#one of my mutuals do this please I wanna reblog from you 👀

[dragonpyre]

In the tags write smth you think/headcanon about prev. Literally could be anything

[missmaywemeetagain]

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

Character/Fandom: Elvis - Elvis (2022)

Requested: kinda

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Stop her, stop her, stop her…

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

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

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

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

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

If anything, he’s cared too much.

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

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

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

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

He’s too late.

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

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

Suddenly, everything feels much too heavy.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I’ll always be alone.

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

*

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Something in the way she says it gives him hope.

“You need to fix this, Elvis.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

He nods.

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

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

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

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

**

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

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

You can’t seem to escape him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Damn him and Sandy both.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I take care of what’s mine.”

“You were made for me.”

“You belong here with me.”

“It’s meant to be…”

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

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

 At all

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I need you.”

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

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

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

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

Your heart stops. And you finally remember.

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

He’s loved you all along.

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

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

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

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

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

“I-I-I…and I’m so sorry, y/n.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Okay,” you whisper back.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You nod. You put the scarf in your purse.

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

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

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

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

When it’s time, I’ll know.

**

Four Weeks Later

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

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

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

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

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

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

You’d called her last night.

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

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

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

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

“Y/n.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“On your knees,” you command.

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

“Did I stutter?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Show me,” you command.

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

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

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

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

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

“Use your words,” you order.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And he’s all yours.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Get on your back,” you demand.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But perhaps that is your own ego talking.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Completely,” he nods back.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He nods furiously, eyes unfocused.

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

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

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

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

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

“Mamaaaa…need y-you,” he begs.

This makes you smirk coyly.

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

He can only manage a whimper in response.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Still sensitive, you think.

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

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

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

“I love you,” he whispers.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Finally, you are exactly where you need to be.

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

Here, with Elvis.

*

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

*

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[stvharrngton]

a lesson in romantics; lesson ten

summary: a multi-part series where reader is the new art teacher at hawkins high and the history teacher, mr. harrington, takes a shine to the new girl. mutual pining ensues on their road to love 🥀

a/n: aaaand that’s a wrap! (sort of 👀) i just want to say a quick thank you to everyone who has read or reblogged or commented anything on this series. it’s been something totally out of my comfort zone compared to what i usually write lol and it’s been hard sometimes to want to stick with it but i have done (somehow!!) 🥺 but stick around for the alternative ending coming soon 👀😮‍💨

characters: steve harrington x fem!reader, robin buckley

word count: 1.4k

warnings: none, fluff, happy ending

taglist: @inkluvs @dukesmebby @sweetbabygirlsworld @kennedy-brooke @gvf23 @nix-rose

series taglist: @pbs-theundeadmaggot @alana4610 @onceuponaoneshot

SERIES MASTERLIST

HAWKINS HIGH, MAY 1993

The school year had soon run its course and was coming to the end, the summer break right around the corner but not before the big end of year senior prom. It had been a big year for you, with its ups and its downs, but you were looking forward to your first summer in Hawkins, you couldn’t lie.

You had your dress picked out, something simple yet formal enough to chaperone at a high school prom. It was a long and a deep red, with capped sleeves at the shoulders, the fitted material fitting you perfectly. Every time you caught a glance of it hung up in your wardrobe, your mind would drift to seeing Steve in a tux for the first time.

It was silly really. You felt like you were getting ready for your own senior prom, rather than one at a school where you taught at.

The evening soon rolled around and you were sat on your couch, patiently waiting for your ride to pick you up. Your car was in the shop, much to your dismay, your knight in shining armour had saved the day.

The knock soon came at your apartment door, the man standing behind it wore a suit with a simple black bow tie, his hair perfectly tousled, wire frame glasses perched on the bridge of his nose and his mouth hanging open for way, way too long.

“Wow,” he breathed, “you look—,”

“Is it too much?” you blurted out, feeling a tad overdressed as you made your way to the passenger side of the car. Steve held your hand as you lowered yourself into the cream leather seat.

“No, God, no,” he insisted, leaning down with you so you could see the bashful smile on his face, “it’s perfect, I promise, you look perfect.”

~

The prom was in full swing, students dolled up and suited and booted dotted across the school gym as the music blared and the lights strobed. The teachers were spread across different corners of the gym, hands stuffed in pockets or nursing a red solo cup filled with punch, on-looking the students on the dancefloor.

Robin sauntered over to Steve, slinging her suited arm over his shoulder, coming in close before she spoke.

