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dantakeyoman · 1 year

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I would reallyy love if you could write about how when the Sully family reaches the new tribe all of the Metkayina girls are trying really hard to get Neteyam to notice them (Cause you know he's the oldest, a good warrior and is gonna be a leader soon) but they dont know he already has a mate and the reader gets jealous. So neteyam has to comfort her and when she realizes she is being silly and has nothing to worry about...this one metkayina girl really pushes it....(im talking getting touchy with neteyam, always finding ways to get him alone and is rude to the reader) and she loses her absolute shit and you can decide what she does but i want it to be very possessive like behavior😏 sorry this is long😅

Metkayina Girls Start Falling At Neteyam's Feet and You, His Mate, Get Jealous (SFW)

Reader is Fem! Omaticaya

CW: a story of jealousy with aa twist, these girls are really shameless, Kiri and Lo'ak duo, sorry im posting so late, my stomach actually really hurts rn, but not writing for so long has been driving me crazy, anyway, enjoy <3 ( i barfed in my mouth a little bit writing some of this cringey shit )

"Humans?! That must've been so scary for you! What happened next?" Leyelu asked as she stretched, laying herself stomach-down in the sand in front of Neteyam, batting her eyelashes.

"Yeah, did you fight them? I'm sure you did, since you are such a strong warrior," Nayat smiled, scooching her seat closer to the boy.

"Um...well, I didn't-." "Impossible. I can imagine you swooping in and saving your family. All heroic-like," Srraza smirked, openly raking her eyes up and down Neteyam's body, not caring how uncomfortable he looked.

Their shameless display made you want to vomit, and possibly scream, at the same time.

There were a total of three girls. Leyelu, Nayat, and Srraza. And all were practically throwing themselves at Neteyam.

It had been about a week and some change since you and the Sullys arrived at Awa'atlu. And every day, without fail, these girls managed to tail Neteyam, following him and showering him in praise whenever they could.

You hadn't had not two seconds alone with him before one of them, or all three, came barging in with some fake excuse of a heavy basket they needed help lifting or a boat they needed help loading.

You knew Neteyam never entertained their advances, and were thankful for it.

But being his mate, you couldn't help but feel frustrated. (and maybe a little jealous)

"If you scowl any harder, it's going to become permanent," Kiri playfully warned, your face amusing her.

"Are you alright?"

"I'm fine," you curtly answered, tearing your eyes away from the scene angrily.

"Yes. I'm fine is stretched tightly across your face right now," Lo'ak smirked from his spot in the sand, hands behind his head as he subathed.

"(y/n), I hope you know that Neteyam would never-." "I know," you sighed, already guessing what Kiri was going to say.

"I trust Neteyam completely. It's just-."

You couldn't finish the sentence. It was embarrassing.

"Just what?" Lo'ak asked, ears perking in intrigue.

"Give her a minute," Kiri shushed, smacking him in the arm, earning an annoyed ow! from the boy.

"It's not that I'm scared Neteyam will leave me. It is just...I don't see why he won't," you started, staring down at your feet in shame.

Kiri and Lo'ak both whipped their heads towards you in disbelief, their expressions contorting into ones of confusion.

"What the hell are you talking about?" Lo'ak asked, confused.

"Lo'ak!" Kiri scolded.

She was thinking the same thing, but he could've been a little easier on the delivery.

"Look at them," you sighed, holding out your hand to the girls, who were still fake listening to Neteyam's story.

"Leyelu's father is one of the best hunters in the clan, only second to Tonowari. Nayat's mother is incredibly skilled on the loom, who is now teaching Nayat everthing she knows. For Eywa's sake, Srraza is studying under Ronal to be a healer."

The brother ans sister's expressions slowly softened, the meaning behind your words now coming to light.

"You are the best dancer the Omaticaya have ever seen. And the best the Metkayina have seen, as well," Kiri tried to comfort, a warm smile on her face.

"Oh, yes, because dancing can help me hunt for food. And dancing can help me make clothes. Let's not forget, it can help me heal as well," you sarcastically agreed, snippy.

Kiri sighed.

She didn't take it to heart, not one bit. She understood your frustration.

"They all have spent their years learning skills that can be of use, be important. All I have to show for mine are a couple of dance moves."

Lo'ak looked like he wanted to say something, but decided against it until you were finished.

"And the best part of it is they are all gorgeous, the most sought after girls in this village. And I'm just...me."

Kiri felt her heart ache.

She had no idea you had been feeling this way this whole time.

She thought it was just a small case of jealousy. But it seemed to be much deeper than that.

"So, no. I'm not frustrated or scared of Neteyam leaving me. I am frustrated and scared because he has every reason to."

You turned back to the scene, only to see Leyelu resting her hands on Neteyam's chest, leaning into his face.

"Hey, Neteyam. Have you ever given thought to who could possibly be your mate?" she asked with a smirk, peering up at him through her beautiful eyelashes.

It was as if you didn't even exist.

"(y/n), wai-." But you ignored Kiri, abruptly standing up, not wanting to watch the scene any longer.

"Dammit, (y/n)! Sit down and look," Lo'ak groaned, roughly pulling you back down and turning your face to watch Neteyam.

"Do not touch me," Neteyam sternly ordered, grabbing the girl's wrists and pulling her hands of him, harshly.

"I know that you know I already have a mate. And you trying to make advances on me while knowing that is incredibly disrespectful."

The girls were giving him puppy dog eyes, as if that would guilt him into stopping.

It made you gag.

"I do not appreciate how you've been disregarding (y/n) this entire week. Especially when she has done nothing to you."

"That's exactly the point. She does nothing. She is just there with you. You two do not even act like mates," Srraza scoffed, rolling her eyes.

"That is true. I never see you two hug, or kiss, or embrace each other romantically at all," Nayat agreed.

"Because any time I get alone with her is interrupted by you three!" Neteyam exclaimed, annoyed.

His sudden burst shocked you.

You didn't know he felt this.

"I only get time to myself every once in a while, and I like to spend it with (y/n). But ever since I've gotten here, you three have used every mean under the sun to keep that from happening. For Eywa's sake, that was what I was on my way to do now before you all came along!"

"But why? She doesn't hunt, she doesn't loom, she doesn't heal, she can't even carry a tune. She's boring, plain. Why would you willingly want to spend time with her?" Leyelu asked, cocking an eyebrow s she crossed her arms.

Ouch.

"That's why you look like a dead fish, bitch!" Lo'ak loudly called, making you and Kiri die in snickers.

The girl whipped around, glaring daggers at the boy.

"Lo'ak!" Kiri tried to scold, but couldn't through her laughter.

"It's true! If her eyes were any farther apart, she'd be able to see the back of her head," he huffed.

You were his friend. And he didn't like people talking shit about you.

Meanwhile, Neteyam was using every ounce of his strength to not bare his teeth at the girl.

"I don't care about what she can't do. I love what she can. She's a phenomenal dancer, and has forgotten more moves than you three will ever learn. She's funny, she's kind, she's caring, the farthest thing from boring. And her beauty makes the three of you look like a patch wet sand. I am lucky to call her my mate, and if you all would excuse me, I'm going to spend the rest of the day with her," Neteyam angrily corrected, pushing past them and walking towards you.

And as he drew closer, you smiled, wider than you had in a while.

You felt foolish for thinking he could do better than you.

Especially after he just confessed that he believed he could do no better than you.

It made you feel happy, and loved, and secure in your relationship.

There was no one that could take your place because you were the place, and the only one who could ever be it.

And now knowing that fact, sent you over the moon.

…

taglist !!

@vane28282, @remutoast, @p1nkprint, @ladyorchidia, @anthonys-viscountess, @karmz-7319, @cantbuysophialove, @scarabruhs, @an0th3rsss, @deloe18, @mariiyoushi, @av1xar, @alexxcorona113, @may-and-lay, @overlyfancybreakfastfoods, @harshita-hiranyamayi, @qui-02, @myheartfollower, @morks-watermelon, @bangtanxberm, @adavenus, @sweetdayme4427, @lilac13, @torchbearerkyle, @dazedshoon, @rovckwell, @wonieee, @0710khj, @multifandomreader73, @kadu-5607, @la-cey, @roseazura, @sophiejiro, @angelbeari, @bludyl

#avatar the way of water #avatar 2 #avatar #na'vi x y/n #na'vi x reader #neteyam fluff #neteyam x y/n #neteyam x reader #neteyam #atwow x reader #atwow #omitacaya

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raven-at-the-writing-desk · 1 month

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📚inch resting bits from the march twst manga updates📚 (octa, savana, & 4koma!)

***Manga spoilers below the cut (with an emphasis on the Episode of Octavinelle, since that's my favorite dorm!)***

The 4koma manga has dropped! Again, it centers around the daily lives of the NRC boys and is shown in a 4 panel gag comic format.

