#songs relating sex to worshipping | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

Visit Blog

Explore Tumblr blogs with no restrictions, modern design and the best experience.

Fun Fact

Mobile Tumblr US users spend an average of 4.04 minutes per session on the app.

#songs relating sex to worshipping

astrolovecosmos · 3 months

Text

The 5th House + Romantic Themes/Tropes

Aries in the 5th House: Knight or hero saving their damsel in distress, competitor suitors, "bad boy/bad girl" with "nice guy/girl" dynamics, queen/princess saving the king/prince, a hard to catch chase, red roses and red lipstick, athlete or warrior connected love story, second chance love stories, couple vs. nature or unknown as they pioneer a new frontier, lingerie, things move fast, "no one else like you", fated lovers, lover's quarrels, innocent love, first loves, love at first sight.

Taurus in the 5th House: Worshipping each other's bodies, making love in nature, paradise themes, fancy venues, luxury, secret prince/billionaire stories, Cinderella-like stories, seduction, sensuality, aphrodisiacs, massages, the fastest way to their heart is through the stomach, willpower, ugly duckling themes, silk and cashmere, kisses on the neck, serenading, rose petals on the bed.

Gemini in the 5th House: Friends to lovers, pretend relationship tropes, sexting, online dating stories, pen pal lovers, long distance relationships, romantic academia, coffee dates, study dates, eloquence, unexpected softness, talking dirty, rivalries to lovers, Kama Sutra, twists and turns, love letters, vocalness, teasing, arguments.

Cancer in the 5th House: Old friend or flame love stories - maybe similar to second chances, parent trap themes, moonlight, waterfalls, ocean waves, baths, intimacy in the shower, cuddles, feeling wanted or needed, private or secret lovers, waterbeds, remembering and celebrating important dates like anniversaries and birthdays, sentimental love, nurturing their lover back to health themes, pearls and silver, traditional love themes, Romeo and Juliette, Titanic vibes, homecooked meals or lunches, long hugs.

Leo in the 5th House: Holiday romances or flings, everyone else can see how fated or good they are with someone - but they themselves are oblivious, wine, dance floors, flattery, adoration, gold, luxury, sex on the beach, roleplay, hot-blooded passion, romance that involves royalty, center of attention, turns heads, strip tease, mirror on the ceiling, professing undying love, great adventures, drama galore or a love worthy of the stage.

Virgo in the 5th House: High School sweethearts, devoted lover who does a service or keeps a promise for a dead partner, defending someone's honor or being defended, saving their lover from a bad partner or ex, loyal servant and royalty loves, light tracing, tickling, taking care of someone or nurturing them back to health, sexy outfits, plenty of praise and appreciation, couple's spa day or massage, attentive, caring, the details in love matter.

Libra in the 5th House: Love triangle stories, masquerades, balls, Parisian love stories or themes, opposites attract, wedding related romances (meeting at a wedding or stopping a wedding), lovers against the odds, love potions, star-crossed lovers, matchmaking, sunsets, pastels, clouds, rivals or enemies to lovers but with grace or focus on making peace, sensual moments, biting lips, charm counts for something, perfume, candles, oils, flower petals, champaign, strawberries or cherries, feathers, cliche seduction, inspirational love, love and art, love songs.

Scorpio in the 5th House: Enemies to lovers, dark romances, horror and romance, forbidden love, secret romances, "if I can’t have you, nobody will", vampires, magic or the occult, Phantom of the Opera, passionate kisses and touch, lingerie, naked, bondage, power, vulnerability, jealousy or possessiveness themes, leather, being by or in water, strong taste and fragrances, avenging your hurt or dead lover or being avenged, dark fantasies, secluded romantic places, overcoming fears or challenges together, psychology, villains and heroes, transformative love stories.

Sagittarius in the 5th House: Lovers from very different cultures or backgrounds, eloping, loveable rogue themes, fish out of water stories, deep thoughts and discussions, speed dating, daredevils and calling bluffs, adventure, "I can show you a whole new world", exotic romantic places, escaping with your lover, hotel rooms, casino or game nights, learning together, discovering something new about their lover frequently, lucky to find each other, free-spirited love, surprises and passion.

Capricorn in the 5th: Force proximity stories, love that grows or takes time, time-travel romance, historical romances, secret romances, age gap themes, gothic themes, consistency, lotion and oils, romantic music, power dynamics, fine wine, wealth and luxury, secret prince/billionaire stories, earthy and erotic, punishment and submission themes, respect and grace, powerful libidos, leather, antique or fine jewelry, beautiful crystals or gems, great smiles or teeth, unique bouquets, careful lovers.

Aquarius in the 5th House: Sci-fi romance themes, unconventional dynamics or roles, time-travel romance, beautiful minds and/or beloved geniuses, light touch, substances to enhance experiences or feelings, incense or candles, anything goes, the unexpected, unique gifts or romantic gestures, romance that shows how much their lover knows them, rebel lovers, acceptance, deep talks, mind melds, fetishes, spiritual and/or mental challenges, unique beauty, each partner doing their own thing, their lover being the only one to arouse passion in them or vice versa.

Pisces in the 5th House: Running to catch up to their lover at the airport, amnesia related love stories, hopeless romantic, poetry, daydreaming, soulmates, finding a muse or being one, kissing in the rain, foot massages, love songs, satin sheets, skinny dipping, oysters, champagne, roses, making fantasies come to life, eternal promises and fidelity, loving life and love, overly idealistic love stories, fairytales, healing themes, intuitive lovers or psychic connections.

#5th house #zodiac #astrology #romance #natal chart #aries #taurus #gemini #cancer #leo #virgo #libra #scorpio #sagittarius #capricorn #aquarius #pisces

1K notes · View notes

ravens-two · 3 months

Text

PAC: Your Person's Thoughts About You 18+

This reading includes:

your person's dirty thoughts about you

The extended reading includes:

their reaction to these thoughts

Disclaimer: this is just for entertainment purposes, and as a pick-a-card reading it may not resonate for everyone. Also, this content is 18+ only!

TIPS | BOOK A READING WITH ME | PATREON | LINKTREE | SUGGEST A PAC TOPIC

Pile 1

Judgment, Moon

"Devotion save me now/ I don't wanna stray from the hallowed ground/ I'll turn temptation down" Hurts - Devotion

The first thing I'm getting from this pile is that your person wants to see you naked. It's actually really interesting because this is supposed to be about their dirty thoughts (and well in a way it is), but this naked is almost like moving beyond your physical body. They want to see you for who you really are without any reservations on your part. This can be a bit of a kink for them too. It's almost like unravelling you during sex. They also want to have you completely at their mercy. For some of you this will be a bit more bdsm-y while for others not so much. In general, what I mean by this is that they want you to fully trust them and let them do the work. It's like putting your pleasure completely in their hands.

Going back to the naked thing though, it might be that you two haven't been intimate yet and they keep imagining what you'll look like when there aren't any clothes on you. Or it might be that you have been intimate and it's almost like the image of your naked body is seared in their brain. They couldn't forget it even if they wanted to and it's a thought that just keeps popping up for them randomly. I actually think that one of the reasons that they can't stop thinking about it is because of the energy that you gave off. This is hard to explain, but in the moment it was like there was something supernatural about you, the way you surrender completely to your seductive and animal side is/was very enchanting for your person.

This person is also dreaming about kissing you pile 1, especially your neck. I also get the vibe that they want to mark you, like leaving hickeys or bite marks. It seems that they're the type of person that likes to leave something to remember them by. I keep hearing that they just want to take you in their arms. Again, there's this vibe that they are the most dominant energy and want you to surrender to them (but this doesn't really feel like power-exchange honestly). They want to worship your body (this also fits the song that you got tbh).

They might also fantasize about having sex in a taboo place or out in nature (maybe both for some of you). They might want to have sex in a lake or a secluded place out in the woods. For some people they might want to do it in a graveyard (Mary Shelly would approve lol) or like another person's bedroom or in a place where you could get caught. I also think that they want to have sex all night long, going as long as you both can and then be completely exhausted.

For some you they also wish that you would let yourself be a little wilder. There's this vibe that they think that you are kinkier than you act (you might seem too in control or put together during the act for their liking) and they would love it if you showed this side of yourself. They also know that in part it's a question of trusting them enough, so that would really do it for them too - knowing that you trust them like that.

Pile 2

Star, Tower

"When I first saw you/ The end was soon/ To Bethlehem it slouched/ And then it must have caught a good look at you" Hozier - NFWMB

Hi pile 2, your person's dirty thoughts about you are quite interesting because I keep getting this idea that they will have a dirty thought, indulge in it for a moment, and then they'll feel bad about it. It's like they try to repress these thoughts because they think that they're somehow disrespectful to you. It might be that you aren't in a relationship with this person yet, and this is what cause these feelings, because you don't know that they see you like this.

A bit like pile 1, your person also thinks about seeing you naked. I feel like 90% of their 18+ thoughts are about your naked body. It might be them imagining what you would look like or just remembering your body. Unlike pile 1 there isn't this vibe of wanting you to surrender to them or seeing you undone, your person just wants to admire you in all your glory. They think that you're breathtaking and it honestly makes them a bit weak in their knees. It's actually more likely that your person wants to submit to you than the other way around. They also want to get on their knees and worship you, so this is probably oral sex. With the Tower here as well I'm seeing a lot of orgasms for both of you, explosive and maybe a bit mind-shattering. I'm hearing someone say that they've been "fucked dumb", so yeah, that could be one of their fantasies too. There's also something here about squirting and/or cum play as well. If your person has a penis they probably want to paint you with their cum, most likely your face, chest or back.

If you have breasts your person is also obsessed with them. They love the way they look (no matter the size) and really want to play with them. If you don't have breasts this could still be about your nipples. They're also pretty obsessed with your thighs and some of them want to get crushed between them. Again, there's this vibe that they want to please you so bad. It's not that they're really submissive, but they want to give you as much pleasure as humanly possible.

Your person also fantasizes about making love to you instead of fucking. They want the sex to be loving, safe and healing for the both of you. They also think about having shower/bath sex with you. Or they might get more dirty thoughts about you when they're in the shower. There's also something about cleanliness here, so it could be that your person enjoys/imagines cleaning you up after sex.

Pile 3

Nine of Wands, Two of Wands

"Love is our resistance/ They'll keep us apart, and they won't stop breaking us down/ Hold me/ Our lips must always be sealed" Muse - Resistance

Pile 3, your person seems to be quite kinky. The first thing I'm seeing here is bondage. They imagine tying you up and maybe even using blindfolds. This could be like full bondage or maybe just using handcuffs (it's going to change a bit from person to person), whatever it is your person wants to restrain you. I'm even seeing that for some of you your person kind of wants to tie you up just to look at you. There's a hint of voyeurism here, so they might want to take pictures or videos of you and enjoy the thought of "what if someone saw this". It might go even a little bit further and they imagine someone walking on you or you two doing it in a public place right in front of everyone. I think that is biggest motivation for them is that they are super proud of being by your side and want to show you off.

Another thing that they imagine is fingering you. They get a lot of enjoyment from your pleasure so they imagine getting you off with just their fingers. Actually I just got a very detailed visual of you mostly naked while they're still completely clothed and their fingers inside of you. When it comes to positions your person imagines you two having sex standing up or bending you over something.

Just like pile 1 your person wants to see you completely undone and unraveled. They imagine you after sex with your hair all messed up, marks all over your body, covered in fluids, and an hazy look in your eyes. Yeah, just very very messy. Your person doesn't seem to be too shy about their desires though. They also want to have multiple rounds with you. They want to have sex with you for as long as you physically can. Again they want to see you completely exhausted. I actually keep seeing more about fingering and oral sex rather than penetration, so your person tends to imagine more about this types of acts. It might be that they're actually a bit shy about doing these things in real life so they like to imagine it.

Your person also likes to imagine sexual scenarios with a lot of action and adventure. They have a very fertile imagination. They might imagine themselves as an hero who rescues you and then you two have sex. They might really enjoy role-playing. They also imagine sex that progresses your relationship. Besides the kinkier stuff, they might imagine making love to you and being truly intimate and vulnerable with you. Honestly, this person just wants to be with you and they enjoy making up scenarios with you.

Pile 4

Five of Cups, Ace of Wands

"You lose your way, just take my hand/ You're lost at sea, then I'll command your boat to me again/ Don't look too far, right where you are, that's where I am" Lana Del Rey - Mariners Apartment Complex

Pile 4, your pile seems like the most emotional, at least at first sight. One of your person's biggest fantasies is being comforted by you through sex. They like to imagine themselves (I'm not sure if it's randomly or when something bad happens) feeling down or going through a rough situation and coming to you to be comforted. They imagine you taking them in your arms, holding them, kissing them and slowly taking off their clothes. They imagine you on your knees giving them oral sex and then you two having slow, loving sex. There might even be tears here. Like they're feeling so emotional from what happened and from how loved they are by you that they just tear up or cry a bit. I think that the biggest fantasy here is feeling loved tbh. I also think that your song and the lyrics that I chose are really fitting for your person. They really want you to take their hand and steer the boat when they're feeling lost.

With the Ace of Wands here they're also really passionate and want the sex between you to feel hot and heavy, to truly envelop the two of you. They might also think about wax play or temperature play. There's something here about the differences in temperature between your body and other objects. They also want to kiss all over your body. They're very connected to their body sensations, especially about warmth. I don't really know how to explain it. They crave the feeling of your hot mouth on them (and other things too).

Something that's a bit kinkier and that might be a bit off-putting for some people, but they also imagine having period sex with you. The blood doesn't irk them, and they might even finding it a bit hot. I don't want to describe it too much, because the images in my head are quite graphic. But, yeah imagine them playing with the blood a little bit. In general, I think that they have a thing for body fluids, mainly semen and spit from what I'm getting. This is the other pile that might want to paint you with their cum (or the other way around). Also, they imagine you spitting in their mouth. I'm immediately getting that most of these kinkier fantasies about them are something that they see as unrealistic.

Again, this pile is quite emotional and they also like to imagine you two having a fight and being really upset with each other and then having sex. I think that this is such a recurring scenario in their head that they have a lot of variants. They imagine you having loving sex almost as an apology, then they imagine being hatefucked or hatefucking you. Or being denied by you. They have a lot of different scenarios when it comes to this, the only thing in common is you two fighting.

#tarot #pac reading #pick a card #tarot reading #pac #fs pick a pile #fs pac #18+ pac

713 notes · View notes

dimepdf · 1 year

Text

★ 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐓𝐄𝐄𝐓𝐇 𝐈𝐍 𝐌𝐘 𝐍𝐄𝐂𝐊. + 𝐄𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐍 𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐑𝐘

masterlist. / taglist. / any request? synopsis. with Ethan being the poor loser virgin that he was, the boy just couldn't help but have some weird fantasies about you taking his virginity.

─── ☆ notes. new pathetic whiny man to obsess over added to the list, i haven't even seen the full movie yet which is why this is more fantasy au instead of anything related to the canon plot . | — feedback is always welcomed & don't forget to reblog 🤍

─── ☆ length. 1.3k (10 min read) .

Ethan had the skill of using his thoughts to escape the comforts of his own made-up reality, more commonly known as daydreaming.

He would find himself slouched against any surface, lost in his own dazed thoughts, making up little scenarios that would often leak into his dreams.

Maybe that was why Ethan had liked sleeping so much, mastering the skill of falling asleep every time he would crawl into bed and let his head lay against his pillow.

Just to get back to his fantasy world, he knew that in no actual reality would he find you sitting on his lap.

In real life, you were just friends; having met Ethan through the same group of friends, the feelings that he had for you only seemed to fester more and more, overflowing like a bubbling pot.

He was too nervous to even make eye contact with you, yet here you were, the main character starring in all his fantasies.

well, not the totally normal human version of you, but some sort of demon version at least. Your brown ebony skin, now a dark red, as your eyes glowed a misty light orange, and you had to protrude two small dark horns coming from your temple.

Smothered under your weight resting down, you straddled his hips as your arms steadied yourself with your hands against his chest.

It took Ethan a few blinks to realize the reason he had been panting for air as if he had been taking his last breath. Being covered in a thin layer of sweat, which almost melted into the bedsheets from how on fire his body had felt with the spark of pleasure that had flooded through his system all at once.

The dream had felt so realistic—the thump of his heart in his ears, how soft your abnormal skin had felt against the rough pads of his fingers, almost massaging your pelvis as you slowly rolled your hips against his erection.

