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#appreciation when not reblogging (fandom I don't want to reblog too much about)

ao3commentoftheday · 10 months

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I'm going to start this post off by saying that I write fic, and I know the pain of putting something out there and not getting a response. It sucks and it hurts and it puts a dent in my self-confidence. If I have the choice between posting a work on AO3 and getting only comments or posting a work on AO3 and getting only kudos, I'll probably choose comments let's say 8 times out of 10.

But with that in mind, posts that attempt to shame or guilt readers into commenting don't actually work.

Negative reinforcement (in the form of shame, guilt, or other worse emotions) doesn't make anyone want to do the thing. It just makes them want to avoid the guilt, etc. Rather than encouraging someone to talk to you about your writing, you're making that person want to avoid you so that they don't have to feel bad. That's just human nature.

I've said before that I think a lot of writers are looking for community rather than comments, and I still think that's true. The reason I love both writing and receiving comments is because it makes me feel like I've made a connection with someone. I may never know their real name or what they look like or where they live or anything else but what fandom we have in common, but we've reached out to each other in this text-based medium and we've shared words that made each other feel something.

I know that these posts are written out of frustration or loneliness or needing support or a hundred other reasons I could list off the top of my head. But when I read "you should be grateful for the things I give you and show me proper appreciation" it just reminds me of my parents telling me to clean my room or to follow the rules while I live under their roof.

It's so much more vulnerable to admit, "I don't know if this story is any good and I really wish someone would reassure me right now."

It's much harder to say, "I feel so alone in this fandom, and I want to make friends with someone."

It's difficult to admit, "I worked so hard on this for so long and I'm so tired, but if someone out there likes it then all of that effort will be worthwhile - and if no one says anything, then I'll feel like my effort was wasted."

I'm not trying to shame the people who made those posts, and if that's how this comes across then I'm sorry. I'm just trying to explain why I think those posts will harm more than they help.

I also hope that any readers who see this post will understand that those writers are just people who are feeling a lot of different ways, and they're venting their frustrations. I've been there. I've reblogged those posts before when I was feeling frustrated like that too.

If you're able to comment, those comments are appreciated. If you're not able to comment (for whatever reason), that's okay too. ❤️

#writing fic isn't a job and comments aren't a salary #and if it starts to feel that way then you might be experiencing burnout #and it could be time for a rest - or to think about one anyway #I obviously don't know your situation #but that's what it was for me

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companionjones · 5 months

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Mornings With Connor

Pairing: Connor rk800 x Reader

Fandom: Detroit: Become Human

Warnings: Some references to smut

Slowly, the world woke you up. You opened your eyes to the sun streaming through the curtains, and Connor gazing at you.

"Good morning...love."

You could tell that him using the word 'love' was a very thought-out decision. You smiled at the effort. "Morning, baby." You leaned forward, kissed his nose, and watched his cheek turn a light shade of blue. You got out of bed to start gathering your clothes that were strewn about the night before.

Connor sat up in bed. "Do you...have to go so soon?"

"Unfortunately, I do," you informed, "Today's a two-show day at the theater...I'll be out all day. Sorry." You spared him a guilty look.

He sat up a little more. "No, it's okay. You're doing something you love, right?"

Your eyebrows quirked up, and you crawled onto the bed, toward Connor. "I'd rather be doing someone I love." You drew your boyfriend in for a kiss.

When you parted from him, Connor chased your lips for a moment before backing down. He looked uncomfortable. "Uhm...Y/n?"

It was rare for Connor to hesitate like that, so he had your full attention.

He went on, "I've noticed that you've spent every night here the past two weeks, and I was wondering..."

"Yes, Connor?" you encouraged when he trailed off.

He was quiet for a moment more. It was like he was having a heavy debate inside his head. "Would you like to move in with me?" he finally asked. His words were quick, like he was forcing them out.

The question caused you to gasp. You were taken aback. Your mind went blank.

"Please, don't be frightened by the question," Connor urged when you didn't say anything right away. "I would hate to do anything to hurt our relationship, but I've done research on couples, and it is around this point that most move in together."

"Yeah, it is. Isn't it?" A smile started to appear on your face.

He went on, "Plus, I can't exactly say that I'm opposed to the concept when actually, I'm all for it."

You were grinning ear-to-ear. "I am, too."

Tension released from Connor's shoulders. "You are?"

"Of course I am, sweetheart!"

Connor laughed like he couldn't believe you had said yes. "This is amazing news, Y/n!" He tackled you with a kiss on the bed. He was then laying on top of you.

"I know, sweetheart." You giggled when you broke the kiss. You stroked his cheek. "I love you so much."

Connor leaned down to give you another quick kiss. He pressed his forehead against yours when he parted. "I love you too, baby." That time, the petname seemed far less premeditated.

For a moment, you relished in the closeness with Connor. Then, you opened your mouth. "I really don't want to end this moment, but I really gotta go."

"Right." Connor's eyes went wide, and he got off of you. "Well, have a good day at work...sweetheart." There was that conscious effort again.

You loved it. You loved him. You gave him a quick kiss goodbye. "Love you, baby."

"Love you, too," Connor replied as you headed for the door.

*******

Author's Note: Thank you so much for reading! Fill up that heart and reblog if you can. I would also really appreciate a comment, if you have the time. If you would like to read more, check out my masterlist. Have a nice day, night, or whatever time it is for you! <3 <3 <3

#connor rk800 #connor rk800 x reader #connor dbh #connor dbh x reader #connor detroit become human #connor detroit become human x reader #dbh #dbh x reader #detroit become human #detroit become human x reader #bryan dechart #companion jones #mornings with connor

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lordoftherazzles · 10 months

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My takeaway from the past 24+ hours...

There are so many of us that rely on ao3, whether you're a reader or writer. It brings us joy, it gives us an escape from the real world, and it lets us come together as a community to share stories and scenarios about our favorite fandoms and characters. The amount of posts I have seen on multiple platforms lamenting over the DDoS attacks is overwhelming - but with most of them comes a delightful cheer to the volunteers working to resolve this issue.

I've seen so many statements of praise for those volunteers, which is exactly what they deserve, and more. Can you imagine working for over 24 hours straight, on a volunteer basis, against something like this? They're the real MVPs, and I think our appreciation for them gets lost until moments like this rise.

