in his ear, scootching your hips back just enough to feel the tip of his rock-hard length through his pants, and you can feel the shudder that ripples through him.

He nods furiously. “Y-yes, mama, oh yes, I’ll be good.”

“I’m so glad, baby,” you whisper, “Mama’s got somethin’ special in store for you.”

Elvis whimpers at that, and you can tell it is taking every ounce of self-control he has to keep from taking you right there and then, but he stays good and still and relatively quiet for you. You kiss down the shell of his ear, nibbling on the perfect lobe, and then you focus your attention on the divot just behind it where his jaw meets his skull. Lapping there for a minute, you take your time as he hums and tenses beneath you, turning his head the opposite direction to give you the access you want. You make your way agonizingly slowly down his neck, using your lips and teeth and tongue in all the ways you’ve learned he likes. By the time you reach his collarbone, he is practically writhing under you.

His breath is beginning to heave and become labored when you start down his tanned chest, the course hair there tickling your lips as you go. One by one, you pop the remaining buttons open, and with each, a pretty little huff escapes his pouting lips. Oh, how beautiful he looks with his cheeks all flushed and his hair mussed, those eyes alternating between peering down at you and looking up to the heavens.

Once again you move your hips back, this time hovering just above the erection raging in his pants. It’s enough that he can feel your heat, but you give him no friction whatsoever, and this is what finally has him bucking his hips up desperately, but you are prepared, dodging well out of the way before he finds any sort of relief.

“Now, now, that’s not how good boys behave,” you tsk at him, earning a huff in response. You use your nails to scratch down his now-exposed treasure trail, your lips following close behind and he fully whines by the time you reach the belt line.

“Please, please, mama,” he mewls at you, raising his head to look at you with begging eyes.

“All in good time,” you muse quietly, shooting him a soft smile.

You take your time with his heavy belt and zipper, causing him to spring forth, his cock hard and veiny, precum already oozing a sticky string between his tip and his abdomen, but you leave him there, untouched. Moving lower, you slowly, deftly, remove one shoe, then the other, doing the same with his socks. Then you pull his pants down his long legs, letting your fingers ghost over his sensitive skin. It’s torture, based on the way he squirms and sighs, and you find yourself full of emotions.

A small part of you relishes in making him squirm after finding out what he’d kept from you all these years, for all the time you may have lost with him because of his self-righteous ego. But a much larger part of you wants this with him, for him, because you know he’s likely not given himself to anyone like this. Not the great Elvis Presley, the man who strives for excellence and control in all things. You cannot imagine him letting just any woman bring him to his knees, tying him up, letting her have her way with him. At least you hope not.

But perhaps that is your own ego talking.

But a sense of unease, jealously perhaps, wafts over you, diminishing your confidence slightly.

“Baby boy?” you hum pensively at him, running your finger softly up the sole of his foot, causing him to jump and giggle a little.

“Yes, mama?” he responds softly, tilting his chin down to look at you.

You frown, worrying your lip a little, wanting to approach this skillfully as not to ruin the mood, but you have to know. Now that the thought is there, you must know.

“Have you ever let anyone else do this? Touch and tease you like this?” you ask, trying to keep your voice sultry and light, running your fingers up the underside of his arm, dragging across the pink silk that binds his wrists.

His brow furrows for a moment as he tries to interpret what’s going on underneath the bravado you’re showing, trying to glean your true meaning, and then his face softens and smooths with realization, his eyes wide and open for you. “Not like this, mama. Just for you. Only you,” he says genuinely, and you know it’s true, that he’s not just giving you lip service within the game you are playing.

“Good,” you nod, more moved by this than you want to show right now, your heart swelling with this new knowledge. You kiss him gently and softly on the lips. 

“Do you trust me?” you add more mischievously, your confidence returning.

“Completely,” he nods back.

“Then it’s time to get on the bed, baby boy,” you purr.

He brings his arms down in front of his abdomen, the scarf still taut at his wrists and his shirt open and flowing behind him, and you help him to standing. His eyes sparkle a little with what you think is anticipation. Once to the bed, he snakes his long, beautiful body backwards until he is lying up against the dark pillows.

Your mouth waters at the sight of him lying there, vulnerable and all yours. Getting between his legs, you start at his feet, massaging the ropey muscles with your hands, and alternately kissing your way over the arches, his ankles, and up his calves, up every perfect part of him. You pay attention closely to these spots you’ve never really explored before, listening and watching him carefully. When his breath catches, or he hisses in through his teeth, you know it’s extra sensitive, and of course, when his mouth falls open and his eyes roll back you know you’ve hit the jackpot.

You take your sweet time working up his muscled legs, bringing up and opening his knees to give you more access to what you are finding is the highly sensitive flesh of his inner thighs. Warmth rolls through you when you nip there, very close to his balls and he nearly jumps off the bed.

“Stay still and be good, baby boy,” you purr at him with a sly smile against his leg, and he whines in protest but stills himself. You think it’s high time you give him some well garnered attention to his large, heavy testicles. His musky scent fills your nostrils, setting your biological need for him on fire. You wiggle a little on your knees with anticipation but since you aren’t sure exactly what he likes or what his boundaries are yet, you want to make sure he has an out.

“Baby,” you say seriously, looking into his eyes, “if you really want me to stop, like really, I need you to tell me, okay? Say…” You stop, looking around for inspiration, something he would never say in the heat of the moment, and then your eyes land. Perfect.

“Say ‘pink scarf’ if you really want me to stop baby, okay?” you urge.

Elvis nods, looking excited and also a little concerned at the prospect of what you might do to him to require him to use such a phrase. “Pink scarf, got it,” he breathes.

With that, you feel better, and return your attentions down in between his legs. His cock is hard and buoyant against his pelvis, precum glistening the angry red tip that is peeking out from his lighter foreskin, but that is not what you’re going to focus on, not yet.

Using your thumbs, you apply gentle pressure to the insides of his thighs, massaging slow circles up, up, up, closer to his most sensitive areas. Lying on your stomach between his open legs, you test the waters by running your nails softly over the darkened, wrinkly skin of his ball sac.