In the illustration above, we see the main cast with Grim's beloved tuna cans~

This month has comics about Ace going to a supplementary lesson (to learn how to manipulate brooms to do his chores) and Leona attending his art class. The comic depicts Leona, Idia, and Rook in the same art class though we're not sure if this is true in-game yet. However, the comics do carry over the continuity of Ace and Deuce being in Trein's class so maybe the art class thing is also true of Leona?

From the Episode of Savanaclaw manga: I KNOW WE'RE SUPPOSED TO BE IN AWE OF DIASOMANI'S PRESENCE BUT ALL I'M THINKING IS THAT DIASOMNIA HAS A MOB STUDENT WITH A BOWL CUT 😭

I'm also really fixated on how this mangaka draws her lashes and hair, they're always bangers every time 💗

Ruggie "bleh" face... Also???? That full page of him using his UM... and the visualization of the wildebeests racing with him like the people in the crowd, very Lion King.

I like that the manga really shows us more emotional and intense moments the game cannot depict due to its limited assets. Here, we see the aftermath of Ruggie using his UM on the crowd. Even with Azul's magic-enhancement potion, Ruggie has taken a great physical toll from spellcasting. Falling to his knees, panting... This will make it hurt more when Leona almost poofs him to sand later 😭

These panels remind me of like. Scar looking on from up high while the hyenas do his bidding. Ruggie's expression... it's so full of a desperate kind of hope has he gazes up at his "king".

From the Episode of Octavinelle, we get to see Leona post-OB and recovering in the infirmary. Side note, I really love how the mangaka adds these cute little faces to let us know who is speaking in certain text bubbles. The little faces make some of the cutest expressions; just look at that cheeky chibi Leona head!

Here, Ruggie is telling everyone about rumors that Azul and the twins purposefully prevent their clients from fulfilling their end of the contract so they can reap the benefits. I like how the scene shown is a boat tipping over (with the twins implied to have flipped it). Nice callback to the boat scene in The Little Mermaid!

We have another The Little Mermaid reference here, where Floyd shares his UM with the gang?? The hypothetical man here reminds me of Prince Eric, especially in that white shirt and appearing as though he is drowning.

Guys... Azul's been taking modeling lessons from Vil-- I really like these more quiet and contemplative moments of Azul; plenty of those are featured this month.

asdbhlfdbaifyoaiygoeia I WILL NOW ALWAYS ASSOCIATE AZUL THINKING HARD WITH SITTING IN THAT CHAIR... There's so many shots of him seated here...

Yuuta continues to be my favorite manga!Yuu so far by diligently tidying up Leona's messy ass room for him... asfvkyadvfialf Grim looks so goofy helping out, that tower of clothes is half his size...

FLOYD'S FACE IS SO siLLy HERE TOO (this is the scene when Ruggie recalls seeing his eel form during a P.E. class where they swam). The mangaka really decided to summon his gremlin energy here...

Aaaaah, I love this shot; it sort of parallels Azul and Leona... It also makes me realize the difference between how Leona's hair is in Octavinelle vs Savanaclaw (due to the different mangaka). In Octavinelle, his hair is usually a solid black with white highlights but in Savanaclaw there tends to be a subtle gradient/screen tone on Leona's hair.

Anyway, twins Twins TWINS

GOOD WAY TO CLOSE OUT THE OCTA CHAPTER, EXCELLENT WAY TO CLOSE OFF THE OCTA CHAPTER IN FACT 🫶 Can you tell I love the Tweel parts/j

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going-to-ikea-for-the-fries · 1 month

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I'm really sick and Satan's sacrificial waterfall is here AT THE SAME TIME!

I don't know if you do blurbs or headcannons, but if so, would you be willing to write for the boys (either taskforce 141, or singular characters,) taking care of an afab reader who has never had anyone wanting to take care of them?

If not, sorry to bother!

I don't typically take requests but... since I'm in the same boat (sacrificial waterfall is probably going to come over the weekend for me), I'll 100% do it.

A while back I also posted this: "You're feeling ill" and it's also along the same vein, if you'd like an extra little pick me up.

Period woes.

Rating: G Words: 1K~ tags: afab!reader but you/your pronouns, SFW!, fluff, comfort, periods and associated symptoms.

A person’s period might be the most hypocritical moment of their routine. They’re expected to continue moving, working and living their live as normal, all with a smile on their face, while their uterus actively attempts to cut off its own circulation… as if for any other injury or sickness you wouldn’t be expected to lay down and STOP for a moment and allow yourself to heal up, or at least improve enough to not be miserable.

But no. You’re expected to deal with it alone, to not show a reaction, to not be irritable, or groaning and writhing in pain. Take a shower, stock up on painkillers and slap a smile on your face, you’ve gotta go out in the world and act as if you’re not actively dreading every waking moment you spend on your feet.

That’s why you’ve learned to hide it when you’re going through your monthly. Your family, partners… not even your girlfriends know when you’re having it. Ever since you were a young teen, just starting out, it was very much a conceal, don’t feel, don’t let them know, sort of moment.

But it’s miserable. You’re always miserable. Everything hurts, the cramps, the headaches, the back pain, hip pain, your sore chest… Plus the blood, the lack of appetite (or increase in appetite), the nausea, the fact you want to cry one moment, or break dishes and scream the next, the way your colleagues annoy you beyond compare, how certain sounds grit your nerves just. enough. to make you feel like you’re losing it… And then you can’t sleep.

And of course… he notices it. How could he not?

Ghost is discreet about it. He doesn’t mention it, doesn’t make a big deal about it… But he’s VERY good at taking care of you without you noticing he’s doing it. His love language is acts of service… So he simply goes around giving you a hand on whatever you might need. Food? Made. Dishes? Done. Laundry? Washed, Dried, Folded and Put Away. He finds you trying to do something? No. Give it here, he’ll do it.

The inevitable day that a leak happens and you find yourself angry at yourself as you strip the bedsheets off the bed, trying to be discreet about it so he doesn’t see it, he silently grabs the sheets off your hands and murmurs a “Go take a shower and change. I’ve got this.” before turning to put the sheets in the washer, clean the mattress and remake the bed so you can lay down again by the time your shower is over. It makes you emotional, sometimes, that such a stoic man will gladly take on every other responsibility to allow you to heal.

Gaz, blessed be him, is an absolute sweetheart… But he’s also a silly boy. He notices and although he’s not going to make a big deal about it, he’s still very… Boyish about it. Uses all the silly names for your period (“The Communists are coming”, “Shark week”, “Satan’s waterfall”, “Carrie”) and affectionately calls you “My little ketchup packet”.

He’s all for ordering takeout and getting you whatever you want when and how you want it. He’ll rub your back and be very careful about where and how he touches you. He’s ginger with touches around your waist and lower stomach, looks at you with those big brown eyes of his, as if checking that he’s not hurting you or crossing a boundary. You find yourself getting emotional when he whispers about how strong you are to deal with this every month… Keeps asking gently if you need anything… It makes you feel so safe.

Price’s older. He’s been in many relationships before. He notices your period is coming before it even does… Notices how you’re acting. Jumpier, grumpier, sadder… Notices how you toss and turn the couple of nights leading up to it. And he’s silently prepared. He’s made a supply run to the grocery store to get what brand of period products you use and some painkillers and puts them where you can see them in the bathroom.

Fills you up with warm herbal tea and food that he knows are easy to digest and help with your state. No fucking chocolate and sugar or potato chips, you’re being pumped full of soups and stews and veggies and cut up fruit. He’ll sit by your side with a paring knife and an apple and slowly peel, core and cut it, before slowly feeding you (and himself) the slices. When you try to resist it, at first, too used to doing things alone, he’ll grab your face with both hands, look into your eyes and tell you. “And why exactly would I let you do that, when you’ve got me here to help you? How does that make sense?”

Soap’s… Well… Soap’s got a bunch of sisters… Each of them dealing with their periods in wildly different ways... So one thing he knows for sure: He’s not about to assume anything. You do what you’ve got to, he’ll adjust to you. He needs to go to the bathroom but you’re in there? Copy that, he’ll go piss in the yard. You’re having a cry in the kitchen because nothing looks good but you’re hungry? Talk it out with him, what do you want to eat? Let’s figure it out together, bonnie. You need to lie down in a dark room because of a migraine or headache or just to catch on sleep you’ve missed? Johnny’s blacked out every window, gathered every stray pillow and blanket in the house and will make you a nest if he’s got to.

And when you wake up in the middle of the night with a whine and a stretch because your back hurts and you’ve got cramps and cannot for the life of you get comfortable, Johnny’s hands are rubbing over you, pressing kisses to your temple and murmuring little “I ken, love… It’ll be over soon… I’m sorry you’re going through this…”

#ikea writes 💚#cod fanfic #cod headcanons #reqs #simon ghost riley #captain john price #john soap mactavish #kyle gaz garrick #feeling sick #sickness #menstruation

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 1 month

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WIBTA for asking my SO to do something that they have trauma around?