With that said, here is my first real takeaway...

Don't bitch when ao3 does a donation drive. They work hard to keep the archive up and running, and with that costs money. Every server, every new addition or feature you want to see added to help make the site better, it costs money. The legal team that is defending fanfic authors??? MONEY. SO! DON'T! COMPLAIN!

I'm not saying you have to go out and donate your paycheck to ao3 - but I will say that, especially with this situation, if you can donate even a little bit to show your support, it means more than you probably realize, and even if you can't donate (which is totally okay), be kind to those who work on the archive. Send them kind words of encouragement, rather than flaming the archive because it's under attack - because yeah, I've seen people bitching AT ao3 for not working fast enough, or for it still being down. STOP IT.

My second takeaway...

Don't believe everything you see on the internet. Ao3 themselves have advised that the group claiming to take credit for this attack is to be treated with skepticism. And not only that, let's NOT automatically make assumptions about who is responsible just because of an organization's name. It's just a NAME, it doesn't identify a person's origin, background, etc. But I'm not here to dive into that much further. Point: I better not see any Sudanese hatred on my dash, or I will bite you.

My third takeaway...

Treat your fanfic writers with respect. We all now see first hand how much we depend on these stories. As I said above, for some it's an escape, a creative release, and a way to communicate with other people through similar interests. It's a beautiful creation, neither above nor below any other kind of literature.

Consider commenting, reblogging, kudos, anything you can to let the authors know you enjoyed and appreciate their works. Everyone is free to communicate in the way that suits them best, but every little bit is appreciated - as a fanfic writer myself, I can tell you that even a little heart emoji has made my day. It's like receiving a second kudos, and tells me that someone appreciated my efforts enough to give me a double thumbs up.

Any form of communication with the authors is appreciated. It lets them know that people are genuinely interested. We live in a world where INSTANT GRATIFICATION is taking over, but creations such as this take time. Talk with the authors, ask them about their wips, tell them they're doing a great job. Do NOT pester about "when are you updating next?" or the dreaded AI option - again, I will BITE PEOPLE if I see you doing this. Just...have some respect, show your appreciation, it's more than JUST FANFIC.

At the end of the day I guess this post is about being kind. Not pointing fingers or slandering people due to a name. It's about appreciating the things we do have, and not taking them for granted. Whether it's the brave cyber warriors currently fighting these DDoS attacks on the frontline, or the authors writing for not only their enjoyment, but for others too. Let's all respect one another, and show our support when and where we can.

HUGE THANK YOU TO THE VOLUNTEERS AT AO3, YOU ARE THE REAL MVPS!!!

#ao3 #archive of our own #fanfiction #razzy's rambles

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nervocat · 4 months

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how about a reader who fell in love with neuvi from the first moment they saw him? Like its one side thing and reader wants to become closer with him, but tries not too force him.

Honestly, this request feels like for not just one part, but do as you wish)

P.s. i haven’t seen such fanfics sadly… usually reader catch feelings after some time but what if this time reader like him and wants him to love them? Like how can we win this softie’s heart? (๑˃̵ᴗ˂̵)

Sry for strange request, its in my head for long time already ><

“A cat brings you the book that you had requested from the library. Sorry for the long wait, the owner was busy . . . ”

★ — NOTES: the final request is done! Now I can start working on my series soon enough when the poll is done. Also I might've strayed away from some of the topics in the request, but it still has the same premises, so I hope you enjoy the long awaited (and much overdue) request :DD sorry it's so short tho ✦ — WORD COUNT: 345 ★ — FANDOM: genshin impact ✦ — CW: none but not proofread and ending kinda rushed

“Getting to Know The Iudex, Monsieur Neuvillette”

You knew it was silly, you did, but when you first saw The Iudex Monsieur Neuvillette up close, you couldn't help but fall for his looks. You also knew he wanted to keep the people around him at arm's length, not wanting to be close to anyone, but you wanted to try to at least befriend him.

You first met him during business matters for a person's case, you being the investigator of the case. You were relaying the information to Neuvillette and when you two had a moment of silence to take in the information, you had a chance to take in his features.

He was very handsome and pretty, not that you couldn't see that from where he sits during trials, but with the sun shining through the windows onto his face made it all the more better. You decide to propose that you come over weekly to the Palais Mermonia to keep giving him updates on the case so he can take things into evaluation before the trial — when the culprit is caught of course.

You continue to see each other, the bond between you two deepening, though Neuvillette still kept his distance from you emotionally. The case eventually came to a close, the criminal was found and charged, and the trial was over. You were disheartened and almost gave up as a result, but the Melusines helped Neuvillette open up to you.

When he personally requested you to his office, it was surprising to you. You obliged and did as he asked, and he asked you to be his friend. You happily said yes, and from that point on, you grew even closer with him as you solved more and more cases and came to him to relay more and more information to him about different cases.

He sees how you treated the Melusines and the people so kindly, and you eventually weaseled your way into his heart. Who will confess first is still a mystery, and whether or not Neuvillette will let you in fully is all on him. ✧

🐾 ★ — © nervocat || I appreciate any reblogs made, and pls don't repost or translate my works anywhere, ty — ✦ ☁️

#🗯️ ͏ ͏͏ ͏: ͏ ͏ ͏ garden stories ˑ ִ✷#・ nouveau livre ˎˊ˗#astronetwrk #genshin impact #genshin #x gender neutral reader #x gn reader #genshin x gn reader #genshin x gender neutral reader #genshin impact x gender neutral reader #genshin impact x gn reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #neuvillette x gender neutral reader #neuvillette x gn reader #neuvillette x reader #neuvillette fluff #genshin fluff #genshin impact fluff

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akq96618 · 3 months

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[ 💜💛🖤❤🤍💙]

(this is just my rambles , pls scroll if u dont want to read jdakjsa ;-;)

ok i'm not good at it, but i'll try to be more serious.