He hisses in at that, his lower half tensing as you gently continue, using your thumb, pointer, and middle fingers to explore the area. In his arousal, his balls are pulled up tight to him, but it doesn’t detract from the fact they are still rather large compared to what you’re used to. His breathing becomes more labored as you roll his testes between your fingers, cupping them, then pulling gently.

His hips roll and wiggle. You love the effect you are having on him, the way he responds so readily under your touch, and you wonder if this is what it’s like for him when he plays with you. It sends heat of a different kind rolling through your body each time he jolts or gasps.

Which is exactly what he does when you nuzzle his sac with your nose before flattening your tongue against the seam and licking a long stripe from back to front. His hips rise off the mattress and running your hands over the crease of where his legs meet his torso, you push those famous narrow hips back down to the bed.

“Oh mama, oh mama,” he whispers quietly, almost like a begging prayer, as you continue lathing your tongue back and forth and up and down over his balls. He begins to writhe in earnest, despite your hands holding him, his legs pulling up and boxing you in.

“Be still,” you command, lifting your head, pushing his bent legs back open.

He obeys instantly, looking down at you with wild, shining eyes, nodding almost unconsciously in reply, as if preparing himself for whatever you deem to do next.

You use your hands again, one to push his legs up, tilting him towards you, the other rolling him like dice, before lifting his sac enough to lick the underside completely. Taking inspiration from his playbook, you then flick down over his taint, applying pressure with your tongue, his musky scent consuming you.

He moans long and loud at that, unable to contain himself as you shower this newly found spot with all your attention. As you lick and press and roll, he mewls and begins to shudder. Your heart beats faster against your ribcage at his reactions, how he pants above you, and you wonder what will happen if you press your thumb to that softer spot right above his puckered hole.

So you do. You press that spot over and over and watch him tremble and writhe until he looks damn well possessed.

“Please, oh please, oh GOD!” he cries out and eventually his entire body tenses, hips lifting as though he were coming inside you, and he shudders wildly before falling hard back onto the bed. Heart pounding, you lift your head to see a milky white leak from his tip. It’s not cum in the sense you are used to, but some sort of release nevertheless.

You’re not one hundred percent sure what just happened, but you are pleased you made him feel so good. You watch him lying there, gasping from pleasure, his hands clenching and releasing against their bonds, trying to recover from whatever that was. His face is flushed red, making the blue of his arousal-darkened eyes look almost preternatural, and tears leak, dampening his dark lashes. He looks positively bewildered.

“Good job, baby boy,” you praise him, kissing the inside of his knee.

“Wh-wh-what w-was that, mama?” he gasps, asking.

“That ever happen before?” you respond, curious, instead of answering him.

He shakes his head, his hair flopping as it lolls from side to side.

“Hmm…well, did it feel good, baby?” you ask because you aren’t entirely sure what happened, but you don’t let him know that. You don’t let him know about your own fresh arousal that’s leaking down the sides of your thighs or how your heart is fluttering in your throat at the sight of him such a mess before you. Not yet.

He nods furiously, eyes unfocused.

You smile at the blissed-out look on his face. You crawl up him to give his open lips a little kiss. “Mama’s not done with you yet, baby boy,” you whisper against his lips before pulling back.

His dreamy eyes go wide, but you don’t dwell, instead making haste to kiss down his chest once more, stopping to tongue and scrape his nipples with your teeth, making him jump underneath you once again. You kiss down the flat planes of his belly, detouring to give a little attention to his bound hands, sucking a digit or two into your mouth on the way down.

He fully shivers at that, moaning, sending a thrill of your own down to your toes. His belly is already heaving again with anticipation as you arrive at your next destination. His length bounces as his stomach moves, the milky white having leaked onto his belly, but whatever release he’d had did not affect the hardness of his cock, much to your pleasure.

Your goal here is to worship and tease, rather than the ways you’d had him in your mouth before. The way he’d fucked down into your throat both gently and harshly prior to this was not going to be his experience this time. No, this time is all about giving him a night he’s unlikely to ever forget. It is about claiming him as your own while showering him with love and attention on your terms. You’ve never had that before, not truly, and oh how sweet you are finding it already…

First, all you do is hover over his cock, so closely that he can feel your hot breath against him as you run your open mouth up and down his shaft. He squirms his hips from left to right, his hands fisting, and you can sense how it is taking everything in him not to buck up into you.

“Mamaaaa…need y-you,” he begs.

This makes you smirk coyly.

“Hush, baby,” you admonish him with a furrowed brow, stilling his hips again with your hands. “Be a patient good boy and you’ll get what you need.” Eventually…you think smugly.

He can only manage a whimper in response.

Finally, you place soft, barely there kisses up his shaft, feeling his rapid pulse through the throbbing veins. His foreskin awaits and you kiss gently around it, and it must be very sensitive because he’s fully gasping now, quiet “uh, uh, uhs” escaping his lips. Using only your tongue, you dip it into and under the foreskin, swirling it around the head.

“Oh, oh, no, t-too much, too much, mama!” he half moans-half cries, nearly levitating off the bed, but you don’t stop, instead sucking the tip of him into your mouth and soothing the head with your tongue.

You look up at the man you are in love with, in all his messy ecstasy, as tears stream down the sides of his pretty face, but he does not say the words, only sighing at this little bit of relief you give him. So, you continue, after this moment of reprieve, sending your tongue up and down his shaft, then kissing and tonguing his sensitive tip as though it were a dripping ice cream cone on a hot summer day.

“Please, please, please,” Elvis pants out of that wonderous and full mouth of his. By the time you use your hand to fondle his balls again, he is so fully enraptured, staring up into the mirrors above you, that you’re not sure he’s even on the same plane as you anymore.

God, it has you nearly coming undone yourself to see him like this, bringing him closer and closer to the edge without letting him fall over. You find yourself pressing your thighs together, desperate for your own friction.

His gorgeous eyes flutter down to you as you once again tongue his tip. “B-bein’ good, m-mama, please, needju,” he whimpers, his words slurring together.

“Bein’ so good, baby boy,” you praise him, then you take him fully into your mouth, pumping once, twice, and then you feel his entire body tense and shake.