“You all set for tonight? Big plan still in action?” Robin joked, her hand patting Steve’s shoulder as she spoke.

He rolled his eyes as he pushed the frames of his glasses back up his nose, “Please don’t call it a ‘big plan’, it makes it sound like some kind of scheme, Robin.”

“Whatever,” she scoffed, taking a sip from her cup, “I’d wish you good luck, Steve but I don’t think you’ll need it. Not from the way she’s been trying to sneak a glance at you everytime she thinks you’re not looking all night.” Robin said all cocky as she nodded over to where you were standing.

Steve tried not to let that linger in his mind too much, tried not to think about how he was doing the exact same thing to you all night. Teachers and students kept you away from him with their short conversations and jokes but Steve was damned if he was going to let that from carrying out his plan tonight.

As it got a little later, a little quieter, Steve finally found a minute to sneak up behind you, his large hand hovering over your back as he leaned in to ask, ‘You wanna get out of here?’

You snorted at the question and the implication of it, “You don’t wanna see who gets crowned Prom King and Queen, Mr. H?” you said with a smirk, raising one of your eyebrows.

“Not really my scene,” Steve said casually, “come on, there’s a great little diner just outside of town that does the best milkshakes. You’re telling me that doesn’t sound amazing right now?”

You couldn’t lie, that did sound amazing and so that’s how you found yourself sat on the hood of the burgundy BMW, strawberry milkshake in hand as the neon diner sign blinked in the dark sky. Steve’s dinner jacket thrown around your shoulders as the cool spring air nipped at your skin.

The space between you was silent, but a comfortable silence. The only sound around was the occasional car driving past and the hum of the radio of Steve’s car. It wasn’t until the next song ticked over that Steve made his first move,

Friday I’m in Love by The Cure began to flow throughout the speakers and out through the windows as Steve held his hand out to you, a coy smile on his face as he asked, “Dance with me?”

You placed your hand in his and you couldn’t help the heat that crept up your cheeks. He pulled you close, his hands held you at your waist whilst you tentatively slung yours over his broad shoulders. He swayed you back and forth in the diner parking lot, not giving a single damn about the funny looks you might be getting.

You giggled at the situation you found yourself in and Steve’s ears immediately pricked up at the sound, “What’s so funny?” he asked, voice quiet like he was afraid to disturb the peaceful moment between you.

“Oh, nothing,” you insisted, your mascara covered lashes fluttering against your cheeks, “I’ve just never slow danced to The Cure before and definitely never in a parking lot, either.”

“First time for everything,” Steve said so casually, so coolly, “and hey, it’s a good song!” He took your one hand in his now, as he span you around and back in again singing along to the words of Robert Smith.

Your hand hit Steve’s firm chest as he span you around again as he sang the words, “It’s Friday, I’m in love.” He couldn’t help but grin at you but you could only hide your bashful smile in Steve’s shoulder.

“Come on,” he cooed, “don’t get all shy on me now.” Steve dropped your hand now but let his long fingers tuck themselves under your chin so he could bring your gaze back to him.

You blinked up at him, all bright eyed and hopeful as if Steve’s eyes held all the answers. You whispered out a ‘sorry’ and you couldn’t help but let your gaze fall to his pretty pink lips.

“Can I try something?” He asked, voice as smooth as velvet. The way his fingers moved from your chin to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear, how they lingered by your neck before they finally cupped your cheek, it told you that just maybe, you may be on the same page.

And so you nodded, laying your hands flat on his chest, waiting for what was coming. Your lashes fluttered as your eyes closed as Steve leaned in, his warm breath tickling your lips as he brushed them against your own.

The kiss was everything you ever could have dreamed of. Soft and sweet as the butterflies churned in your stomach, the metaphorical sparks igniting as Steve pulled you in closer with every second that went by. You felt as giddy as a teenager that was experiencing her first kiss, like it was your first date with your high school sweetheart, like it was your own senior prom.

Steve made you breathless and your knees weak. It was like all the feelings you tried to convince yourself that you didn’t have came bubbling back up to the surface, pouring out through your kiss. Nothing else mattered right now, except for you and Steve, standing in the middle of the diner parking lot.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that for,” Steve breathed against your lips when you finally managed to pull yourself away from him long enough, “it’s been driving me crazy.”

You grinned before your bottom lip found its way between your teeth, your brain doing its best to muster up a quip in reply. Especially when all you could think about was how badly you wanted to kiss Steve again.