King Ohger is my first sentai after about…10? 11? years since i watch toku as a kid (for sentai, i used to watch shinkenger and power rangers dino force). I start to watch toku again last year because of KR Den-O, simply just bcs i want to rewatch one of my fav childhood tv program. And i cried a lot, not just because of den-o's story but also I remember that I still love toku as much as little me back then

after finished den-o, i crave for more toku to watch, then my older sister told me there's this super sentai that all of the sentai is leaders/kings ((SHE HAVEN'T WATCH KINGOH UNTIL THIS VERY DAY DESPITE BEING ONE OF MY REASON TO WATCH KINGOH, I HATE HER////jk i love u sis)). I didn't watch kingoh while it's ongoing, i binge watch it from ep 1 while it's around eps 20-25. And i regret nothing, i feel a lot of emotions, be it's the good one or even the bad one. I laugh and I cry. I didn't live for 2000 years like jeramie, but i relate to him about dealing with grief and keep everything to yourself bcs you don't want others to worry about you. And the happiness of finally found someone you can rely on, someone that won't say anything but will pat your shoulder and reminds you that they will be on your side no matter what.

I learn a lot of thing from other king too, i learn to be kind from gira and himeno, i learn that it's okay to not care about what people say and be myself the way i am from rita, i learn to stands for what's wrong and didn't back down like yanma, and kaguragi uhm…* shake hands with kagu * yes ur my buddy bro (i swear i have one thing i relate to kagu, i just don't want to tell what it is-)

people can call it 'childish show' (my friend said that when i tell them abt kingoh and kr ;-; that's why i stopped telling abt toku to others and just keep my excitement to myself) and they're still right, but still, kingoh is special to me.

I was ready to be alone on this (I always be), i draw fanarts because i want and i like them so much, and didn't expect at all that i'll found other people that excited about the same thing like me. thank you to everyone who liked, reblog, comment, send asks, i can't always answer everything, but pls know that i appreciate every single of you,

artist, writers, gif maker, friends, everyone.

one day will come the day that my interest maybe will fade away. Until that day come, I'll enjoy my time here and drawing what i want. (((actually this applied to my other fandom too ;-;))))

for you who read this so far, thank u again <3

+ pls have this happy spiders, they're my favorites from all of the finale moments ;-;

#ohsama sentai kingohger #king ohger #gira hastie #yanma gust #jeramie brasieri #kaguragi dybowski #rita kaniska #himeno ran #nephila idmonarak ne #my art #this actually the art i submitted for the ko thankyou card :">#i don't have the energy to draw a lot of people again.. maybe later

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flowerandblood · 22 days

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I don't like many of the authors' decisions here – sometimes their tropes, sometimes their choice of how they present events, dialogues, sometimes their characters, relationships between them or their appearance. It's not a bad thing. I have a right to feel this way.

But I would never tell them about it. Not because I don't have the courage to do it but because it would give them nothing, nothing good. You criticise when someone asks for it – when someone doesn't, then you should keep quiet.

Why? Because perhaps someone does not want this criticism and it's their right too. I, for example, don't care and I don't want to know how much someone dislikes something in my work. I don't need the fake appreciation of others, just as others don't need mine.

If I don't like someone's stories, I just leave them alone. God bless all of them! Write and be happy.

No one here is an oracle or judge, and some people feel that way. If you don't like what the authors are writing and their choices, give them a holy peace or else all you'll achieve is that they'll be discouraged from writing – they'll think: maybe nobody wants to read this after all, look at my characters, maybe it's pointless, maybe everyone thinks about me and my writing this way.

Sowing doubt and passive humiliation is very popular here for some reason and I find it incredibly annoying. People don't know when to shut their mouths and when their private opinion to which they are, after all, entitled hurts others, making them uncomfortable.

Our right to free speech should not cut someone's wings and mock them. This is an expression of disrespect and basic culture.

Not everyone has to want to change, to develop if it is not their profession but a simple hobby.

Anonymity does not make malicious gibberish sound any smarter, and a large audience or reactions under posts does not make anyone entitled to post an opinion in which they criticise works of others for their choices.

"Why do you write with only small letters? It's so annoying. This character would never do this, are you dumb? Aemond would never betray his family! Oh nooo, next Visenya on a big dragon? Why these OC's are so boring? Reader insert is just for you because you are desperate to fuck. Why do your OC is fat? Why do your OC is slim? Why do make your OC look like this, why won't you try something new? Why do you put Alys in your story as a third wheel when she is Aemond's real love interest?"

Shut. The fuck. UUUUUUP. GOD.

You say – you don't agree, don't read, I have a right to my opinion. Well, I say: your right does not absolve you from thinking about the feelings of others.

You are hypocrites. You cry and make a hiatus when someone sends you a nasty anon writing that you write crap, but you devote 2,000 words on your blog to why a certain trope doesn't make sense, why other authors don't have a right to make their OC's look the way they want.

What you write is not private, it's public. Who are you writing it to? Is it an expression of your frustration? Those you write it about can read it. They may feel very, very bad about it, they can think to stop writing at all or make themselves to do something against their will. But that's not your concern anymore, right?

Taking responsibility for your own words only when it's convenient for you is an expression of immaturity and that's what I see in this fandom – most people here are afraid of adulthood and the clash with it. Because in adulthood everything we do has consequences to face.

But it's easier to say that we simply have the right to express our opinion, no matter how hurtful and unfounded it may be.

I want to be clear – I will see anyone reblogging or write this kind of posts – I will block them. Even if I like you, if you are with me for a long time. I don't want to see this kind of toxic behavior on my wall ever again. Enough is enough.

#hotd fandom #gibbering about others oc's #gibbering about aemond x strong niece trope #gibbering about readers inserts #gibbering about smut in the fics #shut #the fuck #upppppp #plz #writing #writing advice #writing fandom #writers #criticism #writers on tumblr #fandom

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sapphoscorner · 4 months

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Edit: please reblog this with some information about demisexuality, I did make a mistake here by saying "Cove doesn't understand sexual attraction" he does, so my bad on that part

SO, I usually don't get too involved in fandom discourse, but with how Baxter fans are acting about the loss in the MDDB I snapped and decided we should have a talk.

(This turned out longer than expected so more under the cut. I BEG YOU TO READ THIS AND TOP UNDERSTAND WHERE THE ANGER AND FRUSTRATION COME FROM.

This is all over place, I tried my best to make this as comprehensible as possible)

Specifically I want to talk about this fandom obsession with him and how, is getting to a point where people are legitimately re-writing the game and erasing Cove existence to have this fucking man instead.

