#spring reads ella

[thesweetnessofspring]

If I screenshot every part of Ella that stands out to me I'd have HarperCollins suing me so to sum up Chapter One:

Gail absolutely nails writing Ella as a five year old, nine year old. Ella's delight in her birthday, her feeling special about having a fairy curse and then realizing how people can abuse it.

The fact that Ella didn't realize she had this "curse" until she was five!! That means Eleanor and Mandy (who does end up having a hard time not giving Ella "for your own good" commands) were parenting a preschooler without giving her direct commands!! They were consistently giving her choices!! While they probably did give her some commands (just spend five minutes with a two-year-old and you can see no commands would be impossible) the fact is that Ella didn't realize she was cursed until Mandy slipped up when she was five, so all commands were necessary to keep her safe and never to take away her choice.

The description of Ella eating slice after slice of cake and getting uncomfortably fuller and sicker with each bite is so visceral I feel my own stomach get bloated and pained every time I read it.

"If you commanded me to cut off my own head, I'd have to do it." You know this got the attention of every 10-year-old reading it. Stupid publisher. Also, yo, what high stakes here!

"I didn't know who my fairy godmother was." MANDY!!!

"Instead of making me docile, Lucinda's curse made a rebel of me. Or perhaps I was that way naturally." I've written about this before, but Ella doesn't give her mother the credit she deserves. Having this curse from birth means she could have been molded into a perfect little child. And we know from later on that Ella is far from the first child Lucinda gave this curse to. And I imagine that while the other parents were horrified and protective, they had to of used the curse to their advantage--and realistically, to different degrees of abuse. But Eleanor not only refuses to give commands to Ella, she eggs on the feud between Ella and Mandy! She is preparing her daughter as best she can to live in the world with this curse by using her wits. Mother of all time.

Ella and her mother sliding down the bannister, Ella so wanting to be like her, graceful but also fun! This book has Ella learning to develop into the woman her mother was and getting a happier ending.

Ella caring for her mother is so precious. Eleanor enjoying Ella's stories and encouraging her humor. Guh. I love that Eleanor isn't "elegant dead mother" but even in this one chapter is a full person. She's smart, funny, playful, regal, adoring of her daughter. I love her so much.

Ella's father. So absent, he doesn't know about the curse. Wasn't there for her birth. And so repulsive that Eleanor asks Mandy not to send for him when she's sick.

The candle grove as a nod to the hazel tree in some versions of the traditional Cinderella (including Grimms) where Cinderella makes a wish. Of course, Ella's in this case doesn't come true. :(

[mymindcreatedthis]

Horny Earps (18+)

Mary Earps x Reader

Word count: 3,957

Warning: smut, Dirty talk, Unprotected sex, Blow job, Throatpie, Squirting, Creampies, Clit teasing, Pussy slapping, Mary getting head, Mary Receiving, positions: Riding, Missionary, on side.

*Y/n's pov*

It was the 4th day of camp. Mary and I are roommates this camp, we've been talking and bonding and getting closer and becoming really good friends. It was game night, we were in our room. It was our turn to host it, I was messing around on my phone scrolling through Reddit. Mary was in the shower.

Fuck Mary's ass looked really good in some of these pictures. I adjust my shorts as I feel myself start to get hard.

"Fuck, not now. The girls will be over soon." I say to myself.

I turn off my phone and try to calm down a bit. After a little while my boner goes away and there's a knock on the door. I set my phone off to the side and get up. I open the door

Ella, Alessia, Lucy, Leah, Millie and Rachel are all standing there. I giggle and move to the side to let them in.

"Come on dorks, get in here." I say.

They laugh and come in, I close the door behind them and lock it, we all sit down. Some of the girls sit on the bed and sit in the ground.

"So what do you have in mind for game night?" I ask them.

Leah smirks. "7 minutes of heaven."

I shrug. "Sure." The bathroom door opens and Mary comes out.

"Oh hey girls." Mary says.

We giggle and greet her. Leah speaks up again.

"But we switched it up though. We wrote down names, the names are in the red solo cup. Rules are simple, we will draw 2 names from the cup. The two names who are pulled will go into the bathroom for 7 minutes of heaven. Someone will set a timer on their phone for 7 minutes. Once the time is up someone will knock on the doors." Leah smirks.

Leah smirks at me and leans over a bit. "Y/n will you do the honors and draw the first 2 names?" Leah asks.