“F-f-fuuuuckkk,” he groans gutturally, his hips bucking into your throat, coming completely undone nearly instantly. His eyes roll back into his head, beads of sweat mixing with the tears down his face, and the prominent vein in his neck pulses in time with his salty, thick release. It coats your tongue, and you swallow him down readily before gently lathing your tongue over the tip of his sex. He squirms under you, rocked and hypersensitive as you pop off him.

“Thank you, mama,” he whispers, looking so relieved and sex drunk that you are beside yourself now. Every nerve ending inside you is on fire. Before he can soften, you climb onto his lap, lining him up with your entrance and sliding him through your soaking folds and into your heat.

Elvis’ eyes widen in shock and he wiggles his hips down into the mattress as if trying to escape. little “ah ah ah!” puffs come from his lips, like he’s handling a hot potato.

“M-mama, ah, ah! I-I-I can’t,” he shakes his head before slamming it back onto the bed.

“Oh, you can, baby boy, you can, I promise,” you say breathlessly, relishing the feel of him filling you, even though he’s beginning to soften slightly. You roll your hips in his lap. “You’re gonna keep being such a good boy and make me come, right, baby?” you encourage demurely, hooking enough into his ego and his need to please you to keep him going.

All you know is that you need him, need to keep him inside you, to have him fill you up, even if you have to wait.

The noise that comes from him is somewhere between a groan and a growl, his eyes screwing shut for a moment as he tries to compose himself enough to continue. You still, placing your hands on his chest, and wait for his response.

“How about this? You’ve been so good for mama. I’m gonna take this scarf off you and you use those hands to show me some love while we wait,” you say.

That has him opening those glassy, pretty eyes of his and nodding.

“Mama’s gonna keep makin’ you feel real good, don’t you worry now, baby,” you tut at him, untying the knots at his wrists. The silk yields easily. You lean forward on top of his chest and throw it around his neck.

Elvis rolls his wrists a few times then wraps his arms around your back, holding you fast to him while he continues to breathe heavily. The feeling of being draped on him and held in his long arms sends an almost wholesome warmth through your body. Oh, how you missed being close to him like this. It’s almost as if you didn’t know it until this very second, that string that has been pulling you two together for so long finally loosening as you fall unencumbered into each other’s arms.

After a long moment, he calms and his hands start roaming slowly over your back. You can feel the cool of his rings against your fiery skin and it sends shivers through you. You feel starved for him, hence your desperate need to have him inside you and to show him with every fiber of your being that you will be all he ever needs from here on out.

You hum softly, pleased, when his hands find your ass, your hips, and you swivel them. He is soft inside you for the moment, at least, and you feel the sharp intake of breath at your movements, his hands gripping you to keep you still.

Still sensitive, you think.

His hands flutter up and down your sides then, softly enough to make you want more. You can hear his heart pounding in his chest, the rhythm beginning to match yours the longer you stay intertwined. This is what you’ve been missing, needing, all along. Him vulnerable and sated under you. Knowing that you are the only one he truly wants. Knowing that it’s been that way for almost as long as you’ve known him.

“Say it again,” you whisper into his neck, kissing his pulse points.

It only takes him a moment to understand what you are asking.

“I love you,” he whispers.

“Mmmm,” you hum, kissing your way up his strong, angular jaw to his lips. “Again.”

“I love you.” It rumbles in his chest so you can feel it vibrate into yours.

Each time he says it, it dances through you, lighting up all the dark spaces that were so afraid and convinced he would never feel the same.

You kiss his lips, softly at first, then deepening as your own love pours out of you and into him.

His hands are everywhere now, one tangling in your hair, the other snapping the clasp of your bra undone. Your mouths separate just long enough for you to rip off the lace and fling it to the side. The feel of his bare chest against yours makes you feel like you are melting into him. Your mouths are unhurried but intense, tongues exploring, devouring each other whole.

“I love you,” you say into his mouth, voice hushed and reverent.

He pauses for a moment, pulling back just enough for you to get lost in the oceanic depths of his eyes as they gaze at you adoringly, as if memorizing your features. “I’m yours,” he says. Then he pulls you back down to him, his mouth consuming you once more.

You’re not sure how long you lay there, kissing, touching, exploring each other as if it were the first time, but it is long enough that you feel him begin to stiffen inside of you once more, just as you knew he would. Slowly, you begin to rock on top of him, your hands and lips tracing his Apollo-like features. Your fingers rake through his raven hair, damp with sweat from the exertion.

Elvis’ hands cup your face, your neck, tangling through your hair, caressing your breasts. He touches you reverently, though as your passions increase, his hands light streams of fire over your skin wherever they deem to touch. A heated coil tightens again in your belly, more gradually this time, but deep all the same.

The room is quiet, save for the heavy breathing that has synced between the two of you, a hushed feeling that matches the intensity of your lovemaking. His deep gaze threatens to consume you from below as you ride him, and every cell in your body is being called to his.

He fills you in ways no one ever has and as no one ever could. Perhaps he was made just for you, you think, with how perfectly you align. You realize that this is the first time you’ve had him with all your memories intact. Every moment the two of you have had since the beginning now swells between you, a now shared history that makes this moment all the more poignant.

You are lost in the depths of him just as much as he is lost in you. You can see it now, so obviously, and you wonder how you spend so very long without him. Beyond his talent, beyond his gorgeousness, lies that both human yet ethereal man, and he is wonderful and he is flawed, and he is finally yours.

He expertly touches your sensitive bud, sending you careening towards the edge of an abyss that once frightened you. Because of course this was never just about sex, though your brain tried to trick you, making you forget that your love for him started so very long ago. But what terrified you six weeks ago now feels ripe with possibility. What made you feel trapped has now been set free. And as that coil snaps and you fracture above him, it allows your true self to emerge for the first time in a very long time.

“I love you, Elvis,” you breathe, locking eyes with him as you fall, knowing he will be there to catch you.

Your moan of pleasure, his name a whispered prayer on your lips, coupled with the sight of you has him following right behind you, all his years of fear and guilt splintering into pieces along with the most intense orgasm he has ever had.   

“I love you, y/n,” he returns in equal measure.

You collapse into his arms, unaware of the tears on your face until you feel them wetting the pink scarf that somehow remains around his neck. Elvis holds you to him, his fingers twirling the ends of your hair, not just with possessiveness and control, but with unfettered love. There is aways to go between the two of you in your relationship, now that you remember everything that has happened, but you have no doubt that the two of you will figure it all out, together this time.

