#i wanted to do prompts or something for my writer mutuals too but i would have no idea what to even do with that... sorry guys

[raiderlucy]

Yeah idk why i’m doing this either i guess i just wanted to make myself feel better about turning 30? Also i’m admitting i probably should been a bit more prepared for this celebration thing but maybe 5 days is enough time?

Seriously though someone tell me how ‘93 was 30 years ago 😭

Soooo i figured i’d make a prompt list for my fellow creators to participate in (if they want to of course 😉😅)

Gonna try and keep the prompts simple because i’ve never done a prompt list like this before, and also it’s all fandoms friendly so go nuts with it (even if it’s a fandom i’m not a part of - i’m trying to get into some other stuff atm anyways)

🖤 Monday 10th 🎉🎂✨

skill: blending // colours: vibrant

💜 Tuesday 11th

skill: typography // colours: cool palette

💙 Wednesday 12th

skill: transition // colours: warm palette

💚 Thursday 13th

skill: overlays // colours: black and white

💛 Friday 14th

skill: free space // colours: free space

Rules are pretty simple - you can do one or both whatever you like (mix and match with the other days even if you want to lol)

We don’t have to be mutuals to take part in this either btw I just wanna see some pretty gifs and stuff to cheer myself up (plus recently it feels like my dash has been a little sparse for content i enjoy)

Gonna be tracking these under my normal tag #useraimz but gonna be tagging them under aimzbday*

Tagging some much loved mutuals below the cut in no particular order (signal boost or not it’s completely up to you) and as per always i never know who to tag because you guys know how much of a socially awkward loser i am - so if i miss anyone i’m sorry 👉🏻👈🏻🥺

@jeysuso @foundlingrogu @achingly-shy @machine-slays-dragons @heroeddiemunson @emziess @eddemunsn @iero @deanncastiel @lamberts @stars-bean @bylrndgm @buckysbarnes @stargyles @santinacedes @reysorigins @usershiv @ellie-joel @greatcometcas @ofalltheginjoints @buckleydiaz @finalgalnancy @bitchsteve @padme-amidala @eddiemunsens @alivedean @starrystevie @rogueddie 

#i wanted to do prompts or something for my writer mutuals too but i would have no idea what to even do with that... sorry guys #aimzbday* #aimz talks

[mtchacffinz]

to be loved for you

prompt!!! Dan Heng never dealt with jealousy. He learns bitterly that sometimes, he can't deal with it rationally!

content!!! SFW, gn! reader, fluff, mutual pining, hurt/comfort, first kiss, clingy! Dan Heng

note!!! I love him too much. So far, all he's been getting from me is fluff 💔 frankly, i cant muster any freaky-freaky stuff with this man 🤔 got anything? my asks are open 🩷

To be someone who relied on relations by circumstance, you would always cherish each and every one of those who cross your path. May they be old and wise, or young and restless— Greeting them with the brightest smile, they'd always find themselves enamoured by your energy. Maybe this is why you attract so many people? Dan Heng was aware of that. He never spoke up about it, though. After all, he was one of the many who was caught bulls eye with each strum of his heart.

He knew you were capable of fending off threats yourself. He knew you were somebody who could defend someone from harms way.. and he especially knew just how gentle and kind you treat everybody.

Oh, what is he doing? Sulking all by himself in the archives. Dan Heng's thoughts ran rampant the past minutes. This happens when he's alone or sitting idly by. The poor man's thoughts catch up to him leaving him disgruntled. The thing is, you could always see it in his face.

You've been out and about for a while. He misses you, you know. Not that he would admit! Dan Heng's stubborn, just like that. He's definitely not mulling over how you're attention has been elsewhere, either. He doesn't mind. You have the freedom to do what you want! Just leave him sulking here in the archives unattended, it's okay.

The teal eyed prince clicks his tongue. That chatty, flirty, touchy writer. At first, Dan Heng thought that he was quite a man. The writer guy was nice and respectful with a golden gaze for things that were held high. That said, the Author quickly took interest in you.

He was never one to be possessive. Why should he? You're not even in a relationship. But sometimes, as soon as the guys hands find their way towards yours, intertwining in a clasp, something in him dims. Suddenly, his eyes can't leave your figure. It was your smile again, and Dan Heng's not at the receiving end of it.

You're not on the express today, either. A shame. Seriously, that guys been hogging you all week! What's up with that? Don't even get him started on "(Y/n), my muse. Accompany me today?" bullcrap! It's nothing but a sappy excuse to get into your pants so bad! Seriously, the absurdity. Dan Heng shakes off the thoughts before they continue. Did you know? Just by his gaze alone, someone could freeze in their place— like daggers against their back.

"Hmm? Mr. Ferr, are you okay?"

"It's nothing, my sweet, I strangely caught a shiver in my spine.." the author, Ferr, replied calmly.

"Okay. So about your first draft.."

Draft this, draft that, can't he got an editor instead?!

Irk marks basically float up his head just thinking about what they're talking about right now. Can you blame him? He's been neglected.

Dan Heng slaps himself, hard.

Woah. He's getting way ahead of himself. Him? Neglected? In what way? Again, it's not like you're both in a relationship. It's not like he's entitled to your affection in any way. Dan Heng really needs to calm down. Lately, all he's been doing is updating the archives. He's also learned of what you will be traveling for next, and added data with a note addressed to you as well. His calloused hands were flipping through various pages all day, pulling apart scrolls and wiping away holograms.

His thoughts become strangely quiet. His presence was like frost.. constant. A little chilly. He starts to fiddle with his fingers, his gloves, and his nails.

He really misses you a lot.

Can you come back soon?

Dan Heng sighs. He stands up with his impeccable posture as usual. Those arms held scrolls and books, and puts them back where he got them from. At this point, he's zoned out. He exits the Archives, strolling near the parlor car. Light footsteps echo throughout the space with Dan Heng taking in the air of tranquility within the express; It seemed like everyone had their own agenda today.

Well, except for one.

"Dan Heng," Himeko's sweet, gentle voice called out for him. The boy turned towards her, a little surprised. She smiles, and beckons him to sit with her. Her silky locks framing perfectly on her face, she put a stray strand behind her ear. "Come, I have coffee to share."

Dan Heng was indeed in dire need of indulgence. Without hesitation, he walked over to the red head and sat down. He forgot how comfortable the sofa was.. his nerves began to relax. Himeko starts to pour the hot beverages into elegant coffee cups, befitting if her style. It was comfortable silence, the stars glistened into glass windows— reflecting the beauty of life. Himeko seems to have noticed his aloof vibe, joining him to stare at the stars. Opening her lips, Himeko starts.

"You've been busy for a while."

"Being an archivist is a lot of work, huh?"

"I have."

"It's fine." The gentle lady can't help but chuckle. He's so dry. This only confirms her hypothesis. That daunting look on his figure may intimidate some, but not Miss Himeko. Never Miss Himeko. She doesn't want to expose her hidden agenda now, but she just can't wait to run her mouth. After all, Dan Heng's been down the weather and it's very obvious as to why.

"(Y/n) wanted me to prepare these for you. Enjoy them." She takes a sip. His expression softened. Dan Heng can't help but think bitterly. It'd be lovely if they were her to prepare these herself, but the teal eyed prince quickly take back the thought.

"I'm thankful.. but why? Is there an occasion? I don't seem to recall any." He speaks in a cautious manner. The woman only sighs, a palm on her cheek.

"Be honest with me, Dan Heng." Her tone quickly changed. Now her eyes are staring into his. Like it was rummaging through his soul. Dan Heng's feet were cold. He couldn't contest her gaze, so he averts his eyes. Himeko frowns at this, but she doesn't seem to mind.

"Your eyes betray you greatly."

He was a little taken aback. His eyes? He was never expressive. He was sure he'd been called at least poker faced and stoic before.. Dan Heng's brows narrowed. "I beg your pardon?"

Himeko only chuckles, dismissing her last claim. "I'll tell you what. They'll be here soon.. and they're going to leave just as quickly." She adds the last statement with dramatic disdain before the elegant lady takes a sip once again. Dan Heng's stomach drop. Ah.. he's lost the appetite to even finish his mug. Himeko continues. "Ferr is taking them to a space station for one of his projects. Given the current circumstances, they have no reason to refuse."

His face scrunched in annoyance upon hearing the name again. Mr. Ferr this, Mr. Ferr that! He's getting sick of him. Taking (Y/n) on a space ship? How long will that take? Is it some sort of rendevous? A date?

..will you come back?

"i don't think that decision befalls to us. (Y/n) is capable of making decisions.."

"I don't want them to go."

"..on their own because— wait, what?"

Himeko chuckles dryly. "I don't want (Y/n) to go, you know? It's selfish thought, I know. But, it's good to be selfish once and a while now, right?"

That was a half baked lie. First of all, Himeko fully supports what (Y/n) wants. But Ferr.. isn't exactly known for his patience. Himeko knows full well as soon as (Y/n) steps in the spaceship— he'd pull something like a proposal! A profession, a deal! She's not stupid, Himeko is far from dense. The Scientist knows that the Author has a huge thing for you, and it shows. And knowing Dan Heng? He'd just nod along albeit against it. She can't just stand here and let them distance each other! Himeko's seen it.. that prying gaze of a distraught, pining lover.. the watchful eyes of a lovestruck persona. The only way to get a stubborn man to act, is through tremendous pressure!

Dan Heng's lips pursed.

"And you want me to.."

"You don't have to, really."

"But.. if it will benefit them, should we encourage it? After all, they're energetic and knows their way with words. There must be some sort of good reasoning behind his invitation."

"I don't know. Do you want them to go?"

"I.." Dan Heng couldn't finish his sentence. He couldn't form a response at all. Does he want you to go? If you would enjoy yourself, he'd love to allow it.. If you'd return with a smile on your face, tell him all about what happened, he'd love to receive you with utmost sincere..

Even if it took atleast a hundred years for you to return to him.

...Hundred years his ass! You will not spend a hundred years with that man!

"If (Y/n) wants to, I personally don't see why not." Dan Heng's thoughts actively contrasted his responses. A stubborn man.. Himeko sighs, an apologetic smile on her lips. Finally backing away, the lovely lady puts down her mug and sits straight.

"It's okay to be honest. After all, they.. wish for something."

Dan Heng replies quickly in a heart beat. "I will be honest, then. I want their wish fulfilled."

"Then you better greet them in tip-top shape." Himeko winks saying this, standing up to excuse herself. Dan Heng tilts his head in this, not quite sure if what the she's implying. Himeko only had that knowing smirk on her pristine face. The lady excuses herself promptly, leaving Dan Heng all by himself. The man is once again left alone with his thoughts, except this time, he has new material to work with.

"Great..." He huffs bitterly, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Just.. splendid." God, his head hurts. He's tired and he's drowsy. At this point, he doesn't find anything of urgency at the moment— only thinking about grasping that sudden warmth the sofa beneath him exerts. Dan Heng would like to find peace of mind at least once in a while. Both that in mind, his eyes find their way to the Parlor ceiling, half lidded and tired.