I don't know when this will be posted but as of writing we are about 2 weeks post valentines day. Ages and genders irrelevant, we're in our 20s and queer.

So I have not been with Jordan long, but we knew each out for a few months as friends before we got together, and have been close pretty much all of the time we've known each other. This is to say, I know them pretty well despite us not actually having been dating that long.

Because we were already friends I knew going into the relationship, without Jordan specifically saying anything, that they had plans on Valentines day. They got tickets to a concert I wasn't interested in a decent amount of time before we got together.

Obviously, not an issue in the slightest, and neither of us brought up anything regarding Valentines day. It was a week day, so I was working all day, and then the time of the concert meant there was no possibility of meeting up after, just not meant to be this year. I thought we were in the same boat just silently agreeing that the timing wasn't right but that it wasn't a big enough deal to even be worth bringing up, especially in such a new relationship.

Some backstory on me: I'm a hopeless romantic and have a kind of cute aesthetic? I like dressing in bright colours, and some of my favourite outfits have prints of hearts, flowers, and cherries. Needless to say I really enjoy the aesthetic of Valentines day, and I've always kind of fantasised about being able to spend it with someone I have romantic feelings for. I've only had two romantic relationships before this and the first one only lasted 6 months and didn't make it to Valentines day, and in the second we both contracted the same bug and were horribly sick throughout February.

Obviously I don't think you should only do things for your SO on Valentines day, but I think it would be fun to have the chance to really get into it! In the past I've organised Valentines day events with my other single friends where we dress in pink and have heart shaped foods etc and those have been great, but haven't quite satisfied my desire to have a Romantic Valentines.

So, despite the fact that my SO was busy, I wanted to do a little something. I do digital art, so when I got home from work I drew a pun Valentines card featuring Jordan's favourite character. It took a few hours and I was pretty proud of how it came out. I knew they were at the concert still, but I texted it to them, so they could see it after.

They responded that night and their first message was just "oh." I've known Jordan long enough that i read the tone to be "oh, now I to have a conversation I didn't want to have." They went on to explain that they associate Valentines day with some past trauma. I won't give any details here, but the tone of the conversation was that they don't celebrate Valentines day because of their trauma, and this seemed like a very final stance.

Now. I don't think I'm TA for drawing the art and sending it, this had never been brought up before, so I didn't know I was crossing a boundary.

I do think Jordan is slightly TA for not saying anything about my art that I worked hard on, but only slightly bc I assume the trauma response just kind of took over.

But my question is, WIBTA if I asked my SO to celebrate Valentines day with me in future even though it's something they have trauma around?

I'm not planning to force them or anything and it doesn't even have to be in the next few years, but thinking long term it feels really gloomy to me to have to miss out on Valentines forever when my SO could be making new memories with me so that mentions of the holiday are less painful.

I don't expect them to just "get over" it magically or anything but I want to ask if it's something they'd possibly want to work up to? I swear I'm not trying to be dismissive their response is fully valid and I don't want to imply my silly fantasies are more important than their traumatic reality I just want to know if this would be an asshole move or not.

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

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thcfountain · 3 months

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Dating Nick Folio would include:

mdni. nsfw & fluff.

Fishing dates! sitting in a boat together in comfortable silence, occasionally talking about the weather or other small talk as you wait for the fish to bite.

Matching outfits for riding his motorcycle. He's very big on "dress for the slide, not the ride," but that doesn't mean you won't match.

He tries to teach you to ride a motorcycle too. Riding your own is safer than clinging to him from behind, even if he likes the feeling of you pressed up against him.

"I'd rather straddle and ride you," you say, halfway into the lesson and Nick immediately stops what he's doing.

Strong arms wrap around you, picking you up to carry you inside immediately. "I hope you mean that," he says as you giggle at the way he rushes you both into the house.

There's lots of laughter and fun in your relationship to the point where you two have had gigglefits together mid sex.

You pause, mid riding him, to laugh. "Did you just say my nipples were jigs?"

He laughs underneath you, hands on your hips, encouraging you to keep moving. "If I was a fish, your nipples would be the best lures to get me." It makes sense but at the same time, it doesn't.

You roll your hips under his encouraging hands but you can't help laughing and he laughs with you, realising that maybe he shouldn't have said that.

"Bang me like a drum," you moan as Nick thrusts into, hard and fast.

As your words register, his pace falters. "like a drum?" he can't help but laugh. "I'll smack your ass like a symbol later, baby, I promise," and you laugh too.

sometimes when you're ovulating, you get heavy baby fever and if you even mention it to Nick, he joins you in having it.

"I could build a crib," he tells you one day. You're snuggled up together on the couch, as close as can be, watching a movie. "And we can buy lots of cute little baby clothes," he adds.

Your heart skips a beat at the thought. "You're too busy," you remind him, even though it pains you to say it.

"You'd be so beautiful pregnant with my baby. I could kiss your tummy and talk to baby about music and fishing. I can't wait to buy them their first fishing pole!"

You guys drive the rest of the band crazy together. You prank band members or make weird noises at each other. If Nick starts singing, you always join in. If one of you makes a weird noise, the other will make a weirder one. You two can communicate solely in odd noises.

Getting matching tattoos. Ruffilo tries to keep you guys from doing it but he ends up giving in and agreeing to tattoo you both because he knows if he doesn't, you're just gonna go get each other's names tattooed and he hates that.

Doing silly couple trends with each other even if you never post them to social media.

Nick likes watching you masturbate and he will bring home toys that he wants to watch you try.

You close your eyes, moving your hips in time with the motorbunny you're currently riding. He'd been so excited when he brought it home for you to try and you had to admit how good it felt to ride.

Nick sits not far from you, eyes glued to your form as he slowly strokes his cock. "Louder, baby," he pleads, begging you to make more noise.

The grinder is strapped to his thigh, his hands are on your waist, helping you ride it. Every time you thrust against it, the ridges and bumbs that were specifically designed, rub against your clit, drawing out cries from you.

"Cum for me," he softly pleads, helping you pick up your pace and it doesn't take long for you to cum all over the toy, your hands grasp his shoulders, steadying yourself as you cry out.

Once you've regained your senses, you drop to your knees, taking his hard cock into your mouth in order to repay the favor.

He also likes it when you order him around.

You're the first person that he lets collar him too.

"You ready?" You ask, holding the lock and collar you two picked out together. It's a beautiful collar, made of a loose chain, and to the untrained eye it might look like some e-boy esq accessory.

"I'm ready, I'm yours and only yours," he promises and you put the collar on his neck, locking it into place. You'll wear the key on a necklace around your own neck.

Sometimes date night means dinosaur nuggets and beer, sometimes its fancy dinner at a nice restaurant, and sometimes date night means sitting in a boat together as you wait for the fish to bite.

Texting with him all the time when the band is on tour. Facetiming him whenever he can get a moment or two away.

"What did you have for dinner?" you ask, watching him move the phone so he can readjust to a more comfortable position in his bunk. "Don't say sleep."

He laughs but there's love in his gaze at the fact that you take his wellbeing so seriously. "We found a pizza place," he tells you. "Noah ate his weight in pizza and now Jolly is tutting about how he warned Noah he'd get a tummy ache." You both laugh a little and then there's a quiet pause. "I miss you," he says quietly.

"I miss you too. I love you."

being treated like a younger sibling by the band. You and Noah are practically bffs with the most brother/sister relationship ever.

You run and leap onto Noah, clinging to his back from behind. "I'm gonna take you down," you threaten, while Nick cheers you on. "You can't beat me in a wrestling match."

But Noah is all muscle now so he just laughs. "This isn't even wrestling, you're just koala clinging to me."

You look back at Nick and he immediately gets the point, rushing over and helping you get Noah onto the floor. The two of you pin Noah down together.

"That's fucking cheating!" He declares as you and Nick laugh.

"Why are you guys recreating the scene where Merry and Pip tackle Boromir?" Asks Matt as he walks into the room.

You and Nick look at each other for a second and then rush Matt, knocking him down next.

"We're the undefeated wrestling champs!"

Going on cross-country road trips together on motorcycles. Which means staying in shoddy motels, eating at random diners, and making memories you'll never forget.

He pulls over to the side of the road and you follow, wondering if something is wrong. It's night time and the road is practically deserted in this in the middle of nowhere town that you're passing through.

It turns out nothing is wrong, he just wants a moment to stand at look at the stars together. Brightly splattered across the blue-black sky, the moon shining down on you both. You take your helmets off and kiss under the stars.

Lots of kisses! Nick loves kisses from you and he loves giving them. Sometimes you guys just sit and makeout. His kisses are the best.

#nick folio #nick folio imagine #nick folio smut

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stressfulsloth · 7 months

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In regards to your post “and now I'm. Just thinking about the loneliness that is SO pervasive through Elysium.”…

I have one thing to offer, or perhaps nitpick if you’d prefer it that way.