“Is that so?” you teased, fingers drawing circles over the material of Steve’s shirt, you could see the blush creeping on his cheeks underneath the neon lights, “well there’s more where that came from if you agree to take me out on a date. What do you say, Mr. H?”

[ozarkthedog]

Thank you for supporting my writing and indulging in fantasizes with me over the years. I throughly enjoy whoring with each and every one of you! 💙

𝐑𝐔𝐋𝐄𝐒

❦ Please reblog to spread the fun! 💃

❦ Characters accepted: joel miller · frankie morales · tim rockford · din djarin · mr. ben · tommy miller · marc spector · layla el-faouly · poe dameron · santi garcia · ted lasso · roy kent · jamie tartt · rebecca welton · dani miranda

❦ send asks with the corresponding emoji and all details!

❦ DILF/DBF/DARK! asks are encouraged!

❦ Multiple submissions are welcome. I'll do my best to respond to them all even when the celebration is over. Obvs, I reserve the right to not respond to an ask if it doesn't vibe with me. Don't take it personally xx

❦ Celebration open from April 25th thru April 30th!

𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐕𝐈𝐓𝐄𝐒

📷 - send a character + a concept and I’ll respond with a moodboard & drabble.

🎵 - send any Florence + the Machine song and I’ll write a drabble about whichever character comes to mind.

📝 - send a number from this prompt list + character and I’ll write a drabble.

💀 - send your dark! thots and I'll add to the carnage. 😈

🥰 - Fic/Blog Rec - I wanna share the love!

👀 - WYR, FMKiss, This or That, Cast My Mutuals, etc.

💌 - any questions you’d like me to answer!

I’ll add all fics I write for the celebration to this post. 💙

Boss!Rebecca Welton x PA Fem!Reader

Marc Spector Drabble

DILF!Joel Miller

Mr. Ben spanks you

[poohbea]

pooooooh! hello bb. how are you doing? i would like to send in an ask for your follower event.

My age: 18 - almost 19.

Appointment colour: RED

Who I am booking my appointment with: Suguru Geto

What I would like to happen during my appointment: i was thinking of professor!suguru with his student (of course both are adults) and he somehow finds out that she has a crush on him. so he does something about it👀 also can he be like nice at least? don't make him too mean because then i'd want to punch his face and i don't wanna mess up those handsome features yk?

thank you if you decide to do this and if not, that's completely fine too. enjoy and congrats again!!!

wordcount: 1.3k

content: college professor!geto, escort!geto, college student!reader, roleplay, praise, implied mutual pining, student teacher relations, pet names (baby, sweetheart, etc.), fingering, mutual masturbation, unedited

note from pooh: hi, my babyyy thank you so much for putting in a req for this event, i know it's now deleted but i wanted to still get these done as you and a two others were wonderful enough to participate. i'm so sorry this took so long, but it's hereee and i hope you enjoy it, i've never actually written the student x professor trope so we're getting me out of my comfort zone haha, it's a good thing tho, i need to be pushed as a writer. also i would never make him mean pls, i’d punch him too 😂

WARNING: this is smut, so please ensure you have your age visible on your account before interacting. minors (below 18+), ageless and blank blogs will be BLOCKED

Hope you enjoy ♡ reblogs are greatly appreciated

“I heard that you have something to tell me?” Your professor smiles as he shuts the door behind him.

You nod silently as you walk into the large hotel suite, marvelling at the intricacies and minute details, all in an attempt to ignore the task at hand. You weren’t sure when or even if he had actually found out, but as your toes sunk into the soft carpeting at the foot of the bed everything became a reality.

“Y/n.” His voice interrupts your train of thought, your gaze now on him instead of the satin sheets adorning the king-sized bed in front of you. It was as if your throat closed itself as those dark eyes bore into yours, and although seemingly soft, you were still able to catch the flicker of lust within their depths. “I’m not making you nervous am I?” He questions, head tilting teasingly on his approach.

With a shaky breath you finally find your voice. “No,” His brow raises at your shy dismissal, choosing to lean against the desk adjacent to you. “Not entirely…”

“Not entirely?” He echoes, playing with the collar of his turtleneck. “So what is it?”

You pause, an exhale escaping your gloss-sheened lips. “Well… we spend a lot of time together with all these private lessons…” Your hair bounces as you set your bag down at your feet, gaze failing to meet his in doing so.

“We do.” He confirms, watching you over the rim of his glasses.

“So, can you blame me?”

“For?” He knew exactly what this was about, so did he really crave the satisfaction of hearing you say it that badly?