Slowly, his breathing calms down.. and slowly, his eyes drift closed, consciousness slipping away from his grasp.

Slowly.. the darkness embraced him, and his body rested in slumber.

You stand a little surprised.

After all, Dan Heng was casually sitting upright— his eyes closed. Is he napping? Is he okay? You're not sure, and you're concerned. Frankly, you were supposed to be here for him— feeling that he deserves at least an apology that you haven't been getting back to his messages in a while. But looking at the sight.. he looks like he's accompanied at the moment.

Such a hard working guard. The guard of the express, the unmatched Archivist of the Nameless.. the one who would always hold your heart gently. You swore if he blew air on your figure, you'd crumble immediately. The only one who'd sway your heart. That's how much power he holds, his whole fingers wrapped around your being with an invisible string keeping you binded to him.

You curb a grin. Strolling near your quarters, you pick up something warm. A blanket. You envelop his stature in a comfortable tuck, pausing for a moment to take in the melancholic state Dan Heng's exhibiting. The handsome prince's eyes fluttered closed, lips slightly apart. If he's sitting upright sleeping, then he must be atleast tired enough to sleep but still be on his feet.

But he doesn't know that, he doesn't need to.

"Ah.." was all Dan Heng could muster. You look back at him in a awe, but quickly recovered. You didn't remove his hands on your wrist, you held onto them instead. The archivists eyes softened, his brows relaxing. You attempt to give him a smile, defusing the tension.

Your sightseeing was cut short when Dan Heng started to stir, his eyes fluttering open. It was for a short moment, the first those greyish teal eyes found their way towards yours.. and the way they slightly widened upon meeting gazes with you, Dan Heng's slender, warm fingers slowly snuck their way toward your wrist; apprehending their movements further. Dan Heng held onto you like you were unreal, like you were unbelievable. Oh, he looks stricken. He looks.. almost as surprised as you. Dan Heng doesn't say anything yet, the blanket that was once on him fell off just a little while ago.

"Hey. Sorry. It looks like I woke you up.." You offer an apologetic smile. He quickly shakes his head at this, responding to you in haste.

"No.. no. Don't apologize."

"I have a lot of apologizing to do."

"No, you.." before he could finish, he cuts himself off. Why must he be so accepting? He keeps brushing his feelings aside, and before he knows it, he utters something he doesn't even mean. No, he's not okay. No, it's not fine. You upset him greatly. He couldn't focus on anything because you weren't answering his messages. Your phone was unreachable.

You had Dan Heng worried sick. What if something happened to you? You reckless, Trusting, thick skulled—

"Everything good?"

Your voice immediately snaps him out of his thoughts. Dan Heng let's out a small breath, his hands still clutching yours. He was still sitting down, and you were towering over him. God.. just by your gaze alone, he's already so full. If you could just stay with him a little longer, he feels like this churning in his stomach would go away soon. He wants you so bad, he needs you so bad.. he doesn't want you to let go anytime soon.

To your surprise, Dan Heng himself removed his hold on you. His movements were slow and languid, like a flow of water within the rivers. Moving in chorus, mellifluous.. elegantly. You can't take your eyes off him at all. Dan Heng clung to your waist. His warm body enveloped your lower half, nuzzling deep into your stomach. You let out a surprised yelp.

Suddenly, your face is hot. Your stomach was dancing with abundant butterflies, and you don't know where to put your hands. As if the archivist could read your mind, his hands led yours into his head, fingers entangling itself into those dark locks. They were so soft.. so warm and lovely. Your hands run through his hair gently— cherishing just how close he is to you at this moment. What's up with him? He seems to be a little more laid back.

Dan Heng shifts in his place. That's when he finally looks up at you. His arms around you, eyes looking directly at yours. You could see his expression.. eyes soft. Gentle. A slight pout— face flushed. It looks like he wants to say something, and it's still processing in that pretty head of his.

Dan Heng's hold on you tightens, you didn't fail to notice. He wants to be selfish for once. Let him be selfish for once. Just once. With a small breath and a soft tone, he finally utters.

"Don't go."

It was getting harder and harder to calm your heart down, and that didn't get any better.

Your heart immediately melts, and your knees almost gave out. What? Go where? Has the rumours already spread? Whatever it was, it's not happening. Especially if he asked you, it's already set in stone. "I won't. Not anywhere." You respond tenderly. Dan Heng's eyes lit up. You swore his fingers even twitched just a little bit. A little more after, his face suddenly scrunched. The archivists' frame was decorated with blazing hues of red. Whatever he's thinking seems to strain him so. Not even bothering to give you time to further analyze, he stands up from his seat, arms still around you. This time, you have no idea what'll he do. Dan Heng's eyes averted yours, hesitantly taking a step closer. My.. your palms are starting to sweat. This is the effect of anticipation.

When he pulled back from you, Dan Heng quickly analyzed your expression to see even a tinge of displeasure. Now you.. face decorated with the hue of peony, looked awe struck. Absolutely enchanted.. bewildered, blown. Gathering your nerves to work back up again, your eyes slowly trailed back to his nervous ones: awaiting your reaction.

"..You can hit me after this." Dan Heng suddenly says, making you tilt your head in confusion. So carefully, he cupped your cheeks. Whatever that was you were going to say was caught in your throat. There was a bubbling feeling in your chest, waiting to pop open; and as soon as his lips brushed past yours, it popped so beautifully vibrant it blinded your vision for but a moment. As your eyes fluttered closed and his eyes half lidded, he greedily drank the sight of you from his eyes.

Dan Heng's eyes widened once you grabbed his collar— smashing your lips back to his. The kiss you've given him burned with fervor, impatient, like you've been yearning for more. You were starved of his lips— like a lone hawk hunting for aeons.

Now that the opportunity presented itself, might as well make the most of it.

The archivist had a hard time keeping up with you, keeping the both of you straight by holding the small of your back. Your arms were in Dan Heng's chest— eagerly taking him in yours. By the time you both ran out of air, you were standing in amidst the parlor car— with the stars accompanying the moment being the sole witness. You could hear Dan Heng's heartbeat whilst you rest your head on his chest. Clutching his jacket, it was tempting to go for another one again.

There was silence. A lot of words hung out in the air. The first to cut through the already light air around you was you.

"For how long?"

Dan Heng breathed heavily, burying his nose into your hair. He thinks about it for a long time before finally answering.

"Quite a while."

i went a little overboard sorry! (⁠●⁠´⁠⌓⁠`⁠●⁠) edited it a lil bit

#dan heng fluff #dan heng x reader #dan heng #hsr fluff #hsr #honkai star rail #honkai star rail x reader #hsr x reader

[httpsdana]

Hey!!! I absolutely adore your writing, you're so talented!!!!

Can I request a joao felix fic where he and the reader are friends but he's in love with her? Maybe he doesn't tell her until he sees she's getting the attention of other guys and fears he's losing her and stuff. Like the prompt 70 on your list <333

Ps. You're like my fav writer here I hope you have a great day ❤️

Scared~João Felix

*GIF isn't mine. credits to the owner*

thank you so much for the feedback.thats super cute <3 I hope you enjoy this one <3

you can request from my prompt list

this is my master list

players/drivers I write for

70-"you really love her don't you?"

It was almost too obvious for everyone that João was in love with y/n. To everyone but her. A lot of his friends have tried to get him to confess, convincing him that she shares the sad feeligs as him, but he was too scared to do that.

They met through mutual friends. y/n was a close friend to almost everyone on the Portuguese National Team. João and y/n specifically met in 2019, after Portugal won the UEFA Nations League, in the after party. They seemed to click immediately and have been close friends ever since. but João couldn't help but feel something more for her, hoping she would feel the sane but also afraid to ask her about her own feelings

The team had a reunion after the 2022/2023 season was over. Training together for some friendly matches against other teams.

y/n thought she'd pay them a visit at one of their training sessions. As soon as she stepped on the field, her eyes met João's. He smiled widely at her, his face lighting up as soon as she smiled back at him. He was about to walk up to her before someone beat him to it. That someone being Ruben Dias. Someone João would never admit to anyone that he is jealous of.

y/n's eyes averted from João when someone stood in front of her. She looked up and saw Ruben, one of her closest friends aside from João.

"Ruben! I missed you" she hugged him tightly, him doing the same thing back

"I missed you more angel" he said into her hair.

She laughed at the nickname, only making him smirk back

"to what do I owe the visit? you suddenly remembered you knew a Portuguese football team?" he joked, making her laugh, her eyes averting to João for a spilt second, noticing his gaze at them, before she looked back at Ruben

Ruben glanced back at where she was looking, only to see João glaring at him.

"ohh you came to see your boy" Ruben smirked making y/n snap her eyes towards his with burning cheeks

"my boy? we're just friends" she shrugged her shoulders, avoiding Ruben's intense gaze on her

João was wondering why y/n was blushing so hard. What has Ruben said that made her that shy? He felt a knot forming in his stomach. What if she ends up dating Ruben and forgets about him? What if he never gets to see her again because Ruben wouldn't allow that? What if he ends up losing her forever?

He didn't want that. Not now not ever.

He hasn't realized he was still staring at her until Bernardo Silva came and nudged his shoulder

"stop staring João" he said, making João turn his eyes away from the girl.

"I'm not staring" he mumbled under his breath, playing with the ball between his legs

"oh you so are. tell me what's with the frown" Bernardo insisted, making João let out a sigh

"its just...y/n seems to really enjoy Ruben's company. And I'm just scared that she might forget about me if she starts dating him. I mean I know he's better looking and older and stronger or whatever but I just...I don't want to lose her" he confessed, his eyes being fixed on y/n the whole time.

Meanwhile, Bernardo was looking at João with a smile on his face

"you really love her don't you?" he said, smiling as if he's the one in love

João's cheeks only turned red in respone, nodding his head slightly

"yeah I do" he mumbled, looking up at y/n, only to see her looking back at him. She smiled and waved, before she atrted walking to him

João started to panic not knowing what to do.

"don't panic. Just tell her you love her and everything will be fine" Bernardo tapped his shoulder before walking away

"hey João. how are you handsome?" she asked, wrapping her arms around his neck. He hugged her back tightly, before they both pulled away

She was about to say something, but was interrupted by João

"I love you" he blurted out, and the look in his eyes told y/n he wasnt just saying that as friends

y/n stood there in shock before she was able to talk

"you do?" she asked, still in shock

"yes. and seeing you with Ruben earlier, all red and blushing made me realize how much I love you and don't want to lose you" he confessed, feeling a weight shift off of his shoulder

"you're such a dumbass. the only reason I was all red was because Ruben called you 'my boy' and that I only came here to see, but between us, you are the reason I came here to day. and I love you too you idiot" she said, making him grin widely

He hugged her tightly again, before pulling away and quickly attaching his lips to hers. Before she had the chance to kiss back, João pulled away and ran to Bernardo, just to tell him what he did.