And look, I want to say that I get the appeal, I do, but I don't because Baxter's route is genuinely the worst written one out of the three; Compared to Cove's and Derek's (and Derek treatment in the fandom is a WHOLE OTHER ISSUE) is really not. I'm not here to judge one taste, I am here to tell you that your love for him is ridiculous.

It is genuinely ridiculous how much popular he has gotten and so many of you are forgetting about Cove and how important he is to the story, and generally how he is important to a lot of marginalized people. Some of you keep forgetting that Cove is autistic and demiseuxal and that is such a rare representation to see and it is already erased in the fandom (especially his autism), but now is even more erased because people are grabbing everything that makes Cove Cove, and are applying it to Baxter.

That is also not touching the fandom treatment of Derek and how overly criticize his route his compared to Baxter's, like...DEREK'S PARENTS ARE GETTING MORE SHIT THAT BAXTER CANONICAL BIGOTED PARENTS LOL, WHAT IS THIS?? Are you guys serious?? I've seen a fanfic with Irene being transphobic, why the fuck would someone write that when Baxter's mom is right there?

And Derek shitty treatment doesn't end here because people are straight up erasing the guy and not ?? talking about on how well written he is ?? He is not erased sorry, he's forgotten, no one cares about him. And when people care is a) rare or b) so criticize to the point where is no longer a criticism but just you bitching about it.

And it doesn't end there! Baxter is so talked about that people are more interested in him making a cameo in OL:N&F than the main characters of that game, THAT'S HOW THINGS HAVE GOTTEN, We've gotten to a point where people cares more about some white man than Qiu or Tamarack, which are way more interesting than him as characters but neither of them are white skinny man so lol, who cares about them.

AND TO TOP THIS SHITSHOW IT SOMEHOW GETS WORSE FROM HERE BECAUSE PEOPLE DON'T EVEN ARE CARE ABOUT THE INTERESTING ASPECTS OF BAXTER'S CHARACTER!!

Everyone is molding him like clay to create this, confident rich white boy when he is not?? and that's...the whole point of his route?? That he shouldn't need to put up this mask and to actually be a fucking human being?? THE FACT THAT HE IS A QUEER KID WHO HAD TO CUT OFF HIS PARENTS AND HAD TO BE INDEPENDENT FROM THEM AND LEARNING TO NOT DEPENDENT ON HIS PARENTS? (monetarily wise that is)

And like, people forget the man is queer, he is queer, he's a queer person who had to hide who he is to his parents and then had to cut them out for his own sanity, and no one mentions it.

The fandom as a whole erases queer identities,when this game is literally made FOR queer people don't you love it when straight people come into our spaces and erase our identities lol, that is a problem that more people should acknowledge, alongside the fact that Baxter's stans have taken over this safe space, overtook the main love interest, and ignore the genuine interesting aspects of Baxter's character to make him their own little doll they can play with and not appreciate a guy who is trying to learn how to stop being that mask everyone in the fandom has fallen over.

And I know, I know , I will get shit for daring to go against your favorite white boy, but consider that some of us played this game because an autistic character was in it, consider that this game is queer friendly and the fandom is also erasing that queerness to make horny fan fiction**, consider that some of us fond comfort in Derek and Cove's story and now we see everyone overtaking their stories by a white boy (that you can find in every other game), consider that his talk is tiring, consider also the fact that Baxter is technically queer and no one ever talks about it, consider that this game was a safe space for marginalized people and now it no longer feels that way

**with horny fanfiction I mean people re-writing Cove whole personality (and sexuality if we're being honest here) and making him this...horny big man when...he is not? He got stressed out by simply having to share a bed with MC, he's extremely shy around the subject of sex and he gets incredibly nervous about it.

I personally think that is due of both his queerness and autism (and yeah his personality, but autism affects ones personality so lol, sue me) since demisexuality means he genuinely doesn't understand how people can feel sexual attraction, and mixing that with autism means he probably doesn't understand the SOCIAL pressure around sex and having sex.

Granted that's speculation on my part but as someone who is (probably) autistic and asexual I can tell that, at least a majority feels this way and Cove is literally is the type to have this kind of mentality, he does not understand how Baxter can flirt with him after mere seconds of knowing each other

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shall-we-die · 9 months

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╔‌‌‌‌•°🩸༄•°══════════•⊰•°༄༚

{Knock knock...

it's Period time~}

In the middle of the night, they wake up by the smell of blood and realize that your period has started.

╞•⊰❖⊱•═══•༻🚫༺•═══•⊰❖⊱•╡

↬[Fandom]•⊰ {Jujutsu Kaisen}࿐

↬[Characters]•⊰↴

{Gojo Satoru || Megumi Fushiguro}࿐

↬[Warnings]•⊰ {mention of blood (a little)}࿐

☰[Main list]•⊰────┈┈{0006}┈─╮

╭───────┈┈┈┈┈┈───────╯

╰┈➤Likes/Reblogs are appreciated࿐

╚•°🩸༄•°══════════•⊰•°༄༚‌‌‌

• Trust me, even the strongest Jujutsu Sorcerer would have panic over the sudden sight of blood.

• When he opens his eyes and looks around, seeing the blood, he can't think deeply enough to realize that it might be because of your period... (sleepy people's IQ are surely low)

• (He secretly has a phobia of seeing his loved ones bleed)

• He quickly sits on the bed and tries to wake you up.

• When you finally wake up, you realize the mess you've made and run to the bathroom.

• He'll sit behind the door, brings you anything you need if you call his name.

• (As you know how he sits... the legs are wide open. he's a jerk in public transportations)

• Of course, it's not like he's acting too dramatic, because his face is completely normal, he's still sleepy, but he puts his hand on his heart and takes a deep breath to relieve his stress.

• Maybe if you told him that you are on your period on a normal day, he would try to help you with a smiley face. But you don't know what happens in his dreams (nightmares)

• So... seeing the blood stains on the white sheets, it makes his face more serious and colder than ever.

• When he's sure you don't need help, he gets up and walks over to the bed to change the bloody sheets.

• He will help you without talking too much until you get back to bed.

• He very seriously and quietly gives you painkillers and brings you some extra pillows or food you like.

• You, who are surely writhing in pain, think that because he's still sleepy, he doesn't feel like talking.

• As you lay together on the bed, he hugs you tightly from behind and rubs his head against your neck while caressing your stomach.