I don’t think it’s entirely fair to say the Sunday Friend isn’t a real friend. The Smoker On The Balcony believes him to be a real friend, even if he isn’t going to be there come Monday morn. But isn’t that enough? A friend on Sunday is still a friend, even if it makes waking up Monday all the worse.

Perhaps I’m biased though! Now that I think about it, most of my friends would fit the description. “Fair weather friend” feels to cold, but “sunday friend” is good enough.

And of course none of this is to say your post is at all wrong. It’s lovely and true. I just felt the need to quarrel publicly with that little detail.

To conclude, since I really just did not make myself very clear here; you are utterly correct to include the Sunday Friend in a post about loneliness but I take slight issue with saying he’s not a real friend. And so I wrote you a very long ask. And now as I reach it’s end I’m realising this was a very silly undertaking. But I’ve come this far so I’m going to grow a pair and hit “ask”.

Thank you for taking the time to read this, I hope it isn’t too desperately obnoxious.

Peace out ✌️

Ahh man I'm sorry anon but I'm going to have to disagree with you pretty strongly here 😅 tbh I was a little too easy on him in the original post. It's not necessarily the temporary nature of their acquaintance that makes the Sunday Friend's friendship questionable on its own, although it doesn't help.

The Sunday Friend is quite literally not a friend. "Friend" in his title is a euphemism; he's not coming to visit the Smoker because he's his friend. He's coming to visit the smoker to do a bit of poverty tourism, to admire the crumbling place that his beliefs have helped to destroy, and a bit of heavily implied sex tourism too. A "first world" tourist, a bureaucrat from the international government, visiting one of the most impoverished districts of Revachol to spend his nights with a student. He's not the Smoker's friend, he's a client. They're using 'friend' as a stand-in for his actual role, which is a) as a part of the moralist bureaucratic system repressing the revolution and keeping the city as a whole trapped in a laissez faire purgatory easily exploited by foreign capitalists and ultraliberals, while still maintaining a friendly respectable face, and b) as the Smoker's customer, exploiting the poverty of Martinaise's residents to get what he wants for cheap and using the easy mobility that his money and status give him. Imo he's intended narratively as a parallel for the moralist coalition government; he views from a distance, focused on money and *ze price stabilité* but entirely divorced from the poverty and consequence of his work. Happy to dip his toe in and make use of exploitable populations in Revachol, but always ready to leave too. When asked how he became 'friends' with the smoker, his response is literally to describe the coalition occupying Revachol.

He knows so little about the Smoker beyond him being there to study art, but what kind? "Perhaps graphic design? Printmaking? Who knows?" As to your point about the Smoker thinking he's a real friend, the Smoker is under no illusions about who the Sunday Friend is. An injection of money. Someone with power, someone with the mobility afforded to him by ownership of a non-Revacholian passport, someone content to watch the place decay and do nothing but indulge himself in pet projects and worry about bureaucracy. Someone with the freedom to leave when things get bad; a freedom that is narratively only assigned to a rare few extremely bourgeois characters. Dora, on her flight to Mirova, Joyce and her boat, Trant and his academic travels, and the Sunday Friend who will be out of Martinaise like a shot the moment things start to kick off despite being a part of the overarching structure that is responsible for Revachol's subjugation and rising political tensions. The Sunday Friend will use the Smoker's labour, use the vulnerability of Revachol's precarious situation to his advantage, then once it becomes too precarious or he gets bored, he'll withdraw. In answer to your question, no, I don't think that's enough. Again I probably oversimplified in my last post but the loneliness all throughout DE is not just an emotional state but a political one. Alienation is a major theme. As is the impossibility of building community in the face of capitalism relentlessly subsuming anything in its path, in the face of shallow relationships dictated by the need for survival. The Sunday Friend embodies that concept perfectly. He is exquisitely shallow in conversation, a perfect moralist who at all times strives to remain impartial and distant.

Anyway. Tldr; my point is that the relationship between the Smoker and the Sunday Friend is far more transactional, and far more exploitative, than you seem to believe. "Friend" is not being used literally but euphemistically. A 'fairweather friend' is better than none, sure, but that's entirely inapplicable to this situation. Sorry for the long post and I hope it's not too rambling- I'm surviving on very little sleep right now but I hope it clears up for you a bit why I referred to the Sunday friend in that way initially.

#disco elysium #sunday friend #long post #sorry this is such a long reply- there is so much more that i could add but i am cutting myself off or I'd carry on forever

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stoned-rat · 1 year

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The new steam version of dwarf fortress is amazing and I fucking love seeing how many people are enjoying these silly little guys and their misadventures. So here is a random collection of things I love about dwarf fortress, it's community, and it's history. (Plus some personal anecdotes)

-That one time fish became one of the games greatest threats

-That one mod that brings deadly carps back

-Training dwarven children with "danger rooms" filled with wooden spikes

-New training mechanics being added to prevent players from throwing all their children into spike pits

-When players posted their best mermaid genocide blueprints, and the creators had to patch the game AGAIN to stop their players from commiting outrageous war crimes

-bOATS and the lack there of

-The game is under halfway done according to it's creators. The game has been in development for 20 years.

-not only do you have gay, asexual, and bisexual dwarves, but animals too. Wondering why you arent getting any chicks? Sorry, your rooster likes cock.

-That one time I wasn't thinking and built a baracks next to a waterfall and my military kept throwing themselves to their deaths

-No race is actually "evil." Goblins and animal people can even join your fort and become valuable citizens.

-Elves are cannibals.

-The game being considered notoriously hard, but actually having extremely customizable difficulty settings. You will just get bored of everything going well.

-That one mod in the steam workshop that changes all the models to have giant tits

-The way dwarves will just refuse to do what you want them too

-Forts falling to their knees because cats kept adopting dwarves and having kittens until the game won't load anymore.

-The fact there are canonically no boats, but dwarves will continue to migrate to your haunted glacier year after year.

-When rain causes PTSD

-Guiding nobles under a bridge so you can lower it and they are literally crushed out of existence

-pangolins are invincible, and your hunters will pass out from exhaustion before killing one.

-The steam version coming out with a glitch that causes archers to not pick up crossbow bolts, but instead bash their enemies to death with their crossbows.

-Anyone's first attempt at redirecting a brook

-The game will always be available for free. The ASCII version will stay available for free download on Bay12, and will continue to be developed alongside the steam version. The premium/steam version was introduced to help the creators afford medical costs and thousands of people came out to buy a game that has been free for nearly two decades, and always will be.

-When asked what plans the creators had now that they were millionaires, they both said they had been more focused on the dwarves than the money and don't even know what they will do with all of it, beyond take care of themselves and keep working on the dwarves.

#dwarf fortress

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showingpitytowardsyourownkind · 6 months

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and for the chapter one fans

Image ID 1: A TikTok comment by Jonathan Heart that says “Are they lovers?” with a reply from the creator, secret brittany that says “Worse” on top of Jon resting his hand on Sherry’s shoulder during the opening cutscene on the boat.

Image ID 2: A tweet by turtlekiosk that says “hey quit bugging me or I will inform you of a behavioral pattern that is noticeable to other people but I can tell you are not yet aware of” on top of Sherlock staring down a suspect.

Image ID 3: A Tumblr post by ewil that says “coping with the pain of living by being a little silly” on top of Sherlock watching Jon casually swim fully clothed inside the yacht club.

Image ID 4: A Tumblr post by manywinged that says “need one of those cones they put on dogs to stop them chewing open their half healed wounds but, like, psychologically” on top of Jon explaining the mental barriers in the mansion to an unamused Sherry.

Image ID 5: A Tumblr post by starkidding-around that says “darling (condescending, with a bit of gay subtext)” on top of Verner looking intensely into Sherlock’s eyes, his face only half visible.

Image ID 6: A Tumblr post by handmaidensabe that says “*winks flirtily* and btw i am soooo haunted by the ghosts of my past mistakes and how preventable their consequences were. Do you want me carnally” on top of Sherlock looking over to Jon.

Image ID 7: A Tumblr post by internetenemy that says “superiority ‘complex’? i find it quite simple really” on top of Sherry mid-smug reply.

Image ID 8: A quote from Brooklyn Nine-Nine that says “i was born for politics i have great hair and i love lying” on top of Mycroft with his eyebrow raised arrogantly.

Image ID 9: A Tumblr post by girlwerewolf that says “need a boyfriend except he’s not my boyfriend and is just some weird guy I drag around with me everywhere” on top of Sherlock doing important detective work while Jon lurks, crouched on top of something in the background.

Image ID 10: A Tumblr post by ndiecity that says “I fucking love casting the first stone despite not being one who has not sinned” on top of Sherlock smugly interrogating a prisoner.

Image ID 11: An Onion local headline that says “Man Could Really Go For Unbridled Bacchanalia Of Earthly Delights Right About Now” on top of Verner looking solemnly through the bars of his gaol cell.