#football #football blurb #football imagine #football one shot #football x reader #footballer imagine #portugal national team #portugal #joao felix one shot #joao felix imagine #joao felix x reader #joao felix blurb #joao felix x you #joao felix x y/n #joao felix fluff #joao felix fic #joao felix fanfic #joao felix #joão félix x reader #joão felix x reader #joão félix #ruben dias #bernardo silva

[parad-ice-lostandfound]

omg we're mutuals??? i'm flattered honestly since my only other moot (do people say that?) is my rp partner/bestie so i feel like that doesn't really count. so like, i've never done a request before, and i never get requests (defo not sulking abt that lol) but can i maybe get some ace content? i have no idea why i like him so much honestly since he's a lil shit (affectionate), but i do and i have to live with it now. i'm terrible at coming up with shorter prompt ideas, which is probably why i've never requested from anyone before, so sorry that this is so vague. i give you creative license to write whatever you want, just no angst plz. is it weird for a self-proclaimed angst writer to specifically not want angst for their requests? i dunno. feel free to delete this if it's not what you're feeling at the time or i've somehow violated your rules, which i did read. sorry, i talk way too much.

AN: Hi! Don't worry about talking too much, I enjoyed reading it! And I agree, Ace is a little shit, but he's also very cute and occupies space in my brain without paying rent :(

Jokes aside, I hope you like this just as much as I liked writing it! May we never be cured of the loving Ace disease <3

Prompt: can i maybe get some ace content? i have no idea why i like him so much honestly since he's a lil shit (affectionate), but i do and i have to live with it now.

Pairing: Ace Trappola x GN!Reader/Prefect/Yuu

Genre: Fluff

TW: NA

Ace was a menace.

A menace of the highest degree, whose sole purpose in life sometimes seemed to be making you burst a vein with irritation.

A menace who was holding out a bouquet of roses for you, trying to act nonchalant even as his cheeks were tinted a soft red. His eyes were hidden by his sunglasses, but you had no doubt that they were focused on you and your reaction.

"What's this?" You hummed, taking the bouquet and cradling it in your arms. For something that looked so elegant and dainty it sure was heavy, and you were wondering how long Ace had stood outside Ramshackle with them before finally ringing the bell.

Ace cleared his throat, breaking you out of your reverie. He looked effortlessly stylish in everything he wore, but it seemed like he had taken special care with his appearance for today. If he'd given you a warning, maybe you'd have changed into something nicer than your pajamas...

"I, um, I came here to ask you something," he said, voice somber as if he was going to give you bad news. 'But who gives bad news with a bouquet of roses?' You thought to yourself, pushing down the part of you that was ready to overthink the smallest of incidents. You nodded to him to continue.

"Will... uh, will you be m-my Valentine this year?" He trailed off at the end of his sentence, voice breaking slightly. You blinked.

"Your Valentine?"

Ace made a face of indignation at your question. "Oh no, I was actually speaking on behalf of Deuce. Look, there he is, right where you left your last braincell," he huffed, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Are you trying to make me say no?" You asked, narrowing your eyes at him. Shifting the bouquet to one hand, you acted as if you were going to close the door with him still outside. Not that you actually would, but it was still fun to see his eyes widen comically at your action, hand shooting out to stall for time.

"Wait, no that– don't take everything so seriously," he whined, holding the door to stop you from shutting it in his face. You rolled your eyes at his dramatics, letting go of the door but turning and making your way inside. With your back turned to him, you smiled.

"Come in and help me find a vase for these roses," you said, and Ace followed you obediently, refraining from making any other sarcastic remarks that would have him stand outside the house as though he were in timeout for misbehaving.

Once you found a vase big enough to hold all the roses, you filled it with water. As you placed the flowers in it, you felt two strong arms circling your waist and a weight settling on your shoulder.

"So... be my valentine?" He asked again, voice slightly muffled against your shoulder.

"Give me one good reason to be your valentine," you hummed, not relenting even as Ace whined about you being unfair to him, he got you roses, how could you be so cruel—

Every indignant rise and fall of his voice had the smile on your lips growing and the urge to burst out laughing increasing. You bit your lip to stifle your amusement, but he caught it anyways.

"You little– you were trying to make me beg for it, huh?" He accused you, voice playful as he poked your sides. A peal of laughter left you as you tried to dodge his pokes, your hands swatting at his.

"Stop it!"

"Not until you say yes!"

Breaking free from his hold, you ran to the living room, your giggles filling the air as Ace followed, hot on your trail. You were fast, but Ace was faster, and you blamed hisbeing a member of the basketball club for him managing to foil all your attempts at getting away.

Pinned under him on the couch, you squirmed as he continued tickling you. Laughter left you both breathless and red in the face, and you wheezed when Ace decided to flop on top of you, his weight pressing your body down against the couch.

You hit him lightly at his shoulder. "Get off, you're heavy!"

"Nope. That's what you get for being a brat and trying to make me beg for you to be my valentine when you and I both know your answer'd be yes."

You stuck your tongue out at him, and he mirrored your actions, before he made himself comfortable against you and settled against your chest.

#twisted wonderland #twst #ice writes #its ace loving hours #also hi new moot!! #ice's moots #twisted wonderland ace #ace twisted wonderland #ace trappola x reader #ace trappola #twst ace #ace twst #ace x reader #gn!reader

[missmaywemeetagain]

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

Character/Fandom: Elvis - Elvis (2022)

Requested: kinda

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Stop her, stop her, stop her…

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

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

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

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

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

If anything, he’s cared too much.

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

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

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

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

He’s too late.

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

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

Suddenly, everything feels much too heavy.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I’ll always be alone.

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

*

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Something in the way she says it gives him hope.

“You need to fix this, Elvis.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

He nods.

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

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

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

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

**

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

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

You can’t seem to escape him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Damn him and Sandy both.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I take care of what’s mine.”

“You were made for me.”

“You belong here with me.”

“It’s meant to be…”

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

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

 At all

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I need you.”

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

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

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

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

Your heart stops. And you finally remember.

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

He’s loved you all along.

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

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

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

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

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

“I-I-I…and I’m so sorry, y/n.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Okay,” you whisper back.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You nod. You put the scarf in your purse.

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

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

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

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

When it’s time, I’ll know.

**

Four Weeks Later

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

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

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

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

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

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

You’d called her last night.

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

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

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

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

“Y/n.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“On your knees,” you command.

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

“Did I stutter?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Show me,” you command.

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

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

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

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

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

“Use your words,” you order.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And he’s all yours.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Get on your back,” you demand.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But perhaps that is your own ego talking.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Completely,” he nods back.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He nods furiously, eyes unfocused.

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

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

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

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

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

“Mamaaaa…need y-you,” he begs.

This makes you smirk coyly.

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

He can only manage a whimper in response.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Still sensitive, you think.

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

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

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

“I love you,” he whispers.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Finally, you are exactly where you need to be.

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

Here, with Elvis.

*

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

*

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

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@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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[buckets-and-trees]

Field Guide to Forestry

We just hit another follower milestone, so since there are way too many of you around for me to put this off any longer, how about I officially let everyone know who I am and what you'll find around here...

CHIEF FORESTER: ASPEN Elder Millennial/upper 30s, she/her

THINGS ASPEN KNOWS WAY TOO MUCH ABOUT Trader Joe's, Disney Parks, the Great British Bake Off, CBS Survivor, Harry Potter, Houseplants

IN THIS FIELD GUIDE YOU WILL FIND:

↠ Maps & Masterlists: my writing ↠ Forest Rules & Regulations: my guidelines and boundaries ↠ Visitors to the Forest: my approach to asks, requests, and tagging ↠ Upcoming Expeditions: projects I'm working on ↠ Tree Classification: my current tags ↠ Tales of the Teller: more about me and my writing

↠ THE FOREST OF FICS IN UPSTATE NEW YORK The MCU realm of my writing ↠ THE FORBIDDEN FOREST OF FICSThe Harry Potter realm of my writing Statement about me, HP, and she who should not be named/famed any longer

↠ I do not interact with minors. It's not safe in these woods.

↠ I do not consent to having my works translated or posted to other platforms. If I wanted to, I would.

↠ I will block at my own discretion. This is my forest, and I set the boundaries. Underage? Blocked. Pornbot pigeon? Blocked. Bigotted? Blocked. Rude? Blocked. Just be a reasonable human over the age of 18, and you'll be free to roam the woods.

↠ ASKS Always open. I adore asks! Send thoughts, thots, questions, gifs, pics... For now I'll take anonymous asks - as long as everyone plays nice, it'll stay that way. Asks are NEVER a bother and you can ask about anything - questions about my existing works, stuff I'm working on, fandom things, my life... I'll answer within reason (no spoilers, I'm semi-open about my life but do keep some things private, etc).

↠ REQUESTS The only thing I'm actively entertaining requests for is my Cedar Trees Royal AU collection - but even these will be fulfilled subjectively and only as I have time and muse cooperation. Periodically I may host a request fest (as I did for my 300 follower celebration or for other occasions in the future).

↠ TAGLIST At this point in the growing season, I'm not maintaining an official taglist. In the future I will probably set up a secondary/library blog as many other authors have done where you can follow and turn on the notifications. There are only so many hours in the day, explorers.

↠ BUCKY BARNES BINGO: 25-prompt challenge running April 10, 2023 through January 10, 2024 (3/25 complete) ↠ IN THE OPEN AIR: conclusion to Out of These Waters (mer!Bucky AU) ↠ DEVOUR: dark!mob boss Bucky AU (3/4 complete) ↠ THE GREAT BUCKY BAKE OFF: a Bucky x Reader episodic story with a Great British Bake Off format (coming fall 2023) ↠ ASPEN'S DARK FOREST FEST: ten-part spooky celebration with writer commentary highlighting my supernatural stories and a new darkfic (October and November 2023) ↠ ASPEN'S HOLIDAY EXTRAVAGANZA 2023: eight days of fics followed by one day of many, many fics (coming December 2023)

↠ FOREST NAVIGATION: field guide, masterlists, story collections ↠ AN ASPEN THING: when I post something more to do with me than anything fandom ↠ ASPEN MILESTONES: ONLY YOU CAN CREATE THESE FOREST FIRES ↠ ASPEN ASKS: responses to things from my ask box ↠ ASPEN IS WRITING: any commentary, sneak peaks, progress posts ↠ ASPEN WROTE SOMETHING: new story post ↠ OMG REBLOGGED THANK YOU: responding to or thanking people for reblogging my fics ↠ FIC READING: my reblogs of other people's fics ↠ MY MOOTS: flailing about or responding to one of my mutual friends

↠ HISTORY OF ASPEN I grew up in a family that was steeped in all things stories: grandparents, aunts and uncles always telling stories at family gatherings; parents read to me before bed; watching too many movies and cartoons; staying up way past my bedtime trying to sneakily keep the light on to read and read and read; playing elaborate imagination games after school with my best friends (house, princesses, orphans, dance coaches, etc). I wrote my first story in my eighth grade English class where one day in the computer lab we were assigned to write a mystery that was at least one page. I loved it. My teacher said it was good...

That summer our family moved - mere days before I started my freshman year of high school - so that fall before I made friend friends, I read a lot and I started writing. I was desperate for the next Harry Potter book to come out, so I started writing my own... the next year I learned about fan fiction on the internet and that it was a thing. I was drawn into Lord of the Rings fanfic, then I wrote a Pirates of the Caribbean fanfic, and then I went back to Harry Potter and actively wrote in that fandom for around six years.