For the first time in forever, you feel truly at peace.

Finally, you are exactly where you need to be.

With the man you love eternally, who loves you just as much.

Here, with Elvis.

*

Please let me know in the comments/DMs/asks if you are interesting in buying a physical and/or ebook of Pink Scarf (with bonus chapters/material)! 💗🧣💗

*

Taglist:

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

@domaniquessidehoe @im-lame-irl @allybrooke05 @hangmanswhore

@jazmin2211  @kvcssghbjbcd @coldonexx @dudinhahoff @whatstruthgottodowithit @tiredbuthappy  @amiets2  @saintmagx

@kvcssghbjbcd @butlersluvbot @babydollie43 @vainbimbo @meladollsims @wstelandbaby @dre6ming @normatural @ash-omalley @xcallmetaniax @galvz-42 @thejezebel @fullmetal-falcon @robinismywife @dre6ming @seaweedbrain00 @amiets2 @mslizziesblog @heisatroubleinapinksuit @calusussss @dont-feel-so-good-peter @rainydayz101 @pizzaisrelationshipgoals  

@liaaacantwrite @kittenlittle24 @kaitaesupremacy @butler-trouble @eliseinmemphis @russian-soft-bitch  @tattywood 

@sassanoe @re3kin @thella @suspiciousmidge @hiddlepiddlediddlewiddle @carolinesbookworld @juggernort @aesthetic-lyss @stitchattacks @donnamarie23 @ab4eva 

@fic-over-cannon @lacyluver @littlebitofgreen @paigevis @godlypresley @bugg06 @xhannahbananax03

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[quinloki]

Hi Quin <3

I may or may not have gone through your entire catalog haha (^///^) Thank you for feeding us all so well ☆ Such stunning works!!!!! (シ_ _ )シ

I was wondering, I find that I keep on reading the same people a lot. Have you discovered some cool new people to read from recently? any great recs? stuff you keep coming back to?

Anyways, you're awesome!! And I can't wait to read what you come up with next!!!!!

=O Sideblogs and everything?

...

Σ(っ °Д °;)っ

(*/ω＼*)

Goodness. ❤️I'm glad you enjoyed my stuff enough to read all that. I'm a terribly wordy ^^;

Ah! But hmmm... I do tend to read from many of the same folks, especially since I ended up surrounded by impressive writers.

But let's do this:

@swampstew - if you follow me, you know her. I cannot fathom otherwise, and if you don't, start here.

this is @icy-spicy's master list - I'd have that cold shower ready before you start, but there's more than One Piece there.

@mydisenchantedeulogy writes for a lot of fandoms, her words are so good I'm a fan of her stories without even having seen the universes they come from.

@un-shit-yourself is a long time real life friend, and a fantastic writer. Mostly Dragon Age, but the writing pulls you in. We chat, but we don't usually cross post, so you probably don't know about this one even if you do follow me.

@zoros-sheath - if you haven't read Magnets, start there, otherwise go hog wild. I can't imagine you're going to find anything bad.

@standfucker - whew, I look - Zen makes me wonder why I even write because what she writes is just too goddamn hot. Y'all don't need me, you got her. (I say this in jest, I'm going nowhere I promise) White Out and Rotation are two of my favorites, but Stowing Away to Save Yourself is something I specifically requested and gods was I served well.

@writing-yarn-goblin and @lyndsyh24 and @theaceofflamesposts are here, but you're more likely to enjoy the first two on Wattpad and the last on Ao3. Lyn's getting more active here, but her library is full of good stuff - fluffier than my usual work, but just as good imo. Lyn is one of the biggest reasons y'all get to deal with me at all. She was a saint when I stumbled into Wattpad.

I love @heyitsdoe and @/bas-writes stuff - they are both phenomenal writers. Bas has shifted away from OP a little and is more into JJK, but if you're looking for solid fic to read, then you will find tons there and I promise you'll enjoy it =3 Doe is super sweet and her writing is always a full meal, I've commissioned her and it was far and away worth every penny.

Honestly, I'd really recommend checking out my Following page. I leave it public, but everyone on it is either a friend, a writer, an artist, or some combination of all three.

I could go on in this post for like 5,000 more words and not hit everyone who has delighted me. @cyborg-franky @coza-main @lerya-fanfic @leakyweep @leftsidebonfire -- I'm going to hit a damn tag limit again.

@thus-spoke-lo is a little on the darker side, but gods alive I love her work, and I could read it for hours if I had the hours to spare.

@vizkopa writes in a way that helped me loosen up and write more how I wanted to, so thank her for that, and enjoy what she's got - mostly on Wattpad I believe? I know that's where I've read it.

Seriously, just peruse my followers, if you need something new.

But know that like me, they're 18+ and that's a boundary for their comfort as much as anything else. So don't break that.

[vintagelacerosette]

Wednesday tag game

Hiii darling angelpies! I am here on timeish 😆

I was tagged by these dazzling sweethearts Nosho @creepkinginc Mel @gardenerian Evie @energievie Deanna @deedala Kat @ mybrainismelted Julia @blue-disco-lights Al @spookygingerr Jessica @guinguin1984

How did you get into the fandom?

Like a lot of us 😆 I saw a fan edit of Mickey & Ian on YouTube (I can't find it again even when I've searched my history 😭) I was kinda in between fandoms at the time with Malex from Roswell New Mexico but they were broken up at the time & buddie lol.

But then I was shot through the heart when I went through the gallavich tag & it felt like home 🥰

How long have you been here?

I was lurking at the end of 2021 & the first official time I contributed to this darling fandom in Feb 2022 with gallacrafts 💝

What's the first fandom channel you found? (youtube, reddit, tumblr, insta, twitter, FB, other?)

Here on tumblr babeeeyy

What's your favourite now?

Still tumblr but I wish I was better on discord 😅 I get overwhelmed & don't wanna talk over ppl 😔

Which mutual have you known the longest in the fandom?

Oh my goodness I had no idea but my longest mutual is the always spectacular Calli @callivich 🥰🩵💙 woooww!!

Which tumblerinos did you have your first fandom crush(es) on and wanted to get to know?