• Surely this period of yours will be a bad memory for him.

• This boy knows that women experience something called period.

• But surely we all know that he has never seen this with his own eyes, and he certainly wasn't curious enough to want to know what was going on...

• I must say that if your first period starts like this after starting a relationship with him, it will be the most unforgettable memory of his life. (In a bad way for sure...)

• The smell of blood? Well, it's a good reason for a guy who's sleeping next to you (for the first time in his life) to quickly open his eyes and sit up.

• Because he couldn't sleep at all, he's not so sleepy and confused that he doesn't understand what's going on. So he slowly wakes you up.

• Are you stressed? Do you feel bad because you've made a mess on his sheets? There's no problem at all.

• He tries to express his affection and tells you that it doesn't matter as he gently wraps his arms around your waist.

• Do you need pads? Well, before you ask him to go and buy some pads for you, it's better to tell him to search the name of sanitary pads on the internet for once...

• Are your feet numb and in severe pain? Are your hands shaking and restless? Well, he starts massaging your legs, hands and back.

• He asks you whether it's better to go to the hospital. And you, who see his pure confused face, have to explain to him why a "monthly painful seven-day" it's not that important to makes you go to the hospital...

• He still doesn't want to know too much about it, but he has to. Because he can't tell you that your nags about it will only make him more stressed.

• He will certainly help you more in doing daily life works, he'll not allow you to walk a lot or carry heavy things.

• And (maybe) he has to hug you to sleep.

• The scariest possible scenario for him during your periods? Certainly when you suddenly burst in to tears...

• He might have to call Nobara and ask her how to calm you down.

#𝙵𝚕𝚞𝚏𝚏𝚢 𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎–[🍓]#jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader headcanons #jujutsu kaisen x you #gojo satoru x reader headcanons #gojo headcanons #gojo fluff #gojo saturo x reader #megumi x reader #jjk x reader headcanons

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princeloww · 6 months

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Takin' Over the Asylum fandom!!!!!!

My friend @jaykinarts and I were talking about how some characters in TOTA are very underrated - especially compared to Campbell and Fergus - when they really deserve just as much love.

This conversation led to an idea.......

So, Jay and I would like to present:

TAKIN OVER THE ASYLUM APPRECIATION WEEK

(11th - 16th of December)

Monday 11th-> Rosalie Garrity

Tuesday 12th-> Francine Boyle

Wednesday 13th-> Eddie McKenna

Thursday 14th-> Fergus Mackinnon

Friday 15th-> Campbell Bain

Saturday 16th-> Donna Franceschild and TOTA in general (as a show/play).

How to participate?

- Post about the chosen character for each day on that day. You don't have to do it every single day, and it doesn't have to be much - but just try to post anything about that character on that day. It can be screenshots/photos, headcanons, random thoughts, general appreciation, short textposts, fanfiction -- literally anything you want. It is entirely up to you how you participate.

What's the point?

- Filling the Takin' Over the Asylum tag with appreciation for the other characters as well, instead of just Campbell. (I love Campbell, I'm guilty of talking only about him too, but) Let's show everyone a bit of love.

Tag your posts with "#TOTA Takeover" so we can see how it goes.

Spread the word!!! :D Reblog this post!!!

#takin over the asylum #takin' over the asylum #taking over the asylum #campbell bain #campbell bain one chance #david tennant #rosalie garrity #rosalie garrity takin' over the asylum #francine boyle #francine boyle takin' over the asylum #eddie mckenna #eddie mckenna takin over the asylum #takin over the asylum fergus mackinnon #fergus mackinnon #fergus takin over the asylum #tota fandom #david tennantverse #TOTA Takeover

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shotokimchi · 1 year

Text

When Their S/O Is a Seggs God 2

Minors DNI

A/N: Here's a part 2 since I had so much fun while writing the first one, I appreciate the reblogs and the comments!

I'm planning to continue this drabble and write for other characters too, so you can suggest different fandoms as well.

Note: They arent in an established relationship in Dabi's one

Characters are aged up! Part1 w/Shoto and Katsuki

Dabi

So you and Dabi are playing this game called cat and mouse for a while since you are a pro hero and whenever the League is causing trouble, your main target is always him

Why you ask?

You see, you have this very important hero-like reason...

You think he's hot.🔥 (fair enough)

So when you and your friends get a call from the police, telling you that the League is gonna strike (act like bitchy teens) again, being the responsible server of society you are, you immediately attend the mission

After telling your hero friends Shoto, Deku, Pinky and Dynamight that you are trailing quietly behind Dabi you turn off your earphone and watch your villain crush slowly make his way into a narrow alley

Then you hear Pinky's voice in your ear "ThickThighs, you need to distract him till we get there." (Yes your hero name?)

IT IS NOW YOUR TIME TO SHINE

In a swift motion, you appear in front of him and a sly smirk makes its way onto his lips

"Well well the stalker hero is here."

"You are lucky Dabi because i like my meat burnt." (🍆)

Before he can process what nonsense you are talking about he finds himself on the ground laying on his back while you are keeping his head locked between your thighs, he quickly grabs your thighs and you feel his hands warming up "I'll turn you into a roasted chi-"

"Want a quick head?"

The cockroach is speechless

....

"W-"

Not waiting for his brain to function, you put your juicy phat ass on his face 🍑🍑

And face toward his portal opener leg spreader zucchini, then quickly get him out of his cheap drugstore pants

Your soft hand finally meets his touch starved lonely villain dick and starts pumping him like REAL FAST

literally can create electricity with how fast you are jerking him off

too bad he cant see whats happening since all he can see is your ass on his face

but you are giving a real show to the street rats so

lucky rodents ig 🐭

He is grunting and moaning uncontrollably into your core

Legit thinks you have an extra sex-related quirk or smthn Thought his dick was on fire and got scared for a moment bc it was getting too hot thanks to the speed of your hand so tried to pry you off of his face but you quickly caged his arms with your thighs (Even Nicki Minaj is jealous of your thighs at this point) Eventually gives in since you are giving him the time of his life but mf wasn't ready for your brand new Dyson V12 Detect Slim Vacuum 👅👅👅

HOW ARE YOU SUCKING THAT STRONG IS THAT EVEN POSSIBLE?

boy ejaculated in 45 seconds and wants the ground to swallow him whole LMAO and to make it even worse you even compared 45 seconds to a butterflies lifespan

to make him feel better ofc

"If you look at it, it's probably like 5 years for a butterfly Dabi don't worry."

yep, he definitely wants to kill you now

Quickly gets up to scurry away, you embarrassed the baddy ok his pride is HURT he won't let you see him in this pathetic state

so he cages you with his flames and disappears once you manage to escape but not before scraping his private number on the concrete so you can see it later with his initials on the bottom

BC WHAT WAS THAT YOU ARE AMAZING

HE WANTS ANOTHER ROUND SO HE CAN TAKE REVENGE

so when you see it you are doing the happy dance you can finally see him again

not before getting interrupted with an awkward cough from your earphone tho

"We heard everything Y/n..."