In college I majored in English with an emphasis in Creative Writing because while I was writing fan fiction, I was also occasionally dabbling with original fiction... the dream was to be a famous writer.

↠ WHY BUCKETS-AND-TREES Buckets because I thought I'd be writing almost exclusively Bucky and Trees because Aspen. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ 

↠ ASPEN NOW In summer of 2022 I aggressively reclaimed HAVING hobbies in an effort to re-establish Aspen having a life outside of work. I love my career and I've worked incredibly hard to establish myself in the professional world, but... I needed to be more than just my work again.

So, again I write.

Throughout 2023 I'm participating in A LOT of challenges. In 2024 I plan to DO THE DAMN THING and write a novel. I've always intended to, but 2024 will be the year. ↠ MY WORK Primarily I'm writing MCU fan fiction - typically Bucky Barnes or Steve Rogers; but I have a short series for Namor I need to finish; I have written some pieces with Sam, Natasha, Matt Murdock, and Wanda; I have ideas in the works for Thor, Carol, and M'Baku. I've written/may write more for Sebastian Stan and Chris Evans characters. There may be some occasional Harry Potter.

I write a range of fluff, smut, and dark. Nearly all of my work has mature elements whether that's stronger language, sexual situations, or mature themes. HEED THE WARNINGS FOR EACH WORK AND DO NOT READ IT IF IT'S SOMETHING YOU DON'T LIKE. If I miss tagging something properly in the content warnings, please send me a message or an anonymous ask and let me know.

Most of my stories feature a reader insert. Reader is typically female, but when the reader is gender neutral I will designate accordingly! Striving to write an inclusive reader as much as possible, but if I stumble, please send me a message or an anonymous ask and let me know how I can grow.

#forest navigation #an aspen thing

[foxy-eva]

Criminal Minds Writing Challenge

To celebrate the amazing milestone of 2k lovely people following my blog I decided to host another Criminal Minds Writing Challenge to give back some of the support I have been receiving in this fandom. I’m inviting anyone who wants to participate to write a oneshot or blurb inspired by one (or more) of the following prompts.

Rules:

Write a Criminal Minds oneshot/blurb inspired by one or more of the following prompts. Your story can be a reader insert or a character x character ship

Tag me in your story or message me the link until JUNE 30

Your story can be any genre and trope except for explicit mlm smut (just because I don't like reading that). Smut fics are only to be submitted by adults (18+)! 

Please include a summary, word count, relevant content warnings, the pairing and the prompt(s) you chose

I will read your story, make a masterlist of all the works and leave a comment on each of them to give back a little bit of the support I have been receiving. 

Fluff Prompts:

Mutual Pining: Person A finally confesses their feelings for B, who has wanted to do just the same for weeks

Meet Cute: Someone accidentally spills their coffee over a very attractive stranger

Established Relationship: The couple decides to expand their family

more prompts under the cut!

Smut Prompts:

Only One Bed: Someone has to unexpectedly share a hotel room with their favorite coworker - who apparently really likes to cuddle

Friends to Lovers: After a stressful week Person A finds a way to relax together with their friend B

Sharing a Kink: Person A realizes that they have something very interesting in common with Person B

Hurt/Comfort Prompts:

Nowhere else to go: Person A didn't know where else to go in a time of need, so they ring B's doorbell

Rotten Work: Person A thinks they are not worth being taken care of. Person B proves the opposite

Break the Stoic: Person A has never shown any weakness until they can't hold back their tears anymore. Person B is there to wipe them away

Angst Prompts:

Overcoming Trauma: Nobody said healing would be easy but they had no idea it would be this hard

Running out of Time: Person A needs to find B before it's too late

Exes with Feelings: Even though their love seemed to never be enough, Person A and B can't let go of each other

Tagging some writer friends: @imagining-in-the-margins @ontheoddoccasioniwritestuff @fortheloveofwonderland @andiebeaword @aperrywilliams @samuel-de-champagne-problems @reidsbookclub @actually-safer-to-kiss @prentiss-theorem @virescent-v @tobias-hankel @thedancingcostumeyoungadult @gaelic-symphony @leftoverenvy @justiceforralvez @spencer-reids-adventures

#spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid #emily prentiss #emily prentiss fanfic #emily prentiss fanfiction #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid smut #criminal minds fluff #criminal minds smut #aaron hotchner #tara lewis #luke alvez #derek morgan

[ro-is-struggling]

hello lovely!! i hope you are having a wonderful day. i was hoping for your 600 follower celebration if i could request prompt 17 from the part 1 list with james potter? where james is character B and has had feelings for the reader for a while? reader has always had some level of feelings for james but always repressed them and then the event happens and a lot of repressed feelings come to the surface with smut?

Hi beautiful💜 Thank you so much for participating! I really enjoyed working on this request even though I had a bit of a writer's block in the middle of it and I struggled with the ending a little :( I'm sorry if it's not as smutty as you wanted :( but I hope you like it!!

More Than Friends || James Potter x Reader

Summary: Looking to get back at your ex-boyfriend, you ask James to help you make him jealous. You thought he was the best choice for the job since he was your best friend —what could go wrong? However, things get out of control and old feelings come to the surface.

Warnings: friends to lovers, mutual pining, make out session, love confessions, fluff, implied smut

English is not my first language

Word count: 3400

You couldn't believe Mason had the audacity to do what he was doing. You guys had only been broken up for a few weeks and he was already walking the halls of Hogwarts with his new girlfriend by his side. You hated him. You hated him for moving on so fast. You hated him for the way he ignored you and acted like you never mattered to him, like you never existed. You hated him for replacing you with her so fast, taking her everywhere you used to go. You hated him for walking past you holding her, making you feel like you were worthless. His apathy made you feel like an idiot for being sad. Apparently you had been the only one who felt anything in that relationship, the only one who cared about the other.

"We can take care of him for you," James' voice next to you snapped you out of your thoughts, reluctantly looking away from your ex-boyfriend to look at your friends. "Just say the word and we'll make his life a living hell, right guys?" The rest of the marauders nodded enthusiastically, eagerly awaiting your approval so they could get revenge on the bastard who had hurt their friend. Sometimes you thought they wanted revenge more than you did.

It was sweet that they cared so much about you, but you didn't want any more trouble, and you knew that if you gave them permission to take care of the situation that would be all you'd end up getting. "Nah, it's fine. He is not worth your time" you said, even though part of you really wanted to see your ex-boyfriend suffer at the hands of your friends. But you didn't want to stoop down to his level, you didn't want to give him the satisfaction of letting him know that his indifference affected you, so you swallowed all your emotions and hid them under an expression of disdain.

However, by the time the weekend came around you were tired of being the bigger person. You wanted Mason to feel at least a quarter of what you felt watching him walk around the school with another girl as if you didn't exist. You wanted to provoke some reaction in him that would show you that you had meant something to him too, that you had been more than a pastime. You just didn't know how to do it, he seemed to have forgotten about your existence completely.

Then a crazy idea popped into your head. It was risky and a little silly, but at that moment you didn't care. All you wanted was to get back at your ex-boyfriend and there was nothing you weren't willing to do to get it. 

"I need your help to get back at Mason," was the first thing you said to James when you opened his bedroom door without even knocking first —there was no time for formalities.

"I thought you'd never ask!" he said with a smile. He always thought Mason was a jerk who didn't deserve you and the only reason he hadn't let him know that yet was because you wouldn't let him. "Let's go find the guys so we can start planning." 

James got up from his spot on the bed, but you motioned for him to sit back down, settling in next to him. "I only need you for what I have in mind."

"And what is it that you have in mind?" he asked both curious and confused.

"I-I want to make him jealous," you muttered nervously. You were about to ask too much of your best friend and you didn't quite know how to put it into words so as not to sound like a complete nut job. "I thought you could help me with that."

"How so?" James was intrigued, but part of him was sad. If you wanted to make Mason jealous it meant you still had feelings for him. You wanted his attention back and that crushed James' hopes completely. He was planning to confess how he really felt about you one of these days, but now he would have to keep his big secret to himself once again. 

"So... you know there's this party tomorrow, right?" you said trying to find the right words to explain your plan. James nodded slightly, noticing the way your fingers fiddled nervously with the hem of your skirt. "I thought we could go together and... umm... and act like we were into each other to make him jealous, you know."

It took James a few seconds to process your words. He was honestly surprised at your idea and he wondered how desperate you were to get Mason's attention. "Are you sure this is a good idea?" 

He couldn't help but ask you that question. His brain and heart were involved in an interesting debate about it and he needed to know your perspective before reaching a verdict. His brain was convinced it was a terrible idea that would only lead to confusion and awkward moments. The voice of reason in his head was screaming at him to refuse your request, to not let himself be persuaded by your sweet smile and tell you to find someone else to help you —he was pretty sure Sirius would have no problem with that.

But his heart that was stupidly and completely in love with you kept telling him to take advantage of the situation. Holding you close and kissing you for one night was better than never doing it, even if it was all an act to get another guy to pay attention to you. Maybe that would be the only chance to call you his that he would ever get so he couldn't say no to it, right?

"I thought about it and I wouldn't be asking you if I didn't think it could work," you assured him with a warm smile, hoping to inspire some sort of reassurance in him. 

"Don't you think it could be weird?" James insisted, wanting to make sure you had really thought things through. 

"No, I mean, I trust you. You're my best friend, Jamie." The use of the affectionate nickname made James' heart melt in his chest, leaving him a little stupid for a few seconds. He loved it when you called him that. "It has to be you. There's no one I trust more… Besides, Mason was always a little jealous of you, so it's perfect."

James wasn't as convinced as you were that it was a good idea. He was afraid of the feelings that might surface in him when he held you against his body, when he felt your lips on his skin. If you were to kiss him he wasn't sure he would be able to control his heart. But at the same time the idea of finally having the chance to know how your lips would feel against his was tempting him. Maybe spending a lifetime of agony and suffering missing the soft caresses of your mouth was better than spending a lifetime of doubts and regrets, wondering every day what it would feel like to kiss you.

"C'mon, James! Pleaseee" you begged him with a pout, your eyes full of anticipation. "You said you'd do anything, please."

He couldn't resist your charms and ended up agreeing without even knowing the details of your plan. Something he would regret in the not too distant future.

The plan was simple. You would arrive at the party together, spend the night dancing and "flirting" with each other and at some point disappear to the dorms, always making sure Mason saw everything. You hoped that the implication of what would happen would be enough to spark some sort of reaction in him, but in case it wasn't you had an ace up your sleeve. 

It had taken a bit of convincing to get James to agree to the final part of your plan: you needed him to give you hickeys all over your neck, a visible mark that you hoped would make Mason's blood boil.

The party started early in the Gryffindor common room, filling the tower with students from all houses looking to unwind from the stress and pressure of the week. You didn't come down from the dorms until your best friend and roommate confirmed that Mason was already there. Then you made your grand entrance, taking just a couple of seconds to search the crowd for your ex-boyfriend before running into James' arms, who was hanging out with his friends standing directly in front of Mason. 