“For what it is I’m feeling.” A small smile graces your lips when he offers a hand and you take it eagerly, gasping as he pulls you into him, chest flush against his own.

“And what feeling would that be?” The question is hushed, breath hot against your lips that now ghosted his. You didn’t answer immediately, it’s not like you could anyway, the movement of his hands far too distracting as one rubs soothing circles into your hips and the other caresses your cheek.

“Affection,” You begin, gaze dropping to his lips. “Desire,” The hand at your waist snakes to the curve of your ass, his fingers pressing into the soft flesh. “… Lust?”

“Such a dirty girl, lusting after your professor of all people.” He smirks, voice low as the tendrils of salacity take hold of him. “What ever shall I do with you, hmm?”

“I’m sure we can think of something.” Those were your final words before he pulled you into a kiss, lips hot and desperate against your own, the last of his resolve decimated by the simple bat of your lashes.

Immediately your fingers lace through the inky stands of his hair, nails grazing his scalp as he pulls you closer. His own digits snake beneath the hem of your skirt, hands finding purchase on your ass, squeezing and kneading it in his palms whilst his mind strays from any sliver of remaining decency.

He walks you backward into the edge of the desk, wordlessly telling you to sit when he guides you onto it, stepping between already parted thighs. His touch wanders from the softness of your backside to the heat of your core, smiling when he finds it free of any underwear.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were trying to seduce me, Miss l/n.” He jests as he mindlessly plays between your legs, pads of his index and middle compassing the expanse of your clit.

“And if I am, Mr Geto?”

“Then let me be the first to tell you…” His fingers dance through your folds, pooling arousal allowing them to glide easily. “You’ve succeeded.”

With the ministrations of his digits and the warmth of his lips against your skin, it wasn’t long before you were moaning into his shoulder, clawing at the wool of his sweater desperately, hips rolling in time with each stroke of your clit.

“Fuck, Suguru!” You mewl, yearning for more. His teasing fingertips growing less effective with the imprint of his cock nudging against your inner thigh, a more interesting prospect in the face of unbridled lust. 

A breathy exhale escapes him as you trace the outline through his slacks, one finger at a time making their way around the rim, your other hand trailing lower to cup his balls. 

“Shit.” Geto growls, watching as you stroke him through the prison of his pants, your small hands moving in time with his that still worked between your thighs. “Don’t stop, baby.”

You take that as an invitation to undo his belt, the buckle clinking as you pull it from around his waist. Next was the button and fly, Geto’s ability to speak lost in the trance of your fingers making quick work of his slacks, chest heaving when they pool at his ankles. 

The involuntary buck of his hips as your touch returns to his bulge makes you snicker, palm stroking it leisurely and still refusing to slip beneath the fabric of his briefs. “You’re such a fucking tease.” He moans into your neck, his own fingers still buried between the warmth of your thighs. 

You giggle in reply, gaze growing hazy with each circle of your sensitive bud. “You’re one to talk.”

“Touche, sweetheart.” Those final words had rendered you both speechless, coherent conversation replaced with one in the form of sighs and soft moans, each exhale hot against the other’s skin that were now no doubtedly flushed in such close proximity. Silently, you fell into a reverie of mutual pleasure, gasping when he dips his fingertips past your entrance. 

“Sugu…” His eyes meet yours briefly, gaze a clear picture of hunger and desire as he drank in your angelic features, the apples of your cheeks, the dilation of your pupils, the alluring curve of your plush lips. 

He cups your hand with his free one, guiding you beyond the waistband of his briefs, a mute request you were more than happy to grant. Instantaneously does his breath brush your lips, the resulting sigh becoming yours as you draw him into a kiss. The prudent grasp around his length evolves into a steady rhythm, mirroring the in and out of his index and middle fingers.

“How is it that no matter how many times we do this, you still manage to make me feel this way?” You didn’t have an answer, not that he actually needed one anyway, he was all too aware of how familiar his body was to you. 

There were times he actually craved you, this little student teacher game you’d thrown him into, one of his favourites among the long list of clients that walked through that door. They say it’s dangerous to mix business and pleasure, but with that being the entire point of his job, it was difficult to avoid those inevitable emotions. However, he was obligated to maintain strict professionalism, he owed you that much. 

“Because I’m the best you ever had.” The claim was teasing but not entirely false, though he’d never admit that outloud. 

“And I’m assuming that title belongs to me as well?”

Your giggle sparks a foreign feeling in the depths of his chest. “I don’t know about that.”