Image ID 12: A Tumblr post by greelin that says “he lived. served cunt. died. got resurrected. served even more cunt.” on top of John Watson, who has Jon’s exact face but with a moustache, as he meets Sherlock.

#sherlock holmes chapter one #frogwares holmes #sherlock holmes: chapter one #shco #verner vogel #jon #jonlock #sherlock holmes

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yourfavoritefuturedoctor · 1 year

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Slow Dancing In A Burning Room ♕ Rafe Cameron

Disclaimer: I don’t own Outerbanks or its Characters

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x Reader

Warnings: Angst, Fluff, and Minimal Smut.

Word Count: 1,111

A/N: I know it’s been awhile since I last posted something, but I wanted to test my writing skills a little bit. I’ve loved this song for as long as I can remember and I’m even more obsessed with Rafe Cameron than I’ve ever been, so I thought I’d put together a piece featuring the two. Hope you enjoy!

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

It’s Not A Silly Little Moment

It’s Not The Storm Before The Calm

This Is The Deep Deep and Dying Breath Of

This Love That We’ve Been Working On

(Y/N) (Y/L/N) twirled the ice in her drink with a straw as she looked down at the water that kissed the boat as it made its way through the water, her mind occupied with thoughts of the argument her and Rafe had just had. It had been triggered by the simplest of things, like many of their arguments lately, and she was beginning to grow tired of the vicious cycle.

“Is everything okay? I heard you and Rafe yelling.” Came the familiar voice of Sarah Cameron, her boyfriend’s younger sister and one of her best friends. (Y/N) shrugged as she lifted the glass in her hand to her lips, the Whiskey burning her chest in a way that seemed less painful than the words Rafe had uttered nearly half an hour ago. She wasn’t sure what to say, was everything okay? The obvious answer was no, everything was not okay and she wasn’t sure it ever would be again. Their love wasn’t the same anymore, it had slowly faded like the sun earlier that day, taking with it the last shred of hope (Y/N) had for their relationship. Her and Rafe’s end was inevitable, but she’d be lying if she said she was ready for it to end.

“We’re always yelling,” She finally admitted to the blonde-haired girl, her now empty glass coming to rest on the table to her left. Sarah let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding as the revelation came to light, her lips tugging down in a frown as she approached the older girl.

“That’s not healthy.” She stated, turning her head to take in the empty expression on (Y/N)’s face. She looked exhausted, her face paler than she’d ever seen it and her usual smile replaced with a tight line. A biter laugh escaped the (Y/H/C) girl’s lips as she took in what Sarah had said.

“I know.”

Can’t Seem To Hold You Like I Want To

So I Can Feel You In My Arms

Nobody’s Gonna Come And Save You

We Pulled Too Many False Alarms

(Y/N) woke the next morning to an empty bed, the spot Rafe usually occupied straightened up and his phone gone. He was no doubt already out and about, doing his damndest to prove himself as the rightful heir to his Father’s businesses. She hummed her disapproval and rolled onto her back looking up at the ceiling for what felt like the hundredth time that week.

“Maybe it’s time to end this for good,” She told herself, unaware that the man she loved was standing in the doorway holding his car keys. He didn’t say a word as he took in her figure in their shared bed, his heart racing at what she’d just said. She couldn’t really feel that way, they’d come too far in the last few years to just walk away when things got hard. Sure they’d broken things off a few times before, but they always ended up right back together.

“You don’t mean that.” He couldn’t stop himself from saying after a few minutes of silence, his voice startling her enough to make her sit upright and cover her upper half with the sheet she laid under. She looked at him like a deer caught in the headlights of an approaching vehicle, her full lips parted in shock that he was home and that he’d heard what she had said.

“I do,” She admitted, averting her eyes from his as he took a step towards her. He shook his head, lifting a hand to his hair at the revelation and took a seat at the end of the bed once he’d reached it.

“No, no you don’t.”

We’re Going Down

And You Can See It Too

We’re Going Down

And You Know That We’re Doomed

My Dear, We’re Slow Dancing In A Burning Room

Another night, another argument or that’s what it felt like as (Y/N) shoved clothing into her gym bag. She had finally reached her breaking point, she was finally done with this charade, and she didn’t think anything Rafe said was going to change her mind this time. He stood in the doorway like he had a few mornings ago watching her gather her things, his head in his hands.

“You aren’t actually walking away from me, are you?” He sounded broken as he questioned her, not once moving from his position. He knew they had problems but he didn’t think they would’ve ever escalated to this level, he didn’t think she’d actually ever put their relationship to rest. Not after they’d tried on and off for so many years to make it work. (Y/N) sighed as she zipped her bag and shouldered it, her car keys coming to dangle from her fingers.

“Don’t act surprised Rafe, you knew this was inevitable. We aren’t compatible anymore, if we ever were. I love you with my whole heart, there isn’t anything in the world that I wouldn’t do for you, but I can’t stay here and be with you when all we do is argue and ignore what one another are saying.” She told him as she made her way around the bed and towards the door, but he stopped her before she could take her leave. His hand gripped her wrist like it was the last time he’d ever see her, which it probably was, after all she planned to leave Kildare.

“But I love you,” He hiccuped, tears pricking his eyes as he clung to the girl, to his girl. (Y/N) closed her eyes as she allowed him to pull her close to him, into his chest and inhaled his familiar scent. She loved him too, but she’d finally learned that just loving someone wasn’t enough to make them stay. Rafe sobbed into her neck, his body trembling as reality crashed down upon him. They were actually doomed, their relationship was doomed, and there was nothing he could do or say that was going to make her stay.

“I’m sorry.” She told him as she pulled away from him, tears pricking her own eyes as she turned on her heel and walked out the door. Forever was what everyone wanted from a relationship, it was what she originally wanted from Rafe, but forever just wasn’t possible for them anymore. Not when all they’d been doing for the last year was Slow Dancing In A Burning Room.

#rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron x reader imagine #outer banks #sarah cameron #jj maybank #john b routledge #pope heyward #kiara carrera #topper thornton #ward cameron #angst #outerbanks imagine #heartbeat #john mayer

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jamisonwritestf2trash · 7 months

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Salutations! Yesterday, I had the fortune to enjoy the rain for a while and jump into some puddles, it was fun hoohoo. When I went home, I realized that it could be a good writing prompt for my mutual —you!—, so...

What would the mercs do if they saw a puddle of water?

TF2 Mercs Reactions To Finding A Puddle After It Rains!

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THIS IS SO CUTE!

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I'm glad you enjoyed the rain and the puddles! Also, the fact that people do things and then think of me is just so ugh I love it 😭

Mutual appreciation comment! Love you and your posts. I also love the fact that we both love the same silly old German man 💖

Also I'm totally not putting off my actual work I should be doing to do multiple headcanon lists. Nope, not me. (Also also this is a great alternative to crying over the fact that I lost my keys for a second time)!

BUT ENOUGH VENTING LETS GET TO THIS PROMT!

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Demo- I'd like to think he'd be down for splashing around and having a good time, but this is Demo we're talking about so.... he definitely slipped, cracked his head, and passed out. Once he wakes up though he tries again and has a good time.

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Engie- Not really a fan of jumping in puddles, more of a fan of watching the water ripple and move when you walk through them. If no ones around he might even find a couple of rocks and drop them to see what the water does.

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Heavy- Unless the puddle is like really big, I don't really see him jumping in one. HOWEVER. Likes the noises that water makes when you walk through it. He thinks the small splashing noises are cute!

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Medic- I know he's an old man. I know this, I understand this, I've accepted this. Doesn't change the fact that he is, in fact, a little German boy who has, on more than one occasion, said "Yippee!' upon seeing something he was really excited about. This man would jump in a puddle no hesitation, and he'd have fun too, sure he'd look insane to any rational passerby, but he doesn't care. What do you expect from a man this silly? ALSO, if Archimedes is with him, he'll also splash in the puddle for fun, Silly man has a silly bird, who would have guessed?

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Scout- "Why would I jump in a puddle, only like little kids and babies do that." The second no one else is around this man is splashing around in a puddle. He's hyper aware of what's going on around him though, lest he be caught having fun. Because having fun is super lame and embarrassing right guys?

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Sniper- Another case of pretending they don't want to do that but would actually have fun if they did. He's not really used to doing "childish." things as an adult. But maybe if he saw another merc doing it, he could be persuaded to join in.

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Spy- He wouldn't. He just wouldn't. He's the kind of dude who would lay something down to walk over a puddle. He physically cringes if he has to step in a puddle. He's just a baby about it.

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Soldier- HE'D HAVE SO MUCH FUN! The only merc who could possibly have more fun is Pyro, but we'll get to them in a minute. Will jump in a puddle, no hesitation. Splashes around and has a good time, and he genuinely enjoys the little things in life!

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Pyro- Has the most fun out of everyone! He loves it when it rains, ironically enough. They definitely have paper boats they put in the puddles and little rubber ducks in the deeper ones. Will stay outside for hours after it rains. They love it so much, they get so happy. They even have white polkadot rainboots.