"Thank you for doing this," you thanked him again, whispering in his ear after giving him a kiss on the cheek.

James smiled, wrapping his arm around your waist to pull you close against him, holding you tight against his chest as his nose got lost in the scent of your hair. "Don't mention it," he murmured, his breath colliding against your ear awakening a shiver that ran down your spine. You had to admit that his proximity left you feeling a little stupid, your brain struggling to comprehend what the tingling that slowly spread throughout your body meant. 

Things only got worse from that point on. Your thirst for revenge was completely forgotten as you danced with James on the makeshift dance floor. Your eyes met Mason's a couple of times, but you weren't able to pay attention to him for more than two seconds, losing yourself completely in the explosive combination that turned out to be the sensual rhythm of the music and the warmth of James' body pressed against yours. He was all that occupied your mind.

James' hands on your body aroused a strange but pleasurable sensation. You weren't doing anything new, as the best friends you two were, you had danced together many times, but this time it felt different. There was a strange tension in the air that hung over you and grew more and more overwhelming with each passing second. You didn't know if James could feel it too, but you could and it was making it hard to breathe. You wanted to run out of there, to get away from James until you could catch your breath —and regain your sanity—, but you hated the idea of being separated from his warmth, of no longer feeling his hands on your hips, so you stayed close to him. You had no idea what it was that had awakened such a reaction in you, but you didn't want James to leave your side ever again. 

"He's looking right at us, if we go now he'll definitely know about us." James' voice snapped you out of your thoughts, forcing you back to reality. You remembered then why you were doing what you were doing, feeling a bit embarrassed for letting yourself get carried away like that. 

But you were there to put on a show, so you stood on your tiptoes to reach James' ear, grabbing his shoulders to keep your balance. "Let's go then," you whispered in his ear, your lips lingering over the area longer than necessary as you fought the urge to playfully bite his earlobe. What was happening to you?

You disappeared down the stairs amidst playful giggles, heading towards James' bedroom to hide for a while. The further away from the music and the warmth of the people dancing around you two you got, the more you questioned what had happened —and what you were about to do. When this idea occurred to you, you didn't think there was anything wrong with it, but now you weren't so sure. The feelings he had awakened in you with a simple touch were not normal, not for a pair of friends at least. Was it possible that you still had feelings for him? You'd had a little crush on James the first two years at Hogwarts, but after years of watching him run after Lily you thought you'd gotten over it. You had accepted that you were just friends and that was all you would be for a long time, or so you thought.

“You still want to do this?” James asked you when you got to his room. He noticed the change in your demeanor right away —he knew you too well not to. You were distracted and he even dared to say a little tense, so he wanted to make sure you were both on the same page. He was dying to feel the soft skin of your neck under his lips, but he wouldn't do anything you didn't want him to. "I don't think it's necessary, I mean have you seen his face? I think he got the message."

"I want to do it," you were quick to reply —maybe a little too quick. You still wanted to go through with your plan, though perhaps not for the same reasons as before. "Just to make sure this works, you know," you added, a little embarrassed by the determination in your voice. The last thing you needed at that moment was James finding out that you were desperate to feel his lips on your neck.

"Fine," he said, sitting down on the edge of the bed next to you. "So, how do you want to do this?"

It was awkward at first as you settled into a position that would allow you to be comfortable. Part of you wanted to jump on his lap and let James do whatever he wanted with you, but you knew that wasn't appropriate so you settled for getting as close as you could to him, throwing your head back to grant him better access to your neck. Your whole body tingled with anticipation as James prepared himself, his fingers lightly tracing your skin as he brushed your hair away from your shoulder. You stopped breathing for a moment, your muscles tensing with nerves. 

When James' warm breath hit the sensitive skin of your neck you instinctively closed your eyes. Your fingers tightened around the fabric of the comforter that covered the bed as you struggled to stay still, fearing that any reaction would expose the feelings that were bubbling up inside of you. The anticipation was killing you. Time seemed to slow down, trapping you in the torture that was feeling the warmth of James' body next to yours but not his lips. When the tip of his nose brushed against your skin you had to bite your tongue to keep from letting out a desperate sigh, tightening your grip on the comforter to contain the urge you had to take his face in your hands and close the distance between you.

And then you felt it. 

His soft lips made contact with the skin of your neck, placing a quick, experimental kiss. It was nothing special, just a simple kiss to test the waters, but that alone had you biting your tongue to keep from letting out a sigh. When he saw that you didn't back away he doubled down, sucking lightly on your skin to start creating the first marks.

You forgot about the world around you after that —your ex-boyfriend, the party, the weird feelings that had plagued your mind all night. The only thing that mattered to you at that moment were James' lips and the delicate but passionate way in which they caressed your skin. His nose tickled your neck as he trailed his wet kisses down your skin, kissing and sucking until he left reddish marks that would only get worse with time. Every movement of his tongue on your skin awakened a wave of arousal inside you that went straight to your core. Pleasure quickly clouded your mind, keeping you from doing anything but enjoying the moment, surrendering under James' lips as you pressed your legs together in search of some friction that would ease the throbbing between your legs.

James also stopped caring about the world around him, letting himself get lost in the fantasy that you were his and he was yours. Your perfume attacked his nostrils, filling his thoughts with inappropriate images of you moaning his name as he trailed his kisses all over your body. He could feel your pulse quicken with every kiss he gave you, the veins in your neck throbbing against his curious lips. That only egged him on, fueling his fantasy that you wanted this as much as he did. So he gave you more, completely forgetting that this was supposed to be just a favor between friends and not some kind of confession of love. He no longer cared if you found out how he felt about you, all he wanted was to hold you in his arms and kiss you until he couldn't feel his lips. 

When James nibbled on your neck, sucking hard on your pulse point, you couldn't help but let out a moan. You didn't even realize you did it until it was too late. James stopped for a moment, surprised and excited by the sweet sound that had just escaped your lips. He wondered if maybe it was a good time to stop, but then you whined in protest, your hand traveling to his head to push him further against your skin. He got the message immediately, continuing his assault on your neck without allowing himself to think about the morality of what you were doing.

It wasn't long before you were lying back on the bed, pulling James down on top of you as you began your attack on his lips. Your hands roamed his body desperately, tugging at his clothes until you had contact with the warm skin of his torso. He helped you remove his shirt, pulling away from you for a moment so he could toss the piece of fabric to the other side of the room before kissing you again. His hands caressed your body with a shy gentleness, his fingers slipping under your tank top and arousing a tingling sensation along the way. 

You felt like you were on fire, your heart was beating rapidly against your chest and your lungs were struggling to catch a breath. You were desperate to feel James' skin against yours. You wanted to feel every inch of him and let him do with you what he wanted. You were completely lost in the moment, enjoying the way James trailed his wet kisses down your lips to your jaw, sliding down your neck until he reached your collarbone.

You opened your eyes to admire the scene in front of you and when your eyes made contact with James' you realized what you were doing. Reality hit you like a train, common sense replacing the desire that had clouded your mind. You were friends, best friends in fact, and friends weren't supposed to kiss like that. You weren't supposed to want to feel the warmth of his hands running down your body or the caress of his lips on your skin. 

"Wait, wait," you muttered with ragged breaths, sitting up in bed to put some distance between you and James. "This is wrong... we're friends, we shouldn't..."

"I know, I know," James said, closing his eyes for a moment as he collected his thoughts. "But you can't look me in the eyes and tell me that didn't feel right. "

You fell silent for a moment. He was right, you couldn't. That intimate moment you shared had felt so good, so right, as if it was what you were meant to do from the moment you met. It was natural, something you should have done a long time ago.  It was clear you both liked each other, so what was stopping you?

"If you really want to stop, we'll stop." James spoke, snapping you out of your thoughts. "I just want you to know that I really like you. I've waited a long time to tell you, looking for the right time, you know... I don't know if this is it, I just know that I can't keep hiding what I feel." 

His confession took you by surprise for some reason —as if it was something weird after having his tongue down your throat as you kissed— so you responded with a kiss, not trusting your ability to formulate coherent sentences. This kiss was different from the previous ones, it was full of love and tenderness. Your lips caressed James' with the passion of years of repressed feelings. You clung to his body, sitting on his lap to keep his body as close to yours as possible. And as you melted into one in a swirl of love and passion you assured him that he was the only man you wanted to wake up next to for the rest of your life.

#james potter x reader #james potter x fem reader #james potter x female reader #james potter fluff #james potter smut #james potter angst #james potter #ro's 600 followers celebration

[beyondthesefourwalls]

For the prompts - loving them all so far! Jake + fluff + house + “Right here?” would be my request please. You are a great writer 💗

Hi Nonny! Thank you so much! I hope you don't mind that I threw some smut in here too. It worked so well with another ask that I got which included "here, why don't you just take it?"

Hope you enjoy it💚

----

warnings: fluff, smut, language

Cowboys and Hangmen

Jake was just as witty and flirty in person as he was in the brief texts you had exchanged, his southern accent making him that much more endearing to you. A mutual friend of yours had set you up, and you were having more fun than any other first date you had been on. 

“Honestly, Jake, come on. The Cowboys are overrated - at this point, I don’t understand why they’re even considered America’s Team.” 

He gasped in mock horror. You giggled at his dramatics. “Jesus, darlin. I think you just ripped my heart out. Here, why don’t you just take it? I don’t know if I’ll recover from this.” 

You could see the mirth in his eyes as he clutched at his chest, right above the organ in question. Feeling bold, you settled your hand right beside his. The cotton of his white t-shirt was soft beneath your palm.

“I can help nurse you back to health,” you offered, biting your lip as his green eyes watched you curiously. 

“That something you’d want to do for me?” he asked. You hummed in response, letting your fingertips dance across his chest. He caught your hand in his and you met his eyes. They were darker than they had been a moment ago, but you’re sure yours were, too. He ghosted his lips over your knuckles. “I need an answer, sweetheart. I’ve had far too much fun tonight to mess it up by making assumptions.” 

The heat that had been simmering between the two of you over the last two hours was reaching a boiling point, and instead of turning down the temperature, for once in your life, you decide to turn the dial up. His lips are slightly chapped, but they taste like the whiskey he had been sipping all night, and you chase the taste. 

“Is that answer enough for you?” 

The journey back to his house was a blur. His hand settled high on your thigh, warm and large in a way that made you wish the denim wasn’t keeping you from feeling him on your skin. Once you stumble through his doorway, it’s not long before all of your clothes are discarded and he has you on your back on his bedsheets. 

“God, Jake.” 

He was thick and hard and felt so good inside of you. Your back arched as your walls stretched to accommodate all of him. His hips were flush against yours as he bottomed out. Your fingers scratched at his back as he gave you a moment, and he didn’t move until you nodded your head and told him you were ready. He pulled out slowly, letting you feel every inch of him, and when he pushed back inside, you nearly keened. 

“You like that, baby?” 

“Yes,” you whimpered. “Fuck, yes. More. Please, I want more.” 