Y'all have to understand you are all unbelievably swoon worthy & there's only so many ppl I can tag in one post (damn you tagging limit 😣)

Ok, so definitely have a big crush on Deena @suzy-queued & to see smitten feeling is mutual got me

GIF by theresaphoenixinmyboot

Alice @darthvaders-wife Jane @captainjowl Mitch @psychicskulldamage when we became mutuals I squealed bc how much talent??

Jenna @ianrightsonly & Kay @goodkwuestion their fics changed me

Also, Benja @svltburn | Nosho | Vey @look-i-love-u Macy @heymacy Julissa @heymrspatel Jo @jomilky Harvey @mikhailoisbaby Georgia @iansw0rld Molly @deathclassic Stas @messedwithmandy Howl @howlinchickhowl Michelle @michellemisfit | Deanna | LJ @ofalltheginjoints Sam @sam-loves-seb Face @ burninface | Calli | AJ @ clingymickey Mills @gallavichsbitch Leah @whatwouldmickeydo

Also Jay!! You've left but gave me butterflies 🦋

Pls I kind hate this question! I've come to the conclusion I have a crush on you all OK?? 😭

This is why I make y'all Valentine's

First gallavich fan fic you read (or that blew you away that you remember)?

By the magnificent Kay The Increasingly Poor Decisions of Ian Gallagher!!! OH MY GOSH JUST THINKING ABOUT THIS FIC MAKES ME FEEL ELATED & FERAL!!! It's my favourite piece of written work & I need my non gallavich ppl to read it so I can scream into their faces how much I love it 🥰🩷🩷🩷

First fan art that blew your mind?

Seriously, Deena's gallacrafts & art always take my breath away!!! Like the artistry & creativity?? I wanna get to your level 🥰

It's three dimensional & has twinkling lights ✨️ I was astounded & my jaw literally dropped 😍

All of Alice's art especially my commissioned art 🩷

Also, Mitch's comic I stared at it forever like Ian's eyes reflecting Mick's booty 🍑👀

Fanfic trope that you were sure wasn't for you but now you low key (or high key) love?

I have read some pretty freaky & nasty fic bc of curiosity, so I nothing really gave me icks in tropes, but in writing style, I got turned around with Jen @wehangout with second person POV. You're so talented that I really enjoyed them when I would nope out before 😆

What surprised you most about this fandom?

Everything surprised me about this fandom bc it was my first one!! 😆 I didn't really know how to do tumblr & didn't really get how to interact. So I used tumblr like a sticker book, then came learning tags & so ppl reached out to me which helped me gain confidence haha

This is kinda a golden standard fandom. So welcoming, loving & encouraging!! If I ever dabble in another fandom, imma have a high standard bc I've been spoiled by y'all! ILY

Moment in the show (or YT vids if you're one of those) that you fell in hyperfixation with gallavich?

It was the "I'm fucking gay" scene to the "Guess what we've been doing daddy" The way he humps the car with all that conviction & screaming "he fucking loves it".

Everything clicked & I was like "Damn I love this fictional man." He is my favourite character of all time & this ship is my OTP & GOAT.

Also I love this edit too. It gives me chills

Ian or Mickey?

Mickey, but holy shit I love them both

Which gallagher or milkovich are you?

I took a page from @/guinguin1984 & did some quizzes & I got Fiona Ian Fiona Debbie not of them feel right ahaha

I guess Fiona bc I had her twice 😅

Consider yourself tagged if I have a crush on you or mentioned you. Also tagging these sunshines & if you wanna do it too, have at it 💛🥰

@lingy910y @mickittotheman @doshiart @crossmydna @y0itsbri @7x10mickey @whatthebodygraspsnot @ms-moonlight-inn @mmmichyyy @sickness-health-all-that-shit @kiinard @transmickey @gallawitchxx @sleepyheadgallavich @rereadanon @whaticameherefor @darlingian @andthatisnotfake @ian-galagher @francesrose3

[roseshower]

Who Would've Thought A Crack Pairing

—would have me in a chokehold like this??? Seriously, in what world (this one) would I have ever come across a Damian Wayne x Marinette Dupain-Cheng fanfic and loved it to the point where I'M writing about them??? Dear God.

Alright so. Hey. Shameless call out for a ficlet I'm writing about (okay so I KNOW I haven't been updating my other ones...). Wait before I continue—look. My favorite of all the Batfam is Damian Wayne. He's like. My kid. My child. Sure he stabs the shit out of his family at first but he ain't do nothing wrong bruh he's just misunderstood fr. And then there's Marinette. My favorite character from back when I was in middle school. I thought it would be silly to look up some MLB x Batman Fics and. Jesus Christ. I found MANY. (Not enough.) And then I saw "Damian Wayne/Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug" and I thought??? No fucking way??? IS THIS REAL

I read the fic. Which fic? I won't gatekeep. "No, Mr. Wayne, You Can't Adopt Me!" by ggomoz (ggomo_springtime) on Ao3 is a FUCKING BANGER I read it for shits and giggles because I was like "hah???? NO WAY" and my god. My GODDDD it was AMAZING. I know I sound like I'm glazing rn but my god y'all have to read it if you guys like Damian x Marinette shit. And also Marinette having great interactions with the BatFam. Primarily Bruce Wayne, as you can see by the title.

But yeah. Holyyyy hell. That was one of the fics that inspired mine. The other was "the reports associated with my existence have been significantly misconstrued" by davidstennant on Ao3 and ANOTHER was "for us to collide" by LadyLiterature on Ao3.

ANYWAY. Enough rambling. The whole reason for this post was to present to you the fic I've been working on...

Help! My Boss Is In Love With Me!

Synopsis:

Rumors say that the youngest son of Bruce Wayne is in love with his assistant. Marinette immediately debunks these rumors—her grouchy boss has no love in his body for anyone, let alone for her. So then, if it's just a rumor, why does she keep catching him staring at her like she's just hung the moon?

Or, Damian Wayne accidentally acquires feelings for his lovely assistant Marinette, much to his frustrations and everyone else's delight.