“Mm,” Was his only response before picking up the pace of his fingers, pads grazing the spongy domain of your g-spot. 

“Fuck, wait, Sugu, hold on- ah!” 

“What am I waiting for, baby?” He smirks, eyes dark as he ignores the desperate clutching of your hands around his wrist. 

“Suguru, please, I can’t, ‘s too much- fuck!” The intense pleasure that overcomes you has him chuckling, the scene of your climax never ceasing to entertain. The heat of your thighs trap him in his place, still knuckle deep in your pussy, arousal staining the mahogany desk beneath your ass. He doesn’t mind, in fact helping you through it with the simple stroke of your clit, kissing your forehead that once rested against his own. 

When you finally come down, you go lax against him with a sigh. “Did that help you determine your answer?” He questions softly, caressing your cheek with his thumb. 

You laugh breathlessly, a feeble fist striking his chest. “Yes.”

tags: @gardenof-venus, @sailewhoremoon , @okhotel, @xharia, @chubbyblackthottie, @protectpancakes, @hoohoohope, @sakinotfound

© poohbea, all rights reserved. DO NOT copy, reupload or modify my work to other accounts and platforms. if you intend to translate any of my works please ask permission first ♡

[pomgore]

I posted 2,124 times in 2022

That's 581 more posts than 2021!

33 posts created (2%)

2,091 posts reblogged (98%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@jayborb-rb

@carrionthird

@sabertoothwalrus

@rin--ren

@abyssal-glory

I tagged 1,364 of my posts in 2022

Only 36% of my posts had no tags

#insp - 214 posts

#pomcore - 162 posts

#pom's comfy tag - 66 posts

#the pom! signal - 37 posts

#sent to me - 24 posts

#friend art - 11 posts

#so true - 10 posts

#mewtag - 8 posts

#screams - 6 posts

#literally - 5 posts

Longest Tag: 139 characters

#on one hand i wanna make fun of izzy for thinking two captains (with full and uninterrupted access to the ship's cabin mind you) would fuck

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

Pom!!! What can you tell us about “the empty lands where no men are”? 👀💜

HOHOHO YOU HAVE RISEN TO THE CHALLENGE!

i can tell you it's a boromir lives amnesia fic where aragorn is so polyamorous he cries

a while ago i was fantasizing about like, the boromir-arwen side of the love triangle and decided i thought their dynamic could be incredible (two chivalrous courtly lovers who bond over their destiny-riddled third half) so i give arwen plenty of time in the spotlight in that fic as well

as for boromir and aragorn, they are as dramatic as ever

“There was- kingsfoil, that’s the name, kingsfoil in the arrow-wounds,” Boromir continued. “... I expect that was the work of the King. He was a ranger in the realm where Arnor once stood, isn’t that right? A ranger’s knowledge of medicine.”

“To use athalas on wounds is an elven remedy,” Arwen told him. “Before Aragorn was a ranger, he lived in Rivendell among elves for many years.”

Boromir watched Aragorn for a while. “I do not know why,” he said, “but that seems to explain some things about him.”

“Indeed,” Arwen agreed. “Continue about Lórien, please.”

i'm still not sure whether i'll finish this one as i've hit a tough spot in it, but i love the concept so much that i can't bear to delete it - boromir my babygirl for real

thank you sm for the ask btw! maybe i will send you one after i have a nap to recover from this wretched sickliness

7 notes - Posted November 30, 2022

#4

Good morning friend! I thought I should properly introduce myself if I'm going to keep bothering you :)

I'm Remy, I'm 19 and use they/them. I'm autistic and my two biggest special interests at the moment are movies and LotR. I'm hyperfixating on the hobbit at the moment tho.

I'm a writer and I read a lot.

Yeah, that's pretty much it. I am not good at introducing myself but you're really cool :)

good morning to you too! i have lots of names but most people call me pom, i'm 17 and also use they/them (🤝). i am nursing a fresh tolkienverse special interest, and i am a writer/artist.

i think you're pretty cool too! i've never had a follower who was a fan of my work (? if that makes sense?), since i hardly ever post my work here. all of my followers are just old discord buddies and miscellaneous mutuals from over the years lol

it's nice to meet you remy! thank you very much for enjoying my creations

8 notes - Posted August 14, 2022

#3

if i dont see a MASSIVE influx of gay pirate ocs because of ofmd i will personally cancel ofmd season 2

10 notes - Posted March 29, 2022

#2

“And a sense of coldness detatches, / As it tries to comfort your sadness,”

12 notes - Posted March 20, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

he’s a bit big for you

22 notes - Posted April 18, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[han-ban-bam]

Hello All! I have hit a follower Milestone thanks to a whole bunch of lovely people, TYSM to the stars and back! So I'm throwing a celebration! 🧡

This is going to be potentially... worlds away from other celebrations as it were. I've seen content on my dash before now but I'm making an event of it. Literally.