And more was exactly what he gave you. You lost yourself in the feeling of him, letting him have control. He whispered filthy words in your ear that had you shivering, and the press of his body against yours was deliciously heavy. You felt yourself closing in on the edge, and he had barely even touched your clit. 

“Want to make you cum,” he grunted. You could feel his dick twitch inside of you and knew he was close.

Jake’s thrusts were targeted and you knew that each drive of his hips was aimed at making you cum. The knowledge that he was chasing your pleasure while chasing his own was enough to have you shuddering around him. It had been a long time since a man had prioritized you in bed, and the notion turned you on more than it probably should. 

“Tell me what you need,” he demanded. You moaned, grabbing his hand and guiding it down to where the two of you are joined. He hissed when he feels your fingers touch the base of his cock, but he focuses himself, rubbing circles on your bundle of nerves when you tell him that’s what you like. The change is instant.

“Right here?” he confirmed. You nodded as his name became a mantra on your lips as your orgasm rushes through you. 

After, you laid tangled together on top of his sheets. He hadn’t bothered pushing them down or covering you, and the breeze from his ceiling fan felt nice against your cooling skin. Almost as nice as his body felt against yours. 

“It’s getting late,” you commented, resting your chin on his chest as you looked at him. He looked contemplative for a moment, like he was gathering courage. 

“I want you to stay,” he finally murmured, “if you’d like.” 

You smiled instantly, because it was exactly what you were hoping he’d ask. You move up his body to kiss him again. You found you were growing addicted to his taste. 

“Do you have something I could wear to bed?” you asked, “I have a thing against sleeping naked, sorry.” 

That flash of mirth entered his eyes again, and he gets out of bed with a chuckle, slipping his grey briefs back on when he stood. He digs through his dresser for a moment before something navy and soft is being thrown at you. When you see a faded Cowboys logo looking back at you when you inspect the t-shirt, you let out a full belly laugh.  You were so glad you had decided to go on this date.

word count: 903

#alli's tgm mix and match blurb party #alli's tgm blurb party #alli writes #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin x oc #hangman x reader #jake seresin x you #jake hangman seresin #jake hangman seresin x reader #jake seresin #jake x reader #jake seresin imagine #jake hangman seresin imagine #jake hangman x reader #jake hangman seresin x you

[justalittleficsideblog]

Heyy!!! I'm kinda new to tumblr... uhm.. so idrk how to work this. could you do like a touch-sensitive MC x the bros? (basically howd they react, also what i mean is like mc that'll tense up at the slighest touch but not in like a "i hate it, dont touch me there." its like a "im very surprised, but keep going." way??? sorry if this isnt the right place im like very new to tumblr- (obey me btw)

Hey anon! I did the first 3 eldest for this prompt. Let me know if you want the rest of them for this prompt! I really liked writing this, it kinda got me outta my writer's block that I'd been sitting with for a bit.

word count: 1.1k

warnings: none.

Lucifer, Mammon, and Levi with a touch starved!MC

Lucifer

he didn’t really notice it at first, hes not one to initiate much contact himself unless you do. I wouldn’t really consider him touch starved, more like he is untouchable.

as the two of you grow closer though he does notice how you shy away from large hugs or related moments from his brothers.

The two of you had been invited out to one of the popular festivals in the devildom. Lucifer, being the ever-cautious demon, made it a point to stick close to you amongst the sea of demons that were swarming the streets.

Lost from the other brothers, you stuck close to Lucifer, hovering just out of his reach but close enough that you could feel the broad scope of his shoulders behind you. As you were looking throughout the stalls, one of the more interesting food ones caught your attention, causing you to bump into a lesser demon walking by.

As you squaked an apology, you felt a sudden hand on your shoulder. Pulling you back into his chest, Lucifer snarled at the lesser demon and moved you both out the way.

You had startled at his touch. You weren’t bothered by it per se, but his broad hand grasping your smaller shoulder wasn’t something that you were familiar with.

“Does my touch… bother you?” he asked cautiously, gently lifting his hand away from you and holding it against his side. “I apologize for earlier—”

“Oh no!” you yipped. “It’s… not really like that. I don’t mind you touching me. I’m just not used to that sort of… “ you trailed off.

“intimacy?” he tried, eyebrow raising in question.

You huffed a laugh, “something like that, yeah.”

“well, then.” He started, tucking a loose strand of hair over your ear before he reached to take your hand. “Maybe some exposure therapy would work?”

You smiled, squeezing his hand back before leading him out into the crowd.

Mammon

I feel like he would be really similar in this regard. Like, he would want to touch and hold you, but anytime you brush fingertips or he grazes your side he would like flinch and run off.

So if anything you’d have to be more into giving him a gentle nudge as well. a learning experience if you will.

Ever unaware of your mutual pining, Asmo is the one that ends up giving you both a nudge, insisting that you both go to a stuffy night club with him. However, you both found yourselves tied together, Asmo nowhere in sight.

“I cant believe he just up and left us!” Mammon tossed up his hands, voice booming over the loud music and bass that reverberated through your bones.

He slammed his hands down, accidentally brushing harshly against you in the process. You noticed he jolted away, face turned as if he was looking for Asmo in the crowd of people.

You tried to shout to get his attention, but he seemed too preoccupied pretending to search the crowd. You huffed, moving against the sea of bodies to reach out for him.

Just as your hand reached out, you felt yourself get jostled by a clearly intoxicated demon. Causing you to flail and tip backwards.

A warm hand gripped your shoulders. Surprised at the touch, you scrambled forwards getting your bearing again.

Mammon threw his hands up in mock surrender, grimacing.

“Oh! I’m sorry!” you shouted over the crowd. Mammon made a confused face, and gently grabbed your fingers to lead to towards a less busy area of the club.

He immediately released his grip when you were both alone.

“Geez.. uh, sorry about that. I know you’re like.. weirded out about me touchin’ ya and all but—” he rubbed the back of his hand, eyes lowered as he spoke to you.

“What? Oh no! Mammon, please. I was just startled is all, I’m not used to being… held like that.” You smiled, gently easing your head onto his shoulder.

He tensed up beneath you briefly before relaxing into you, leaning his head on top of yours.

“How about we get out of here?” you murmured, glancing up towards his eyes.

He gave you a crooked smile, before grabbing your hand and pulling you out the door.

LEVI

I feel like with Levi, he’d be very into “accidental” brushing up against your shoulder, leaning in to show you how to use his controller or reaching across you to grab some popcorn or snacks while you watched shows.

I don’t think he’d truly realize it until you brough it up yourself. Or when he noticed you would shy away from him a bit.

He definitely got self-conscious about it. did he smell? Were you uncomfortable around him? He would sit there and worry about it and distance himself from you for a while he sat with his thoughts.

It was the second time that he cancelled plans with you that you went into his room to figure out why he was avoiding you.

You knocked repeatedly on the door in front of you, anxiously tap tap tapping your foot as you waiting for it to open. When there was no response you called out.

“Levi! It’s me, I’m coming in.”

You pushed the door open and scanned the room for him. Looking for that familiar frame you finally spotted him curled in the tub, a blanket draped over him as he stared at his D.D.D.

“Levi?” you muttered softly, tentatively walking over to him. “Is something wrong? Why have you been avoiding me?”

He huffed and turned over. “It’s nothing.”

You rolled your eyes, “It’s clearly something if you can’t even talk to me about this.”

There was a long pause.

“Do you hate it when I touch you?” The words were spoken so softly you almost had to strain to hear them.

Brows furrowed; you tilted your head to gaze over the tub.

“Any why would you think that?”

“am i… repulsive to you? You finch whenever I get too close, or shy away from me when we sit near each other.” He sounded heartbroken, his voice cracking towards the end of it.

You kneeled down by him, your cheek resting on the side gazing down at him.

“I have never been repulsed by you. It’s more of the opposite, really. I’ve just… got little experience with being touched at all, so I’m just unsure how to react when anyone gets close to me.” You paused. “I don’t… I want to be touched, though.” Your cheeks aflame, you turned away.

Suddenly, you felt yourself getting pulled in. crashing into a firm body and arms wrapping around your torso. His face was buried in your hair, and you could almost feel his grin.

“Maybe we can learn together.”

#mammon x reader #lucifer x reader #obey me mammon #obey me x reader

[julianalvarez9]

you are in love / christian pulisic

author's note: saw @dinonuggiesforliferz asking for some fluffy christian and thought that i could try to write something to unlock my writers block so here we go 🤭

summary: the four times he wants to say that he loves you, and the one time he finally does.

word count: 1.9k

01.

christian and you had been dating for almost two months now, after having met through mutual friends. you had nothing to do with the thrills of the fame he had been so accustomed after all these years in the spotlight, and he couldn't be more infatuated by the breath of fresh air that your presence brought onto his life. today was the first time you came to the bridge, after a bit of begging and a few failed tries from your boyfriend. of course, he understood your motives and why you didn't want to risk being seen there, due to the spark of rumors it would light up, so he didn't push you to it: but you knew he really needed your support for this match, and you couldn't say no to that.

the adrenaline that comes with the win fills your veins, and you rush to the tunnels following the team a few minutes after they finished clapping for the fans that came to support them. you wait for christian outside, making small talk with the people that were at the box with you, other girlfriends and families from the players. one by one they start to come out: you see them greeting their loved ones, some even rushing out to leave the building for some well deserved celebrations after today's achievement. you don’t quite know all of them yet, but you can quickly recognize mason, ben and kai, some of christian's most close friends, and they kindly join the conversation you had going on while waiting on your boyfriend.

the first time the the sensation comes, christian feels it on his cheeks, and the way that they warm up at the sight of you talking so freely with his mates. he doesn't get it at first, why he can't contain the smile that's painted on his face and the wrinkles of happiness adorning his soft eyes. he walks up quickly to you and embraces your figure from behind, lips coming to kiss your temple: an indirect form of saying the three words without actually verbalizing them. you hum at the warmth his body brings, and reach your cold hands into his hot ones to find some kind of heat in the cold london weather. even if christian doesn't quite understand what he feels yet, mason smiles at the sight of you two, because he knows.

02.

the day had been sunny to begin with, prompting christian and you to take a walk to the park near his home. the stroll was peaceful, not a minute of uncomfortable silence between you two while he talks about his day and how training went, and then the conversations drifts into your studies and your family. at first, you hadn't sensed the little rain droplets kissing your skin, and when you became aware of it, it was too late. you should have seen it coming, already familiar with the changing weather in london, but you're too busy trying to catch christian, laughs and agitated breaths filling the empty streets after everyone had seemingly looked for refuge from the pouring storm. even if you did it as quickly as you could, matching his pace had proven to be rather impossible due to him being a literal top athlete, and the two of you reached the final destination completely drenched.

your boyfriend quickly hurries you into the bathroom so you could take a warm shower, and even when you tell him that you wouldn't get sick if you stay in your wet clothes, he has already closed the door before you can say anything else. christian leaves a change of clothes for you to use, and you sigh contently when you can recognise the smell of him in them. by the time you go back down, the rain has already stopped and he's wearing nice, dry clothes, eliciting a smile that you can’t help but show at the sight of the man in front of you, drying his wet hair with the towel at hand.

christian feels it again, now on his chest. the view of you swimming into his clothes way too big for your figure tugging at his heart, pleading him to say the three words he's been forcing to keep to himself. he shuts the thought quickly, before it can cloud his judgment and convince him that muttering his feelings would be the right thing to do at the moment. it's not like he's purposely hiding them from you, but he fears it's still too soon, and he doesn't want to risk it. "you look good," he forces himself to say instead, drowning out the other three words he wants to let out. you snort at his compliment, blurting out "you only say it because i'm your girlfriend" and stopping yourself right before saying the remainder of the sentence. you only say it because i'm your girlfriend and you love me, you want to conclude, but neither of you had categorized your feelings into love previously, and since you don't want to assume, you have to remind yourself that it's only been three months. don't scare him off.