I reach into the cup and pull out 2 names. I look at the two pieces of paper and read the names.

"Rachel and Ella." I say reading the names out loud.

Ella blushes darkly as she hears me call her name. Rachel smirks and gets up, she grabs Ella's hand and they both go into the bathroom they close the door behind them and lock it.

I grab my phone and start the timer. Mary nudges my elbow, I look over at her. She smiles and kisses my cheek.

"Hey love." Mary says.

I smile. "Hey beautiful."

Mary smiles and looks at me. "You think you and me will get drawn here soon?" Mary asks.

I shrug. "I don't know." I reply.

I was hoping that we would be drawn here soon. My dick is throbbing and I really need a release.

"Fuck Rachel, I'm close." We hear Ella moan.

We all giggle the timer goes off. I get up and knock on the door. "Times up."

The door opens and a very flustered Ella appears. Her face was red and she was blushing darkly as she was putting her shorts back on. Rachel wipes Ella's juices off her face and chin and sucks her juices off her fingers.

They both sit down. I hand the cup to Rachel. "Your turn to pick the next 2 names."

Rachel smirks and takes the cup. "Thanks love." Rachel reaches into the cup and pulls out two names. Rachel smirks and looks up at me.

"Y/n and Mary." She says.

I blush darkly, Mary smirks and grabs my hand and leads me into the bathroom. She closes the door behind us and locks it.

Mary turns to me and immediately smashes her lips against mine. I'm shocked at first but start kissing back. I place my hands on her ass and squeeze it.

Mary moans in the kiss, Mary lowers her hand and rubs my bulge over my shorts. I moan in the kiss. Mary smiles against my lips.

She gets on her knees, she lowers my shorts and boxers, my dick springs out once it's freed from its confinement.

Mary kisses my dick. I moan as she does this. "Mmm so big." She says, she wraps her hand around my dick and slowly starts to stroke my dick.

I moan and close my eyes. Once I'm hard Mary takes my dick in her mouth.

"Mmm fuck." I moan as she slowly bobs her head. I moan and hold her hair up as she continues to give me head. "Fuck.... Mmm just like that." I moan.

Mary hums against my dick and bobs her head faster. "Fuck Mary."

Mary words her arms around the back of my legs and pulls me closer to her as she bobs her head faster sucking the soul out of my dick.

I moan and hold my hair up as she continues to suck my dick. I moan loudly in pleasure as I feel myself getting closer to cumming.

"Mmm Mary baby I'm close." I moan.

After another minutes of an amazing blow job I feel my balls tighten.

Throat pie #1:

I can't take it anymore, I bust my load in her mouth. Mary chokes and gags a bit as I cum in her mouth. Mary swallows my load and sucks me dry cleaning up the rest of my cum.

My dick falls from her mouth. Mary giggles. "Mmm that was some good dick. You taste amazing daddy."

I smirk. "Yeah? You like daddy's dick in your mouth?"

Mary giggles and nods. She comes back up and kisses me, I moan in the kiss as I taste myself on her lips.

"Mmm wanna do Netflix and chill and explore the bed sheets?" Mary asks rubbing my dick.

I moan and nod. "Fuck yes, after the girls leave. Your ass is Mine." I say.

"Mmm I can't wait." Mary says and kisses me.

I smile and kiss back, I hear the time go off and there's a knock on the door. "Times up." Rachel says.

We open the door to the bathroom and join the girls. We sit back down and I hand Mary the cup since it was now her turn to draw the next two names.

Mary reaches into the cup and pulls out 2 names. "Lucy and Rachel."

Ella giggles. "This should be interesting they're both Doms." Ella says teasing Lucy and Rachel.

Lucy and Rachel go into the bathroom. They close the door nd locks it, Mary starts the timer on her phone. We hear moaning coming from her bathroom.

"Mmm fuck Rach." We hear Lucy moan.

We giggle when we hear Lucy moaning Rachel's name. After 7 minutes the timer goes off.

Mary gets up and knocks on the door. "Times up."

The door opens. Rachel wipes Lucy's juices off her face and chin. Lucy was blushing darkly and putting her panties and shorts back on. We continue the game after a few more rounds of the game the girls decide to call it a night and leave.

It was 10:30 pm now. Mary follows the girls to the door, Mary says good night and closes the door behind them and locks it. I smirk and move behind her, I Kiss her neck from behind.