Now... I know what you're thinking... "Ana what the fuck is this" and to tell you the truth I DONT KNOW??? DAMIAN X MARINETTE IS BEATING THE SHIT OUT OF ME

but yeah if you guys want a lil taste for what you may be reading, I'll throw a crumb rn

Internally, he wilts at the sight of her perfection.

The feelings have grown more over the years he's had the luck of having her working for him, and they came to a head months ago in the middle of a cumbersome night of dealings he wonders how his father dealt with all on his own.

And it's because he saw her run into the damn glass door of his office.

[stoopid-turtle]

made-up thoughts about dd's thoughts

Hi there! I warned y'all that I might post more and I've been watching SDC so I wanted to compile my massive load of DD thoughts. Apparently, I think about dd a lot.

I've struggle with how to organize these thoughts because they're so scattered and there are just a whole bunch of them. So I decided to center them around moments I think about a lot. Not necessarily fun dd moments, though some of them are fun. But just...moments that I feel tell me a lot about dd.

As a disclaimer, I'm making up a bunch of nonsense about dd as a person, but I don't actually know him and you shouldn't take anything I say seriously. I'm very likely to be wrong about most of it. In fact, if dd somehow managed to read this humble post, he would probably roll his eyes. And you know what? It would be an honor for him to have done so.

There'll be a few posts. There are three others in drafts right now, though I may combine two of them. We'll see. But I'm starting out with this one just because it was done first.

I'm at around ep 8 of SDC4, and I think the only way to watch subtitled versions of SDC5 are by downloading an app that Google won't let me download because of region restrictions (and then paying a subscription fee). Needless to say, I probably won't be able to watch SDC5 anytime soon. :(

(those episodes are sooooo looonnngggg)

There's an episode in SDC4 when the captains have picked 4 leaders to start off their teams. They put together a rehearsal battle to show the other contestants the captain's style and help make decisions during the next recruitment segment.

DD picks 4 top dancers as his leaders. These are fantastic dancers, specifically battle dancers. And they do horribly in the rehearsal battle because they're not used to dancing routine, there are no choreographers so while their performance was highly technical, it wasn't really entertaining or meaningful, and the team itself just didn't cohere because these are all people who specialize in battling alone.

DD has a little meltdown while his team loses, and it's kinda uncomfortable to watch. He says in a debrief with his team afterward that he's one of those people that likes winning (which, yeah, duh, DD).

I think a lot about DD's initial strategy. It seems straightforward. Get the best dancers. Have the best team. Work hard. Win.

DD's not a deep thinker. I don't mean he's stupid, because he's actually pretty smart and quick to pick up on things. But he just doesn't see the need to introspect or dwell on things. He strikes me as the type of person who might go through some difficult event and come out the other side wanting to just move on because, "It's in the past. Why bother thinking about it?"

(I think he is getting more introspective as he gets older, as evidenced with his performance of Like the Sunshine. I think that's typical as one ages though)

I'm also struck by the feedback he gives as a captain. He usually makes pretty detailed comments about the technical aspects of the dance, and sometimes, with the more thematic pieces, he'll just outline the story of it. He's pretty literal and straightforward in his thinking.

In any case, dd stands out among the captains for his emphasis on winning. The captains of the other teams cultivate a family atmosphere and often make an effort to emphasize having fun over winning (dd emphasizes fun...as long as his team is winning). The other captains will break down in tears when they have to eliminate dancers, and they'll give nothing but praise to the dancers.

DD is the prototypical "not here to make friends" competitor (though he does actually make friends). One of the most common comments dd gets from dancers or judges is that he works really hard and is a perfectionist with his technical performance. (As a fangirl, I love hearing other people remark on how impressive dd is. I'm all like, "Damn right, that's my bb!"). Dd has high expectations of himself and of the dancers in his team, and he'll criticize the dancers if he feels they fell short.

It's not mean-spirited but it is blunt and is something that the other captains don't do. DD will point out mistakes and be outspoken when he's disappointed with a performance. He also doesn't cry when he has to eliminate someone. He obviously doesn't like doing it, and I do think his style of doing it quickly without the anxiety of drawing it out is kinder. But it also fits in with his decisive, direct way of doing things.

I think about this all in connection with the bts of gg saying he prefers men without makeup. DD gets incredibly defensive, misconstruing what gg's saying as a slight against idols. It's a funny bts, because gg's clearly trying to pay dd a compliment, but dd doesn't even realize this because he's so caught up in defensiveness.

But the defensiveness tells us that dd's felt belittled and looked down on for his idol background, I think especially in some of his hobbies and other activities. Professional dancing, motorcycling racing, skateboarding. His being an idol has made people not take him seriously (I think that's what happened at the beginning of SDC3 when dd got the fewest towels of all the captains from the start).

I think that can be frustrating because dd's initial interest as a teen boy was dancing. I don't know all the decision-making that went into him going off to get trained by Yuehua as an idol, but doing so ironically made it harder for him to get respect from the professional dancers that he admires.

That's why dd works so damn hard, often to the point of overwork. He's demanding of his team just as he's demanding of himself. This is a guy who puts himself into the hospital with how much he works (and then forgets about it afterward). He's wearing himself out in trying to prove himself, and I'm glad that he recently actually took a day off when he was sick. GG's a good influence.

This all takes us to another DD moment, one that is more fun to watch, and that is dd's whole thing with the waacker, Xiao Bao. During a battle, Xiao Bao touches the back of dd's head, and dd immediately stands up and grabs Xiao Bao, keeping a hold of him even as he tries to dance away. Then there's some minor waacking and, um, lip-licking from dd.

When asked at hotpot, dd explains that he was trying to get Xiao Bao to run out his time by keeping a hold of him so he couldn't dance. By touching him, Xiao Bao had challenged dd and dd responded according to street dance rules. DD seems confused by others' confusion because it's self-explanatory to him.

It is just...so very dd to be so single-minded about a thing that he doesn't even realize how incredibly gay it looked. Just, immensely fantastically gay. (I'll get back to this in another post, but I'm focusing elsewhere here)

Honestly, he's sometimes come across as being on the spectrum, though that may well be me overidentifying with some traits. But he has his special interests and while he may be generally quiet, he will start happily rambling if asked about motorbikes or legos or skateboarding (or if plopped down next to gg). He's incredibly fidgety and has a weird thing with stroking tassels.