"i say it because it's true," christian finishes, planting a kiss on your forehead and closing his eyes in the process, pouring all his affection into the little gesture.

03.

it's one of the few weekends he's got free, and you had invited christian to spend the afternoon at your house, watching movies and cooking dinner together. the evening had proven to be just what you two needed after a few weeks of not seeing each other due to his busy schedule and the hectic exam season you had in college. unfortunately, you were still sleep deprived after days and nights of studying nonstop to ace your tests, so after the delicious dish you two had made from scratch and the second movie of the night, you fell asleep on christian’s arms. he noticed almost instantly that you had dozed off when you failed to comment about the last dumb joke that the protagonist had said, and at first, he debated about what he should do; whether to let you sleep it off or wake you up. he also didn’t want to make you feel uncomfortable, being the first time that he would stay the night at your house, so he decided that the best choice was taking you upstairs, to your bedroom, and he would sleep in the living room.

christian feels it on his fingertips, digging softly into your skin while carrying your figure up the stairs. when you notice the movement, still drowsy with sleep, you protest against it, murmuring something about being too heavy for him to carry but he denies, tucking you tighter against him. when he finally reaches your bedroom, kicking the door softly so he can make his way in, he lays you carefully on the mattress. christian looks at you adoringly, eyes full of love at the mere sight of seeing you so peaceful on your bed, and that's when he feels it slipping past his lips, the three words he's been trying to say for a while now. 

“stay,” you mutter, voice almost inaudible, before he can say anything. your eyes are still closed, but you show signs of consciousness while holding his hand, the one he had been previously stroking your cheek with. “i don’t want to sleep alone tonight”.

04.

christian was never one to enjoy going out if it was just him. he was always dragged by his friends, who had recently found out that if they convinced you to go too, the probabilities of chelsea’s number 10 to be at the bar increased by 100%. he doesn't really like to drink or dance either, but just being seated by your side with a beer in hand doest it for him. hearing mason and ben speaking nonsense and making everyone around laugh definitely helps, even more when he gets to hear you giggling too.

he doesn’t remember a time where he had seen you drunk, but he’s amazed at the sight. the inhibitions that made you appear shy to others were melting off by the alcohol, and you were cracking jokes that made everyone around cackle with laughter. it doesn’t last long, though, and christian finds out that you're the cuddly type of drunk, but he doesn't mind it either. he finds it funny how you insist on telling him that you're only a bit tipsy, and even if he pretends to believe you,  the giggles that escape your lips at hearing the dumbest puns only confirms your slightly intoxicated state to him.

christian feels the three words at the tip of his tongue while you two hop onto the car that will take you back home. he doesn't say them this time, because he wants you to know that he really means it, and it's not a result of the alcohol cursing through his veins. tomorrow, he promises to himself, and hides it back where it came from, the soft spot on his heart reserved for you only. the words linger at the back of his mind, living there as a form of reminder for his sober self. you kiss his cheek on the back of the cab while giggling softly like a schoolgirl with a newfound crush, and the soft gesture only reassures what he already knows.

05.

the rays of sunshine are the ones responsible for waking christian up the next morning. he doesn’t feel quite as bad as he had thought he would, but still, he curses himself for not closing the blinds the night before and making him wake up way too soon. it takes a second for christian to remember that you’re lying beside him, and he slowly turns around to see your beautiful face once again. except, you're not there, and the sheets beneath his fingers feel cold, making him frown in confusion. had you gone back home without waking him up? were you gone?

he hears sounds coming from the kitchen while he’s making his way downstairs, and the brightest smile shows on his lips when he sees you plating what he guesses is breakfast. when you lift your eyes you see him, leaning against the doorframe, his perfect dark curls everywhere only accentuating  the fact that he had just woken up and instantly left the bedroom to look for you. “i made us breakfast,” you shyly say after coming close to his figure and getting on your tiptoes, planting the softest kiss on his lips. christian feels it lighting up his brown eyes then, warming them into a caramel shade, only for you to see. that’s when he feels the words erupting from his pores, and realizes there's no point in hiding them any longer. "i love you," he says, warmth spreading all over his body not only due to your own, tightly pressed against his, but for the relief he feels after finally mumbling the three little words he's been trying to say to you for way too long. he has finally said it, and though he doesn't expect you to say it back, his heart grows twice its size when you actually do, the three words muffled into his chest, where your head rests. 

"i love you more, sweetheart".

#football imagine #football imagines #football x y/n #football x reader #football x you #christian pulisic x you #christian pulisic x reader #christian pulisic imagine #christian pulisic fluff

[jojolovenotes]

inspired by a 'selfshiptember' post by @strawberry--bat this year I have decided to do a 'jojo-centric' self-ship / oc x canon related event as well for the month of September. It's my first time doing this sort of thing so I hope y'all will participate! There's no need to tag your posts if you don't want to, but, if you'd like to feel free to tag it as #JJLNSSS. There is no obligation to post every day! Just thought it might be a fun little thing to allow yourselves to indulge in your ships. While this is jojo-centric, those from other fandoms can also join in as well of course! Have fun! ♡

**Note: This is my first time doing something like this. As a writer myself, most of these prompts are more like 'questions' really but any could also be answered with art if you prefer that way too. There isn't a 'right' way to respond... the goal is just to celebrate ships in the community and to encourage engagement and positivity.

JJLN: SSS PROMPTS:

01. Have your SI / OC introduce themselves. 02. How would your F/O introduce your SI / OC? 03. What does your f/o's friends / family think of your relationship? 04. Favorite AU? 05. How does your SI/ OC influence your F/O's canon story? 06. What does your F/O love most about you / your OC? 07. What do you love most about your F/O? 08. Tag a mutual (or a few) and compliment their ship. 09. Which mutual(s) would you want to go on a group date with and what would you do? 10. How does your F/O's stand express their affection to you? If your OC/SI doesn't have a stand let's assume they can at least see/feel their loved ones stand. 11. How would Araki describe your OC / SI in his author notes? 12. What is the perfect date for you and your F/O? 13. Write a love letter to your F/O. 14. What do your family / friends think about your F/O? 15. Describe your first date together. 16. Was it love at first sight or did it take some time? 17. Gush about your F/O - anything that's on your mind. :) 18. What would your F/O be as a hero, alternatively what would they be like if they were the villain? 19. If your SI/OC and F/O were in a different Jojo part which part would you want them to be like? What would they be like? 20. Tag a mutual (or a few) and compliment their ship. 21. What is your favorite season? Is it also your F/O's favorite as well? What do you usually do during that season? 22. If your F/O described you as a kind of animal, what would they describe you as and why? 23. Tag a mutual (or a few) and compliment their ship. 24. Is there a favorite article of clothing of your F/O's that you like to wear / cuddle with? Is there a favorite article of clothing of yours that they like to wear/cuddle? 25. Have your F/O write a love letter to you/your OC. 26. Are you the type of couple to play co-op or do you play games against each other? If you really aren't into videogames - consider this question in terms of other games that could be challenges whether it's board games or sports. 27. Does your ship have a 'ship name' or do you usually just write it as OC/SI x character? 28. What trope(s) does your ship fall under? 29. Are there any other characters your F/O and OC are close to? Can be canon or other OCs. 30. Say something kind about the self-ship community.

#sending transmission 🌙 #JJLNSSS #selfshiptember #jjba selfshipping #jjba oc x canon

[hillerskalibrary]

This is my first time being in a fandom so I don't really know - do you think people writing YR fanfiction will die down quickly after the end of the show? I am already super sad about the show ending but no more new fanfiction about these two might be even worse 🙃

Do you maybe have experience from other fandoms? 🧡

Hey anon! To you, as well, apologies for the late reply, especially since this question is clearly important to you - and no doubt to many others.

Now, should I have attempted to write a heartfelt answer on how the YR fandom will indeed probably slowly fade away but that's okay because the important thing is the joy it gave you while it lasted? Yes, yes I should have.

Did I spend half an hour making a graph in Excel instead? ... also yes.

look I may be a failed scientist but I'm still a scientist and you came to my inbox so...

Behold! My beautiful and not-at-all questionable graph of the number of YR posted per month since the release of S1.

Now, first the good news: as you can see, the general trend of fic goes UP! ;) I think it's been clear that S2 has drawn in lots of new fans, and that reflects in the number of fics - not only are there more writers, but more readers = more interaction = more motivation for writers.

Now, what does this tell us about fic numbers after S3?

... absolutely nothing. No, seriously, it is impossible to extrapolate any of this into the future :D. I mean, it is likely the peak will be even higher for the S3 release, and it's safe to say that then it will go down. But how fast, or how low, is hard to tell...

Now, I can see how this may make you sad. And I would like to offer two counterpoints.

ONE It's not done yet. This may seem obvious but- the time to be sad is not here yet. Suppose the sun shines today, and the forecast predicts rain for tomorrow. What are you going to do? Go out and enjoy every ray of sun while you can? Or spend the day inside, sad because you won't be able to go out tomorrow? Look - don't get me wrong, I don't wanna dismiss your feelings. It's just- we'll have time to be sad about it later, you know? Right now fandom is active: great fic is being published, thought provoking discussions are being had, ... . Let's enjoy that!

TWO Whether fandom lives or dies after the show, is partly up to you. I mean it! A fandom lives by grace of its active members. So write fic. Prompt other authors if you can't (and even if you can!). Organize events, challenges, polls, ... There are so many things you can do to keep the fandom going, but it's going to require time and effort. And no, success is not guaranteed. But it's worth it.

Lastly though, as you say yourself: this is your first fandom. A first fandom is always a little special, but after a first... comes a second. Always. It may seem hard to believe, and it may not even be something you necessarily want, but very often, that's how it goes. Fandoms come and go - and that's fine. It sucks too, of course, sometimes. But it's fine. It has to be, because the alternative is for nothing to ever change, and that would suck even harder. So enjoy this wonderful fandom we have, gush about it all with your mutuals, and trust that a new blorbo will find you ;).

#Anonymous #idk if this helps #I'm sorry if it doesn't #I know I tend to be pretty matter of fact about these things #cycle of life ya know? #young royals #library asks

[ddaz3d-and-cc0nfused]

༉‧₊˚. 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐤 || 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐧 𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫

― pairing: dean winchester x plus size!reader

― summary: loving dean was easy, even though he was older than you, even though you knew that he'd never love you back.