My hands slip up her shirt, I scratch and trace her abs a bit roughly scratching them with my fingers. Mary moans as I do this, I smirk and continue to kiss her neck.

My hand slips in her panties and shorts and rub her folds. "Mmm fuck." Mary moans and leans back against me as I slip in a finger and slowly finger her.

"Mmm take off my clothes." Mary moans as I continue to finger her.

I giggle, I slide her shorts and panties down her legs and tosses them off to the side. I pick her up, Mary giggles and squeals as I do this.

I lay her on the bed, Mary spreads her legs giving me full access to her pussy, I lay between her legs. I take off her shirt and bra and toss them off to the side.

I kiss from her neck down to her chest, I kiss and suck in her boobs leaving hickys. Mary moans as I do this, I kiss her boobs down to her stomach/ abs. I kiss and suck on her abs leaving hickys,

Mary moans and runs her fingers through my hair. I playfully tug at her shirts silently asking for permission. Mary nods. "Take them off."

I slide her shorts and panties down her legs and toss them off to the side. I run my fingers through her folds. She moans as I do this.

"You're soaking wet baby." I say.

"All for you baby." Mary says.

I smirk, I kiss from her abs down to her thighs. I kiss and suck on her inner thighs. Mary moans she grabs my head and pushes my head to where she needs me the most. I lick her folds, Mary moans and rubs her fingers through my hair.

I didn't know what Mary was into so I was just winging it. Mary moans as I slip in a finger and slowly finger her as I lick her folds and roll my tongue on her clit.

"Oh fuck, it's so good." Mary moans.

I slip in a second finger, I finger her faster. Mary moans and rests her legs on my shoulders. I stick my tongue deep in her pussy eating her out.

"Fuck....Fuck....Fuck. I'm gonna cum." Mary moans.

I finger her faster and faster as I eat her out rolling my tongue on her clit adding different pressure sending Mary over the edge. Mary cums on my face and in my mouth and on my fingers. Mary's legs shake and buckle in pleasure.

I help Mary ride out her high. I lick and clean up her sticky mess. I lick her juices off my fingers and wipe her juices off my face. I lick her folds cleaning up the rest of her cum.

Mary moans and lays there panting and trying to catch her breath I come back up and kiss her deeply. Mary moans as she tastes herself on my lips.

"Mmmm you really know how to eat pussy." Mary says.

I smile. "You taste amazing baby."

I make out with her, Mary takes off my shirt and bra and tosses them off to the side. Mary flips us around, I'm now on bottom and she's now on top. She kisses me deeply, I melt into the kiss and moan in the kiss as she rubs my bulge over my shorts.

Mary smirks against my lips Mary kisses and sucks on my neck. I moan and squeeze her ass. I moan as she leaves hickys on my neck. She kisses my neck down to my chest and boobs. Mary kisses and sucks on my chest leaving hickys.

I moan and dig my nails into her ass. Mary smirks, she rubs my bulge over my shorts. She kisses and sucks in my boobs I moan and play with my boobs. She kisses my boobs down to my stomach/abs.

Mary kisses and sucks on my abs leaving hickys. I moan and run my fingers through her hair. Mary kisses to my shorts and stops, she playfully tugs at the waist band of my shorts silently asking for permission.

"Take them off baby." I say.

Mary slides my shorts and boxers down my legs and tosses them off to the side. Our clothes littered and scattered around on the floor around the bed.

Mary kisses my abs down to my thighs. Mary kisses and sucks on my inner thighs leaving hickys. I moan, Mary massage my balls. I moan in pleasure as she does this.

Mary slowly strokes my dick. "Fuck baby you're huge." Mary says checking out my dick.

Once I'm hard Mary takes my dick in her mouth. I moan as Mary slowly bobs her head, my tip hitting the back of her throat.

I moan and hold her hair up in a ponytail as she bobs her head a bit faster and plays with my balls.

"Mmm fuck, it feels so good." I moan in pleasure as she hums against my dick.

Mary wraps her arms around the back of my thighs and bobs her head a bit faster. "Mmm fuck baby. Ah right there just like that."

I moan as Mary continues to give me head and suck the soul out of my dick. She strokes the bottom on my dick as she continues to bob her head and play with my balls.

I feel myself getting closer to cumming. "Mmm Mary...baby I'm close." I moan in pleasure.