Izu says

"Y/N THAT WAS MY BROTHER AND YOU KNOW THAT"

POOR SHOTO

and Katsuki is probably gagging in the background

...

"She ate tho."

Thanks, Mina (got them villains whimpering under your ass💅)

Midoriya

So when I tell you that Midoriya worships the ground you walk on it is not an exaggeration 🛐

Baby is that in love with you and wants to spend his whole life with you so he decides to wait till marriage

Virgin Pro hero Izuku is so attractive ok no buts like he's the number one hero in the whole world so strong, undefeatable and scary to the villains

But when it comes to you he just wants everything to be so special and perfect, always smiling and making sure you're feeling loved

Baby thinks you deserve all of his firsts KHDASDKJS- CUTE

So when he gets on one knee and asks you to marry him while you guys were out on a trip to Spain you can't help but jump around in your cute summer dress while hugging him and screaming "YES" at the top of your lungs

AND NOW . . .

THE TIME HAS FINALLY COME

In his head(notebook), everything is planned

-Drink champagne together

-Take a bubble bath together

-Give her a massage

-Warm up a little bit(yes literal work out)

-Make love

he totally wrote it into his notebook. 📝

It's hidden in the drawer and you dont need to know that

BUT

Before he can open the drawer and take a slight peek at his notes, you are suddenly butt naked and sitting on the bed calling for him with your sweet voice

Baby literally SCREAMED when he saw you

Because you are so gorgeous WTF Asks if you want a drink first and you say no, then realizes the notes aren't helping him with shit so gets in front of the bed and quickly starts doing stretches And you are giving him the *tf is he doing* look but meh you are used to his weird antics already lol cant pull a muscle babes so you sigh and drag him onto the bed

literally looks at you like this LOL AND HAS A HAND RESTING ON HIS HIPS TOO BOY WE DIDNT EVEN STARTED- Don't get mad at him he is just that nervous

Smiling at his silliness you slowly drag him on top of you and start kissing his shaky lips and it actually helps him ease up a bit

..till you start pinching and massaging his nipples

Baby literally squeaks and tries to move away only to be stopped by your legs around his waist, caging him and pulling him towards you more "Where are you running off to, hm?" Bro is about to cream his boxers HE KNOWS THAT YOU'RE A VIRGIN SO HOW ARE YOU SO EFFORTLESSLY DOMINANT? Guess all of that smut you've read paid off well

You make him lay on his stomach while whining and whimpering with you on his back stroking his cock from behind

%100 gripping the sheets and biting down on the pillow so he doesnt disturb the people on the floor

but you have other plans so you grab his chin lift his face and shove 2 fingers in his mouth

He just obeys you like that bc he doesn't know what to do aww he is too embarrassed at this point

gets 20 spanks on his plump buttocks bc you just love seeing them jiggle

GO EASY ON HIM ITS HIS FIRST NIGHT

But you show no mercy and suggest trying the position "69"

Surprisingly he is very eager to do it, it sounds so erotic to him he ends up cumming 3 times just from your mouth and when you finally cum on his face you quickly grab your phone, open your camera and tell him to smile

Best selfie ever: Tired looking izuku with your cum on his face smiling shyly at the camera

Baby is bathing in his own sweat at this point

But is y/n done?

NO NOT EVEN CLOSE? So the night continued like that, you acting like letting him take the lead then swapping the roles and embarrassing him non-stop milking him till his balls turn into deflated balloons 🎈

That's how the first sex tape of the Midoriya couple was created and trust me, there are many tapes to be filmed

And believe it or not, whenever he goes drinking with his hero friends, he gets so drunk that he spills every spicy detail about your sex life and everybody in the room listens to him in awe, with jealousy and mouths wide open.

A/N: AAAAHHHH FINALLY DONE HOPE YOU GUYS LIKE IT, reblogs and feedbacks r appreciated!

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missmaywemeetagain · 1 year

Text

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

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

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companionjones · 8 months

Text

Goat Legs

Pairing: Charles Xavier x Reader

Fandoms: Marvel, X-Men

Summary: You have the power to see other universes. Sadly, that power controls you.

Warnings: Universes colliding

*******

"I'm not asking you to take over my position permanently, just for a couple weeks."

Magneto's mood differed from yours completely. While you were relaxed and amused he was annoyed and agitated. "Yes. It starts off with a couple weeks, then you ask for an extension, then, the next thing I know, it's years later, and you and your lover are never coming back."

You laughed, "We're going to Cancun! You're acting as if we're travelling to another dimension."

"How can I expect you to come back here when you don't even want to go home right now?"

That question took you off guard. "I'm sorry?"

"It's time to wake up, Y/n."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"It's time to wake up."

"Stop it, Mag."

"You have to wake up, Y/n."

"I said stop it!"

"You have to wake up right now!"

Charles was in the middle of teaching a class when Raven burst into the room.

"She's awake," was all Raven said.

The professor turned back to his class with quite the worried expression. "Alright, keep reading chapter 12 everyone. Ms. Raven will be taking over for the time being."

The siblings shared a nod before Charles exited the classroom and began booking it down the hallways to get to you.

You were in an isolated wing of the Xavier Mansion. Charles thought it best to house you there so the students didn't hear your screams.

That choice was coming to fruition that day, as it did most days. Charles could hear your screams as he quickly quickly approached your door. His heart always experienced a lot of pain, seeing you like this. He couldn't even read your mind because it was too much for him. Charles could never imagine what it was like for you.

"My love! My love, I'm here. Please, you have to try to calm your mind."