Ethan felt like he was dying. That had to be the only way to explain why he felt like every section of his body was burning from the inside, like something inside of him was building up to burst out at any second, as if your touch was coaxing something to escape from his pitiful little body.

In addition to your demon-like features, the clothes you wore were normal in the theme of your usual set of clothes, but just below the sag of your gym shorts peeked a lewd mark of some sort of unidentifiable symbol of some sort that seemed to shine the same color as your eyes.

The symbol on your skin matching one had been embodied into his skin in the same place, just above his happy trail.

the way that they had beamed brighter together in sync, almost like the two were intertwined in the appearance that something was flowing through you, and whatever it was had to be the reason he felt the way he did.

Your eyes had caught his graze, another hammer of his heart beating rapidly against his chest as his tongue dragged over the bottom of his lip by nervous habit.

Your gaze held something completely different, other than the obvious change in appearance.

It was the glint in the way your eyes seemed so alluring that had his hips stuttering to bring some sort of relief to the throbbing problem in his sweatpants.

You leaned in closer, the peek of your breast exposed from the low cut of your loose shirt, making him swallow thickly under your stare. A sharp smile had spread across your lips.

Ethan should have found it worrying.

Alarms should have been ringing in his head, telling him how weird his virgin subconscious was forming some type of freaky monster sex fantasy about his crush.

But there was a bigger part of him that refused to think about anything other than wanting to bury his cock inside of you.

He had almost felt drunk on this new strange feeling, his lips parting and him panting as your foreheads touched, "Awe, you're burning up, Ethan."

Just the mere sound of your voice had his hip lifting from the mattress, your tone going straight to his dick.

"It…feels weird…" He had finally managed to stutter from his mouth, he wasn’t in agonizing pain, but the amount of discomfort he had from you teasing his rock hard erection was enough to bring him to tears.

He shuffled under your weight to ease the deep, boiling feeling coiling in his lower stomach. "I know, baby, I know, I'm gonna make it all go away, okay?" A whine pulled from his throat from the reassurance, the brush of your hands against his cheek.

Watching your lips form with every word, thinking about how much he had wanted your mouth around his cock, the small embrace had him aching all over for you.

"Please," Ethan begged, his tongue suddenly feeling too big for his mouth. "Touch me, please."

A sigh of relief sounds from his lips as your hand trails down his torso straight towards his erection, reaching below the elastic of his briefs and freeing him, greeting the thigh clenching sight of his veiny hilt.

Sitting between his legs, you could feel the tenseness of his leg muscles twitch as you lean down to press a wet kiss against his puffy tip, Ethan shivering at the sight of your tongue poking from your mouth and stealing a taste of the precum that coated your lips as if you were first taking a sample.

His heart started to thump against his chest, the beat of his heart ringing through his ears.

A pained whine tugged from his throat as his hips arched once your mouth had finally engulfed the head of his cock, and he was keen at the feeling of your warm tongue tracing down along the underside of his veiny length all while you never broke eye contact with him.

“S–shit,” The hum of your mouth around him had him stretching out his arms for a fistful of the blanket.

A whimper parted from his lips once your hands guided his to the back of your head, letting him ground himself with a fistful of your hair.

His hips thrusting up from the mattress seemed to be on their own, fucking your throat, trying to chase the overwhelming feeling of pleasure that came from the rawness of fucking the back of your throat.

But then there was a pause, with Ethan coming to a trembling halt, his chest rising and falling from his panting breath. "Um, can—is it okay if I do it inside?" His voice was small and filled with concern as if his cock was already down your throat.

Your lashes fluttered from processing the question. The small bob of your head and the way you continued to take him all the way were more than enough confirmation to have Ethan go back to rolling his hips into your mouth.

With one more buck of his hips, holding down your head with one harsh thrust, it was all the warning you could get for Ethan’s abrupt orgasm as he came down your throat.

It took a moment for clarity to finally kick in. Ethan’s hands stopped moving from your hair to gently caress your face with an adored look plastered all over his blown pupils and his face flushed a tint of pink.

"I—I think I'm in love with you," he whispers as he watches you crawl up his chest, settling just below his still erect dick.

Ethan shivered at the sigh of your sharp fangs poking from your gums and the stretch of your gleeful smile as your tongue dragged over the sharp canines before leaning in close enough to press a trail of kisses up his neck.

"Wanna put it in me now?" Your question being the only thing to knock around in his head and having your mouth so close to his ear so erotically.

Ethan actually whined at the abruptness enough to knock him out of whatever bliss he had felt just seconds ago, his eyes shooting up and sitting up with an uncomfortable groan.

The wet mess in his underwear as he peered from under his blankets at his morning issues.

🔖 ...

tap here to be added to taglist.

#[ ⇢ ˗ˏˋ ★ — t.wrks. ]#ethan landry #ethan landry smut #ethan landry x reader #jack champion #jack champion x reader #scream 6 #scream 6 smut #ghostface #ghostface x reader #slashers x reader

1K notes · View notes

mcondance · 10 months

Text

SHE — OJ HAYWOOD

"she, (she), she lives in daydreams with me, she's the first one that i see"

pairing oj haywood x Black! afab fem!reader

summary oj's stoic demeanor is long gone when he makes love with you.

contents oral (fem receiving), rlly rlly passionate lol, unprotected sex, praise but like.. in a very oj way, belly bulge but make it so fucking romantic, reader and oj are fucking whipped omg, creampie let's go, it's actually insane how in love they are like woah am i interrupting something..? coded language (core, clit), reader has afab! parts but there's no pronouns used

words 1.5k

notes reupload from my old blog. i wrote this in like one day. oj's just my silly little stoic man with a heart of pure gold. pls listen to "she" by harry styles while reading this omg. ignore the lyrics tho cause i only rlly relate the chorus and the sound of the song to this fic and to oj cause it's just one of them songs.

oj’s so good at making love to you.

he’s good from the beginning. good as he grinds against you slowly, kissing you just hard enough to leave you breathless but also wanting more. good when he pulls your shirt off along with his, eyes taking in your lack of a bra. good when he kisses down your body, pulls your shorts and underwear down your legs, leaving kisses on your thighs.

he’s almost reverential with the way he handles you, the definition of passion as he spreads you open for his worshiping eyes, dips right down and licks a stripe up your core. he lets you squirm, knows just how fucked out you get when he goes down on you.

he moves up to focus on your clit, already puffy and aching to be touched. he doesn’t deny you any pleasure, slips his mouth around you clit and sucks, licking with it still in his mouth. your hands find his head to pull him closer and he just lets you, lets you damn near use him.

he doesn’t mind. he never does.

even as your hips begin to move against his tongue, he keeps his movements steady, a low groan of “mhm, that’s right” leaving his mouth, nodding against you and sending waves of honey-like ecstasy through you.

it’s always so maddening, endorphic, borderline insane when he goes down on you, sweet pleasure trickling through your veins until you’re like putty in his hands, hips barely able to continue their rocking motions against his determined tongue. no matter, though, he takes over when it gets to be too much, when your body can’t keep up with what he’s done to you.

soft moans of his name slip past your lips and he knows what you mean, knows all too well that you’re about to reach that precious peak that he’s so willing to throw you off of. fingers join his tongue on your clit, rub in tight circles with the skill of a man you’ve known for years.

he lives for this, for this feeling ordained by the gods above. lives for the way your thighs close around his head, the way your hands try and fail to find purchase in his short curls. he loves making love to you in so many different ways, the knowledge that he’s yours and you’re his, that he is making love to you, makes his mind feel indescribably perfect.

“oj, ‘m gonna—”

“i know, baby. you got it.” it’s a low murmur, paired with another nod and just a little more pressure on your clit with his tongue and fingers. he knows you like the back of his hand. he knows your whines, your whimpers, your short little breaths that he only hears right before you—

“you’re good, baby. give it to me.” and you do. hips roll over and over again against him, meet his dutiful moves against you, send you higher and higher and impossibly higher, until you’re not sure you’ll ever come down. you float like a fucking bird, wings lifted with the air of oj’s masterful, almost adoring, motions. it’s always like this, always so fucking sweet , mind-numbingly so. the saccharine pleasure drips throughout your veins, his soft groans of affirmation drifting to you as you lay suspended in the blissful madness he’s given you.

you come for oj in a way that’s so different, because the way in which he makes love to you is so different. and you love it.

you love it as he slows down to a stop, kisses your shaking thighs and fluttery stomach, making his way up to your softly heaving chest. he continues his pursuit, lifting up until your lips connect, transferring your taste to your lips. any other time, this would be filthy, the sharing of your taste on his tongue. but now, it’s so right, fits in perfectly with the way oj handles you.

your hands make their way to the waistband of his jeans, pull the denim down along with his boxers and he finishes the job for you. you feel him, hard and heavy against your thigh, so turned on from just pleasing you. it’s always a gratifying experience, knowing that it’s you that makes him this way. no matter his exterior— the stoic cowboy, preferring horses over people, chooses his words carefully as though he’d die if he spoke too much— he loves you. you are the tear in his heart, that one thing that breaks down his walls.

and you feel it when he entraps your lips in another kiss as you reach down between you two and line him up with your entrance as he groans at your touch, and he slides in with one smooth stroke, your body always open to him. you both can’t break the kiss for him to do anything other than thrust oh-so softly, movements barely there. but it’s enough, god it’s more than enough, because every touch, every fluttery glide of his hips against yours is like fucking magic, the shared love between you two heightening everything tenfold.

this is how oj makes love to you. face to face, your legs coming up to wrap around his waist as he pushes into you slow and deep, hits every single spot you need him to. he’s calculated with his moves, like he is with everything, hands balancing him above you as his chain bumps your chin with every forward stroke. kisses broken are reciprocated just as quickly, mere milliseconds separating every one.

“you're so good, baby.” it’s genuine, his brain blanked and grasping for words to describe the feeling you always give him. whines meet him in response, you’re too far gone to manage anything else.

this feels almost criminal, the pureness of his love, reflected in his every move, in every kiss he places against your lips. his every thrust is on purpose, is meant to drive you wild, to somehow translate his love for you into something tangible. and it works. you feel it, feel what you know is impossible for him to say.

you don’t speak much, dirty talk reserved for times other than now. now, is just him moving inside you, you pushing down against him. bodies together, lips locked in an almost infinite kiss. and then he shifts just a bit, brushing over that perfect spot. the whine that meets him in response, one from deep in your stomach, tells him all he needs to know.

“there we go.” he drawls, heavy accent making his words that much more insanity-inducing, goosebumps raising up on your heated skin as he directs his gaze to where you connect, eyes falling on the bulge that’s so prominent. “i’m right there, baby. you feel it?” he wears a slight smile, loves making love to you like this.

“feel it, oj. feels so good .” another depraved whine meets his ears, words an abstract to you that you don’t think you’ll ever understand again. his pace is steady, building you up without ever moving past a slow grind. and you’re gonna come again.

“you close, baby?” he asks, knowing how much you love his voice, how you live for how he talks to you when you’re together like this, how even though he doesn’t have to say a word to get you this high, his voice can push you that much higher. you just nod, meet his lips again and moan into his mouth when his fingers meet your clit, rubbing those same brain-numbing circles from earlier. god he’s so good, so fucking good and this is it, you’re gonna come for him once again.

“come on, baby, let me have it.” that’s all you need to hear. the pleasure pooling inside you overflows, spills over the edges of your being as you you’re dunked into it, mouth and nose and entire body filling up with the sweet feeling that oj has once again given to you. his praises float to your ears, a soft murmur of “that’s it, baby, you got it.” breaking through your syrupy delirium, pulling you even farther into what you can only feel as indescribable bliss.

oj’s so close too, streams of shakes moving through his body as you come around him, your back arching into his chest, legs tightening around his waist. his head is tucked into your neck now, placing soft kisses against the skin there. he doesn’t have to say anything, because you know he’s almost there, turning your head to whisper into his ear, your turn to drive him absolutely mad.

“come on, oj, need it, wanna feel you.” it leaves you as a moan, and it’s more than enough to drive him mad, his hips still moving slowly as he lets go just as you did, breath heavy, small groans escaping his mouth that’s still pressed into your neck. you hum as you feel him inside you, warmth filling your body and seeping into your bones. his lips meet yours again, kissing slow and soft, like always. you both don’t intend to move for a while, chests rising and falling in tandem as you soak in the afterglow of love, bodies close enough to fuse. this is your natural state, oj sinking love into your skin just for you to give it right back to him.

this right here.. this is perfection. this is how oj makes love.

#oj haywood smut #oj smut #oj haywoof fic #nope smut #oj haywood x black reader

285 notes · View notes

blackbird5154 · 5 months

Text

Papa Emeritus III: The analysis of mythological references

Here are my thoughts of Terzo as a character, finally translated to English. Thank you to @osirisiii-bc who is so kind and gracious!

Read on AO3

Note: The author strongly recommends you to check out the Third Era's "policy document" - The Prologue and Introduction by Peter Bebergal before reading this article. This promotional material was sent out to the media by the label on the occasion of the Meliora release.

This analysis is based on the Prologue to Meliora written by Peter Bebergal. At first glance, this text may seem like a set of nonconnected paragraphs, as well as the music video "From the Pinnacle to the Pit" can be considered as a simple cutting of scenes from old movies. But together these two materials can shed light on the mythology of the Meliora Era and the story of Papa Emeritus III - his origin, background and motives. Let's try to understand how it happened that in the image of Papa combined three mythological characters: Prometheus, Icarus and Lucifer.

This is what the author of this analysis looked like when she wrote it

First, let's take a superficial look at the plot. The action of the video takes place in a fictional retrofuturistic city decorated in Art Deco style. The Prologue even gives us the name of this location - Meloria (not to be confused with the album title - Meliora). The city is ruled by a totalitarian cult, something like a Masonic lodge, located in the highest building of the city, which is often struck by lightning.

The protagonist is invited to take part in a cult meeting and to undergo initiation. There he meets a sultry demonic woman who gives him a magic potion (the commentary to the song "Spirit" hints that it was absinthe). The protagonist experiences a vision in which he sees how the city is actually run. Upon awakening from his trance, he escapes from the meeting and throws himself off the roof of a skyscraper. Crashing to the ground, he is reborn into the ghost of Papa Emeritus III, to whom a crowd of people flock. Papa proclaims that the light should belong to the people and rises above the city. By the way, this character has a special name, or rather, a nickname given to him by the press - Mysterious Spectre. This can be read from the page of the newspaper that Papa holds in another clip thematically related to this storyline, "Square Hammer". The headline states: "Mysterious Spectre wrestles power supply from oligarchs". Papa Emeritus in full vestments can be seen in the photo.

Now, let's dig a level deeper. From the very beginning, the video gives us a hint of the concept behind it. The words "pinnacle" and "pit" appear in the splash screen, inscribed in two triangles. The upper word is written in the style of lightning bolts, while the lower one reminds us of stone catacombs. Besides the fact that it is a Masonic symbol (and not the only one in this video, and in Ghost's art in general), it symbolizes the contrast of the heavenly and underground worlds, sacred and profane spheres.

That's what the Prologue says as well:

“Rock and roll exists in two worlds: the sacred and the profane. In the first, it harkens back to a time when people worshipped their gods by wearing masks, dancing, and often in the throes of ecstatic intoxication. In the second, rock exists in the here and now, as an expression of rebellion, sex, power, and even fame. In the realm of the sacred, the ego is destroyed when the god is seen face to face. In the profane, ego is the energy that gets things done. This is the eternal spiritual conflict: the will of the gods versus human will. Those who can keep a foot in both the sacred and the profane can change the world.“

Freemasons are everywhere!

Considering Meliora, we are inevitably faced with its duality: on the one hand, it’s a down-to-earth story about a satanic musical group controlled by the Clergy. On the other hand it’s a legend of the city of Meloria, a kind of Gotham of this fictional universe. Even Papa seems to have two incarnations: a physical and a spiritual one. But the two worlds are not only the dichotomy of matter and spirit. The video shows two levels of the metropolis: the celestial - the world of thunder and lightning, power and electricity, and the subterranean - the world of the poor and the catacombs, the underground temples "under the streets". The society of Meloria is stratified, the upper classes exist at the expense of the lower classes, who bust their hump, generating electricity for their masters and covering the foot of skyscrapers with their bones. The totalitarian regime described in the pages of the Prologue is the oligarchy's way of keeping power in its hands and suppressing any expression of free will from the enslaved people.

“Spies are everywhere. Their eyes are behind the screens of your televisions and devices, their ears attentive to every frequency in the air. Everything is mediated, pre-packaged, and pressure sealed, your lives pre-ordained.”