I know people on the spectrum are more often associated with sensitivity to lights and noise, but there is variation in that. Some folks tend towards the opposite and end up being thrill-seekers.

Some of his mannerisms and social interactions ping me as spectrum-y. During the "JC's fake butt" bts conversation with the rest of the cast, gg characterizes dd as the type to bluntly go up to JC and ask him about the fake butt. He's probably not wrong.

In the bts, dd also has several moments of not being properly romantic by gg's standards or of being a little mean to gg and then apologizing later. This may be more of a young man thing than a spectrum thing, though. IME, guys that age are more prone to that sort of thoughtless behavior than guys who are older.

In any case, dd's reputation as aloof is surface-deep, as seen when he's comfortable with people. He's able to joke and play around with others once he warms up to them. I know gg is often seen as uniquely able to soften dd up, and I do think dd is distinctly more affectionate/playful with gg. But it's a difference in degrees. DD also seems comfortable with the other DDU hosts, with his UNIQ brothers, sometimes with the other SDC captains (though not as often), with certain dancers (like Bouboo and Yang Kai).

Heck, Yang Kai even lampshades this in SDC S4. The captains are recruiting their team members and they send gifts to the dancers to woo them. Even though Yang Kai is a definite joiner on dd's team, dd sends him a framed photo of the two of them from Yang Kai's win the previous season. He also gifts Yang Kai a charm for his newborn son. Yang Kai is touched and he comments that he wouldn't expect these gifts from dd because dd just doesn't express his emotions like this usually. (I wonder if dd had some help in choosing the gifts, because all his gifts are incredibly thoughtful in a very uncharacteristic way (sorry, dd))

So, yeah, I have so many thoughts about how dd shows him feelings. I'm not super-attached to the autism spectrum thing, so don't take it too seriously. Hell, don't take any of this seriously. I've never met the guy. I'm just wildly extrapolating from translated glimpses of him.

[giggly-squiggily]

I highly feel that Geto is way too stressed and Gojo senses that. I feel that Gojo would totally wreck him to relieve some of that stress. To just slow down and laugh freely.

KERKJER Thank you so much, anon! And AHH! Lee!Geto!!! I need fluff after these past few episodes of JJK, lemme tell you! I've gotcha covered, y'all!

CW: Swearing, Panic Attacks

Cloud 9 (Taglist Peeps)

@thatbigbisexual29 @duckymcdoorknob @gladdygirl18 @baby-tickles2022 @cupcake-spice13 @rachi-roo @chibisstuff @imjusthere07 @sevenincubistolemyheart @riisada

Midterms are coming up, I need to study-

My new technique has too many quirks to use-

Why are we doing this? What’s the point of it all-

Did I turn off the stove this morning? Oh god- Gojo couldn’t hear these thoughts, but he knew Geto long enough to read the dread on his friend’s face like a paperback novel. Staring at his friend spiraling, he reached out and flicked him in the forehead.

“Ow! The hell’s wrong with you, Satoru?” Geto flailed, shocked out of his reverie as he glared daggers at him. “What is it?”

“You’re doing it again.”

Geto froze over, eyes going blank and jaw slightly slacked. Then he flushed, ears red as he averted his gaze, slumping. “How bad was it?”

“Like you were witnessing a murder. Or Shoko stealing your rice balls.” Gojo grinned as he reached out, shaking Geto’s shoulder. “Come on, Suguru- breathe! Whatever’s got you freaking out will work itself out. It always does!”

“It’s not that easy. Sure, logically I know things are gonna be fine, but my brain won’t accept that! I can’t get it to shut down and I just-” Caught in a whirlwind of sudden emotion, Geto bowed his head in defeat, slumping forward like a slacked marionette. “I just…”

“Hey, hey- breathe. Seriously.” Dropping his teasing tone, Gojo rested his hand on Geto’s back, rubbing small circles. “Just breathe right now. Nice and slow…”

Geto did so, pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes as he gasped around shaky breaths. He barely heard Gojo’s voice anymore, but that was fine. The hand on his back was more than reassuring. Slowly, he was brought out of his near-panic attack. “Sorry.”

“Pfft- you’re such a sap.” Relieved his friend sounded better, Gojo did what he did best. He began poking Geto. “Next you’re gonna tell me how grateful and appreciative you are of me! Just like a shoujo manga! Come on, confess your love!”

“Ah! Aheahaha, screhehehw yoohohohohu! Sahhahatohohoru!” Geto shot back at the sudden tickle, trying and failing to block out Gojo’s hands. “Cuuhuhuhut it ohohohohut! Aheahhaha, dohohohon’t!”

“Don’t what? Don’t hold back your feelings? It’s okay- let them out! Tell me how much you looooove me!” Gojo sang, bringing one hand to Suguru’s neck as the other wormed beneath his arm. They weren’t nearly his most ticklish spots, but damn if they didn’t get Geto giggling like nobody’s business! “Tell me you think I’m the prettiest boy in the world!”

“Aheahhahaha, lihihihihike hehehheell yoohohohohu ahahahahre! Aheahhahaha, Sahhahatou!” Geto tried to lean away from the other, but Gojo simply followed, climbing on top of him as he pressed into his armpits. “Gehhehhet ohohohoohohohoff!”

“Never! I’m attached to you forever and ever!” Gojo sang, deciding to be bold and going straight for Geto’s hips. “Suguru~ Tell me you love meeeee~”

“AHAHA!” The green haired teen let out a scream, nearly sending the other off with how hard he jerked at the feeling. “SAHHAHTORU!”

“Suguru!” Gojo yelled back, laughing like a hyena as Geto howled and cackled beneath him, feet kicking and torso arching upward in vain attempts to grab the hands massaging his hips. “Look at you, you’re so giggly now! Tickle tickle tickle! A tickle tickle tickle! A tickle tickle tickle, Suguru!”

If he could, Geto would verbally rip his white haired menace of a friend a new one. Alas, Gojo had effectively silenced him- no really; he was going for the dips of his hips that never failed to have him tea-kettle wheezing in place of booming laughter.

With the little strength he had left, he reached out and grabbed Gojo’s sides, squeezing right along the spot he knew his friend was ticklish in. Gojo yelped and jerked, hands coming away from Geto’s hips to grab his wrists. That was the opportunity he needed.