🥁🥁🥁🥁

Welcome to HBB's AU-Natural!

✨Celebrating AUs bc everything is golden✨

Canon got you down? You want ur fav to be a whole new thing? Here I am to enable you!

Whether its just changing one element of canon or booting the whole cast into a whole other world, lets make it happen!

To All AU's out there;; 👀👀👀👀 I would like to see! Granted if it’s a fandom I’ve not interacted with I may not know what’s what but still!!!

Wanna' see the gang in a different time period? Excellent idea!

Wanna' see X Y & Z in another piece of media entirely? Oh hell yeah!

Wanna' see the show with a change that's just a side step to the left of canon? Chefs Kiss.

Event to be held from: April 19th to April 23rd

I shall be tracking the event with the hashtag HBBAUnatural and please @ me to make doubly sure I see it!

Love to see what you come up with!

Some rules for the event;

No underage/non-con/incest

NSFW is welcome, I won't be reblogging it to my blog however if it doesn't have a click-through/readmore.

If you do throw NSFW content into the fray please tag accordingly with; Minors DNI or nsfw.

Don't have to follow me to participate! The more the merrier!

Already got some AU stuff? Fantastic! Mix it in and let it get in the spotlight!

Art, writing, edits, videos, gifs: all forms are welcome!

Wanna' take part but no idea where to start? Here are some of my own AU content for inspiration! It’s all SPN, no surprise there :

IDEAS

- Star Wars

- Kingdom Hearts

- Big Wings

- Pokemon

- Black Tie

Tagging mutual/creators below for signal boosting 🙏 (message me if u'd like to be removed from the list bc i will be reblogging this again in the future):::

@mjulmjul @floral-cas @brickshithousedean @destieldisaster @cinderwingcas @seraphcastiel @castiellesbian @avaarts @lemon-wedges @bendingsignpost @emeraldcas @thisisapaige @ltleflrt @lizleeillustration @one-more-offbeat-anthem @castinkywinky @you-cant-spell-subtext-without @spneventsdirectory @justcastiel @cascats @paxdracona

[strawberrysodaslut]

Let’s Play the Sims - 1000 Follower Celebration [ closed ]

❛ ━━━━━━━━･❪ ❁ ❫･━━━━━━━━━ ❜

❛ ━━━━━━━━･❪ ❁ ❫･━━━━━━━━━ ❜

First and foremost, I wanna thank everyone who has read, liked, reblogged and followed any of my work, the support has been overwhelming and I am so grateful for it.

For this celebration, I wanted to base it on a game Ive been playing since 2012- or at least, a series of games. The Sims has been a huge part of my life and thought it would be fun to base this celebration on that.

I wanted to do a mix of writing and just some other fun “games”, so I tried to do different stuff based on the game modes.

I’m gonna be focusing on this celebration, so if you currently have a request, I’m gonna wait to finish after this celebration is over so I don’t get too overwhelmed.

Before you request anything, please read my boundaries and character list, if you request anything that goes against my boundaries, i’m going to delete the request.

this celebration is open to anyone! you don’t have to be following, a mutual, or even have read my work to participate.

there is also no limit to how much you can request, but please don’t attack me if it takes a bit to get to yours, I promise i’ll do my best to do as many as soon as possible, without compromising my mental health.

with all that out of the way… it’s time to open up the game!

❛ ━━━━━━━━･❪ ❁ ❫･━━━━━━━━━ ❜

❛ ━━━━━━━━･❪ ❁ ❫･━━━━━━━━━ ❜

Create-a-Sim 👀

traits 🧠 // send me five traits about you (they dont have to be sims themed) and fandom and your sexuality and ill tell you who i ship you with! [im closing this one because it became really tedious to do, if you have one req already that will be completed, but any new ones will be ignored }

style 👗 // give me 5 emojis and i’ll make an outfit moodboard out of it

likes & dislikes 🤔 // send me three likes and three dislikes and a fandom and i’ll say who your sworn enemy will be