The watchful airships in the video are labeled grucifixes, but don't let that put us off: they are "angels," agents of the ruling class, an enemy force opposed to Papa Emeritus.

"What if man could harness the power of a god?" the Headmaster asks the protagonist. "In a sense, he would need god no longer." It may be recalled here that Meliora is essentially an album about a world without God. That's exactly how the Nameless Ghoul put it in an interview, which is cited in Revolver magazine. “Spirit Absent” ("spirit absinthe") is “Deus in Absentia”, absent God. It is a world in which man is doomed to choose his own path without prompting from above. Modern man, the man of the era of modernism, seeks to curb the laws of physics, to put heavenly fire at his service. We are getting very close to the image of Prometheus in this story.

“You have been chosen to wield this power,” the Headmaster tells the boy. “Here we are the gods.” Then he sends the protagonist to the top of the building on what looks like an elevator, which symbolizes his ascent through the lodge ranks.

The woman reveals to the protagonist that the deity called demi-surge is the source of the power that moves the gears of the city. And the same power is used to enslave its people. It is their backs that we see bowed before Moloch. The vision is replaced by the sight of a lavish ball. “Through industry, man can harness this power and attain all that which he desires!” - the woman tells and invites the character to join.

This situation is also described in the Prologue:

"The world since he was last seen has changed. Called Moloch by some, the great industrial machine has been grinding away, grinding everything and everyone down in the process."

Historically, Moloch was an ancient Semitic deity to whom human sacrifices had to be made. In the 1927 film "Metropolis" Moloch is represented by an industrial machine with an insatiable maw that devours people who labor in its bowels. And since the music video shows us the 20s of the 20th century, this machine operates on electric power. So, in this story Moloch symbolizes the dark side of progress turned against people.

Moloch in the “Metropolis” movie

The protagonist realizes that the lodge is using ordinary people as fuel for its luxurious life. He is not ready to accept this, so he pushes the woman away and, scattering, jumps from the roof of the skyscraper, from the pinnacle to the pit. There's an important element not to miss here: while he's climbing to the top of the tower before jumping, he's struck by lightning. In that moment he perhaps becomes heir to the mystical power of the demi-surge. By this Papa gains the dramatic ability to shoot lightning from his hands (and a little from his eyes).

As a man of the modern era and a resident of godless Meloria, the protagonist is free to choose how to dispose of this power. Therefore, when he becomes Papa Emeritus, already at the base of the skyscraper, he proclaims that the light should belong to the people. Like Prometheus, who stole the divine fire, he is ready to give it selflessly to the people, so that they can curb the natural force themselves. This similarity must be what the following the Prologue fragment hints at:

“…some still remember the old tales of those who tried to defy the gods. It was said they stole the fire from heaven, or called themselves equal.”

The people who rally around the sacrificed hero become Papa's flock, which is mentioned in the text:

“He is a shepherd of black sheep, the sewers are his cathedral. Here in the darkness they follow the path of the hero’s journey, the necessary travel to the underworld to become transfigured, to become something new.”

The Hero's Journey is a concept invented by Joseph Campbell to describe a monomyth. This archetypal story depicts the way of personality formation, accompanied by psychological transformation. According to the plot, the hero goes on a journey, meets a mentor, passes through a gateway where temptations await, which he must resist. Then he goes to the abyss, where he undergoes a transformation, along with acquiring the gift of the gods, and eventually returns reborn.

Doesn't that ring a bell?

Probably "From the Pinnacle to the Pit" is also a statement about art. Electricity can be perceived as a metaphor for creativity. It is a bit of heavenly power, which the creator (musician) draws from somewhere in the higher spheres and gives to his audience for free. Here Tobias himself appears as a giver of light.

The story of Mysterious Spectre will be continued in the "Square Hammer" video, where we are told that he successfully wages war with local oligarchs, wresting power from them. Let's wish him luck and pay attention to the similarity of Papa's story to two other mythological characters.

Mysterious Spectre in the background of the moon. Handsome as hell.

The cover of the single "From the Pinnacle to the Pit" shows us Papa as Icarus. Let us recall that this ancient Greek young man daringly ascended to the sun, scorched his wings with its heat and fell from heaven to earth, losing too many feathers attached with the easily melting wax. Here we can exclaim after the prophet Isaiah: "How you have fallen from heaven, morning star, son of the dawn!" Because the image of Icarus in this song is combined with the image of Lucifer. In Wikipedia we can read: "Lucifer is the Latin name for the morning appearances of the planet Venus. It corresponds to the Greek names Phosphorus Φωσφόρος, "light-bringer", and Eosphorus Ἑωσφόρος, "dawn-bringer". The entity's Latin name was subsequently absorbed into Christianity as a name for the devil."

Or maybe he didn't fall, but jumped, as the Prologue directly tells us. A man of the modern era is free to choose his own destiny. And it is up to him to decide whether he will be thrown down from heaven or will take a step into the precipice himself, without waiting for a kick from above. Because there is no other way than "from the pinnacle to the pit". Such is the Hero's Journey.

“One figure was considered so prideful he was imprisoned in a pit where he gathered a legion to plan a great rebellion. Now they are merely stories to scare children, to remind them that defiance is a sin. Papa Emeritus III will steal your breath, the parents say. He will unscrew your hands and feet. He will take your eyes.”

Here the image of Papa is so merged with the image of Lucifer that it is difficult to understand who the text is talking about. It seems that the figure of Papa has been defamed: now he is a monster of the underworld, who is used to scare children to make them obedient. He was transformed from a light-bearer into an evil character through slander. Once again we are faced with an almost direct analogy with the Devil. By the way, isn't that why Papa addresses Cirice with the words "I know your soul is not tainted even though you've been told so" that he himself has been stigmatized, presented as a villain? Isn't this the essence of the fall and the punishment?

However Papa Emeritus appears to us: whether he is a rebel, a Melorian revolutionary who made the oligarchs tremble in their skyscrapers, a hero of the common people who brings the light of electricity and freedom to the populace, a fallen angel banished from heaven for his defiant thoughts, or a chthonic demon to scare children, he is a figure who appeals to our unconscious layers through mythological archetypes. Only one question remains: are you, dear reader, ready to follow Papa Emeritus into the abyss, taking the path of rebirth, feeling the halo above your head melting and being replaced by a mitre with an inverted cross?

#papa emeritus iii #terzo #the band ghost #ghost #papa emeritus #papa emeritus 3 #papa emeritus lll #ghost band #ghost bc #meliora #meloria #ghost lore #ghost theory #papa terzo #papa iii #terzo emeritus #tobias forge #mysterious spectre

105 notes · View notes

crash-and-cure · 1 year

Text

Hallelujah (Yandere!Austin!Elvis x Reader)

Gif credit to @troubleinapinksuit

Summary: In which Cinderella is a no-nonsense, semi-workaholic nurse and Prince Charming is a drug-addicted rockstar on a downward spiral and newly discovered obsessive tendencies. Truly a fairy tale worthy of sin city.

A/N: Anybody ever open up requests and then disappear for like two weeks or am I alone? I promise that the next ones should be out sooner than this one at the cost of being shorter, but I came up with the opening line and I just went off. Did you know that gatorade used to be in glass bottles? It makes sense but it’s a weird thing to think about. Why am I telling you all this? Becuase I did about twenty minutes of research on this topic for a detail that ultimately did not make it into this story so this is my way of making up for it to myself.

Warnings: Depictions of a person experiencing and accepting death. Depictions and POV of a person experiencing an overdose. Non-consensual drugging for both Elvis and the reader. Dubious consent (Please note this is not related to the non-consensual drugging, this is here due to alcohol and false pretenses being involved). Yandere!Elvis so expect themes of obsessive, manipulative, and delusional behavior. Kidnapping. Explicit sexual content depicted that includes Penetrative sex (m/f), oral sex (f.recieving), and worship kink. Mentions of religion that borders on zealotry and a bible quote. Self-blame. Probably more that I am blanking on. Excessive use of “Angel” as a nickname for the reader. Please do not interact if you are under 18.

Word Count: 10.8k

My Masterlist

They don’t know, Elvis thinks as he starts to sway. These folks don’t know they’re watching a murder.

Elvis can feel it in his bones, that this stage is where he’s going to die. To be honest he felt it maybe five songs ago. He almost takes comfort in how fitting it is, that his life was a stage and now it’s gonna end on one.

He knows he should want to fight it, if not for himself then for Lisa, Priscilla, his daddy, Dodger, somebody else who relies on him, anybody really. But he's so goddamn tired of all of it, and he just wants to rest.

Not even an hour ago he had learned the hard truth about that son of a bitch. How he’s lied to him for years, and how that rat bastard clipped his wings. He had originally come out here with the intention of giving a hell of a performance, firing that asshole right up here, walking off stage and leaving Vegas forever.

But I’ll show him. I’ll show ‘em all, he thinks hazily. I’m gon’ fly away from here, maybe all the way to the rock of eternity if I can.

“I’d like to turn the house lights down,” he says like he has a hundred times before. “Now that you’ve seen me I’d like to take a look atchu.”

He had made that plan before his tongue started feeling like sandpaper in his mouth, his head started spinning like a top, and breathing became far more laborious than he remembers it ever being. He idly wonders if this is how his mama felt when she went. He can probably ask her when he sees her soon. Dying up here doesn’t scare him too much anymore now that he’s had time to accept that that is what's happening. So he figured if this was going to be his last performance, this was undoubtedly going to be his best one.

He never understood that phrase swan song, why sing when you know you’re going to die? But the better question now is why not sing when you know you’re going to die? Why not declare I’m dying and I want everybody to see it?

Let them watch, he thinks venomously as he breathes heavily into the mic for what will most definitely be the last time. Let them all witness what “Colonel Tom Parker” did to me.

“Ladies and Gentleman, you’ve been a lovely audience,” he says, hoping it doesn’t sound too slurred. “Thank you.”

In that single moment before he knows he’s going to collapse he looks one last time out into the audience he loved so much, but his blurry vision makes it impossible to see most of them. This is what he chose, this is who he chose over, everything his family, his friends, his health. The fact he can’t even see most of them, hurts him in a way that the drugs can’t mask. It’s cruel yet fitting really, this is nothing less than he deserves.

But in a sea of faces that all blur and blend together the one thing he can clearly see is you. You’re standing in the front row, your brows drawn together and concern marring your beautiful face, something he appreciates so that he can at least leave this earth knowing that at least someone cared. You're dressed in a pure white dress, something much more simple than he's used to from the women that attend his shows. Even amongst the women you’re surrounded by, you stand out as a daisy in a bed of roses, he’s glad at least the last thing he’ll ever see is something so beautiful.

It gets windy all of a sudden, as he feels cool air blow against the side of his face.

No… wait… he’s just falling.

He hasn’t been sleeping much in the past few days, but if there was ever a time to do so, now feels like the perfect time for it. He simply waits for the inevitable feeling of his head hitting the stage, though with everything he took before coming out here he doubts he’ll even be able to feel that.

But it never comes. Instead he feels his head being cradled in a soft hand, and he opens his heavy eyelids and you’re there again. He watches as you use the table to scramble onto the stage before the curtains close, and he sees you up close for the first time. He doesn’t know if it’s from the spotlight behind you outlining your silhouette or something else entirely, but having a better look at you, your beauty goes from simple to nothing short of otherworldly.

An angel? He thinks blearily. Mama always did say they would be beautiful. He can see that you’re saying something, but his head is too muddled to process any of it.

So you’re here to take me away from this awful place, he thinks with a small smile. He didn’t like to think about death too much before he was faced with. He is was a firm believer in a heaven and hell, and many things he’s done in his life have more than earned him a spot down below. But you’re here now so it couldn’t have been all that bad in the grand scheme of things.

He reaches out to touch you and you grab onto his hand, look at it for just a second. He sees your worry grow as you get in closer to his face and he feels your feather-like but oh-so warm touch to his lips that feel so cold now. He feels other hands on him now trying to lift him up, and he notices his crew around him, but all he can focus on is you. It’s hard not to when you physically keep one of his eyes open, and he sees your worry go into full blown panic.

He tries, but it’s getting hard to breathe let alone speak right now. Please, he wants to say, don’t leave me with them. All he’s able to do to convey this message is a pathetic squeeze to your hand, and suddenly you’re gone just as quickly as you came. He feels his eyes well up so afraid now he’ll die without you there.

Everybody is surrounding him now trying to speak to him, but he’s desperately looking for you, and he feels as though there’s something he’s forgetting to do but he can’t remember what. Jerry comes into view and his mouth is moving and it looks like he’s shouting but nothing is coming out. Billy is there taking off his jacket, bunching it up underneath his head but still he can’t see you. Red’s slapping his face while Charlie’s pouring water on it, though he barely feels either of them. Everybody’s trying something, trying to save him, but he’s only concerned about you finding him and taking him away from here.

All these hands are touching him, most of them he doesn’t know, or at least doesn’t recognize. Maybe he is going to hell or fuck, maybe Vegas is hell for all he knows. It makes about as much sense as everything else in his life, which he doesn’t need to worry about for much longer. He feels like there’s something he’s supposed to be doing right about now but he’s too goddamn tired for any of it anymore and he wants to close his eyes until he sees you once again.

You look more disheveled than he remembers and now you’re furiously swatting at all of the hands on him as you shout at all of them. He feels your hands on his chest now and you’re pressing down repeatedly, before he can even speculate what you’re doing he feels your lips on his and it’s the warmest he thinks he’s ever felt. The kind of warmth that fills up his whole chest…

Oh right… he needs to breathe.

It feels as though he blinks and suddenly he smells the familiar tobacco scent of the casino. He still feels like he’s on his back but he’s floating and you’re above him the harsh lights of the casino floor giving him a better look at you. I was right, he thinks. You’re going to take me away from here. Satisfied with his assumption, he closes his eyes for what feels like the final time and he can feel his lips curve into a smile as your lips meet his once more.

Suddenly what feels like a bolt of lightning strikes through him, and his eyes are wide open again. For a few seconds, everything looks and sounds so much clearer, his muscles seem to have finally woken up, and his breathing has become far steadier. Is this what Captain Marvel Jr. felt like when he would say Shazam? It had to be because in those few moments he felt as though he could take on the world, especially when he finally gets a good look at you.

You’re hovering over him and the smile you give him would have made him weak in the knees if they weren’t already so. He reaches out, desperate to touch you but he feels darkness creep back into the edge of his vision once more. He knows he’s going to pass out right before he does, but he still tries only barely grazing your neck before the weight of his arm becomes too much to bear. But his hand catches on something before it eventually gives way and it finally falls.

He feels something in his hand but he’s far too tired to speculate, only using the last of both his conscious thoughts and strength to grip on tight to it. But he loses the strength to even keep his eyes open and he blacks out.

He can’t open his eyes, but he’s awake. Though that comes and goes and even then there isn’t much to say about it. He hears a mix of familiar and unfamiliar voices, the bed and sheets he’s laying in aren’t as comfy as he’s used to, and all he can smell is an oddly sterile smell. But something he can definitely feel is your parting gift in his grasp. Everytime he feels conscious he would focus on that and spend his energy trying to figure out what it was in his hand.

Ironically enough what does bring him back to the waking world is when he feels a small hand trying to remove it from him. His eyes snap open to try to find the culprit only to be met with his own blue eyes staring back at him.

“DADDY!” Lisa Marie sobs into his chest. “You’re awake!”

The next hour or so is a flurry of activity with doctors and nurses surrounding him asking him questions and checking the various machines around him. Now that he’s awake he is able to get a good look at what you left him: A small crescent made of smooth white stone and a very broken gold chain.

You were real, he thinks, practically giddy before he’s quickly brought back to Earth as he searches the room only to find you’re not there. Even seeing Priscilla after so long since the divorce doesn’t do much to soften his disappointment at your absence.

“‘Cilla what the hell happened that night?” he would ask after Lisa had fallen asleep tucked into his side. He had avoided the topic as long as he could stand by this point, the doctors keeping quiet about it.

She takes a long sigh, her eyes glassy, before she gazes out the window and upon seeing the International in the distance she hardens herself for what she has to say. “You stopped breathing. From what the doctors here told me, Dr. Nick gave you way too much of something and you just stopped. There was a girl in the front row that was able to keep you goin’ until the ambulance got there.”

“Who was she? The girl who saved me.”

Priscilla shrugs at this, “Just some nurse.”

She has never been more wrong about anything, Elvis decides at that moment. “What was her name?” Elvis questions, maybe a little harsher than needed.