“Whoa!” The world twisted, the ground was suddenly the sky, and above him- a flushed face, heavy breathing Geto glared down at him. “Hey there, gorgeous- how you’ve been?”

“You…huhuhush.” Geto growled without any malice, suddenly too tired to tickle back. Below him, Gojo got comfortable, tucking his arms behind his head and wagging his brows with a small smirk. When Geto met his eye once more, he blew a kiss.

“I hate you.” He groaned as Gojo laughed, falling onto his side and off the other. “You’re so annoying- why are we friends again?”

“Cause we’re the only ones who can stand each other's company.” Gojo winked, earning a light shove. “I don’t mind it if we were the last two on earth; though I bet you’d get bored of me after a while.”

“Never.” The words came automatically and swiftly. Geto blinked- even Gojo seemed taken aback by them. “I’d never get bored of you.” The more he said it, the more real it felt. “I’d be bored to tears without you if I’m being honest.”

“Ehe..you know, I was kidding earlier- about the whole confession thing.” Gojo tried to laugh it off, his cheeks starting to turn pink. “You don’t have to get all sappy with me.”

“No, I mean it. Really.” Geto turned so he was on his side, facing the other. “You’re a real pain in the ass, and half the time I want to strangle you, but you’re also my best friend and one of the coolest guys I’ve ever known. You’re there to keep me from spiraling whenever my headspace gets bad, and you always make me laugh. You find these ridiculous things for us to try whenever you travel, and you always send me pictures of you posing in ridiculous places. You’re important to me. Really, you might be one of the only reasons I haven’t dropped off the face of the earth right about now, so…thanks for that.”

Gojo was quiet as he listened, staring up at the sky as he took in every word. His lips were flat, and he was blinking rather rapidly. “You really are a sap, you know that?” He grinned, his voice somewhat wobbly.

“Oak or maple?” Geto grinned, making Gojo cackle.

“Now kiss me you fool!” Gojo threw himself on top of him, making kissy noises and messing up his hair as Geto laughed beneath him. Soon they were wrestling once more, throwing grass in eachother’s faces and jabbing at tickle spots. It was utterly ridiculous yet special at the same time.

It was just as Gojo said; all of it worked out in the end somehow.

Thanks for reading!

[genericpuff]

Winter is Coming - Rekindled schedule adjustment and plans for next year!

So it's that time of year now when conventions, markets, and expos for next year are rolling out their submission periods. So far I've gotten accepted to attend the Atlantic Entertainment Expo again (both venues so two shows), MiraCon, and I'm gonna be attending not one, not two, but THREE tattoo expos ! Which is definitely a lot, but I'm excited, it's gonna be good publicity and good money :' ) I'm also gonna be applying to HalCon, Geekquinox, and Animaritimes again, I didn't get in on HalCon this year and didn't find out about Geekquinox until submissions were done (and I only got in on Animaritimes at the last minute when they were looking for people to fill in) but if I do get into any (or all) of those, I'll have to play the fun game of "make sure none of these events land on the same weekend" LMAO

All that's to say, it's gonna be busy next year! (and all of those are the ones I actually decided to apply to, there are ones I did this past year that I'm not planning on doing again because they just didn't turn out to be as good as I had hoped). Thankfully, none of this is starting up until spring, so I'm gonna enjoy the winter off and get to work on new stuff to sell. I'm really eager to get through the rest of [AFTERBIRTH], it's still got quite some time until it's done but my plan is to pitch Thread of Fate to publishers once [AFTERBIRTH] is finished - and if it's not able to get in with those publishers, then I'm gonna pursue other means in getting it published, either digitally or traditionally. Time Gate is a series I've been working on for well over a decade of my life, and it's not something I want to keep throwing to the wolves of free-to-read platforms like WT. As much as I love being able to offer it for free, I want it to be taken more seriously than being just another free to read comic and that starts with me and how I choose to distribute it.

Right now working on all these things is sort of limiting due to the fact that I'm stuck on my iPad, but I'm making it work as best I can and I'm hoping to have the new PC setup going by the end of the year running with a new tablet (currently shopping around between an XP-pen and Huion, I don't want to get a Kamvas 22 Plus again if it's gonna shit the bed in 2 years like this one did, apparently this is a common problem from what I've seen :/)

So yeah, with all that in mind, I'm planning on adjusting Rekindled's update schedule. While I did initially want to offer a poll for y'all to choose between "shorter updates once a week" and "full updates once every 2 weeks", frankly I'm erring more towards the "every two weeks" one because it'll give me more actual time and room to work on everything else. Not to mention (and I'm sure you've all noticed by now) that I have a very specific way that I structure many of these episodes so making them shorter would sort of ruin that rhythm. I don't want to be sacrificing the comic's quality, pacing, or narrative progression for a schedule adjustment.

This isn't going to be an immediate change, I'm thinking of doing this sometime in December so that y'all can have a decent amount of heads up before the switch. I know it's gonna be a little painful to go to a slower release schedule but ultimately I think it's the best way to go so that I can balance all of the projects I have going on without sacrificing quality. Rekindled may be a free to read non-profit project, but I still hold myself to high standards and I want to do my best to deliver on those standards !

Thank you all so much for your patience and support. It seriously blows me away to see all of the wonderful comments, asks, and support for what I do here every day. I'm gonna do my best as well to respond to asks in my inbox as they come in, but please just know I get a LOT of them on a regular basis, it's sort of a Hydra situation where I respond to 1 or 2 and then get 4 more LOL That said, rest assured that I do read and appreciate each and every one of them <3 That also includes essay posts about LO, with LO returning in November I'll surely have more stuff to say about it so I'm gonna try and keep up as best I can :' )

On a final note, we're coming up to the one year anniversary of when I started posting actual episodes of Rekindled!! I'm so excited for this, I can't believe it's been a year!! And I have so much awesome stuff planned for the story that we're gonna see throughout the next year, I can't wait! Thanks so much for being a part of this project with me, I couldn't have asked for a better audience <3

(P.S. everything I have lined up for next year is lining up with the dry period for FF XIV between Endwalker and Dawntrail so I won't have distractions until the summer LMAOO)