Build/Buy 💰

interior design 🌷 // send me 5 emojis and i’ll make a collage based on them

foundation 🏠 // send me a headcannon from any character on my list and i’ll do my best to expand upon it, they can be from any genre

Live Mode 🌏

grim reaper 💀 // send me an angst scenario with any character on my list, [ e.g. Sirius Black cheating ]

woohoo 🥵 // send me a smutty scenario from any character on my list [ e.g. car sex with Steve Harrington ]

tragic clown 🤡 // send me an AU from any genre with any character on my list [ e.g. modern au with Eddie Munson ]

freezer bunny 🐰 // send me a fluffy scenario with any character on my list [ e.g. taking care of Remus Lupin post full-moon ]

❛ ━━━━━━━━･❪ ❁ ❫･━━━━━━━━━ ❜

tagging moots:

@ivegot4gcses @omenhel @enamorededdie @crybabyddl @lazydreamer19 @andvys @misaverawrites @mystic-writing @ykyouluvme @hellatrashdontask @irissa @f4wnette @s0urfairies

@zmxchs @starstruckwillows @yoooespinosa @suckerforstiles @getawayfrommewerewolf @wherearemypeaches @o-rion-sta-r @dracoslittlesunflower @n0agranger @floralpedestal @garfieldsladybird @phuckinphia @morwap

@fairydxll @beaucherie @natti-ice @mrtonystark @the-a-word-2214 @regulusblackcore @prfctlywr0ng @honeymunson

@punkprongs @chaoticvigilantes @whynot-tryit @sunshinexhotchner @takecareluv

❛ ━━━━━━━━･❪ ❁ ❫･━━━━━━━━━ ❜

[hwajin]

⁂ 𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐟𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐬 - 𝐚 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 ⁂

keep reading to participate!

ఌ︎ .. 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐤 𝐲𝐨𝐮!!

hi!! soooo this is a little special i decided to do for reaching 2k followers!!! honestly i can't quite believe it, that's such a big number that it,xs almost scary jfjwkfjne BUT THANK YOUUUU to everyone who keeps interacting with me, this blog and my writings!! aaaand special thank you to all the wonderful mutuals and friends on here that make writing and sticking around super fun hehe, i love all of you a LOT <3

ఌ︎ .. 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐛 - 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭

ok now to the actual collab jcnwjfje SO. the closer rules and details are listed below, but basically- almost any writer who wants to participate in this project is free to do so!! i planned to do this thing kinda wintery since it is the middle of winter jfjsjfnsb, but it is perfectly fine if there's no season mentioned in your fic, meaning the fic itself doesn't have to revolve around winter and the season itself is not required to be the main thing!! i just figured a theme would be kinda nice hehe.

ఌ︎ .. 𝐫𝐮𝐥𝐞𝐬

now to the rules, please please PLEASE read them all and carefully to avoid any miscommunication!!

any genre is allowed, from smut to fluff to angst to horror, whatever you can imagine

in relation to the previous rule, you have to be 18+!!! even if you were to write a sfw fic, the fact that there very likely will be smut written in this collab, having minors participating would overstep a boundary!!!!

also in relation to the first rule, please keep nsfw works legal and safe!! kinkier and heavier stuff in general is allowed, but if you are unsure of anything you plan please let me know beforehand!!

the minimum for words you can write is 500, please add the "read more" future if you write more than that! the maximum of words is literally the roof, if you wanna write a 25k+ word fic GO FOR IT

i'll say it again, your fic does not have to be a winter fic per say! i'll simply list tropes that fit the season in my opinion jfjejdje but if you don't really feel the vibe or hate winter then that's totally fine!!

the deadline to write/ post your fic i planned would be on february 28th since winter kinda ends- with february?? but the date can still be altered if needed!!

ఌ︎ .. 𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐭𝐨 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐩𝐚𝐭𝐞

please read this very carefully as well!!

if you want to participate, send me a dm, and ask, or reblog this post with the tag #winterfalls!

please let me know if you want to participate until december 20th!! requests to particiapte after this date will not be accepted anymore!!

please dm me the trope and the member you would like to write for until december 20th as well!!

in general, you can choose and write for whatever member and whatever trope you want, i will let you know if the certain combination was chosen already, or if one member was picked too often though, so you can reconsider! (for better understanding, i won't set a limit of only 8 people participating in this collab to fit stray kids, so some members will obviously be written about more than once!)

i will create a groupchat here on tumblr if i can figure out how to kfmsmfnns to keep the project a bit more organized, if you don't want to be added to it though please let me know!!