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Ahhhh! This was so fun. Thank you for requesting this. I hope you like it 💖

#tf2 #team fortress 2 #team fortress headcanons #tf2 headcanons #tf2 hcs #tf2 demoman #tf2 engineer #tf2 heavy #tf2 medic #tf2 scout #tf2 sniper #tf2 spy #tf2 soldier #tf2 pyro

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spacedykez · 1 year

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violence? WOOO!! lifesteal.

so, you heard about a silly little server called lifesteal. maybe u wanna try watching it. well what if i told u that we here at lifestealblr have put together a helpful guide to help you succumb to the poisons start watching the server?? join us we are very normal

so! lifesteal! first, a summary. lifesteal is a server where when u die, you lose a heart off your permanent health bar. when you kill another player you gain a heart. heres a list to sum it up:

dying loses you a heart

killing someone else gains you a heart

losing all your hearts = dead and gone from the series, unless youre revived

you can revive dead players through gay sex crafting a special item

you can withdraw hearts from your healthbar and give them to other players

still have questions? heres a better explanation. ok moving on

lifesteal smp has FOUR seperate seasons so far!! the players are the same, give or take a few people. so, where to start?

first, you don't need to watch the seasons in order. you don't need to know anything about previous seasons to watch lifesteal. start with whatever season you want!! that being said, i'd advise starting on season three or season four (the current season) as they are the most popular.

anyways, if you want to just start watching: here is the link to the playlist containing every lifesteal video on youtube, seasons 1-4 here is the link to the playlist containing every season 3 lifesteal video here is the link to the playlist containing every season 4 lifesteal video

[thank you to @a4g and @aroaceacacia for creating and maintaining the lifesteal s1-4 & lifesteal s3 and the lifesteal s4 playlists, respectively]

HOWEVER

if you'd like to start out slow, pick one lifestealer and start watching them!! honestly, the best way to get into it is just to find a guy (or ten) that you like watching and watch their videos!

a note- i am tagging the user who created each propaganda post so that if people change their urls, you will still be able to find the post. theyre definitely NOT the lifestealers themselves lol. also, some of these are not finished! however this has been sitting in my drafts for six months and i need to post it for my own mental health

i should make this a google docs actually. might do that sometime if i get motivation. but anyways, without further ado:

looking for redstone? mrcube (@tater-noodle)

want to feed the adhd? no rlly if u want adhd fuel watch ashswag (@cherubium)*

ever wanted to see capitalist technoblade? reddoons (@bearandhoney-com)

do you want a new cringefail streamer? itzsubz (@rendogdomesticated)

what about a paranoid escape master? rekrap (@vanivanvanilla)

loyalty and storylines to get invested in? leowook (@totallynotrico)

everyone's favorite special little guy? planetlord (@getwoold)

want gay people or pranks? then go watch branzy (@pacificseaotter)

the server's best PVPer? clownpierce [NEEDED] (NOT TAKEN)

1/3 of a whole idiot on a permanent YouTube grind? baconwaffles (@aroaceacacia)

local bird man done with everyone's shit? parrot (@getwoold)

the local funky hand guy? roshambo (@techno-in-a-boat)

background character incarnate? poafa (@simply-scrolling)

the special little guy who can and will kill you? spepticle (@cogmented)

quirky smiley guy who'll kill you? princezam (@vanivanvanilla)

incomprehensible violence! mapicc! (@cogmented)

sillay liddol guy? Creechur™️? pangi [NEEDED] (NOT TAKEN)

DRAGON GUYY!!! vortexdragon. (@vanivanvanilla)

lifesteal's local polar bear? woogie (@tater-noodle)

stuborrn, endearing guy who likes a challenge? jaron (@aroaceacacia)

cringefail foxboy streamer? vitalasy (@rendogdomesticated)

the walking pride flag guy? spoke (@a4g)

"annoying little brother" but endearing? mcclutch!! (@simply-scrolling)

chaotic rascal who loves doing events? midmystic!! (@xxswagcorexx)

awesome visuals and serious storylines? terrain!! (@cherubium)

*my girlfriend's favorite lifestealer and approved by multiple friends of mine with adhd. i really do recommend him just in general.

also, please do go check out the blog of everyone who helped me with this, they're all amazing!!!

#lifesteal smp #lifesteal #lssmp #<--mostly 4 my own categorization #the otter splashes #moths lifesteal project #the otter advertises

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missmaywemeetagain · 2 years

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Pink Scarf - PART 11 (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: SEXXX. ANGST. 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: 4655

A/N: Well, the beginning of this is absolute filth, which y'all deserve after the roller coaster that was Part 10! But fear not, there is still plenty of angst to go around as our Reader begins to be confronted with all of her choices.

I so appreciate your patience cuz it took me longer than I wanted to get this one out. Life keeps getting in the way, and trust me, if all I could dive into was this, my ask box, and my EP obsession, I'd do only that! LOL

As always, to all my babies, honeys, and lil' mamas supporting me out there, your reactions, reblogs, messages, asks, and comments are definitely helping me power through some of these particularly gnarly chapters. This community is making me so happy, I can't even tell you. The asks are just so much fun and I'm so happy that I can bring a little joy (and lust) into your lives! This story (and EP) has taken over my heart and soul, so for those of you still with me, and to all the newcomers, I'm sending you all the love! And I promise there's more good stuff coming ahead, complete with more smut, angst, and tension.

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.

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 long-neglected AO3 account (which some of you already discovered!), so if you are so inclined, you can check it out over there, though it's not all updated yet!)

“Hey, baby,” Elvis purrs in your ear, wrapping his arms around you from behind, gazing at you in the bathroom mirror.

“Hi,” you reply. You can’t help but fall back into him, even though that voice in your head is screaming for you to stop this silliness before you get hurt. It’s just sex, you remind yourself. I can be with him if it’s just sex. He’s achingly beautiful in a way you have never seen him before, all tousled and sleepy, with none of the primping and preening that might accentuate his natural state. It’s just him existing, everything else stripped away.

It’s already late in the day, and you know you have to leave soon, but the thought fills you with dread, knowing the spell of this night will be over. You don’t know if you’ll ever have a night like this with him again. At least you aren’t heading back to Memphis as planned, though it might be better for everyone in the long run if you were. But despite your conflicted feelings about your relationship, you are still intrigued with the possibilities related to the job Elvis is offering you. I’m staying for that, you think, that and the amazing sex.

“I’m glad you stayed over last night. I like having you here when I wake up,” he says, squeezing you a little.

Your heart wants to leap out of your chest when he says things like that. “I like being here,” you say softly. In fact, I wish I could be here with you all the time, you think. But I can’t.

That thought makes you want to cry.

Elvis turns you around in his arms to face him, those heavy-lidded blue eyes still clouded with sleep. He kisses you, lips gentle at first, and you don’t even care that neither of you has brushed your teeth yet because you want everything, even the mundane things, with him. Even though your logical brain wants to keep you safe, the rest of you is spellbound by him.

His kisses become more insistent and you let them be, winding your arms around his neck, fingers playing in his mussed hair, willing reality to stay away just a little while longer. His large hands splay over the silk of the nightie you threw back on, and he pulls you into him, his tongue rolling over yours.

You’re not sure how it’s possible to be so attracted, so utterly drawn to a person. Somehow, he makes you want him even more than you already have. You’ve never been so satisfied (or had so many orgasms) in your life, yet you are still hungry for him. Unable to contain yourself, you sigh in his mouth.

And Elvis is so attuned to you that he knows that you want him and just how to pleasure you, in some ways you don’t even know yourself. Still naked, he moves his bare thigh between your legs, bracing you against the counter. His cool skin meets your warm, bare center, his dick resting soft but heavy on your thigh, and you bite your lip at the sensation. It’s like you aren’t yourself, the way you automatically and needily roll your hips, desperate for the friction he is providing you by just being there. You’d much rather be consumed by him than by the thoughts of all the ways you can’t have him.

You move slowly at first, letting your clit and pussy drag over him, back and forth, back and forth, working yourself up, until you feel the wetness begin to slide in between you. The feeling is delicious, and you can scarcely believe that you are so incredibly turned on just by riding his toned thigh.

“That’s it, honey. Take what you need,” his voice rumbles in your ear, the vibrations shooting down into your core and adding to the burning warmth rapidly growing in your belly. Elvis presses into you, hands on your hips, supporting you. You feel him harden against you as you continue moving on him, kissing his long neck and his scruffed jaw, and you begin to moan softly as your pleasure builds. You feel positively drunk on him, so completely in the moment that you forget everything else: your failing marriage, your recent questionable decision making, your love for Elvis, the fear and excitement of maybe, possibly finding a new purpose in life. Right now, Elvis is all there is.

“EP! Where are you?”

Jack’s voice rings out loud and clear from inside the suite.