Mary hums against my dick as she bobs her head faster and faster than before.

"Ah.... Fuck fuck." I moan my legs shake and buckle in pleasure.

Mary bobs her head faster and continues to stroke my dick as she plays with my balls. I moan as I feel that all to familiar feeling in my balls.

"Mary baby I'm gon-"

Throat pie #2:

I'm unable to warn her in time. I bust my load in her mouth, Mary chokes and gags a bit as I cum in her mouth.

Mary swallows my load and sucks me dry. Mary cleans up the rest of my cum and swallows it. My dick falls from Mary's mouth. Some of my cum drips from her mouth and down her chin.

"Mmm you taste amazing." Mary moans.

I blush darkly. "T-Thanks." I stutter.

Mary smirks and straddles my lap. "I'm not done with you yet. I want your load deep inside my pussy." Mary says seductively.

Fuck that may have been the hottest thing I've heard. Mary straddles me she lines my dick up with her pussy. Mary puts my tip in her and slowly sinks down I. My dick taking my length deep inside her.

We both moan as I'm deep inside her pussy. Mary grabs my boobs and takes a moment to adjust to my size.

"Fuck I thought you were big in my mouth. I feel so full with you deep inside me." Mary moans.

Me and Mary both moan as she slowly slides up and down on my dick. "Mmm fuck, so wet and tight." I moan in pleasure.

Mary slides up and down on my dick faster and faster. "Mmm fuck daddy you're really deep in there." Mary moans.

Her skin slaps against mine as our moans fill the room. I moan and spank her ass. Mary moans and goes faster and harder.

"F-Fuck." I moan in pleasure.

Mary moans and massages my boobs as she keeps riding my dick going harder. "Gah fuck, it feels so good." Mary moans.

"Mmm you Like that baby? Daddy's dick deep inside you stretching you out?" I ask.

Mary moans and grips the top of the head board. As she goes faster and faster. "Fuck daddy, I love it. I love you stretching me out." Mary moans.

I moan loudly as I feel myself getting close to cumming. "Gah Mary, slow down a bit. I'm gonna cum." I moan in pleasure.

Mary cutely giggles and moans. "That's the point baby. I'm gonna drain your balls and collect every drop of your cum." Mary says.

Fuck that may have been the hottest thing I've heard. I moan and watch Mary as she continues to ride me.

"You close baby? You gonna bust your load deep inside my pussy?" Mary asks seductively.

"Mmm I'm gonna pump you full of cum." I moan in Pleasure.

Mary grips the head board tightly and rides my dick faster and harder. I moan loudly in pleasure as I feel myself getting close to cumming.

"Mary baby, I'm gonna cum." Loudly in pleasure.

Creampie #1:

I moan in pleasure. I can't take it anymore, I bust my load deep inside her. Mary moans and cums all over my dick, we both moan as o continue to shoot ropes of cum inside her and paint her walls white. We both moan as I continue to pump her full of cum.

Mary gasps and moans as I continue to cum inside her. "Mmm fuck there's so much." Mary moans.

I help Mary ride out her high, once we both come down from our highs Mary closely climbs off my dick. Thick cum ooze sour of her and drips down her thighs and drips onto my lap, my dick and onto the bed and sheets.

"Mmm fuck." Mary moans as my cum continues to ooze out of her.

I lay her on the bed in Missonary position, I smile and kiss her. Mary smiles against my lips and kisses my back. My dick rubs against her folds and pokes her inner thighs. Mary bites her lip and looks down.

"Put it back in, put it back in." Mary begs.

I smirk. "Such a slut for my dick and cum deep inside you." I tease her as I slide my dick back inside her.

"Mm yes, I love your dick and cum deep inside me." Mary moans as I slide my dick back inside her.

"Mm fuck you're really deep in there." Mary moans.

Mary wraps her legs around my waist and pulls me closer making me go even deeper inside her. We both moan.

"Mmm so wet and warm." I moan in pleasure.

I moan as I slowly slide back and forth. Mary moans in pleasure. "F-Faster." Mary moans.

I smirk, I hover over her and thrust in and out of her faster and faster. I moan and kiss her neck, Mary moans and scratches my back.

"Ugh fuck." She moans, her toes curl.

I smirk, I go at an angle and pound her g spot. "Oh fuck, right there. Right there." Mary moans.