ఌ︎ .. (𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐲) 𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐬

you are free to use your own tropes/ scenarios if you like, those are only examples!

sharing one bed

seeing the first snow together

building snowmen

sharing a kiss/ fucking on new year's eve

trapped in a snow storm (together 👀 alone 👀)

keeping each other warm

skiing trip/ winter vacation in general

making snowangels

(spicy) present buying/ unpacking

decorating together

baking cookies

sex by the fire (🎶 at night 🎶) did i already make this joke once maybe

anything fantasy!! eg. vampires and werewolfes, snowprinces/ss, jack frost type of things!!

and obv simple classics like: (you can combine these with the previous tropes!!)

enemies to lovers

friends to lovers

exes to lovers

fwb

soulmate au

break up

idol au

slice of life

etc. etc.!!

that's basically it!! i hope the one or other writer is ready to participate, i'd really really appreciate it!! and if you have any questions regarding participating (or anything really) don't be shy to dm me!!

- 𝐤𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐲 <3

[just-an-inchident]

This may be rude of me but I just have to ask. How can you be mutuals on here with people that hate Max? Cause I’ve seen you reblog stuff or send asks/get asks from blogs on here that make their hate towards him very well known and use really hateful speech towards him and I just can’t understand how someone who says their a fan of Max can stay friends with someone who calls him a human error, a stain on f1 or mv0 and wish that he crashes or even worse (won’t say it).

No worries, just ask. If I don‘t wanna answer it that‘s my decision, but in general my inbox is open for everything except hate.

My real mutuals, the one’s I regularly chat and banter with or even call friends, are not anti Max! I know that for sure.

Usually, when I see hate against Max, I unfollow. I don‘t have anyone blocked, I simply just unfollow. For sure I follow some people who feel indifferent about him (or maybe don‘t like him but stay silent about it), but I don‘t think I follow Max haters?

Reblogging is another thing. When I see a post I like and want to reblog I don‘t always pay attention to who the original poster is. I don‘t even know or follow every person I reblog from and I definitely don‘t wanna go on their blog to find out if they‘re anti Max or not every time.

The ask thing confuses me a bit. Do I really send asks to / receive asks from Max haters?

Now I‘m curious and would like to know which blogs you’re talking about. If you want you can tell me their names anonymously, I promise I won‘t expose anyone!!! I‘d just like to know who you consider a Max hater out of the people I reblog from and apparently get asks / send asks to? Please don‘t hold back I really wanna know! 👀

[han-ban-bam]

HBBAUNATURAL IS HERE‼️‼️

From today till Saturday it’s AU’s galore ✨

Canon got you down? You want ur fav to be a whole new thing? Here I am to enable you!

Whether its just changing one element of canon or booting the whole cast into a whole other world, lets make it happen!

To All AU’s out there;; 👀👀👀👀 I would like to see! Granted if it’s a fandom I’ve not interacted with I may not know what’s what but still!!!

Wanna’ see the gang in a different time period? Excellent idea!

Wanna’ see X Y & Z in another piece of media entirely? Oh hell yeah!

Wanna’ see the show with a change that’s just a side step to the left of canon? Chefs Kiss.

Event to be held from: April 19th to April 23rd

I shall be tracking the event with the hashtag HBBAUnatural and please @ me to make doubly sure I see it!

Some rules for the event;

No underage/non-con/incest

NSFW is welcome, I won’t be reblogging it to my blog however if it doesn’t have a click-through/readmore.

If you do throw NSFW content into the fray please tag accordingly with; Minors DNI or nsfw.

Don’t have to follow me to participate! The more the merrier!

Already got some AU stuff? Fantastic! Mix it in and let it get in the spotlight!

Art, writing, edits, videos, gifs: all forms are welcome!

Wanna’ take part but no idea where to start? Here are some of my own AU content for inspiration! It’s all SPN, no surprise there :

IDEAS

- Star Wars

- Kingdom Hearts

- Big Wings

- Pokemon

- Black Tie Tagging mutual/creators below for signal boosting 🙏 (message me if u’d like to be removed from the list):::

@mjulmjul @floral-cas @cumguzzlerdean @destieldisaster @cinderwingcas @seraphcastiel @castiellesbian @avaarts @lemon-wedges@bendingsignpost @emeraldcas @thisisapaige @ltleflrt @lizleeillustration @one-more-offbeat-anthem @castinkywinky @you-cant-spell-subtext-without @spneventsdirectory @justcastiel @cascats @paxdracona @4x01 @amethystpagan @winchester-reload