Priscilla looks slightly taken aback at his intensity, “I don’t know Elvis. I got here the day after you collapsed and when I learned what she did, I wanted to thank her personally. But even the guys say she was long gone by the time they got here the same night.”

This makes him incredibly sad, that you would leave him so soon after you saved him.

“Elvis,” Priscilla says severely. “I’m not going to put Lisa through this again. So either you shape up and go to that place in San Diego, or…” she cracks at this one. “Or you’ll never see either of us again.” It’s certainly not a light threat for her to make, Elvis realizes, but nobody wants to watch a person slowly kill themself. And as he rubs his thumb along the pendant of your necklace, he realizes why you had to go.

Jerry finally came to see him the next day, looking worse than Elvis felt. Him and his father had been given the hard job of damage control for the whole incident, as Elvis has now found himself without a manager. Apparently some of the “medicine” in Dr. Nick's bag was at best less than reputable and at worst fully illegal, and when pressed Nick pointed the finger at The Colonel. Both of them were taken into custody and were currently under investigation, but considering the world of shit the two have found themselves in, it looks like their best bet will be to pay damages and more.

In real time Elvis heard as their house of cards fell apart, and suddenly the prospect of his life didn’t seem as daunting as it did when he accepted his death a week ago. Even if he had died, this was all inevitably meant to come out, the only difference being he wouldn’t have been here to see it.

But he is still here, all thanks to you. His Angel.

In one fell swoop, you not only saved his life, but made his life worth living again. Even if you were of this Earth, there is no doubt in his mind that you were heaven-sent. The lord works in mysterious ways and ain’t no way this was all a coincidence. You were meant to be in that audience. He was meant to have gotten to this point. You were both destined to be.

To him the message couldn’t be clearer: He had to leave Vegas, but he sure as hell wasn’t going to leave you.

“Jerry this is it. I gotta get clean,” Elvis says, clutching onto the token you left for him. This has been a long time coming, he didn’t listen when he was told the obvious by Priscilla, by his boys, even by himself. “‘Cilla told me about this place in San Diego, and I think I best go.”

“Course, EP,” he says with a comforting hand on his shoulder. “You take the time you need, and I’ll handle everything from the outside.”

“You’re a good man,” he says as he hesitates about what he’s going to request next. Of course Jerry is no stranger to a task like this, but this ain’t like those other times. Because you’re not just some girl he wants to fuck between shows, you’re his angel. But he himself won’t be able to do this while he’s getting clean. “While I’m in there, I need you to do somethin’ for me” Elvis said, surer in his next course of action than he has been in years.

The next few months were hard, honestly if it weren’t for knowing that he had to get better before he could see you again, he’s not sure he would have lasted. So he followed all the rules, took what the doctors gave him, went to therapy, the whole nine yards. There were even days where he could hardly get out of bed, it was so bad.

But it was you, his angel, that gave him strength. Those days in rehab when he felt so cold to the point of shaking, he thought of your warm touch, and he could feel himself steady. When he felt his chest getting tight, he imagined your lips on his breathing life back into him, and he would breathe easier. The nights when he could do nothing but pace around his room restless and irritable, he would press your necklace to his lips and recite a prayer to you, and he would dream sweet dreams of a life with you. He made vows of loving and cherishing you once he found you, and promises of everything the two of you would do once he got clean. How the both of you would never see that hellish place again, and how happy you would be together.

Every single success he had in rehab was because of you, but as his leave date approached he still worried about how long he would be able to keep this up without you. However he trusts Jerry, that if you weren’t already back at Graceland, then at the very least he would know where to find you.

But Jerry failed. He couldn’t find you, and Elvis’ subsequent rage was one for the history books. All of them had the gall to be surprised at his reaction, having never seen him getting so worked up about a girl.

They don’t understand, he thought. You’re not just some girl. You’re my angel.

The only thing that was able to reel him back was their hail mary of a plan to lure you out. The closest any of them could come was that you were in some way associated with the ER he ended up at, but nothing else. He hated the idea of going back to Vegas, but if it brought you back to him, so be it. You walked into hell to save him, so how could he do any less for you?

The days leading up to his last Vegas show, he spends time with Lisa Marie, knowing that he won’t be able to do so again until he’s found you. On that last night she ends up asking for a story, and he could only really think of one that was worth telling. He told her the story of the foolish king, the evil wizard, and the beautiful angel. How the angel was sent by the lord himself to save the king from the evil wizards clutches. And it was with her help was the King finally able to banish the evil wizard forever.

“And did they live happily ever after Daddy?” she asked while drawing you as he described.

He pauses at that and looks down as he fidgets with your necklace before he says, “They sure will baby girl.”

—-----------------------

You were not having a good time.

Of course you would be the one responsible for patching up almost ten men after a bachelor party ended in a knife fight. Only in Vegas, you think as you stitch up your third man that night. You scowl slightly at the crooked sutures before you, but you try to hide that considering that the man before you is one of the more affable (read:sober) ones in the group.

I’m out of practice, you think bitterly. Luckily the rest of your lot seem to only have surface wounds that just require bandaging, so you don’t have to see your work get progressively sloppier. Even though you had been back for awhile since your leave, you had been readjusting to the pace of the ward, and tonight was the first night Verna, your Senior Nurse, trusted you to handle more than administrative work.

You’re not sure if you can blame your poor job entirely on being out of practice as there is still some stiffness in your now mostly healed hand, though you’re not about to go saying anything lest Verna hear anything about it. That traitor, you think, who turned what was supposed to be a two week mandatory vacation, and added a three-month paid medical leave for a broken hand, in spite of your protests. So the last thing you want or need is more time off.

What stings the most about the injury to your hand was that it wasn’t the initial injury that did the most damage it was the fact that you kept using it that really fucked it up. And Verna was able to point that out as a metaphor for why you were in desperate need of a break.

Though it’s not like you had a choice but to keep using it that night. And in all honesty you would do it all over again.

Once you finish up on the lot of them and have them on their way out, all under some light painkillers and apparently the best of friends again, you figure now is as good a time as any to take your lunch. It’s a Friday night, from experience you know things are only going to get progressively crazier tonight, and eating now as opposed to later is the way to go. So you make your way to the cafeteria for the blandest food in the world, and find your work mom.

When you first began at this ER, Verna had all but immediately adopted you as her own, and what started out as an overbearing and slightly annoying mentor relationship, turned into a more endearing friendship than you could have imagined. Though that didn’t mean she still didn’t have those overbearing tendencies of hers, as evidenced by her previous crusade to get you to finally use your accrued vacation days. And the way she’s practically buzzing in her seat tells you that you haven’t seen the last of it.

“What are you planning?” you question as you sit down with your food.

“What do you mean?” she says feigning innocence.

“You have that same look in your eye that you get when you’re scheming something that will inevitably teach me a lesson about my life and/or job,” you say, self-aware as to how these things usually go.

“Bones, you’re being paranoid,” she all but sings, and you can’t help but roll your eyes at the use of your nickname. Nurse Bones the rest of the staff call you, after the Star Trek character, and you can’t say it doesn’t fit. Abrasive and brusque is how you’re usually described by patients, and admittedly you could stand to work on your bedside manner. But to be fair it tends to be the very thing that’ll keep most patients alive. Due to your stubborn attitude, you have found that you have a knack for getting answers out of even the most belligerent patients, which has done wonders in saving time and reducing the likelihood of accidentally causing more damage due to a patient lying.

You narrow your eyes at her, but she still maintains that innocent smile.

“By the way, you have next Friday off,” she casually drops, while taking a sip of her coffee.

“Goddamn it, Verna.”

She puts her hands up in defense with an easy smile. “If you want you can think of it as work considering you’re going to be representing the hospital itself.”

You sigh in defeat knowing you can’t say no to her. “What is this all about?”

“Oh just about a certain rockstar who's doing his final performance in the city and he wants the entire medical staff that saved his life present,” she says, all the while, still able to maintain the coy act.

It admittedly takes you longer than it should to put the pieces together because you honestly haven't thought about that night in a while. When your sisters had come to you with the extra ticket to the concert you had been excited for it, even going so far as to plan for it to be the kick off to the vacation Verna had been bullying you into taking.

“You’re one of my best nurses in the ward,” she had argued. “The last thing I need is for you to get burnt out from working too hard.”

You didn’t expect much from the vacation itself, you just wanted to sleep, see a couple movies, maybe finally get around to saying yes to that drink with that cute x-ray tech.

Only as usual the lord himself laughed at your plans. The girl you asked to sub your scheduled shift came down with a bad stomach flu, and was unable to make it, forcing you to work a double. And even when you were officially over with your shift, you were reluctant to leave due to how full the waiting room looked. If it weren’t for Verna all but shoving you into the cab meant for the International, putting a twenty in your hand, and ordering you to have fun, you probably would have skipped the concert entirely.

You were still dressed for work, so you were forced to try your luck with one of the shops at the casino, and the best you could find was a white sundress. You usually try to avoid white, because something about it being the color of your uniform just made you antsy as though you were still on duty. But the alternative was going to a show in your dowdy nursing gown, so you ended up buying it anyway.

When you were able to meet up with your sisters, they were both in contrast dressed to the nines, making you feel even more underdressed. In spite of the less than ideal start to the night, you were determined to enjoy yourself. After all this concert was supposed to be the official marker to the start of your vacation, and it was also fulfilling one of your childhood dreams of seeing him live. And while your “love” for him had cooled since you were 12, that didn’t mean you were any less excited when one of your sisters had won front row seats to his show.

When he walked out onto that stage all your troubles were seemingly forgotten and you could focus on this captivating man. He was nothing short of amazing to see live, and you truly believe that your younger self simply didn’t think big enough when picturing what it would be like to see him up close and personal, especially with how good the seats you got were. He took all of your expectations of it and blew them all away.

Then he started getting a little wobbly.

Then he started getting very wobbly.

Then Elvis fucking Presley had the audacity to nearly slip into a coma right in front of you.

“Ok, but… I wasn’t officially on the emergency team, so I don’t technically count,” you say in an attempt to worm your way out of the night off, all the while stabbing at your potato salad in your frustration.

“Ok, but technically,” she teases. “You belong there more than anybody considering you did pretty much all the work of stabilizing him.”

“I was just doing what anybody would have done,” you downplay.

“Y/N, you were literally surrounded by hundreds of people that night, and nobody acted like you did. Hell not even that doctor that was there did what you did.”

You huff at that, because thinking about that fucking doctor will always get you heated. You’ve encountered your fair share of inadequate doctors before, but Elvis’ personal physician crossed over into cartoonishly incompetent. What kind of doctor who is not only prescribing morphine, let alone over-prescribing it, doesn’t carry any goddamn naloxone on him. And just as the cherry on this very fucked up sundae he tried to use an amphetamine in an effort to cancel out the opioid effects. That is the kind of logic that has brought many users to the ER or worse the morgue, and you at least expected better from a trained medical professional.

But nothing pissed you off more than the penguin looking man, who you would later learn is/was Elvis’ manager, asking if he would still be able to do the midnight performance. You remember just giving him a look, all the while maintaining your rhythm on Elvis’ chest, and you were able to make that man take a step back in fear. The way he stood there and watched as he shook like a leaf, you could tell whose fault this was.

Truly that entire night experience should serve as a testament to both your focus and your patience. Though you did have to remind yourself after every stupid question and comment that came from either of those mens mouths, that you had to focus on preventing brain damage in Elvis, and not try to induce it in those two. You were so fucking close to trying it when Penguin man had the audacity to criticize you on being too rough with your CPR technique, but lucky for him, the EMTs had finally gotten there.

On the other hand, the luckiest break you had all night was that you were familiar with one of the paramedics, so you were allowed inside the ambulance as an extra set of hands, and because no immediate family could be found. After you were able to stabilize him with the Naloxone and the paddles, you were able to catch up with Verna at the ER, and warn her of what that stupid doctor was trying to do back there.

Though by the time you had gotten there, the adrenaline had subsided and you finally noticed the throbbing pain in your hand. You had caught his head before it could hit the floor, which you knew was the equivalent to a bowling ball dropping on to your hand, so you’re not surprised that it did cause some damage to you. You put a brace on your hand and end up sleeping in Verna’s office until her shift ended and she could take you home. The injury turned out to be more severe than you initially thought, and you were put on Medical leave against your will for months.

“How ‘bout this Bones,” she says. “As repayment for losing your necklace, you’ll be my date to the concert.”

You know better than most that Verna is not one to be messed with, and the fact that she’s resorted to guilt tripping this early, means she desperately wants you to go. The necklace in question is the one she gave you after your first successful year in the department, something she gives all the nurses that choose to stay put in the hell that is Vegas’ premier Emergency Ward. Each one was unique to the recipient and yours, in reference to your nickname, was a small ivory stone shaped like horns held by a delicate gold chain. So delicate in fact you somehow lost it somewhere between here and the International with no clear picture as to when exactly it happened.

You let out a long sigh before conceding. In response she mockingly rubs her hands together like a supervillain, and says, “Haha, my dastardly plan to get you to have a fun night has worked.”

“I had fun at the last show,” you argue.

“Y/N, I worry about you if that was your definition of fun.” she says, and you throw a pea at her. “Also I hear rumors that a certain x-ray tech also got a ticket.” she whispers conspiratorially.

This does get a bashful smile out of you. If you can take one thing away from that forced medical leave was that you did end up having those drinks with Ricky. And a few more after that. And then some dinner. Currently you’re in that awkward “what are we” stage that neither of you are too eager to be the ones to define. But hopefully this concert will be the turning point for that.

“By the way, we were asked to wear all white,” Verna casually drops, as she walks away from the table.

“Goddamn it, Verna,” you curse with a mouthful of jello.

The week passes faster than you would have liked, and suddenly it’s friday night. You didn’t really have the time nor the motivation to buy yet another white dress that would sit in your closet, so you end up once again in front of the International in the same sundress, though this time with notably better company.

Though that feeling of being underdressed is somehow worse considering who could actually afford to go to his final concert this time around. His near death experience and the accusations that his previous doctor and manager were facing had caused his fans to rally around him after this, and factoring in that this is going to be his last performance stateside, the tickets to this show were perhaps some of the most expensive in the history of Vegas. There were rumors that even the nosebleeds would cost you somewhere in the $70 range, so you could only imagine what your front row seats would have cost. But the fact that these tickets apparently sold out within minutes was a testament to how beloved he still is.

It’s not exactly a secret amongst the staff that you had been the mysterious good samaritan at the concert, but by the time you had gotten back from leave, Elvis being in your ward had become old news. You weren’t exactly eager to spill, and no one was curious enough to ask. Though you did get a few questions this week from some of the more vulgar nurses asking if you had tried to slip a little tongue when giving him mouth to mouth. You laughed it off and half-jokingly replied, how if anything he did. You’re seated between Verna and Ricky, who had the honor of making sure you hadn’t accidentally cracked a rib when performing CPR on the King, farther away from the stage than you were last time, though you weren’t too cut up about it. You’re one for one for people nearly dying when you’re in the front row, and you figure if there’s a repeat performance tonight someone else can take over this time.

As you’re talking to Ricky as to what songs he’s hoping to hear, you don’t so much as hear but feel the familiar horns start to blare, building anticipation amongst the crowd, and evidently yourself as you’re teased over the little dance you’re doing in your seat. And as the music starts to build, you have to remind yourself that you’re still technically at a work event, so you can’t get too wild. Though with the atmosphere you find yourself in, you can’t guarantee your best behavior if you can get Ricky alone.

Then he finally steps out and it’s just as magnificent as you remember. He looks alot better this time around, far more sure footed in his steps and the white jumpsuit with its gold accents stood as a nice contrast to his tanned skin, and you and the rest of the crowd show your love when you see the cape in all it’s angelic winged glory. Even the light sheen of sweat already on his face is doing wonders of making him look as though he’s glowing, as opposed to sickly like his last show.

Considering how well you thought his last concert was when he was high off his ass on morphine and on death’s door, it’s no surprise how incredible this one is, when he’s far more present and alert this time around. Though more being the operative word, as he does seem to be somewhat distracted this time around, and he does seem to hover around the two tables the hospital staff are at.

You can hardly fault him for feeling a little uneasy about being back on stage again after he nearly died on one. Oddly enough you can even see the logic of having an entire medical team ready at a moment's notice for his return if nothing but for the comfort of that extra level of security.