My dick slips out from how wet she is. Mary Cutely groans and pouts. "Put it back in, put it back in." Mary says begging.

I quickly slide my dick back inside her, I moan I go at an angle and pound her g spot fast and hard. My balls slap against her skin as our moans fill the room.

Mary screams in pleasure. "I'm gonna squirt."

Mary screams in pleasure and squirts like crazy. Her legs shake and buckle in pleasure as she squirts like crazy.

"Ahh fuck." Mary moans.

I smirk, I continue to pound her g spot going faster and faster.

"Fuck....Fuck....Fuck." Mary squeaks out with each thrust.

"Mmm so good, I don't think I can last much longer." I moan.

Mary giggles. "Is someone close to cumming again?" Mary asks teasing me.

I nod and moan in pleasure. I lean down and kiss her deeply, I smirk against her lips as I feel her walls clench around my dick.

"Need to cum again beautiful?" I ask her.

"So damn bad." Mary moans.

"Let go baby." I moan as I continue to fuck the daylights out of her. I moan as I feel myself getting close to cumming. My breathing gets heavier letting her know that I'm close.

"Yes cum in me, cum in me." Mary moans.

I lean down and kiss her as I kiss her I feel her juices on my dick and abs. I moan as I continue to thrust into her faster and faster. I moan as I feel that all too familiar feeling in my balls.

"Mary baby I'm gon-"

Creampie #2:

I can't take it anymore, I bust my load deep inside her. Mary moans and cums all over my dick. We both moan as I shoot ropes of cum inside her and paint her walls white. We both moan as I continue to pump her full of cum.

I help Mary ride out her high, once we both come down from our highs I slowly pull out of her. My thick cum oozes out of her pussy and coats her folds and oozes onto the bed.

We both lay there panting and trying to catch our breathes. "Fuck you are amazing in bed." Mary pants out.

I giggle and kiss her. "Mmm so are you." I smile and look into her eyes. Mary smiles and scoots back to her ass to me. She lifts her ass cheek up a bit.

I smirk, I slide my dick back inside her. I moan and rest my head against hers.I reach up and pull her hair. Mary mains as I pull her hair. "Such a good girl." I tease her.

"Mmm fuck all for you. Mmm you can free use me the rest of camp. Make me your personal cum dump." Mary moans. I smirk and look into her eyes full of lust and hunger.

"Yeah I bet you would love that. Huh slut?" I tease her.

"Mm yes I would love it so much. Fuck me whener you want and shoot your massive loads in me." Mary moans.

I smirk. "I like the sound of that." I moan as I lift her leg a bit and hold it up a bit as I thrust into her faster.

Mary moans and looks deep into my eyes "I've been such a naught girl. Mm fuck." Mary moans out seductively.

I moan and thrust in and out of her faster and faster, my balls slap against her skin as our moans fill the room. Mary moans she looks me deep in the eyes as I continue to fuck her brains out.

"Fuck....Fuck.....Fuck." Mary squeaks out with each thrust.

Mary's mouth hangs open her eyes roll to the back of her head as I continue to pound her pussy going faster and faster.

Mary screams in pleasure as I pound her g spot. "Ahh I'm gonna squirt again." Mary screams in pleasure.

I smirk, I hold her leg up and thrust into her faster and harder. Her boobs bounce up and down as I continue to fuck her. I reach down and rub her clit with my thumb. Mary's legs lean against mine.

"Oh fuck." Mary shouts as she squirts like crazy all over the bed and sheets I smirk and kiss her neck and gently slap her pussy Mary moans and shudders as I do this.

I smirk and moan in her ear, I wrap my arm around her waist and continue to hold her Leg up as I thrust in and out of her harder and faster.

"Mmm fuck, it feels so good." Mary cries out in pleasure.

I moan in pleasure and keep going. I moan as I feel myself getting close to cumming. "Ahh I'm close."

"Me too." Mary moans.

I moan in pleasure, my breathing gets heavier letting her know that I'm close to cumming

"Yes, cum in me. Cum in me." Mary moans begging as I feel that all to familiar feeling in my balls.

"Mary baby I'm gon-" I try to warn her in time but I'm unable too.

Creampie #3:

I moan in pleasure. I can't take it anymore, I bust my load deep inside her. Mary moans and cums all over my dick. We both moan as I shoot ropes of thick cum inside her painting her walls white.