Oh, fuck.

You choke, freezing, fear dousing over you like you’ve fallen through ice and into a frozen lake. Wide-eyed, you look at Elvis for help.

His dark eyebrows shoot up in surprise, but he is not frantic or panicked in the least. In fact, he looks more perturbed than anything, which completely confounds you since you are quite literally in the middle of fucking his damn thigh and your husband is now mere feet away.

“Jacky—I’m in the john, man, and it’s gonna be a bit, so make yourself comfortable out there,” Elvis finally calls out naturally. Guess he picked up a thing or two in Hollywood after all, you think.

You are caught between your arousal, your terror, and your wanting to laugh hysterically at the excuse, at the entire situation. You didn’t know you could feel all these things at once and you are overwhelmed, trapped. Your unsuspecting husband is right there in the other room. You’re cursing Jack for interrupting this moment and cursing yourself for being in this position.

“Tell him to go away!” you mouth at Elvis.

To your shock, he shakes his head, his eyes going dark. “I finish what I start, honey,” he says so low, only you can hear, while grinding his thigh into your heat.

Your mouth opens in shock. You have got to be kidding me. You’re not sure what he’s playing at, but the look on his face shows he is not at all joking. It’s dangerous, charged, possessive, almost spiteful. Jealous.

And it sends a thrill through you that you cannot even begin to explain.

Then he kisses you roughly as he continues grinding into you. You think there is no way in hell that you can do this, that you can be aroused with your husband in the other room, but whatever magical prowess Elvis somehow has over you has you questioning everything you thought you knew about yourself. Because, despite your protests, your body has a mind of its own and you start rolling your hips again.

And, god, does it feel good. So good, in fact, that you unconsciously start to moan a little, but before much gets out, Elvis’ long fingers are pushing into your mouth, stopping the sound.

“Gotta be good and quiet for me, mama,” he breathes in your ear. You respond by sucking on his fingers. He grunts quietly, approvingly. Slick arousal pools on his leg as you ride him. That coil in your belly tightens, despite the risk of the situation, or perhaps because of it, you don’t really know. All you know is Elvis makes you feel out of control in ways you never imagined, doing things you would never have dared to do, making you feel things you shouldn’t feel.

Elvis is possessed, devilish, in how he’s seducing you, obviously gaining pleasure from the situation at hand. He cannot seem to contain himself, tearing away from you just long enough to flip you around. You watch in the mirror as he lines himself up to your entrance and pushes into you, his hand covering your mouth to muffle your cry of pleasure at the sensation of him filling you.

Pulling you flush against his chest, his other hand winds to your clit, working it furiously. You are on your tiptoes as he thrusts into you again and again, watching in the mirror, his eyes fierce and determined to stake his claim on you. You’ve never seen him like this.

“Should I take you out there and fuck you right in front of his face, hmm? Show him how he doesn’t deserve you?” he hisses in your ear, looking into your eyes in the mirror. “Show him all the ways I can please you that he can’t?” He snaps his hips in just the right way, hitting that sensitive spot inside you.

Your eyes roll back at that, and you try to stay silent but it’s nearly too much. The heat in your belly is growing exponentially with every filthy word he is saying. You should be mortified by what you are doing, by what he is doing to you, with Jack so close by, but instead you are running headlong towards the edge.

Elvis is plowing into you, driven by jealously and possessiveness, watching you, watching in the mirror what he is doing to you, how he is owning you. Your moans are muffled by his hand but come out nonetheless.

“You want him to hear, baby? You want him to walk in and watch how you take me so good? Cuz that’s what gonna happen if you keep making those sounds, lil’ mama,” he whispers, his lip curling up in a sneer, eyes dark with lust and power.

And that pushes you over the edge. You clutch at the counter as your climax hits you hard and try not to scream out Elvis’ name as your walls flutter around him. You see black and red behind your eyes, writhing against him, completely at his mercy. And he has no mercy for you, not now. He wants to claim every bit of you.

He growls, bending you over the counter, reaching over to turn on the faucet to mask some of the noises he can’t help making. A man on a mission, he drives into you, watching, consumed. You feel his thrusts become uneven, knowing that he’s close. He stutters into you once, twice more before you feel him begin to pulse, but as he is cumming, he pulls out of you. Pumping his dick with his hand and biting his lip in fevered concentration, he pulls up your nightie and finishes on your ass. With surprise, you feel the thick, hot spurts land, and you know he is marking you as his own.

But he doesn’t stop there, no. His cum is dripping out of your pussy, dripping down your ass cheeks and onto your thighs as water pours noisily out of the faucet near your head. Using two long fingers, he pushes some of his arousal back into you and holds it there. Your mouth pops open in an O shape and you relish in the sensation of him filling you again, still sensitive from your climax.

“Fucking mine,” Elvis breathes out as he pushes his fingers deeper, looking you over with wild, dangerous eyes. His tanned, lean body lords over you like a vengeful god, awesome and terrible and beautiful all at the same time. A shiver runs through you, one of pleasure, disbelief, and apprehension. If you weren’t so shockingly aroused by everything he is doing and saying to you, you might be a little scared of the look in his eyes, but instead you are just relishing in the way he’s making you feel.

You can tell by that look that he is not done with you, not yet. He pulls his fingers out of you, turns off the faucet, and walks over to turn on the shower. You lift yourself off the counter, feeling him drip down your legs, watching him curiously. You feel like you are floating, untethered.

“Hey, Jacky, I’m gonna take a shower. You still good out there?” Elvis suddenly calls out. He grins at you like a Cheshire cat.

“Yeah, all good, EP!” you hear Jack yell back. His voice sends a knot into your stomach, but you have little time to dwell on it as Elvis kisses you hard, all teeth and tongue, his hands tangling and pulling in your hair. In your sexed out haze, all you can do is submit to him as he pulls your nightgown over your head and leads you into the large shower, continuing to kiss you.

The water is warm, running over your skin, as he begins to soap up both of you. His hands slip and slide over your body surprisingly gentle considering his state of mind. He plays as he washes, squeezing your breasts and tweaking your nipples, running his hand down your belly and through your folds, massaging your ass as he washes away the last evidence of your sex. You have to remember to stay quiet as heat rolls through your veins, as your wet, slippery body slides against his. It’s a wonder to you that the man can be so dominating yet also so caring at the same time. Just another thing to add to the list of the ways Elvis Presley is a conundrum.

You try to wash him, but he won’t let you. Instead, he washes himself, then pushes you back into the cold tile of the shower. His lips tickle your ear as he speaks low and quiet: “Gonna make you cum again, baby.” Then he runs his fingers through your still-swollen folds.

“I’m not sure I can,” you whimper quietly in his ear. You’re worried you are too spent, too overstimulated after a long night of sex, and while you’ve never been this aroused, your husband is still right outside the door. Your heart beats hard against your ribcage at the thought.

“Oh, I can do it,” he grins, full of ego and danger. The look alone sends another wave of pleasure through you and you nod, giving in, needing him like you’ve never needed anyone.

Elvis kisses his way down your wet body to his knees, lapping at your clit. You jump at the sensation, still sensitive from earlier. He kisses you there instead, lifting one of your legs over his shoulder to give him access to the place he wants to worship yet again, the place he took so wildly only minutes before.

He lathes his tongue flat over your folds and you squirm at the sensation, remembering you need to stay quiet. You hold fast to his shoulders as he licks you again then settles on your clit. He sucks and laps and kisses, using his tongue to coax you back to him, and god knows it’s working, even though you’re not sure how. He slides a finger into your wet heat, then two, then three, pumping into you, curling his fingers to drive you wild in the way only he knows how.

You are so sensitive, you are twitching and writhing under his ministrations. Your heart is throbbing fast in your ears, your breathing labored as you slap your own hand over your mouth in an effort to stay silent and not give yourself away. That heat in your belly is warm and rolling, not as intense as before but there all the same. He has learned fast in five days, already having memorized each way he can make your body sing for him.

Water pelts over his head, running in rivulets down his gorgeous face, plastering his raven hair to his forehead. Water catches in his lashes yet he still looks up at you, eyes like blue flames, devilish but angelic at the same time. Your breath catches at the sight.

“Cum for me, baby. Show me how you’re all mine,” Elvis commands, in whispers, the roar of the water eating the sound.

Then he returns his attentions to you with fierce determination, fingering and eating you with such knowledge that it’s as if he’s telling you that you will never be satisfied by any other man ever again. That he is the only one who can fuck you and love your body in this way. He works as though he’s erasing the men who came before, leaving only him.

The low wave you’re riding begins to peak again and your breathing catches as you clutch at his wet body. You finally surrender with a violent shudder, falling apart around him, your walls fluttering and clenching at his relentless fingers. Your head falls back against the tile, mouth open with breathless sighs as he rides you out. When he pulls his fingers from your soaking heat and replaces them with his mouth, drinking you in, you collapse over him, so overstimulated that tears of pleasure leak from your eyes. You choke back the moans that want to escape your lips as his tongue wickedly works you over, as though tasting his triumph.