But you’re not here to analyze why a famous man does what he does, you’re here to have a good time, so that’s what you do; You sing, you dance, you laugh at Elvis’ jokes, you flirt with Ricky, you take advantage of your tables covered tab, the whole nine yards. All too soon though it feels like the concert wraps up quicker this time, though you figure he’s simply eager to get his world tour started as soon as possible.

“I’d like to turn the house lights down,” he says.“Now that you’ve seen me I’d like to take a look atchu.” This seems familiar, you think flippantly. “Before I go, I wanna give a special thanks to a few people up front here. The emergency staff of UMC Hospital, Ladies and Gentleman.”

There is a resounding round of applause for your group as the spotlight hits the tables, and you’re just drunk enough to not retreat from the praise and recognition and simply give a cursory wave to the crowd. “But there’s one special lil’ lady here that deserves recognition. Without her folks, I can promise I wouldn’t be here tonight.”

You look around expecting to see Priscilla or maybe even his daughter somewhere around here, but you’re quickly wrenched from your thoughts as you feel the table beneath your elbows jostle a little. You look back toward the stage and find that Elvis no longer occupies it. Instead he is walking on top of your table and giving no regard to the glasses or items atop it, your co-workers acting quickly to save what they can. Before you can even put together who exactly he’s walking toward, you find the king of rock and roll crouching down before you.

“What’s your name angel?” he asks you with the biggest grin on his face, before putting the mic in front of you. The room itself is dead silent, everybody apparently eager to hear your answer, and Elvis, even more so, with the way he’s looking at you. You even move slightly to the left in some vain hope that he’s talking to someone behind you only for the mic to follow you. Whatever drunkenly warm feelings about attention you had quickly vanished, and the only thing stopping you from crawling under the table is that you’re not sure he wouldn’t follow.

You’re floundering and also painfully aware of the seconds that are ticking away, making your pause all the more uncomfortable, and you’re barely able to squeak out your name.

Oh my god, do I really sound like that? You think mortified after hearing your answer repeated through the amplifiers.

“Beautiful,” he says, his eyes shining and he looks at you as though you hang the stars themselves. “Folks, y’all don’t know it, but Y/N here is my very own Guardian Angel.” His statement generating “awws” from the crowd. “Last time I saw her, she left something with me and I think it’s high time I give it back.”

And with a flick of his wrists he produces a gold chain with a bright white pendant at the bottom of it, and you’re stunned when you recognize it, truly believing it was lost forever to you. It’s mind boggling to think it had been with him this entire time, having figured it was in a ditch or melted down by this point. You reach out for it hoping this will be the end of the interaction and you can begin to work on forgetting this ever happened, only for him to pull back.

“...but only if she goes to dinner with me first,” he says mischievously. At his proposition the audience responds with a series of wolf whistles and applause, which only amps up your anxiety of being seen, and it’s made all the worse when some women (some of whom you know) are trying to answer yes for you.

Pressure and stress is something you’re familiar with, but the scrutiny you're currently under not only with your co-workers, but an entire room full of strangers makes you want to shrivel up and die. This feeling is only further perpetuated by the dazzling grin he’s giving you. Words fail you and you doubt anything that comes out of your mouth will be even the least bit coherent, so you instead shake your head in the affirmative before you bury your face in your hands.

“She said yes folks,” he says, his grin going from ear to ear at this point, and the crowd goes wild. This is all punctuated by the return of the music as Elvis winks at you and makes his way back to the stage. The music itself stands in stark contrast to how you’re feeling, sounding bold and triumphant, as you’re escorted backstage trying to hunch in on yourself and avoid being seen. You’re even more mortified as you recognize the lyrics he’s singing, and you purposefully try to avoid looking at him.

Take my hand

Take my whole life too

For I can’t help

Fallin’ in love with you

You’re used to the break neck speed that comes with the territory of working in the ER, but even this is going far too fast for you. Not even five minutes ago you were trying to figure out if you were too dressed up for a burger with Ricky, now you’re standing alone in a penthouse suite waiting for the most famous man in the world for a … a date?

Oh god Ricky, you remember. How are you going to explain this to him? Things were going so well, and you planned to finally sleep with him tonight, but now this happened. And oh… fuck, that’s what people are going to assume what’s happening right now isn’t it? Given Elvis’ reputation, you can deny until you're blue in the face that nothing happened and you’re still unlikely to be believed.

…Because nothing will happen, you’ll eat, you’ll make small talk, he’ll thank you for your part in his life being saved, and you’ll never have to think of this night again. It wasn’t so much that the necklace meant that much to you, but you weren’t exactly in a place to say no to him at that moment. So maybe if you leave right now…

Your fleeting thoughts of running are interrupted by the hand suddenly on your shoulder, making you nearly jump out of your skin. “Woah there angel, settle down now. It’s just me,” he says softly.

That’s hardly comforting, you think. You open your mouth determined to leave at this point only for him to hold up a finger to you before grabbing a folded piece of paper from the piano and handing it to you. You’re hesitant to open it until he says, “my daughter begged me to give this to you if I ever saw you again.” You unfurl it to find what is clearly a child's drawing of an angel with a nurse cap, though with seemingly your general coloring as well as your necklace. The bottom reads “thAnK U 4 sAVing mY dAdY, love lisA.” You can’t help but crack a smile at this, and you feel yourself lose some of that tension you walked in with.

He seems pleased with your reaction, rubbing the back of his neck as he explains how his daughter came up with the angel moniker for you and it kind of stuck for him, considering how he didn’t know your name.

“It’s fine,” you wave away. “I get trying to explain it to her in a way she’d understand.”

“She’s been sayin’ for awhile now that she wants to be a nurse when she grows up,” he admits with a bit of a chuckle. You can’t help the way your heart melts at that. “Hope you don’t mind, I ordered food already. I-I figured you’d wouldn’t want to eat so late.”

“I don’t mind,” you reassure, amused at his slight stutter. “The job’s made me a bit of a night owl, so I’m more on lunch time right now.”

“Guess we got time then,” he says, settling down with a bottle of wine at a table by the window.

“I guess we do,” you say, unable to hold back a smile..

The longer you stick around though, the easier it is to talk to him, his hair is messy and he’s out of the jumpsuit so it’s easy to forget that you are talking to the one and only Elvis Presley. So engrossed in your conversation you hardly notice when the food arrives, and the two of you hardly touch it. He looks at you with that same dopey smile as you talk about your life, your job, anything really. And he reciprocates talking about the places he’s been, the places he’s going and beyond. He even bashfully admits he came back to Vegas for the last time in order to find you and thank you properly.

“I swear Angel, I tried lookin’ for ya after I got out,” he sighs, sending a dirty look at the city right outside the window, his face highlighted by the neon lights below. “I was afraid this godforsaken city swallowed ya whole.”

“Yeah Vegas’ll do that to you,” you commiserate with him, a smile on your face gazing out the window. “It’s an absolute cesspit here.”

“You ever think about leavin’?”

“No, not really,” you say, hardly needing a second to answer, as you take a sip of your drink. You grew up here so you hold no illusions to the glitz and glamor that the city holds. Not to mention your job primarily consists of dealing with patients who are often the byproduct of this awful city. But this is still the city where you were born, where you’ve made your life. A life you’re honestly proud of.

He looks taken aback by your response, and in that moment you have the pleasure of seeing a man who has been nothing but confident and sure of himself stumble over his words. “Re-really? There ain’t no place in this whole world y-you’d rather be.”

“Nah,” you say casually, holding two fingers up. “There are two types of people who live here, ‘This place is a pit and I’m leaving’ or ‘this place is a pit and I’m never fucking leaving.’ No real reason beyond just… liking it here,” you guess shrugging your shoulders. “Besides, I just got back from medical leave, I think I've had enough of a vacation for awhile,” you say, your drink having loosened your tongue.

“What happened?” he asks, his brow furrowed, looking genuinely concerned for you.

“Oh, umm…” you say, sucking your teeth. And that’s really the elephant in the room neither of you are addressing. The fact that you’re only here because of what you did for him. “Well I kinda broke my hand… that night… when I caught you.” You follow this with perhaps the most awkward laugh, which you quickly cutoff when you see the guilty look on his face.

As you're floundering for some sort of recovery, he gently takes your previously injured hand in his, as he places a small kiss to the back of it. “I’m sorry I put you through so much trouble.” he whispers against your hand. “I can’t thank you enough.”

“Oh don’t worry about that,” you say, trying to even out your breathing, suddenly going from pleasantly to too warm in a matter of moments. “I would have done the same for anybody else.”

“But not anybody else coulda done whatchu did.” he says. “It’s almost sounds like it was all meant to be,”

“That’s one way of looking at it,” you say, sipping your drink. “But if this city has taught me anything in all the years I’ve lived here, it is that luck, good or bad, has its hands in almost everything.”

“You’re too good for this rotten city,” he says, softly rubbing his thumb along your knuckles, his ocean blue eyes piercing into your own. “Y/N, this city ain’t good for no one,” he says. “You gotta get you outta here.”

“Elvis…” you say, putting down your drink. “I’m not saying this city is good, but I’m not saying it’s all bad. It just… is. And I’m fine here. I’ve built my life here and I’m really not interested in leaving.”

“Not even for me?”

That catches you off guard and you’re at a loss for words, because who says that to someone they’ve only just met. And instead of giving an actual answer, you give a short, nervous laugh, and make a comment as to how funny he is. Though internally you’re questioning if his eyes have always been this intense.

“You know when I was in rehab,” he trails on looking at your connected hands. “That necklace a yours, got me through some of the darkest times I been through.”

You swallow thickly at his admission. “Well rehab is one of the hardest things to do. If you want to hold on-”

“No, no Angel,” he chuckles in that deep baritone of his, as he removes the pendant from his wrist. “I’m a man of my word. And I promised to give it back.” He stands up from the sofa, and holds out his hand to you. “But first, I at least want to see you wearin’ it.”

You’re not really thinking anymore, or maybe your thoughts are being drowned out by your pounding heart beat, as you stand up and turn away from him, allowing him to put it on you. Whether it’s the heat radiating off of him from his close proximity to you or the way his hands feel brushing lightly against your neck, your decision is made even before he plants a kiss behind your ear.

Your relationship prospects with Ricky are shot, most of the people you work with saw you leave with him, and they are all gonna assume what they want about what the two of you did. So why not do what you’re going to be accused of? Really there are other reasons not to, but they all die as soon as your lips meet his.

It only occurs to you now that this is not the first time this has happened, but you could hardly compare either experience. The mouth that ravages your own is worlds different from the cold lips you breathed life back into, and you find your hand even wandering into his open shirt as you relish in the now strong and steady heartbeat beneath your palm. He stops at that, noticing what you’re doing, and you see his eyes go glassy for a moment before he goes right back to kissing you, though this time around it’s slower, more… tender, as he leads you back to his bed.

He probably has reasons of his own for this, though you struggle to understand them. Initially you think, rather crudely, that since he’s leaving in the morning, never to return, you suppose you’ll be his final ‘what happens in Vegas.’ But everything he does once you’re in his bed doesn’t quite match up with this assessment.

The way he touches you, it’s not sex, it’s not fucking, it’s not even love making, if you had to call it anything, more akin to worship. Leaving not a single inch of your body untouched as he undresses you, he takes his time to kiss every spot and blemish on you, even paying special attention to the hand he had inadvertently broken, as though in penance. He whispers something into your skin with each kiss, and you’re not able to make out what, but he has an almost reverent tone, as though he were praying. Though any curiosity you had for his words is quickly lost when you feel him bury his face in your cunt.

He’s still fully dressed, you notice, the silky caress of his shirt on the back of your thighs, as you feel his wicked tongue spear inside you. The idea of being so exposed is usually horrifying to you, but now, here with him, you don’t even think about that, truly lost in the pleasure he’s giving you, and you’re sure to be very vocal in your appreciation. He eventually removes his mouth, and you let out an embarrassing little whimper at the loss until you feel the cool metal of his rings brushing your burning core. You can only imagine what kind of image you make right now writhing and unraveling on this man's fingers, wearing nothing but your necklace. From the pleased rumble that emanates from his chest he approves wholeheartedly as he sits on his knees to get a better look at you. He even goes so far as to readjust your necklace so it rests prettily between your breasts, looking for that perfect image of you.

Much of the night proceeds like that, his own pleasure apparently put to the side, as he adjusts you into whatever position he cares to see; sideways, on all fours, above his face, on your knees with your hands holding the headboard, standing up with your back against the window, etc. For his part, he simply watches you fall apart over and over again on his tongue, his fingers, or whatever body part of his you wrap your legs around.

You begin to suspect that this is some fucked up form of repayment for what you did, and several times through out you quite literally paw at his belt in an attempt to get him to join in. Each time he gently takes a hold of your hands, reassuring you each time he’s focused on you alone.

What finally gets him to crack is when you beg tears streaming down your face, “please I need it,” your voice whiny and your eyes frantic to behold all of him. You bring your mouth to his as you whisper, “I need you.” He’s quick to strip down after your plea, and seeing him fully leaves your mouth as dry as the mojave. For both personal and professional reasons, you’re no stranger to the male anatomy, but seeing his is… baffling, simply put.

You feel like a teenager fantasizing in your room about your favorite celebrity again, simply due to how perfect this all feels. Too perfect in fact. You’ve lived long enough to know that things that are too good to be true, usually are, especially in this town. But these lessons are far from your mind as he goes at an agonizingly slow pace to push himself into you, reaching depths you’ve never even imagined ever reaching. You’re left a panting mess beneath him savoring the delicious stretch he’s causing you, and you’re only quieted as he takes your lips once again.

Once you’ve had time to adjust to him being buried to the hilt within you, you beg him to move as you feel that knot in the pit of your belly begin to form once again. He seems charmed by how needy you’ve become, going at a near snail pace within you, telling you to say how you were his. So desperate were you, that you agreed without even thinking about it.

He rewards you with a sweet kiss, as he starts to pick up the pace. You throw your head from side to side as aching whimpers escape your lips, eyes squeezed shut because dear lord, does he know how to move his hips. He takes a hold of your chin, “look at me Angel. Look only at me.” he orders, his lips barely brushing your ear. You're in no position to argue, and especially as he pins your wrists above your head.

He’s so beautiful, you think to yourself as you open your eyes to see him; the light shimmer of sweat on his brow, the slope of his nose, the fullness of his lips, truly this man is too good to be true. But as he picks up the pace to be far more brutal and punishing, you become lost to all the sensations he’s causing you. Despite the tears streaming down your face you can’t say you’re not enjoying yourself, reveling in his incoherent whispers in your ear and begging for him to fill you up over and over again.

By the time you both finished, the two of you have been at it for what feels like hours at this point, and it is only now as the early morning rays of the sun hit the side of his face do you realize how late (or early?) it is. And as he takes in the image of you below him in the light of day for the first time, your angelic image is only further cemented in his mind, he gives you a tender kiss as he has the curtains closed and he’s absolutely sure of what he has to do next.

You wake up to the sound of voices and rummaging in the other room, and the taste of regret on your tongue. Regret tastes a lot like dehydration, you think, helping yourself to both the full glass of water and the tylenol on the nightstand. The curtains and your pounding head make it impossible to tell what time it is or how long you slept. You know you’re in no condition to work, but contemplate going anyway, as you can only imagine what kind of shit you’re going to get from doing so. But with the state of your back right now, you don’t really have a choice.

You’re using the low light peeking beneath the door to gather what you can of your outfit, though as you blindly scour the room, you would settle for your dress and purse at this point. Your head is fuzzy at best so you hardly notice that the white dress you put on is completely different from the one you arrived in, nor did you pay any mind to the salty aftertaste on the back of your tongue that the pills left.

There’s no getting around that you’re about to embark on the most humiliating walk of shame in history, but you were at least grateful that he hadn’t been there when you woke up. You’re glad to have avoided that awkward encounter at the very least. But this small mercy was quickly snatched from you as you open the door only to walk right into the back of the man you were hoping to avoid.

Wait… how did I miss that? You think blearily. You don’t have the luxury of an answer as he quickly turns around and you watch as his face lights up upon seeing you.

“Sorry for waking you Angel,” he says, as he wraps an arm around your waist to give you a quick peck on the lips. “Just had to pack up a few things before we go.” While you aren’t someone prone to having one night stands, you also can’t think of anything to say to this man whom you’re never going to see again. At least he won’t see you, while you’ll probably have to live the rest of your life seeing him as a celebrity.

“It’s fine” you say as you look around the room behind him for your purse. A hopeless endeavor as there are far too many men in the room, who all quickly avert their eyes from you. Though you do see it’s well past sunset, and that just adds to your embarrassment.