As Charles rushed into your room and knelt at your bedside, you saw many different versions of him. One second, he was older. The next, he was the same age, but in a wheel chair. Then, you saw him bald. You tried to close your eyes to refresh your mind, but all you saw when you blinked was worlds and universes colliding. You screamed out in frustration, and reached out for Charles.

He took your hand and combed your hair with his fingers. "It's alright. It's alright, my love. We're together. We're home. Everything is okay."

"Tell that to Logan. He's lighting his cigar on an on-fire car as the world ends," you described what you were seeing.

It took a couple hours, but your episode had finally ended and you were calming down.

Charles still sat on your bed with you. He still had one of your hands in his, and he was combing through your hair with his free hand.

"You had goat legs," you quietly informed after hours of restless silence.

Xavier appropriately chuckled at that statement. "What?"

"You had goat legs," you repeated. "In one of my visions, you were having a young girl over for tea in the woods, and you had goat legs."

He scoffed. "That sounds like something out of Alice in Wonderland."

"It was quite whimsical," you admitted.

There was another silence between the two of you before you asked Charles, "Tell me about here again?"

He smiled. "We got everyone on our side after Cuba, even Erik. There still some arguments on how we should approach the rest of the world but we all teach the next generation of mutants here, at home."

Despite all the happy news, a tear rolled down your cheek. "I wish I could be more help."

Charles reminded you, "You don't have to be anything more or anything less than you are right now."

"Can we go for a walk? I'd like to see the kids," you told him.

Charles nodded, "Of course," as he helped you out of bed.

*******

Author's Note: Thank you so much for reading! Fill up that heart and reblog if you liked it. I would also really appreciate a comment, if you have the time. If you would like to read more, check out my masterlist. Have a nice day, night, or whatever time it is for you! <3 <3 <3

#charles xavier #charles xavier x reader #marvel #x-men #james mcavoy #companion jones #goat legs #who knows what goat legs is a reference to?

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luwritesomething · 1 year

Note

hey!! i saw what you wrote about mickey, billy and stu taking care of the sick reader. so i was wondering if i could request something with billy and stu x the reader? basically, stu ends up catching the world’s WORST cold. we’re talking the poor love can barely get through a sentence because he keeps sneezing, shivering, and my god it is tissues galore up in this house.. SO, billy and the reader step up and insist on taking care of him! (sick stu would be so fucking adorable)

(also it’s up to you if you want to include billy or not!!) i don’t mind at all!)

ps: your work is absolutely AMAZING!! :)

Stu Macher Heacanons: Him catching a cold would include...

Warnings: Swearing lol, probably typos or bad constructed english, poly!ghostface (aka poly relationship between reader and billy/stu. not a warning in reality)

Edited?: Like always, no.

Reader's pronouns: Not stated, gender neautral (reader gets called 'angel' once)

Summary: Stu catching a terrible cold!!!!

Author's note: THANK YOU FOR REQUESTING FOR STU, I LOVE YOU. he gives me so much comfort <3 i made this in the form of headcanons, hope you don't mind. also, anon is referring to THESE headcanons, so you should go and check them out. also thank you so much for the compliment, you're lovely <3 here's my billy and stu playlist because why not.

criticism, comments and reblogs are always appreciated! requests are open, especially for scream! hit that anon button and tell me your ideas. in the scream fandom, i write for billy loomis, stu macher, randy meeks, tatum riley, sidney prescott, mickey altieri, kirby reid, chad meeks martin, mindy meeks martin, tara carpenter, anika kayoko and laura crane.

i feel like you wouldn't find out about him actually catching a very bad cold until billy appeared on your doorstep with the news.

it would literally go like this,,,

"billy?"

"we're going to stu's. he's sick."

"oh, hell."

it wasn't often that stu got sick, but you knew the eternal annoyance journey a sick stu would put you through.

you still love him, he's always so adorable, but oh sick stu...

the firsts days are the worse for him, because those are the days in which he really feels sick and he's shivering and coughing and covering himself up in blankets.

but once those days pass... he becomes a menace.

billy is the bad cop, you're the good one. neither of you had really realized the reality of that dynamic until a bedridden, fiverish stu called you out.

you two have learned to take advantage of that, though

"i said put the fucking thermometer!"

"NO!"

"stop yelling, you two! stu, please, put it on."

"...fine."

billy makes him soup, and during the few times you don't stay by stu's side, you help billy with whatever he's doing in the kitchen.

first time, stu accidentally poured the soup over himself because of his hands shaking so much and the three of you panicked.

constantly checking for fever, by putting either your hand or lips to his forehead.

billy can take a lot of things, but not snots. he gets really grossed out at the amount of tissues in stu's room, so if stu is too sick or tired to throw them out, you do it for him.

the amount of attention he receives from the two of you is worth the cold for stu.

"i'm sick of the soup."

"c'mon, stuwie. billy made it for you. have one more spoon?"

if billy loses his patience with stu, you're there to ease him and ground him.

and it works the other way around, because stu may call you angel, but everyone can lose their patience.

when billy starts getting tired of stu's sickness, he locks himself somewhere else and copies homework and the notes that stu has missed from school. it helps him stop being so cranky.

"you can't smoke when you're sick."

"...please?"

"... i can't say no to you. if billy finds out we're dead, so make it quick."

watching movies with him !!! even if he keeps sneezing !!!

y'all can't cuddle like you use to, but billy sits on the floor, you sit on a chair and stu sits on his bed as you all watch the movie on his bedroom's tv.

okay, listen !!

reading to him so he falls asleep. hell yeah,,,

billy would read him stephen king or some of his scary books, and you read him whatever he wants --- even if it's just comics.

he's just so happy about having you two taking acre of him.

#stu macher #billy loomis #stu macher x billy loomis x reader #stu macher x reader x billy loomis #billy loomis x stu macher x reader #billy loomis x reader x stu macher #scream #scream 1 #scream 1996 #scream franchise #scream fandom #lu write #my writing #writing #headcanons

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nervocat · 6 months

Note

hi, platonic jing yuan taking in a teen reader who is troubled/ has trust issues?