You’ve never in your life been so thoroughly fucked out, because, somehow, Elvis seems to top himself every day in that regard. Finally, he comes up from beneath your legs, washing his face in the rapidly cooling water before standing up to kiss you. He seems to have satisfied whatever possessive need came over him and you practically fall into his arms. He washes the slick from between your thighs for you before turning off the shower.

You are unable to form cohesive thoughts, too blissed out, too shocked at yourself and at him for doing what you just did with your husband so nearby. Your limbs shake with the exertion, and you feel wobbly and lightheaded. Elvis takes care of you, drying you off and wrapping a plush terrycloth robe around you. You can barely look at him. His essence is too overwhelming for you right now, and you are too trapped in your confusing web of feelings about him.

Elvis kisses you, whispering things you don’t quite absorb before he wraps himself up in his fancy robe and heads out to conduct business with your husband as if he didn’t just rail his wife into a stupor in the bathroom. He does it effortlessly, too.

As you come back to yourself, you start to shake, thinking about what a mess you’ve made for yourself. You realize that you are ashamed of yourself for what just happened, not really so much for the act itself, but more of the fact that you liked it so much. You also know that you don’t truly understand Elvis’ feelings for you, how his need for you is beyond anything that you assumed.

Sliding to the floor, you sit with your back against the wall as your husband (because as much as you hate him right now, he’s still your husband, and deep down you still have some semblance of love for him, you think) talks with your lover. You need out of here. The multitude of emotions coursing through you is too much. Your impulse to flee is so strong that you have to sit on your hands and pray that Jack leaves as soon as possible.

After what seems like an eternity, Elvis comes for you, telling you the coast is clear. Everything in you is being torn in two opposing directions: one wanting to run away as fast as you possibly can, away from your love and his possessiveness, and the other is so drawn into Elvis that looking at him is difficult because the idea of leaving him physically hurts you.

As you dress, clad once again in the outfit he got for you, Elvis tells you your first lesson with the vocal coach is at 5pm, then kisses you deeply before sending you on your way. You are glad that there is not a lot of time for talk or anything else, as your mind is going a million miles an hour. Confusion and guilt and love and elation all stream through you at once.

You shouldn’t be surprised when you find yourself outside Sandy’s room, knocking quietly on the door.

She opens the door with a look of surprise. “Hey, there, hon,” she says with a smile.

You promptly burst into tears.

“Oh, hon, what’s wrong? Come in, come in,” she says, putting her arm around you and ushering you inside.

“I’m sorry,” you sniffle, hiccupping, wiping at your face.

“Don’t worry about it,” she says, sitting you down, rubbing your back. “You talk when you’re ready.” She waits patiently as you compose yourself, just being a comforting presence.

You can’t seem to speak the words out loud. There are too many of them and they are too jumbled in your brain. Luckily, Sandy seems to pick up on this and gently starts the conversation.

“You disappeared on me last night,” she says.

“I was…I was with Elvis,” you finally stutter out, almost in a whisper.

“Elvis? Why were you with Elvis?” she asks innocently. Then you watch her face as she connects the dots and realizes what you actually mean. Her eyes go wide for a moment. “Oh, shit,” she breathes out.

“Yeah,” is all you can muster up to that. You can see the wheels turning in her head.

“How long?” she asks.

“Not long. Only since we’ve been in Vegas.”

“Hmm,” she nods. You are confused that she doesn’t seem more shocked at the whole thing, that she’s not peppering you with ‘Oh my god’s and asking for every detail.

“What do you mean, ‘Hmm?’” you ask, a little defensive.

“Not a bad, ‘Hmm,’ hon. I guess…I’m not all that surprised is all,” she responds.

“What? How are you not surprised?! I’m surprised!” you argue, voice becoming shrill.

“Okay, take a breath! I just mean, well, you and EP have always had a special connection. And I’ve seen how he looks at you sometimes when he thinks no one else is looking. It’s not the biggest leap, especially considering what happened with Jack this week,” she says.

You are flabbergasted at this response. You expected judgement and disbelief. Certainly not an ‘Oh yeah, that seems right.’

“What are you talking about, a ‘special connection’?” you pry.

Sandy gives you a speculative look. Finally, she shakes her head at you, “Hon, how long have you been in his life?”

You don’t understand the point of this. “14 years, give or take. What does that matter?”

“What other woman has been in his life that long, besides his blood relations?” she asks pointedly, eyebrows raised.

Your mouth opens then closes as you try to piece together the many women in his life over the years. None come even close. “That’s irrelevant. It’s only that long because of his friendship with Jack,” you finally say.

“Sure,” she says, patting your hand, placating you.

“Sandy, my life is falling to pieces here! Jack almost caught us today. And I feel like a horrible person because I’ve gotten completely swept up into this affair, and not just any affair, but with my husband’s friend, who just happens to be Elvis Presley. If people find out, if Jack finds out, all hell is going to break loose, and my life will be over. But I keep going back, it’s like I can’t stop. I feel insane!” you ramble, pacing around the room.

“He’s that good in bed, huh?” she asks, wiggling her eyebrows at you suggestively.

“Oh my god.” You blush furiously, covering your face with your hands.

“Of course, he is,” she laughs. “I mean, one doesn’t want to assume, but how could he not be?”

“Sandy, be serious for one second, please!” you beg. “I’m not going home today. Elvis is having me stay out here, with the pretense that I’m to become part of the show as one of the backup singers.”

“Wait, really?”

“Yes. And he sent Jack away last night on purpose so we could spend the whole night together. I’m telling you, San, I’m in too deep, and Elvis has no intention of letting me go. You know how he gets.”

“Do you want him to let you go?”

“I…no. And that’s the problem,” you say quietly, sitting back down next to her. “It’s like I’m out of my mind for him, which is so stupid. I hate being like all those other women. I hate that I know this won’t end well, yet I’m doing it anyway. And the lies, the sneaking around, it makes me an awful person.” You slump over onto her shoulder, exhausted by your own choices.

Sandy sits silent for a moment, arm around you. “You are not an awful person, hon. Jack hurt you bad, and you are turning to the only other man you trust to get you through it.”

“It’s still wrong. It’s still stooping to Jack’s level. And if it were just sex, I…” you trail off, unable to say the rest out loud.

“You love him.” She says it plain as day, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. As if it’s easy.

“I can’t,” you whisper.

“But you do,” she responds. “And that’s what scares you, isn’t it?”

You nod. “I’m just gonna get hurt again, I know it. I know that E doesn’t feel the same way about me.”

“And how do you know?” she asks. “Did he tell you that?”

“Sandy, it’s Elvis. We all know how he is with women. And besides that, there are all the other factors, like Jack, being married, all of it. It’s too complicated. I need to end it, but I’m not sure I’m strong enough, or that he’ll even let me,” you begin to cry.

Sandy suddenly jumps up and begins unpacking her suitcase, suddenly on a mission.

“What are you doing?” you ask.

“Well, I’m sure as hell not going back home today and leaving you all by yourself with all of this,” she says, hanging stuff in the closet.

“You don’t have to do that,” you say, but you are silently grateful.

“Uh huh.” Sandy gives you a knowing look. “You think I’m going home and miss all the action? Do you even know me at all?” she jokes.

“Thanks,” you say, feeling a little better.

“Not a problem, hon. We’ll get you through this, I promise. Love you,” she says, hugging you.

“Love you, too,” you whisper, squeezing back.

“Now I need all the details about how good the sex is! Does he do the lip thing in bed?”

You feel heat blaze over your cheeks.

“Oh, god, he does!” she laughs, teasing.

You smile, but still your stomach churns and your mind spins. What Sandy said about the connection you and Elvis have hits deep, knocking loose some of those dots you’ve been trying to connect, the ones your dreams and memories have been leading you towards. Desperate, you try to push those thoughts away, because even if (and that’s a big if) Elvis has some true feelings towards you, it doesn’t make anything less complicated. In fact, it makes things more complicated. But you refuse to make any assumptions about how he may or may not be feeling towards you, other than horny.

With Sandy and your impending first voice lesson as distractions, you force yourself to move forward. It’s easier when Elvis isn’t in your vicinity, drawing every cell of your body to him. Your head begins to clear at bit, and you finally think that maybe, just maybe, you’re getting a handle on things. That you’re in control and everything is manageable. That everything is not completely, terrifyingly of the rails.

I’ve got this, no big deal. I’m not in love and having an affair with Elvis, and I’m certainly not scared shitless about singing in front of people, and my husband definitely isn’t a liar and a cheat, you try and convince yourself.

Perfect. I guess I can add “delusional” to the list of my problems.

But you can hear the clock ticking. It’s getting louder by the second, telling you you’re one step closer to your downfall and that you can’t stop the shitstorm that’s coming, no matter how hard you try.

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