“How ya feelin’ Angel?” you hear from him as he puts a hand on your forehead. The cool metal of his rings feel heavenly, but you are also a woman on a mission. The mission being get the hell out of here.

“I’m okay,” you answer, pulling away. “I-I hope you don’t mind I used the aspirin on the nightstand.”

You see his smile lift ever so slightly at that, “That’s why it was there Darlin’. Why don’t I take you home now?”

“Oh you don’t have to do that,” you wave away as he’s walking you to the door.

“You don’t gotta worry Angel,” he reassures you, his arm already slung around your shoulder. “I don’t mind one bit. Hell it’s probably on my way.”

“...ok.” You answer, unenthusiastic at the prospect of having to see him more. But being seen by others as you are right now doesn’t sound any more appealing.

As you're making your way down the hallway with him, you remember your purse that is back in the room. And as you swivel around, you feel the night hitting you all at once, and you’re forced to lean on Elvis to keep your balance. He catches you and with an arm around your waist he helps you to the elevator.

“Wait,” you say weakly. “My purse.”

“Don’t worry, Angel,” he says, kissing your hand. “It’s downstairs already.”

That’s not where I left it, you think, when you do in fact find it already in the backseat of the town car. You tell the driver where your apartment is before pressing your head to the cool glass of the window, your eyes closed. Even with the tinted windows, the neon lights of the strip are doing a number on your eyes (later you would wish that you had chanced it and gotten one last look at home). You don’t understand how you’re this tired considering how much you’ve already slept and you simply lean in further into him, waiting for that aspirin to kick in.

You’re not sure as to how much time passes, but eventually he does help you out of the car and up some stairs. You’ll kick yourself later for not realizing sooner where you were until you felt Elvis start to buckle in your seatbelt. You open your eyes, but even with your blurry vision you recognize that this is definitely not your apartment.

You struggle at your harness, but your fingers aren’t cooperating whatsoever and you’re left helplessly pawing at it. You see others enter but your pleads that you have to leave fall on deaf ears as they all conspicuously avoid looking at you.

You don’t understand why you’re like this, because other than the drinking from the night before you hadn’t had anything other than… the aspirin.

How could you be so stupid? How could you have walked into this trap? Why did you think you could trust him? You start sobbing as you hear the cabin door close, because you have no answer for any of these.

“Please I have to go home,” you weep.

“I am takin’ you home Angel.” and you have no choice but to lean on him as he brings you closer.

Finally once you’re in the air he unbuckles and stands the both of you up. Men you vaguely recognize from the hotel, all again avert their eyes as Elvis proceeds to walk you down the aisle and you beg them to help you. You’re still feeling the effects of whatever he gave you so you don’t really put up much of a fight until he opens the door and you see a bed on the other side.

“I ain’t gon’ hurt you Angel,” he says soothingly. You don’t believe him. “I know you’re mad right now, but I know one day you’ll forgive me. Because this is for your own good.”

“Why?” you sob into his shoulder as he lays you both down. “Why me?”

“Because the lord himself brought us together, Angel.” he says and you see that manic look you’d only gotten glimpses of in your short time together on full display. “And what God has brought together, let no man separate.”

“What?”

“Angel I know you may not believe in all of it,” he says, rubbing your cheek. “But I don’t believe it was just a coincidence that you were there that night. I know someone up above sent you to look out for me. And I ain’t gon’ let you slip away again.”

This man… this man had no issue ripping you away from your life all under some delusion that you needed saving, because that’s what he needed. You’re under the control of a man that cast you as his savior… and god forbid should you ever turn out to be otherwise. This is your life now, because no good deed goes unpunished.

“You and me, Angel.” he says merrily into your hair, holding your hand that rests above his heart, giving you a tender kiss on your forehead. “Today we’re flyin’ away for good.”

Taglist

@venus-haze @djsjs13949 @ilovehobi101 @butlerslut @richardslady121 @giabelia @sydneyyyya @meetme0614 @tacozebra051 @myradiaz @thelifes-world @maythesunshineagain @rakitirakiti @lostteenagetale @j-v-9-2 @eliseinmemphis @dkayfixates @immi547 @thatbanditqueen @marriedtoeddie @cuteejeno

#elvis 2022 #yandere elvis #elvis x reader #yandere elvis presley #elvis #yandere x reader #yandere!elvis x reader #yandere austin!elvis x reader #yandere #austin!elvis x reader #austin!elvis #austin butler x reader #austin butler #elvis presley x reader #elvis presley

724 notes · View notes

axelsagewrites · 11 months

Note

Hey dear! I saw that your requests are open and I would like to know if you could write an imagine/oneshot nsfw Modern Daemon x poc fem reader where they are the definition of power couple, inspired in "partition" by Beyoncé, please?

Daemon Targaryen*Partition

Pairing: modern!Daemon x f!reader

Summary: pure smut following the song and music video of Beyonces partition (Youtube video here)

Warnings: m!receiving oral, limo sex, slight exhibitionism, praise, p in v sex, horny Daemon being horny Daemon, slight daddy kink, 18+

Word count: 2103

Masterlist Here

Three years ago, if someone had said you would be fixing yourself up in the back of a limousine on your way to be the guest of honour for the biggest company in Westeros you would’ve thought they were insane. However, two years ago you met Daemon Targaryen and within a week of knowing you he became obsessed with you. Even now two years later, a rock on your finger, and a wedding less than a few months away he worships the ground you walk on.

You originally had started as a secretary for one of the smallest branches of the Targaryen and Cooperated offices when you met Daemon who had been sent to over see the branch as some kind of punishment by his brother. The punishment turned into Daemons greatest blessing. With your insider scoop of the previous managers fuck ups and secrets he was able to whip it into one of the most profitable branches within months. When he was told, he’d be getting sent to another branch in a town over he agreed on one condition; you be promoted to his personal secretary and come with him as he travelled the country flipping the branches.

Then last week he got a call. Daemon had demanded to be able to finally settle down in one location as your wedding date approached. That’s when Viserys gave him the news. He’d be the permanent overseer of the new Gold Cloaks division in Kingslanding, his hometown and your future home. This time though Daemon insisted you no longer would just be a secretary. In both business and pleasure, you were his partner.

Viserys had insisted on some kind of grand opening of the branch for the investors. Neither you nor Daemon particularly wanted to meet these old men in outdated suits. The few business events you had attended you could practically feel the resentment dripping off the men and the judgement of their wives.

“Ignore them,” Daemon would tell you, “They’re just jealous you’re better at their jobs when they’ve been sitting on their arses their whole career doing nothing,”

“And their wives?” you would question.

Daemon would just smirk, “They’re just jealous they don’t look like you,”

You figured after tonight they’d have to show you some respect since it was you that would be hiring, firing, and promoting at the highest level. You’d watched as they all smooched their way up to Viserys and Daemon, watching how Otto Hightower practically tripped over his feet to be by Viserys’ side. Now you’d get to watch them trip over their feet to talk to you. you were going to enjoy it and be hot doing it.

Figuring you still had to look semi business related you opted to stick tight black dress that hit just above your knee and a well-fitting blouse over top to keep just enough of your cleavage covered. Covered enough so that Viserys new wife wouldn’t throw a fit but not enough to stop Daemons eyes from constantly wandering over your skin.

“Do we really have to go?” he drawled, sat on the leather sofa in the living room.

You could feel his eyes glued to your ass as you finished putting on your jewellery. “I did not get ready for the past 45 minutes to stay home doing nothing,”

“You could do me,” Daemon smirk was evident in his voice. You rolled your eyes as you finished applying your red lipstick in the mirror. In the time it had taken you to finish applying it Daemon had sneaked up behind you, grabbing you by your hips, “Stunning,” he praised, kissing your neck.

You leaned into his touch if only for a few moments to entertain him. You could feel him getting hard as he left soft kisses to your skin. God did he love the feeling of your skin. His hands had snuck around your waist to keep you firmly in place, “We’re gonna be late,” you laughed as he trailed the kisses up to your jaw.

After much insisting on your part, you finally got him into the car Viserys had sent to pick you up. You smiled politely at the driver through the rear-view mirror, but Daemon hadn’t even glanced at the man as his eyes gazed over your body.

You couldn’t stop the slight smirk when you noticed he was still hard just from looking at you. “I don’t think I can make it through this whole night,” Daemon whispered in your ear, his hot breath sending shivers down your spine, “when all I can think of is fucking you in our new office,”

It was hard to remain calm as his hand gripped your leg just above your knee before slowly trailing up, pushing the fabric of your skirt up along with it. “What do we have here?” Daemon asked with a grin when he noticed what he thought were tights was actually a garter and stockings. “It’s almost as if you wanted to fuck me this whole time,”

“Driver,” you said, struggling to keep your eyes off of Daemon. The man glanced back at you in the rear-view as you cleared your throat, “Roll up the partition please,”

A low chuckle left Daemons throat as the man nodded and pressed the button to raise the partition. “Don’t need him seeing you on your knees,” Daemon whispered in your ear.

As soon as the screen was up Daemons hands pushed your dress the rest of the way up, his hand running over your pussy only covered by the thong you had planned to surprise him with later, “Look at you all dressed up for me,” he said, his hot breath fanning your neck. “Wonder what’s under here,” he said and without warning his hands grasped the flimsy fabric.

You gasped when the buttons of your blouse flew across the car but had no time to complain as Daemon began to paw at your chest, his hands squeezing your tits as his mouth moved neck, leaving sloppy kisses to your skin.

Daemon groaned when you pushed his hands away, but his protests hushed when you moved to your knees in front of him. “So pretty for me,” he praised as one handheld your jaw, the other working on his belt.

As soon as he had unbuckled it your hands moved to unbutton his tailored suit trousers and pull down the zip. Daemon moved his boxers and finally his dick sprung free. It was painfully hard, red at the tip and dripping precum. “You gonna suck me off in a limo?” Daemon asked as he guided your head forward, practically moaning at how your eyes looked up at him, “You gonna be good for daddy?”

His words sent tingles in your body. You nodded gently, awestruck at the man in front of you in his perfectly fitted suit. His jaw somehow looked even sharper from down here. You maintained eye contact as you leaned forward and licked up his length, swirling your tongue lightly around his tip.

He groaned, his head falling back at the feeling of you leaving kitten licks around his length, focusing on the tip which begged for attention. “You feel so good,” he praised, his hand moving to the back of your head, “Can you take all of me baby?” Daemon asked as he guided your lips to his cock which twitched as you took it into your mouth, “So good,” Daemon moaned as you took him into your mouth.

You could feel your lipstick smudging but it didn’t matter anymore as you bobbed your head up and down his length, listening to how he groaned and moaned with each movement. His hand stayed on the back of your head, gripping your hair as your tongue swirled around his cock. Daemon couldn’t stop his hips from thrusting up at first, too obsessed with the feeling of your mouth. Your eyes began to water as his thrusts sunk him deeper into your mouth, hitting your throat but the way he moaned made it worth it.

His moans were ragged as your head bobbed up and down. You sneaked your hand up to cup his balls, squeezing them lightly in your hand making him groan loudly, his cock twitching in your mouth. It didn’t take long before you feel the salty sweet taste coating your mouth as his cum spilled down your throat.

When you pulled away you noticed the red marks smudged around his cock and you wondered how your lipstick looked now. Or worse your mascara. Daemon looked down at you through hooded eyes still filled with lust, “Driver,” he called, eyes still on you and your swollen lips, “How long till we get there?”

“15 minutes Sir,” he called back, his voice strained.

Daemon smirked, “Turn up the music,” he called back. With that the limo was flooded with the sound of Beyonce and an understanding.

Within seconds you were climbing into Daemons lap, your lips crashing onto his without caring about the lipstick that stained his skin. His hands settled on your ass, pushing your skirt up so he could grip your soft flesh. You gasped into the kiss as his hand spanked your ass twice firmly. You wondered how many it would take for him to leave a handprint.

Part of you wanted to test the theory but you only had so much time. you could feel him already hard again as you grinded your hips into his. “I want you,” you said, breaking the kiss as Daemon continued to grope your ass and hips. “Take me,” you said before returning your lips to his in a messy kiss.

Daemon groaned into the kiss. One of his hands moved from your ass to between your body as he pushed your panties to the side. He took his cock into his hand, running it over your wet folds before lining his tip up with your entrance. You took your que and slowly began to sink down onto his cock, moaning at the way it perfectly stretched you out.

His hand stayed between your bodies as he moved his fingers to rub circles into your clit. Even the kiss could no longer muffle your moans as you began to ride him. Daemon broke the kiss but only to pull your dress down to expose your tits. His lips soon found your nipples, taking turns gently sucking and nibbling on your hardened buds. His spare hand returned to slap your ass and squeeze its soft flesh.

You could feel the knot tightening in your stomach as you bounced on his dick, the excitement of the new location only making your orgasm approach quicker. Your moans were mixed with the music, but you couldn’t help but wonder if the driver could still here you. surely, he knew what was happening.

It didn’t matter though as Daemon began to thrust up from bellow, meeting each of your thrusts with his own making him hit deeper spots in you. the knot tightened and tightened until you felt your orgasm rip through your body, washing over you like a tidal wave. It didn’t stop daemon though who held you in place by your hips as he continued his messy thrusts until he felt himself twitch again and let himself go finally.

You didn’t bother to move off of him as you felt his cum fill you. times like this you were grateful for your birth control. You were both gasping, sweaty, and foreheads pressed against the other. “How long now?” you finally managed to yell to the driver.

“If I take the long way five minutes,” he responded, lowering the music.

“Quick get ready,” you said as you managed to clamber off of Daemon, grabbing some napkins they had left beside the complimentary bottle of red wine. You handed some to daemon, “You’ve got lipstick on you,”

“Maybe I should leave it, make a statements. Reds definitely my colour darling,” he said as you rolled your eyes and tried to make yourself look semi presentable.

There was still a light redness around Daemons lips as you pulled up. Your eye makeup was smudged to hell but semi saveable. When you saw lights flashed you looked at Daemon wide eyed and he gave a sorry smile, “God I hate photographers,” you said as you pulled your dress up to try cover more of your cleavage.

“Looks much better without the blouse darling,” Daemon grinned as he straightened himself out, “C’mon let’s go,” he said as the car pulled to a stop, “We have a company to run,”

Taglist @clairacassidy

358 notes · View notes

swoonbots · 1 year

Text

Welcome Home Ideas & Prompts Based On Songs

CW: Suggestive but not explicit talk

A/N: Again, more ideas I may not get to, so I'm writing them down to document them. Would be willing to write if requested. You can use them but tag me so I can read it :eyes:

-----

Christmas Kids by Roar

Story about a trans!male!reader and a well loved Wally plush that takes them to his world. (willingly)

Inspired by these specific lyrics and nothing else lmaoo: "Change your name, change your mind, and leave this fucked up place behind. But I'll Know, I'll Know."

Sex With A Ghost by Teddy Hyde

Real World Reader that "hallucinates" and has relations with their fake childhood best friend, Wally. They both yearn to be with each other, but can't figure out how to get to each other.

Honey, I'm Home by GHOST

Wally has the worst time of his life lmaooo. But seriously, while I don't have a solid idea -> this song has sooo much potential for a wally fic. I just know it.

The Masochism Tango by Tom Lehrer

A head over heels puppet (could be anyone tbh) who falls for villain!reader.

A worshipping puppet who is so in love with reader they're willing to let them hurt them

The Whole World and You by Tally Hall

Wally Darling gets jealous of the new human neighbor's popularity. ( He gets over it)

OR.

A new puppet joins the show and is so popular that Wally fears getting replaced. So he desperately tries to please this new puppet and make it so they're a duo

Good Old Fashioned Lover Boy by Queen

Head over heels puppet pal. (Thinking maybe howdy or Eddie) who's in love in a really goofy cartoon way. Think tripping over feet, hearts in eyes, getting reduced to stutters whenever they see you.

Meanwhile the rest of the cast cheers them on.

Let's Face It, I'm Cute! by 11 Acorn Lane

Wally Darling is cute and gets whatever he wants

Puppy Princess by Hot Freaks

Inspired by the main chorus

A Barnaby X Reader for once. Barnaby loves the reader, but fears he is only the 'funny friend's to them and can't be seen as a love interest

Body Terror Song by AJJ

Any comforting a human reader who feels body dysphoria. Might be led on by them not being a puppet

Mirror Man by Jack Stauber

Inspired by the lyrics, "Crafting the world it's next new savior."