"Mm fuck there's so much cum." Mary moans in pleasure.

I moan and lean in and kiss her. I moan in the kiss as the last of my cum oozes inside her.

I come down from my high, once we both come down from our highs. We cuddle together I turn on a movie and we end up falling asleep cuddling each other.

[athena-xox]

Edit: you can ignore this post if you’d like. An updated post can be found here.

All the eah diaries posted on tumblr (that I can find)

I recently fell down the rabbit hole of reading all the eah diaries since I didn’t know they existed so I figured I’d make a page with all the links so people can read them knowing that it’s unedited unlike the wiki

If someone knows where more are please tell me

Signature diaries:

Alistair Liddel

Apple White

Ashlynn Ella

Blondie Lockes

Briar Beauty

Bunny Blanc

C.A Cupid

Cedar wood

Cerise Hood

Darling Charming

Dexter Charming

Duchess Swan

Farrah Goodfairy

Faybelle Thorn

Ginger Breadhouse

Holly O’Hair

Hunter Huntsman

Justine Dancer

Kitty Cheshire

Lizzie Hearts

Maddie Hatter

Melody Piper

Mira Shards (EQ)

Poppy O’Hair

Raven Queen

Rosabella Beauty

Cards:

Jillian, Meeshell, Nina

Others:

Date night

Dragon Games

Epic Winter

Fairytale pride (it’s not about gay people 😔)

Heart struck

Just Sweat

Royally Ever After

Spring Unsprung

Thronecoming

Tri-Castle-On

Way Too Wonderland

Monster high fairytales:

Little Dead Riding Wolf

Snow Bite

Threadarella

Edit: I literally spent hours searching for all the different diaries when @everafterhigharchive has all of them and more. Seriously check out their acc it’s so helpful

[precious-little-scoundrel]

Hop to it Tink

Pairing: Thumper & Tink

Summary: As the mid 60’s consume Elvis with his ever more arduous film schedule and immersive hobby pursuits, Elaine crafts a friend out of a rival. For either spouse it’s not the ideal of way to cope with a lost child and estrangement, but the confusion that can occur from dumping any old thing into a wound to close it up is enough to bewilder the most grounded person. Much less a young girl like Elaine Presley who finds herself scrambling for a hint of girlhood as her five children and husband rely on her to keep it all afloat. Just as she’s going under, a pretty painted hand lifts her up.

Dedicated: to Ashley and Christi who both begged for this to be written and added so many details themselves that enriched it. Credit is also due to @prompted-wordsmith for the wicked suggestion of Benetint being used herein.

Warnings: sensuality, 18+, no outright smut but many mentioned offscreen acts, suggestiveness, this can be read as two girl friends or a little more, I tried to keep it nebulous as I imagine it would feel for Elaine herself in her exploration. a rather alarming emphasis on feet, pampering and painting toes and Elvis being overly into that, phone teasing, Larry being a little too psycho analytical over why Elvis and Elaine are having trouble after Jo, mentions of a stillborn, mentions of marital dissatisfaction, hinted male infidelity, hinted Polaroids and homemade spicy films, Elvis turning shit into being erotic that isn’t? That’s men for ya. And then just fun fluffy stuff with the kids but that’s no warning. I didn’t edit this really, I’m too tired, my apologies for any errors.

Requested: yes ✔️

Circa: 63-67

“Hey Tink?” Ann’s voice, always enviously soft even while sounding mischievous, asks abruptly in the middle of an hour long chat.

“Oh what now?” Elaine giggles into the gold phone Elvis has stashed on his nightstand, feeling silly to be sat on her bed in the middle of the afternoon, frittering it away with chatting and giggling to a friend.

That’s rather proof that Elaine needs it. Too much ‘strictly business’ in her life these days and Elaine knows if Elvis were here he’d be poking her forehead and making her fall back and put her feet up. She taps them on the floor instead, tap tap tapping her heeled boudoir slippers on the bed frame in a giddy tick as she waits for her friend to spring whatever wickedness is behind that tone of voice.

Her friend.

Elaine had hoped Ann would like her, be willing to be a buddy to THE Mrs. Presley but what they’ve got now is something she didn’t even think girls could have. It makes her view Elvis and his buddies more tolerantly, the stupid and goofy comradery she was starved for without even knowing it has slowly had its way with her in the form of Thumper and bike riding with Thumper and chatting with Thumper and kissing Thumper while Elvis writhed beneath them…so maybe it’s not like his mafia boys at all, but somehow it’s deeper despite the unorthodox beginnings and carnal undertones that seep in and out of it at whim.