― warnings: heavy swearing, implied sexual content, dean is a bit of a man whore but we love him for it, dean's good at hiding his feelings, mutual pining, unrequited love (not really).

― wc: 621

⋆ a/n: thank you @brittany-rubin for this request! i'm sorry it took me so long to get to this, but i've had a bit of a writer's block when it came to this prompt, but i tried my best and i hope this lived up to your expectations :]

masterlist | AO3

Being in love with Dean was like playing a game that you already knew you were going to lose. Not only was he significantly older than you, but he was also a longtime friend, and roommate. Being on the road with your feelings was easy, because you would have easily been able to separate yourself from him if you needed too, but now, you were trapped, like a rabid animal in a cage. At least you have Sam there. Yeah, Sam.

When Dean was in his early thirties, watching him flirt with other women was like a punch to the gut, constantly showing up the hotel room all three of you shared after a night out, his neck decorated in hickies as you tried to keep yourself together. He'd tell you about his late night endeavors as you tried to keep up with the conversation. You were glad that his midnight endeavors had dwindled down to one to none. It was still hard, because even though you didn't have any competitors, you couldn't ever be with him.

Usually, you were able to tolerate Dean talking about his sex life, but maybe you slept on the wrong side of the bed, or hadn't slept at all because he had been out all night, your brain practically drowning at the thought of him having sex with someone else.

"She was crazy man." Dean began with a smile on his face. You breathed in, projecting all of your sleep deprived agitation into stirring sugar into your coffee. "She did this thing with her tongue—" He was cut off by you slamming your mug onto the sheet metal island. "Who pissed in your Cheerios?" Dean piped up from behind you. Unable to bite your tongue you regrettably said, "Has it ever occurred to you that maybe I don't care about who you've fucked?" Both Sam & Dean fell silent at your snapping, embarrassment swirling in your gut as you felt their eyes on you.

You left the kitchen, storming into your room and sitting on the side of your bed. If he didn't know you liked him, he sure as shit knew you did now, or maybe had some grasp on the fact that you may or may not feel something for him that was more than friendly. You were mentally kicking yourself, your door cracking open, the creaking alerting you of someone's presence.

"What the hell was that back there?" Dean, of course it was Dean, why wouldn't it be Dean? "I'm sorry.. I just— I haven't slept, I don't know." He let out a sigh, sitting right next to you as your heart leaped into your throat. "I think me and you both know that it wasn't because you were tired. I've been talking about this for years, and it's a problem all of a sudden?" Anger began to burrow itself deep inside of you. "What do you want me to say Dean? Maybe that I'm in love with you? That you probably don't want me because I'm like a sister to you?" You couldn't look at him, your brain silently wishing that he would just go away.

"Who said I see you like a sister?" You looked at him through your peripheral vision, hoping you didn't hear him incorrectly. "What?" His arm settled around your waist. "You heard me. Who said?" You gulped nervously. "Me?" He let out a laugh. "That's now very reliable. No offense." You cracked a grin. "None taken." Your breaths fell in to the silent air of your room. "So you love me?" You nodded, a bit hesitant. "Is that a problem?" Your voice shook. He pulled you closer to him, his lips grazing yours.

"Not at all."

ೃ⁀➷ my lovely taglist!: @alina02 @louderfortheback @minervadashwood

#✰ ― meau's inbox ! #dean x reader #dean winchester x reader #dean fanfiction #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester #dean winchester fluff #dean winchester angst #dean winchester x plus size reader #plus size reader #x plus size reader #plus size!reader #chubby reader #x chubby reader #fluff #angst #hurt/comfort #mutual pining #dean winchester imagine #dean winchester oneshot #dean winchester drabble #dean winchester blurb #dean supernatural #dean winchester supernatural #supernatural #supernatural fanfiction #fanfiction

[wibzenadarksiderwithasoftheart]

✨✨✨✨🫱Care to share🫲✨✨✨✨

The message was sent to you because someone loved your writing and stories. ❤️

▪️What are your writing suggestions for newcomers, or what would you have liked to know when you first started?

▪️How do you write different personalities and perspectives? Could you explain how you came up with the manner you written your favorite or any character?

▪️What do you do when you have writer's block?

▪️How do you come up with new ideas and develop them?

▪️Any messages for your readers or fellow writers?

You are welcome to answer if you have the time and desire, or you can simply respond to the questions that come to mind.

💐Thank you for your work as a writer and as a member of this fandom!💐

Why thank you dear Ano.

My writing suggestion for all newcomers is pretty simple, and I know many have said the same thing before me, but I'll say it again anyway. WRITE WHAT YOU WANT TO READ!!! Don't worry too much about what others will think, have fun, be creative and don't take it 'too' seriously. We do fanfiction for pleasure, for freedom, and because it's a great way to escape RL for a moment. Don't worry about kudos and comments, it's not easy, I know, but have patience your mutuals will find you and you them, but it takes time. You don't have to produce! You can't succeed every time! Find your own rhythm, listen to your muse, allow yourself breaks, read other people's stories without envy (we are all different and have different skills and talents), COMMENT and engage with others, and above all BE KIND! Especially to yourself.

I wish I could give a real and 'professional' answer on how I work with personalities, character and pov, but I can't. I write using 'Gefühle', following my instincts and my own perception of the characters and how they will act. It's not a very reliable method, but I don't know any other. I just do it… And as for pov, well, whatever feels right. A few times I consciously choose a certain pov, but most of the time it's a subconscious choice.

When I find myself in writer's block, I've learned over time that it will pass. Sometimes I take a break from fandom. I read, other fic, other books. I read my own 'old' stories, to remind myself how far I've come, how much I'm evolving, and to see that I've actually created something I like. I share some ideas with the trusted few. I find some short prompts to play with. I try very hard not to stress about it. I'm patient… It will pass.

About ideas and developing them. Well I don't even have to try. New ideas usually assault me and I will never be able to write them all, DAMN bunnies. It's a difficult challenge to manage them, and even more difficult to choose which ones to work on. Once again it comes down to instinct/subconscious, the ideas that stick, the ones my muse insists on bouncing around in my brain, those are the ones I work with. Once I start writing, the development tends to come naturally.

To my readers THANK YOU, your interest is precious to me, priceless and beyond description. To my fellow weiters. I love you all!!! I am honored to know you and admire you endlessly. You are a joy in my life that I can't even begin to explain. THANK YOU for being you and for everything you create.

#fanfiction #writing #fan fiction #fandom stuff #creativety #my muse #ask and answer

[fractalkiss]

fic commentary/notes for the year you thought you were dying.

trying this thing where i do fic commentaries here instead of on dreamwidth since most of my recent dw posts will be private now.

influences:

there was this BL titled "my 40-year-old prostitute" in english or something like that that a mutual from twt recommended. look, it was good. im so fucking serious. the yaoi art was beautiful and sexy and it started out so well with compelling characters. but the translators ceased uploading translations by just chapter 2 in 2020 on [redacted] site. which effectively meant the premise never left me for months and i was so sad.

joke's on me tho all of this really became serious after i wrote tumblr ficlets of 1418 hooker au in response to some fun ask prompts in the summer, which are in my fic tag somewhere.

some quotes from more influences:

"It’s obvious that the range of people who sought out sex for money would change dramatically in a kinder, gentler world. [...] Sex work would also attract stone butches of all genders and sexual orientations—people who want to run the fuck but are not interested in experiencing their own sexual vulnerability and pleasure. Often these people are the most adept at manipulating other people’s experiences. They are more objective about their partners’ fantasies and do not become distracted by their own desires, since their needs to remain remote and in control are already being fulfilled. - pat califa, 1994, 2000

"You. What will you let yourself become for me?" - dorothy allison, her thighs, 1992.

the essay "her thighs" is about lesbian power play and so influential to me. i think dorothy allison is a very powerful writer and i love her poetry.

this is an allison excerpt from jane ward's the tragedy of heterosexuality:

i kept this in mind too while i was writing manuela's short backstory.

the process:

i wanted crazy thangs with the structure. i wanted most of the sexual intimacy to be revealed much later to the reader, after we go through mostly the companionship aspect of the service -- which i realise now is not crazy but a boring approach and would really change the story so i didnt do it.

sex pollen fic done this way is my fave tho. helenish wrote this sga fic called This Gun for Hire with sex amnesia in it where everyone is in denial in the aftermath about the kind of sex that was repeatedly happening. there are other fic examples (can't quite remember or have bookmarked) where the denial and delusion is so completely off the charts with a character in trying to get through the aftermath of the event without a freaky sex trope involved.

so i wondered if i could pull off that kind of blurriness and denial in the structure for a character who KNOWS what is happening but thinks they're still straight and will die straight lmao. but fernando in this story is just jaded, retiring and isn't cripplingly repressive.

the notes from my word tracker doc that i had to do to be able to write long fic. i laugh at this every time:

my projected word count for this was 20k, which was so off lmfao.

i put off getting them to have sexy fun in italy at one point because i didn't know yet what emotional point they needed to get to and what grounds they'd be on then. i wrote a bit of a very different scene to lead up to it, but then scrapped it. and then i wrote the auction night and the morning-after scene. tension and conflict (without having to use miscommunication as the necessary crutch) is always one of my most favorite things to write about so i was so glad i got to this point LOL. the payoff of reaching a compromise and then an emotional release later is so rewarding to me! i love that shit

emotionally i just knew i needed it to be like the mindy nettifee poem i grabbed the fic title from.

figuring out how to write lance in this fic was really hard ngl since i went into the story almost blind. cofi made me realise this blind spot when i showed her an early wip and i was like hold awn.... if i wasn't sending @strulovic broken drafts and doing lanceology consultations with her, i wouldn't have gotten anywhere in the story.

alonso being a divorcee irl is so important to each and every one of my agendas thank god for the gay uncle. i did a lot of google searching to be able to write fernando's approach to sex and relationships outside of the job. i knew what i wanted to take away, like the difficulties with intimacy that former workers have had, and still have after the industry sometimes. fernando scrubbing his hands clean at lance's place after the auction despite not having sex with the auction client, his views on wanting the sex with his ex-wife and other exes to be "acceptable and proper" in contrast to whatever he's done for work, and how the internalised homophobia warps this for him while he tries to play the gentleman with lance in italy (and lance being able to read through him and understand that fernando DOES want to fuck him nasty ‼️ though lance doesn't understand the extent of fernando's issue with it). there are also accounts where sex work gave a worker the experience, space and autonomy they needed to slowly heal from prior traumatic and/or abusive experiences. the research was very interesting.

relied on music A LOT. an honorary ldr song [hears collective groaning] that didn't get included in the fic playlist was Love song. lance was in that passenger seat beside fernando in their sleek '67 restored fiat on the way to umbria wishing and wishing to get railed.

ALMOST FORGOT TO INCLUDE: ferrari to mclaren 2.0 fernando was the print here. he keeps the ferrari depression beard ofc.

truly not an overstatement, i think this fic was what made writing smth as long as this quite enjoyable and bearable for me. dare i say fun! haha

#** #q