Wally understands that his time in welcome home is coming to an end. So he begins to create new puppet pals to be the next generation.

#welcome home #welcome home x reader #wally darling x reader

198 notes · View notes

fanhackers · 6 months

Text

How To Be Gay, by David M. Halperin

While there are obvious fan studies classics, there are other books that don’t always fall into the “fan studies” canon that I have found incredibly useful for my own thinking. I cited one of them, Carol Dyhouse’s Heartthrobs: A History of Women and Desire (2017), a few posts ago; another is David Halperin’s How To Be Gay (2012)

How To Be Gay came out of a course Halperin taught at the University of Michigan, whose full title was “How to Be Gay: Male Homosexuality and Initiation.” The initiation in question was not sexual, but cultural: Halperin believes that there are not only gay texts, a gay canon of sorts, but also gay ways of reading that are taught and learned and that help constitute something we might call a gay subjectivity (that you don’t have to be gay actually to have): e.g. Hollywood movies, opera, Broadway musicals, camp, diva worship, drag, muscle culture, style, fashion, interior design. Halperin asked both why this set of things–why musicals? why this diva or that–and what do they tell us about gay experience? Halperin was trying to trace “gay men’s characteristic relation to mainstream culture,” which often involves collaborative and camp appropriation: a queering.

I find this book very useful, both because fandom also has its own shared languages and rites of initiation (consider the idea of watching something with fannish goggles or slash goggles or a fanfic lens, as was recently discussed in a previous post; think about all the languages and tropes and artistic structures we all learn from each other) but also because Halperin talks about modes of identification that aren’t representational or based obviously in identity politics. So, for example, he says that the gay male students in his class were more likely to express themselves vis a vis a shared text like The Golden Girls than vis a vis the traditions of what Halperin calls “good gay writing.” There is, Halperin argues, a queer pleasure in the Broadway musical that’s different than the pleasures of gay identity or even gay sex; similarly, queer female fans might find pleasures in identifying with, say, Sherlock, Crowley, or Blackbeard that are very different from the pleasures offered by a woman- or lesbian-centered text.

Here’s an excerpt that gives a good sense of the book, I think: fans might identify with this or recognize it as descriptive of their own fannish feels. (FWIW, the italics are all his!)

[H]omosexuality is not just a sexual orientation but a cultural orientation, a dedicated commitment to certain social or aesthetic values, an entire way of being. That distinctively gay way of being, moreover, appears to be rooted in a particular queer way of feeling. And that queer way of feeling—that queer subjectivity—expresses itself through a peculiar, dissident way of relating to cultural objects (movies, songs, clothes, books, works of art) and cultural forms in general (art and architecture, opera and musical theater, pop and disco, style and fashion, emotion and language). As a cultural practice, male homosexuality involves a characteristic way of receiving, reinterpreting, and reusing mainstream culture, of decoding and recoding the heterosexual or heteronormative meanings already encoded in that culture, so that they come to function as vehicles of gay or queer meaning. It consists, as the critic John Clum says, in “a shared alternative reading of mainstream culture.” As a result, certain figures who are already prominent in the mass media become gay icons: they get taken up by gay men with a peculiar intensity that differs from their wider reception in the straight world. (That practice is so marked, and so widely acknowledged, that the National Portrait Gallery in London could organize an entire exhibition around the theme of Gay Icons in 2009.) And certain cultural forms, such as Broadway musicals or Hollywood melodramas, are similarly invested with a particular power and significance, attracting a disproportionate number of gay male fans. What this implies is that it is not enough for a man to be homosexual in order to be gay. Same-sex desire alone does not equal gayness. In order to be gay, a man has to learn to relate to the world around him in a distinctive way. (p. 12 - 13)

–Francesca Coppa, Fanhackers volunteer

#author: francescacoppa #fanhacker #fan reading #queer reading #subjectivity vs identity

65 notes · View notes

swaqcenix · 1 year

Text

࿐ྂ The Great war | N. Romanoff P2 ࿐ྂ

Clandestine Meetings | chapter 2

≿━━━━━༺❀༻━━━━━━≾

Clandestine Meetings | chapter 2

Summary: Dragging yourself to another mission meant your mind indulged in the painful memories of your past with the one you once loved, Natasha Romanoff. Love written in the stars and now you're about to come face to face with in the clandestine meetings.

Warnings: angst, mentions of betrayal, lil soft moment(?),flashback of painful memories & relationships, mentions of violence and guns.

Pairings: Natasha x Reader, age gap! younger reader, enemies to lovers? slightly dark Natasha if you squint

Word count: 2.2K

Tag List: @natsxwife @imnotslouching @lonewalker17 @marvelwomen-simp @wandanats-goodgirl @snowdrop1026 @sayah13 @lol1556732

AN: Sorry it took me so long to update this, work got in the way and I hit writing block. Hope everyone is staying hydrated and taking care of themselves! <3 – Kaz

≿━━━━━༺❀༻━━━━━━≾

The suit you'd decided was adequate for the mission clung to your body and curves well. Or at least, perhaps you thought it did. The idea of looking into mirrors anymore made your stomach churn.

You weren't sure if it was because Natasha's harsh comments from that night dug deep into your core, or if it was because you hated the look of a broken woman staring back at you. Ether way, you refused to look at mirrors whenever possible.

Shaking off the fact your mind constantly drifted to her, you grabbed your car keys and strapped your gun to your leg along with your knives before striding out the door. Determination and adrenaline ran through the course of your veins, you wouldn't let anyone else down, you wouldn't let yourself down.

That mission just was a fuck up for you, it wasn't what defined your true ability and you wouldn't let her be the cause of your downfall anymore. You stumbled to your car sighing as you turned the engine on and the car decided to be a shit at first.

Turning up the radio, your mouth curved into a soft smile as the music played into the silent night. It was often an outlet for you, something to turn to to relax and feel at ease. The Artic Monkeys danced through the air, filling the silence with an intense warmth and feeling.

I wanna be yours, it was a good song but as the song grew further in and the lyrics got more intense, your fingers clasped harder on the wheel. You had 10 minutes until the drive was over, but it didn't stop the memories of lingering sex.

The way Natasha had kissed her way down your body, worshiping you slowly. Her lips traveled in a way that lit you on fire. Her kisses were flaming like fire, it ignited you. She ignited you and you allowed it.

Quickly you shook your head away from the distant memory. You often related to the song memories, the feeling was true and hit deep into your bones. It didn't matter now though, you hated how much power she had over you yet somehow still has over you.

You glanced slightly down at your phone, seeing a message incoming from Fury and you sighed, not wanting to text and drive. You'd been halfway through driving to the specified location before you pulled up.

Eyes scanning over your phone, they widened slightly at his message.

'Someone will be joining you by the way, it's one of those missions unfortunately Agent.'

You huffed ever so slightly, rolling your eyes. There was little point in arguing, besides you were lucky he was giving you this mission in the first place. After the chaos that emerged last time, you certainly weren't doing amazing.

That being said, you wanted to do a mission alone. The whole point of you asking Fury for a last minute mission, was to drown in your work rather than your fucked up mind. That included not needing to talk to anyone.

As you indulged your mind through racing thoughts, you realised you'd reached Nick's required location for meeting up. You'd need to act sober though, he'd probably pull you from being an agent entirely if you found out you'd just poured strong liquor down your throat before clambering into the car.

Grabbing your mahogany trench coat from the back seat, you collected your files, your gun already strapped to you and headed towards the entrance. Slipping your phone back into your hand, you sent Fury a swift text to let him know you were waiting outside.

While you were waiting, you rested your back against the brick wall staring up at the sky. Stars filled the sky up like pale corn into the freshly turned ground. Lighting up the sky with their unique and beautiful patterns. Every time you breathed out, the air was cold enough that you could see your breathes with each exhale.

Looking at the sky, you had a thought of what Natasha once did for you. The stars filled the sky with hopes and dreams.. She was sweet and captivating, your own starlight in more ways than one. Yet, get too close to the sun or the stars and you get burnt.

— Flashback —

"You see that star over there," her voice was golden to your ears.

You loved the sound of Natasha's voice. It was always the one that grounded you, bringing you to such peace. Her voice lulled you into a state of calm and peace, as though nothing could touch you. No fire could burn you, no ice could freeze you. It was her voice that warmed you in every state, every time and every moment.

Glancing over at the pointed location, you tried your best to focus wanting to find what she was pointing at. Aside from being entirely captivated and hooked on your girlfriend, you needed to squint to see where the Agent was pointing at.

Your eyes glided over a certain shape, one that you weren't too sure of but assumed it was what she was pointed towards. As you tilted your head to the side, your eyes widened in realisation a gasp leaving your lips as you could picture a form.

"Is that?" You began, but her soft voice cut you off.

"Yes, it is milaya. It's Aquila, the eagle. It's the brightest star constellation known. It's said its 17 light years from earth darling. Altair is the southern point of a pattern of three bright stars called the Summer Triangle. I used to go looking for things like this every night, detka."

You turned your head to look at her, Natasha's eyes warm and welcoming while her hands moved around in expression of explanations. You couldn't help the fuzzy feeling you always felt when watching how she was with you.

Natalia wasn't just an agent with you, in fact she wasn't any agent. She wasn't even an assassin, the specks of a person she used to be. She was the girl who spoke of stars, chased you in the evergreen grassy hills, stayed up watching James Bond until the early hours of the morning. She was Natalia Romanoff with you.

Glancing back up towards the sky, your eyes lit up once more as you examined the stars. The constellation's were apart of Natasha's life, your girlfriend expressing how close they were towards her. Therefore, you felt the stars were apart of you, apart of your skin embedded and tattooed within you.

"It's beautiful," your voice slipped out into the air too scared to speak loudly.

"It is," her voice laced with sultry and tone welcoming home.

Turning your head in your girlfriends direction, you realised she was no longer looking up at the stars. Instead her eyes were solely focused on you and you alone. Her eyes showed nothing but love and adoration towards you, allowing you to indulge in the feeling of content and comfort.

Knowing she wasn't referring to the stars, you felt yourself shuffle over to the older woman before gently clambering on-top of her, placing yourself on her lap. Natasha's arms wrapped around your waist instinctively and you unconsciously grind down on her. Natasha's face moulds into an intrigued look, her lips curling upwards into a sultry grin.

"Under the stars detka?" She whispered moving forward so your lips barely brushed.

You felt Natasha grind you down once again, your hips rolling over her own, allowing both of you to let out a deep moan, before you surged forward connecting your lips together.

Tongues danced together under the night sky of stars and the air felt warm, the atmosphere heavenly.

"Under the stars," you whispered underneath her earning a quick nip to the jaw.

It was the feeling of the stars watching down at you, shining and glistening while you and your girlfriend made love underneath the stars. As you came screaming her name that night, you really did see stars. The stars of the sky and your own little star, looking down at you.

— Present day —

It was the clearing of the throat that brought you out of your lingering thoughts, the ones that never left. The nightmares and flashbacks haunted your dreams, but the sweet stories of reminiscing memories haunted your daily thoughts.

"Are you okay Agent Y/L/N?" Fury's voice had a lingering concern embedded within it.

It was at his tone and voice, you realised your cheeks were littered with trails of tears and soaked with the thoughts of your past. Anger flooded your veins in retaliation towards your mind.

Natasha never left you alone, the good and the bad. The thoughts and memories of what was there only poisonous, toxic towards you. You wished she'd stay in your memories but locked away so deep, so dark you wouldn't remember.

Yet, love didn't work that way. Love was a lot of things, it was cold, dark, intoxicating. Love was fire and shadows, but most importantly it was her. Now all you felt was a hatred, a broken shell of what you used to be, trained into missions and guns to shoot her out of your mind.

"I'm fine, really Fury. Just a thought that's all, lost in my mind," you tapped your forehead in a joking manner.

Fury didn't look convinced in the slightest, but he knew better than to push people, so he just gave a slight nod and did his very best at doing a smile. He turned on the balls of his heel and you knew well to follow him.

"The agent we've partnered you with is a skilled woman. She's known well and respected, but if she seems blunt don't take it personally, it's just who she is," he explained as he lead you down a darkened hall.

You nodded in an understanding manner. A shitty person to deal with sounds great, but at least you could perhaps get an understanding with her if you both want to focus on the mission at hand.

He opened the door, that lead into what can only be described as room you'd expect a conference meeting in. A long glass table stood in the centre, a chair with who you assumed to be the agent facing away from you and facing a fireplace with little on it.

The burning embers from the flames danced bringing smoke into the room, your face warming up instantly. The person in the chair you saw sit up in a better position, before turning around.

That's when you stopped. Your eyes glazed over, your blood ran ice-cold and you physically felt like you were suffocating. All too soon the fire felt like it was burning your alive, your stomach felt like it was going to collapse in on itself with how badly it was churning and your heart hammered so loudly it felt everyone could hear it.

It was her. Natasha Romanoff. Your ex-fucking girlfriend, the one you hadn't seen in so long. The woman who made your world turn on it's axis twice. Her eyes looked emotional in a way, her face twisted into a painful expression.

"No," was the only word you could get out.

Everything felt wrong, the world, the room even the way she looked. She looked the same but different. You looked directly at her before facing Fury. He didn't know because you never told him, but you couldn't do this.

You turned on your heels muttering about being out and flung the door open. You felt Fury hot on your tail a mere few seconds behind. He grabbed your arm, in a gentle way but you still pulled away as though his touch burnt you directly.

"Y/N, I didn't know but I need you to listen," he began but you couldn't hear it right now.

"Do you know how long it took me to get over it. Watching the betrayal, facing the other end while she pointed the gun at me like I meant nothing. Don't speak to me of listening Fury," you spat with anger without being sure of who it was aimed at.

"Y/N, I promise once it's done you can go. We need you for this, she doesn't need to speak to you, just cooperate, please."

You let out a sigh before storming back into the room. You stared directly at her and a thought came into your head. Last time she played the chess and Natasha had the upper hand. She was the Queen. Now it was your turn. You were going to win, it was going to be checkmate.

"Romanoff," you said with so much venom.

You prided in how she almost stumbled back into the table, the look of hurt passing her face. The irony of the bitch. She had no right to look hurt while you were the one who was haunted by her every night, of every second of every day.

"Y/N I-," you had no time for her though.

"Let's get this over with," you flung your shit down on the nearest chair and looked at her.

You stared her down the way she stared at you all that time ago. This time you had the game in your hands, you were playing and it was beginning. Playing the chess with Natasha Romanoff.

"So," Fury began.

It was going to be a long fucking meeting.

≿━━━━━༺❀༻━━━━━━≾

#natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanoff angst #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x fem!reader #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff fluff #natasha fanfic #natasha romanoff fic #marvel fic #marvel #marvel imagine #mcu fic #mcu

161 notes · View notes

changeling-fae · 5 months

Note

1, 14, & 21 (not Nemo, haha!) for the Dark Urge askmeme! also any other numbers you desperately want an excuse to share ^^

I’ll post for both my Durge’s, Nym and Casira.

And also I apologize for its length. It’s a chonker.

Nym:

1. What circumstances led to your Dark Urge becoming their class/subclass?

Nym’s an abyssal tiefling (granddaughter to Graz’zt) and her bio-father (not Bhaal) was a divine soul sorcerer to Eilistraee, so normally she’d be a a divine soul sorcerer but I have her as a wild magic sorcerer because her abyssal blood and her spark of divinity doesn’t play nice with each other. It’s a constant war inside of her.

She’s a bhaalspawn because her abyssal cambion mother basically at one point had sex with a bhaalspawn, and I headcanon that succubi/incubi steal the essence of people they sleep with and their bodies then corrupt it with whoever they knock up/get knocked up by. I know technically cambions aren’t succubi/incubi but being the daughter of Graz’zt, I’m giving her some leeway. So she stole the sperm/essence of a bhaalspawn and for funsies, mixed it in with the child of the divine soul sorcerer man she was currently tricking/banging. So Nym has three parentages technically.

But yeah, she’s mechanically a wild magic sorcerer because her particular concoction of existence doesn’t play nice with each other.

She’s multiclass bard because she loves music and her day job when not doing stuff with the cult (which she was already trying to pull away from) is entertainment. Only time she ever feels at peace.

14. How good of a liar is your Dark Urge? How do they feel about lying?

Nym is an excellent liar and feels nothing when she does it. She’s not a habitual liar, she only does it when she feels she needs to to protect herself, but she has no qualms about doing so. I think if she has to do it around someone she cares about, is the only time she feels some guilt. Or at least, discomfort.