“Whatcha got going on tomorrow night?” Ann asks at last, sounding altogether too nonchalant.

Elaine's heart pounds and she purses her lips, sensing a game here. She’s so like Elvis, this friend of hers, maybe that’s why Elaine gets butterflies in her belly at the chance to see and enjoy Ann, or when the telephone rings and it’s her sweet self sounding like she’s actually had to pace herself from calling Graceland when she knows full well Elvis isn’t home. She calls for Elaine, and something about that makes Elaine bite her nails and kick her feet.

“Oh not much, Jack and Jesse are trying the scuba gear in the pool right now,” Elaine sighs, “and if they don’t die tonight I suppose I’ll be here tomorrow making sure they’re still breathing and fixing sandwiches and seeing to it that Ella’s got her puppy ready for the show.” she waits a beat and adds, “You know full well he isn’t gonna be home.”

“Who?” Ann asks with overacted ditziness.

“Him.” Elaine rolls her eyes, “At least another five days away, stupid Arizonan weather has decided to rain and there has to be reshoots.”

She can hear Thumper humm on the other line with something that’s more contemplative than compassionate for Elaine’s empty bed. “How’re your toes?” she asks.

Elaine peers over the fluffy slipper tops and the profusion of lime green feathers adorning the slippers, “Decent, but they’ll need to be redone before he gets back.”

“Red?”

“French tip.”

“Hmm, Pink next, I think?” Thumper says.

“Yeah alright.” Elaine bites her lip and makes herself stop or else they’ll start peeling and need more Vaseline.

“I have to be in LA day after tomorrow. And I have a flight tomorrow morning. It stops in Memphis.”

“How nice.” Elaine murmurs, pulling on her lip now, slightly better than biting, she supposes, and it hides her grin from the gal a thousand miles away in New York.

“Yes, I thought so.” Ann agrees.

“And it’s such a long flight, New York to LA.” Elaine coos, “You’d get cramp if you didn’t break it up, can’t have you holed up like that, unable to walk out the shakes.”

“No, you wouldn’t want it for me, would you?” Ann babifies her tone and Elaine does fall back into the covers grinning stupidly up at Elvis’ ugly harem lamp above her.

“No, no I wouldn’t dream of it.” Elaine swears, “You just come by Graceland, stay the night, stretch your legs a bit, fill your belly, let me curl your hair.”

“And we can talk about boys.” Thumper agrees, like that’s her return currency for good southern hospitality…and it sorta is.

These nights when she stays, they’re something sweet and young and silly like Elaine hasn’t had in years. Never once herself in full since she married, losing all friends who knew her before Elvis, collecting folks who knew Elvis long before her, and a snazzy supply of darling children whose most stimulating conversations are about tricycles and losing a new tooth -Elaine is a little starved.

And Elvis -well, as Tink, she's his best friend, without doubt, and he is hers. But she’s also his wife, his woman and his home and his ballast and his doll and his lover and his mama and his ideal. So many roles. What she can’t talk to Elvis about is only relegated to one topic.

Elvis himself.

And such a man, a force more than a man at times, oh it needs an outlet and somehow the Mafia wives and even Betsy Blue Eyes Harrison with her discreet goodness and friendship can’t speak of what Elaine wants to speak about. A body can only go so long without bragging a little about what they’ve got, and when what you’ve got is a national heartthrob and the most famous man on earth -secrets about earth shaking ardor that rivals cataclysmic tempers, well, sometimes Elaine wants to speak of it. Or, rather, about the parts that make her love it, look forward to another day full of it. The little things that she can’t trust anyone else to know or love or see kindly.

Except for Thumper. Thumper -who has already admitted to loving him the same way, seeing him the same, living for him similarly. It’s the oddest consolation, and stranger still that his wandering eye gave it to her, but Elaine will take it.

“Yes, we could talk about boys.” Elaine agrees with Thumper, both knowing that when they say boys, they mean boys such as Naughty, Widdle Fella, Elvis Presley and The Memphis Flash.