★ 📝 — notes: I'm sooo proud of how this turned out omgg. I hope you like this too anon :33

Strictly platonic too btw, if you couldn't tell

— word count: 549 , fandom: honkai: star rail , cw: none — ✦

“ Learning to Trust ”

Even though Jing Yuan willingly took you under his wing with no cost, you still had your suspicions about the General after your abandonment from your previous caretakers. You were around the same age as the 14 year old lieutenant, Yanqing, but even having someone around your age didn't help ease your nerves.

You were currently sharpening your sword when Jing Yuan came up to you, his usual smile on his face. You pause your sharpening and look up at him, eyes narrowing and brows furrowing as you sit up straighter.

“What do you want, General,” you say, voice laced with annoyance. Jing Yuan's smile never faltered as he sat down next to you, you inching away slightly to avoid contact with the man.

“I just wanted to come by and say hi,” he replies cooly, looking at you through his white, fluffy bangs. You huff, resuming the sharpening of your sword without answering or conversing with him further. Jing Yuan chuckles and ruffles your hair gently, leaving you frozen in your position and baffled, eyes wide and you stare ahead. “Always so cold, [name], it's curious, really,”

You blink a few times in confusion. “..Wha..??”

Jing Yuan was patient with you as you slowly warmed up to him overtime. It was a long process, but Jing Yuan waited for you, and so did Yanqing (though more from a distance, focusing on his own things).

Sparring with the General was common, Jing Yuan always coming out victorious. You were frustrated with always losing, to which he took notice of, and decided to gently confront you about it.

You were leaning against a wall as you stared at the ground when Jing Yuan found you. You hear his laugh and look up, face almost immediately hardening at the sight of him as you get up off the wall. “You just beat me in a spar, now what do you want?”

“I just wanted to talk, is that so wrong?”

“Very much so,” you grunt as you lean back on the wall, arms crossed as you stare away again. The silence continues before Jing Yuan says something that makes you feel odd.

“You're very strong, [name], mentally and physically,” he says with a smile. You think about what he says for a moment before looking up at him, face softened slightly.

“And.. what is the meaning behind your words?” Jing Yuan laughs, a finch landing on his shoulder.

“Nothing, I mean it with all my sincerity, [name], you are strong, and you have much potential in life,” he says, still smiling. “And never let anyone tell you otherwise.”

It was basic advice and comfort, really the bare minimum, but it let you lower your guard slightly.

“You.. really think so, Jing Yuan?” now the General was slightly shook. You called him by his name rather than ‘General’ like you normally do, but he smiles and nods.

“Of course, I have no reason to lie to you, [name]” he says as he looks into your eyes. Your face softens completely, looking away and you furrow your brows.

“Thank you, General,” you smile slightly, glad that said man couldn't see your face, but he knew. “It's much appreciated.”

Maybe you'll learn to trust Jing Yuan, but you've still got some way to go. ✧

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katsu28 · 7 months

Text

kait's book corner & cafe

update: this celebration is now closed!

note from me to you: hello friends! the time has come again where i must be sappy. i know, i know, just bear with me, okay? i truly cannot comprehend that there are over two thousand of you lovely souls here now. i appreciate every single one of you who have taken time out of your own lives to join me in my delusions, more than you'll ever know. every like, every comment, every reblog with an indecipherable keysmash—i cherish them all. you all are what push me to grow as a writer, and to keep writing. thank you, thank you, thank you <3

navigation, characters, guidelines

rules:

you don't have to be following me to send something in! this celebration is open to anyone and everyone!

you can send in as many celebration asks as you want, but please only send one request per ask.

as always, please pay attention to my writing guidelines, and please be patient with me!

for one shots, please stick only to characters on the list of ones i write for. please also include the actual prompt and which list it's from, not just the number. this makes things much easier for me!

this celebration will last until halloween—so today, october 15 to tuesday, october 31 at 11:59pm pst.

so without further ado, welcome to my cozy little bookshop. pick a book, settle in, and enjoy 📚

feeling hungry? thirsty? i know i always need a little beverage when i read. we've got something for everyone. come on over to our cafe counter, take a look at our menu!

send ☕ along with a prompt from any one of the lists below and a character of your choosing, and i'll write you a one shot to satisfy your craving!

✤ list a ✤ list b ✤ list c ✤ list d ✤ list e ✤ list f

we all know it, we all love it, it's the reason why many of us are here on tumblr to begin with. welcome to the fictional section, home to blorbos and brainrots. if you've ever wanted to know more about a character, here's your chance!

send ✏️ along with a character of your choosing for my headcanons for them. these can include characters i don't write for, but you think i might know.

send 🖊️ along with a character + a concept/thought about them and i'll expand on it. (nsfw thoughts are allowed, but please be 18+ if you do send one in)

wander on over here to the nonfiction section next, friend! here you can read about anyone's life story.

send 📝 along with a short description of yourself (appearance, hobbies, things you enjoy, etc.) and your fandom of choice from this list, and i'll pair you with a character and tell you why!

come along right this way to the romance section! this one's my favorite because it allows me to spread love and appreciation for the people on this lovely site.

send 💌 along with any fics, blogs, or folks you want to give a little extra love to today!

maybe you're more into a little bit of mystery and adventure in your stories? well you're in luck, because we've also got a section for those too!

send 🔎 along with any ask game you can think of (ama, cym, fmk, this or that, would you rather, etc.) and i'll gladly give you the answers you seek.

oh look, you found the bookstore cat nestled in the stacks! murphy only lets a few lucky souls pet him, so here's your chance! (moots only please!)

send 🐈 for a handwritten love letter from yours truly and a song that reminds me of you <3

tagging some lovely moots (signal boost if you'd like, but absolutely no pressure <3): @inkluvs @starryeyedstories @sunlitide @roosterbruiser @headkiss @familyvideostevie @stevebabey @maddipoof @yellowjaxxx @bradleybeachbabe @buckysprettybaby @spideystevie @sokkigarden @alwritey-aphrodite @sunshinesteviee @witchwyfe @astermath @brettsgoldstein @fanboyswhore9 @crappymixtape @annab-nana @boneblushed

#kait's 2k!#steve harrington x reader #eddie munson x reader #bradley bradshaw x reader #hangman seresin x reader #jamie tartt x reader #roy kent x reader #jj maybank x reader #rafe cameron x reader #dani rojas x reader #remus lupin x reader #rooster bradshaw x reader #jake seresin x reader #peter parker x reader

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