21. What are 2-3 songs that your Durge would relate to?

Paint It, Black by Ciara - Nym feels so much darkness and bitterness and she doesn’t want to.

Big God by Florence and the Machine - Definitely one of her main songs, not just for lyrics but the dancing in the music video. She secretly worships Eilistraee as her father did but she’s so conflicted and desperate for some form of salvation but also laments and despairs against the gods.

Death Wish by Jason Isbell and the 400 Unit - My girl has got bad depression and she’s definitely the girl in this song’s scenario. The lines “Who’s gonna save you, who’s left to pray to? What’s the difference in a breakdown and a breakthrough?” fits her like a glove.

Bonus question for her:

2. Did your Durge have any romantic and/or sexual relationships prior to their illithid adventure? If yes, who was it with and what was it like? If no, how did they feel about being single?

Ok so Nym has a very complicated and messy relationship to both sex and romance. She’s had a few romantic partners, whom she usually breaks up with because she feels she’s a danger to them and/or she feels they deserve someone without her baggage.

She was in a relationship with one of my Tav’s, Cillian Baker, and he was her last serious romantic relationship before she broke up with him.

She’s rather hyper-sexual but uses it as way of self-harm tbh. She’s a CSA survivor and her relationship with sex is rather unhealthy. She likes sex in the moment but afterward deals with extreme self-loathing. She also tends to choose dangerous or questionable men for ONS because sometimes she wants an excuse to murder someone, always a toss-up.

Right before the game, going on for several months, she actually had a relationship with Raphael at the Devil’s Den. It wasn’t sexual or romantic; she originally came to his presence because a woman she was close to and had feelings for liked to party (using it as a coping method herself) and they ended up in the DD.

Nym clocked him for a devil right away and he knew she was Durge and found her a novelty/would be a yummy soul but more an idle interest. She was worried her friend would get in trouble around him (I’m picturing him catering intimate sinful little parties for him to find souls in).

They slowly danced around each other over the course of months, and came to play lanceboard as a regular occurrence. Eventually her friend basically met someone and got clean and while Nym was happy for her, she’s just so damn lonely. I’ll probably post a separate post on her and Raphael’s relationship because it’s long but basically she comes back to the DD and resumes their game nights.

He finds her amusing and they have a weirdass connection that can’t quite be described. At some point they do get into a tiff, she got too close to his little spark of humanity on accident and it made him lash out.

She doesn’t show up for a number of weeks and he doesn’t think much of it and then oh, would you look at that, she’s one of the abducted and has some memory loss. That’s when his interest spikes immensely and then the ingame stuff. She feels a connection to him but doesn’t know why and it pisses her off, lol.

Ok, now onto my second Durge:

Casira:

1. What circumstances led to your Dark Urge becoming their class/subclass?

Casira is a cleric of Selûne (light domain). How that happened is basically, the Bhaal cultists used the corpse of an aasimar of Selûne (one of Aylin’s sisters) in a profane ritual that used Bhaal’s blood to fill the empty vessel. Created a baby bhaalspawn but that tiny spark of Selûne remained.

She grew up conflicted, raised in the cult but never feeling right. Selûne tried to reach her a few times in her life but it was too dangerous/Sceleritas Fel was always watching and it put Casira in danger.

Her cleric powers really only came forward once Casira was abducted and no memory because Selûne took that as her chance to influence her.

14. How good of a liar is your Dark Urge? How do they feel about lying?

Not that good, tbh. She’s fairly honest and upfront if you ask her questions. She finds lying difficult to understand and doesn’t like doing it. It gets her into a lot of trouble.

21. What are 2-3 songs that your Durge would relate to?

Eva by Nightwish - Definitely her in both lyrics and vibes.

The Moon Will Sing by The Crane Wives - “I shine only with the light you gave me” is very her.

Fake Wings by Kajiura Yuki - The solemn/melancholy tone fits her.

Bonus question for her:

25. How does your Durge feel about Sceleritas Fel?

Terrified. Even without the memory loss, she was terrified of him. He was put in her life because he/Bhaal could sense Selûne on the sidelines. If she didn’t do the murders and rituals enough times or ever showed reluctance, she was severely punished and Bhaal would overtake her body and control her (where the really nasty Durge lines happen, like necrophilia, etc). So she learned that to keep her body in her control, she had to do the serial killing.

His “naughty naughty” was usually a precursor to her punishments so when she got that dream in the third act she was so terrified of falling asleep for weeks.

#bg3 #bg3 durge #ask meme #csa mention #nym is honestly like if laura palmer from twin peaks were in bg3 #oc: nym the drow'ri #oc: nym the abyssal tiefling #oc: casira #bg3 raphael

19 notes · View notes

best-overplayed-song · 9 months

Note

Re: Take Me To Church in response to anon-- a take by someone who first heard it a bit After it came out at the age of 20, was concerned it was overhyped, and on listening had to admit that it was in fact good. (Also disclaimer, I've got less context about like, Irish/English history and stuff than OP so uhhhh sorry this is just gonna be my own personal vibecheck)

Tw: sex mention.

A lot of my feelings on the song are more related to this bit: Take me to church I'll worship like a dog at the shrine of your lies I'll tell you my sins, and you can sharpen your knife Offer me that deathless death and revolve around a. Possibly more sexual interpretation, so take that as you will (I was horny at 20 what can I say)

Okay first off let's talk about Why Church Is Horny. Religion and sex are both things that people often have a lot of feelings about. Christians specifically have even more feelings about sex, usually because they're saying it's bad. However, from a Catholic perspective, there's often a LOT of erotic imagery and stuff going on behind the scenes. See: lactating Jesus, saints' mysticism (for instance, Theresa of Avila, Catherine of Siena), and honestly just general medieval saints… people were SO horny for God. Plus, from an anti-sex Christian perspective, stuff still gets horny more often than you'd think. Milton was a Puritan, and that doesn't stop Paradise Lost from having originated Sexy Satan as a trope. All of which boils down to, coming from Christian, English-speaking cultural context a lot of your feelings about sex and religion, both of which carry enough baggage on their own, become intertwined.

So. All of that means you get the invocation of Christian stuff in the Bedroom anyway--lots of people say stuff like 'oh god' during sex, for instance. Think about the popularity too of the sexy nun trope, or even Destiel. A lot of people find desecration of the (Christian) holy, hot as shit, though it remains taboo.

For that reason! "Take Me To Church" being a song about sex?? About a woman referred to as a "lover," not a wife? Sex as worship? Get all those cultural hotbuttons pinged. (And that's just the first line we're looking at.)

I'll worship like a dog at the shrine of your lies Hoo boy. So, again, worship = sex? That's a lot as seen above. Invoking the dog imagery as part of deference to a woman also gets into stuff about gender roles, taboos, and the breaking thereof. There's a lot to unpack here-- deference of a man to a woman, of an animal to the holy, the admission that it is a shrine of lies, and tied into all that is the implied desire and consent to do these things. That's sexy!

I'll tell you my sins, and you can sharpen your knife Shame is a strong feeling-- one that comes up a lot when we look at this religion/sex network. Telling of sins evokes the Catholic sacrament of confession. And then we get to the knife. I don't know how to explain my interpretation of this without getting real kinky so uh, let's just say that pain and blood can have significant associations with both Christianity and sexuality, and the use of the knife thing in this context brings in Yet Another hot-button thing.

Offer me that deathless death I always just interpret this as euphemism for an orgasm. But! That's not to belittle it. Could a deathless death also be an assumption to heaven? In the context of the previous line(s), it takes on so many alternate connotations it's insane. Has he been stabbed for his sins? (That carried penetration imagery with it fyi.) Has he been forgiven his sins and gets to go to heaven? Or is it sexual release? With the ambiguity the song leaves, all three are possible, keeping up all those threads of violence/pain, shame, ecstasy, sex, divinity, submission… there's A LOT here.

Anyway I'm gonna stop there cuz this is too long. I don't even like this song THAT much, I'm just here to explain why people do.

OH YEAH AND PS: ADD TO ALL OF THIS THE SHAME/RELIGION/SEX FEELINGS AND ASSOCIATIONS CAUSED BY THE LISTENER BEING QUEER okay bye

I loved reading your interpretation! Thanks for the breakdown!

#asks #song propaganda

34 notes · View notes

aro-absol · 1 year

Text

My Aro playlist (the perfect soundtrack for ASAW!)

A while ago I made an aro playlist that I keep adding songs on. It's on an account that I don't feel comfortable sharing but I thought I could tell y'all what songs are on it because aro songs are not easy to find. So here you go.

Note: this playlist is tailored to my personal music taste. It's mostly pop. I know there are more out there (Cavetown) but these are the songs I like to listen to. Besides, you might interpret these songs differently. They were clearly not written to be aromantic songs but they sound pretty aro to me ( but obviously you don't have to agree).

I tried to sort them into categories (at least roughly) so can find songs you relate to better.

I used an alien emoji to mark the songs containing internalized arophobia (in my opinion) if you want to avoid those.

Enjoy!

Being happy about being aro/not feeling romantic attraction:

Never been in love - Will Jay

Curse - Emily Burns

Zero feelings - Zoe Clark

Being somebody's crush but you can't reciprocate:

Sorry - Halsey

I wanna love you but I don't - Ben Platt

I won't - H.E.R.

Crush - Glades

FRIENDS - Marshmello, Anne-Marie

I don't know - Gabe Bondoc

Idle Worship - Paramore

I help you hate me - Sunrise Avenue

Dating someone but turns out dating isn't for you:

Bad liar - Imagine Dragons

Liked you better - Good problem, Boy in space

Turning out pt. ii - AJR

Psychofreak - Camila Cabello, Willow 👽

Someone else - ClockClock

I wasn't made to fall in love - Miko 👽

For when the Romance Repulsion hits:

Crush Culture - Conan Gray

I'm so tired... - Lauv, Troye Sivan

Never Fall in love - Jack Antonoff, MØ

Romance is boring - Los Campesinos!

Love is for losers - The Longshot

Don't fall in love - Danko Jones

This fall - The Duhks

Romantic - Hooverphonic

Being happily single:

Good thing - Zedd, Khelani

Soulmate - Lizzo

No - Meghan Trainor

It's not you it's me - Bea Miller

I don't wanna be in love (dance floor anthem) - Good Charlotte

I just wanna be single - Brika

Me, Myself and I - Blonde, Bryn Christopher

Dating myself - sad alex

Aroallo anthems (sex mentions):

Not a love song - bülow

Leave before you love me - Marshmello, Jonas Brothers

What's love gotta do with that - Tina Turner

Extra Agenda - Claudia Valentina

Thief - Ansel Elgort 👽

Girlfriend - Bea Miller

Animal - Sir Chloe

Best Friend - The Weeknd

Yuck - Charli XCX

Cupioromantic anthems:

Hopeless Romantic - Sam Fischer 👽

People watching - Conan Gray

Love like that - Lauv

Love love love - Of Monsters and men 👽

High Definition - Waterparks

"No it's not romantic":

Despair - Leo.

Not a love song - Austin Moon

Not wanting to fall in love:

I don't wanna fall in love - Addison Grace

I don't need love - Niic

I don't want love - The Antlers

No lover - Jetty Bones

Your friend is dating someone that is bad for them and you're just *facepalms*

Devil doesn't Bargain - Alec Benjamin

Snap out of it - Arctic Monkeys

No Romeo - Dylan

Third Wheel - Zoe Wees

Aro songs I couldn't really sort in any of those categories but are still dope:

Mad at Disney - Salem Ilese

Turning out - AJR

Loveless girl - Pale Waves 👽

I've never written a song about a boy - Eva Westphal

#song rec #aro music #asaw #asaw 2023 #aromantic #aro

65 notes · View notes

kurtcobainsgreencardigan · 4 months

Note

hey do you know that unreleased maisie song where she says “jesus is to small town teens what jimi hendrix was to woodstock”?? can you please explain that to me cause I don’t know what the fuck that means

okay i assume you know who jimi hendrix is otherwise we'd have to break up but thats very unlikely

so you know woodstock right? hippies. drugs. sex. music. 60s. yeah so jimi was like super popular at that time, so like imagine if there was a music festival where taylor is headlining and also weed if incredibly popular (almost mandatory) amongst swifties, you just know that they're gonna worship her and do whatever she wants them to and just become like really influenced by her and she totally changes their life and like epiphany shit happens and like i know that already happens but multiply it by 100 maybe you'll understand. i dont think i need to explain the actual relation between what jesus is to small town teens and what jimi hendrix was to woodstock but tell me if i do

#oh to be at woodstock '69 #also i dont know that song soidsjbfvse fhdgiwuaksjdguordfjk ghroifdh iugkdfgjgvoidfbuhgdff #but what a good lyric #she's such a genius

8 notes · View notes

pillow-anime-talk · 2 years

Text

juicy.

request: can i request a really spicy scenario with sasara and female s/o?

# tags: scenario; current relationship; romance porn with plot?; smut; nsfw

warnings: mention of sexual activities, on deck, boobs play, nipple play (biting, pulling), sensitive breasts, body worship, wet kisses

includes: female reader ft. sasara nurude {hypmic}

author’s note: of course, here we go :D

You always came to your boyfriend’s shows; both those related to rap and his friends, as well as those related to his work as a comedian and stand-up artist. You liked the second thing in your own, special way.

You loved to watch from behind the scenes the audience laugh when he joke with them or telling funny anecdotes about life, work, sex and friendship. You always supported him and talked a lot with fox-eyed about his uncertainties, problems and you helped him at times when he lacked inspiration to write songs or come up with scenarios. You spent a lot of time in his office, enjoying the time together and the food you two often ordered through the app (you were huge fans of Thai cuisine).

That evening you also went with him to his next show in a row. They usually lasted up to three hours, but today they lasted an hour longer, but you were glad that Sasara was back in a flow of good jokes and lots of ideas. You loved seeing his happiness and confidence. Additionally, after the show, your partner promised you dinner at your favorite restaurant, so you couldn’t be happier.

At ten o’clock in the evening, the man thanked his viewers for the nice time, then went backstage to the accompaniment of loud cheers and clapping. On the way he met you, of course, and gave you a short but affectionate kiss on the lips.

“I was amazing?” He asked with a childish smile and you nodded.

“Definitely.”

Somewhere between talking about the next show and the proposal to watch a movie tonight, Sasara began changing into slightly looser clothes. As always interested in his body, you watched with curiosity his delicately muscles and concave navel. The man immediately noticed your joyful gaze, thanks to which a slight and sly smirk appeared on his face.

“Do you like what you see?”

“Mhm.”

“Maybe you also undress?” He laughed lightly as he stepped closer to you. His warm hands landed on your hips, and then Sasara lifted you up a bit so you could sit on a dressing table full of cosmetics, perfumes and accessories. His thin fingers easily unfastened the buttons of the purple sweater you were wearing that evening.

The lacy black bra with silver details gave your man an even wider smile, which only made you giggle and your pretty eyes glittering.

“It’s a gift from me, isn’t it?”

“This is my favorite brassiere. Yes.”

The young man leaned forward, his lips giving a gentle kiss just below the line of your right ear. Then tender, wetter marks began to appear much lower – on the neck, shoulders and collarbones, and with a slight sigh you closed your eyelids letting yourself be carried away by the wonderful, intimate moment between the two of you.

Your breasts and the skin around them were some of the most sensitive areas on your body and your partner’s favorite spots. Sasara definitely loved to take care of you by doing gentle massages, kisses or slightly stronger bites. You loved it when his head was right next to your heart and its rapid beating was heard by the two of you. It was one of the most precious moments for you and green-haired.

“You’re so beautiful, do you know that?” He asked at one point and you just turned red on your cheeks and nose.

The comedian’s teeth gripped your left nipple while his free hand took care of your other breast. You felt the excitement growing in your belly – this pleasant feeling followed you for the next long minutes until Sasara started kissing your neck again and leaving visible red marks on it.

After a short while you felt the grip on your nipples again, but this time much tighter. Your man began to touch your boobs a little harder, his movements were circular, and his fingers gripped much more confidently.

When you let out a little louder groan, Sasara already knew that you were completely satisfied. Additionally, your wet underwear was enough for a young man to answer his silent question if you can go even further in your little moment of weakness and intimacy.

“Dinner will wait... but we can eat our dessert now.”

130 notes · View notes

Last Seen Blogs

zushiribbon

xen !!

8gerold-blog

Gerold Manaloto Blog

kbi48

KBI48ぴっしー

omidesigns

OMI Designs

eachothersnumber5

Eachothersnumber5