Tomorrow comes and her sons are alive and hardly stripped out of their swimsuits to sleep before getting back in them and plunging to the depths of the swimming pool with metal tanks on their back and masks on their faces. She can’t bear to watch, looks like a perfect way to die at home, and so she stays inside and helps Ella groom her puppy for the pageant and Rosalee has an embroidered collar that needs help with fastening the buckle -she did the stitching herself- and although she hasn’t seen Daisy in hours, that wasn’t unusual.

In the afternoon she sends a car to the airport, Marty grins at her wildly and she gives him the old eyebrow before taking herself to her bedroom as the hour nears and going through a rather worn routine that still pleases her like when it was new.

The sound of the big door suctioning through the house can be heard upstairs, as can the chorus of children screaming “Aunt Tamale!” and Elaine knows it’s time to make an appearance.

Ann braces to a squat with her bag dropped beside her as a tidal wave of Presley children launch themselves at her over the foyer floor, tackling and clinging and squeezing vehemently with grinning, beautiful faces. Three are wiry, chlorinated and shirtless. It takes a moment for Ann to realize one is Daisy and that no, they’ve not made a third son since she saw them last. Jack’s golden hair has gotten darker and that’s heartbreaking but at least his dimples are deeper than ever and Jesse is just as sweet and courteously loving as always with Ella tagged behind with a wet doggie that Ann takes in her arms and let’s lick her face and Rosalee had a sketch to show her of what looked like a deformed couch but was most likely intended to be her beloved daddy’s profile and -

Oh Elaine.

Always one to make an entrance, to set the tone of a good game. She looks perfectly at home leaning against an upper bannister while observing the hubbub from above, with sheer navy cascading around her like a thundercloud and her hair tousled to perfection. Young Elvis’ portrait yearns behind her on the wall and Ann smiles at the rightness of it.

She waits till her children loosen the gambit just a little before wafting down the stairs in a tulle blur of long limbs and soft focused curves and she throws her arms around Ann and her sensible, tweed traveling suit.

“Thumper, I’ve missed you!” She’s no icy Madame in her own home, sweet Elaine, her porcelain face and macabre loungewear aside, she is warm and glowing in the rays of a waning day’s sun and Ann clings a little longer, arms around her neck and giving flesh beneath her hands, feeling oddly at home in this foyer.

“Missed you, too.”

The sleepovers always start with evenings like this. There’s playing with the kids and dinner, they may end up in the pool, they may end up watching home movies to show her what she’s missed since last visit. Perhaps there’s a new golf cart to try to flip on its top. But when bedtime comes, Thumper is a loving taskmaster, insisting everyone get to their respective rooms, starting the process thirty minutes early so that there can be as much dithering and “one more chapter” as can be and still get the kids conked out at a decent hour. Rosalee is allowed to stay and use the phone to talk to Elvis till 10:30 and in the meantime Thumper conducts tooth brushing competitions and Elaine sorts out breakfast plans with Mary.

And then it’s time for bedtime, and where Elaine might waiver about being so selfish as to deny her kids the little tiny bit of girlhood she’s carved for herself this evening, Ann has no qualms guarding that for her and summarily cleans out the big king bed of progeny.

Only little Jack is occasionally allowed to stay.

Weaned, or so Elaine swears but Anna has doubts, the kid is golden and soft and lanky like all little five year olds should be, and blessed with an unerring accuracy in beaming and scowling at the right times to get exactly what he wants. In short, he is Elvis come again in a tiny, button nosed, rosebud lipped cherub with sweaty curls begging to be pushed off his forehead by a loving hand and of course it’s half the delight to let the little fella stay and camp on the bed when they read their tabloids to each other, watching him laughing maniacally along with them at rumors about themselves that Jack doesn’t even understand.

Jack is also excellently skilled at wedging the foam pads between their toes when it’s pedicure time, allowing Elaine and Ann to bask back in matching boudoir chairs with their feet propped up on the matching stools Elvis got. Pink stain pouring over little round stools for when he wants to haul one up and chat to his wife while she applies her lashes. Jack insists on wedging the foam between their toes himself and sometimes tries his hand at painting with varying catastrophic results.

“Heyar, i’s wight heyer.” Jack’s little drawl still butchers Elaine’s diligent elocution lessons but both women fawn over him regardless when he passes them a roller they had planned on using later -not anymore- they drop the sectioned hair in process and start again with the one he gives them.

“He’s really precious, isn’t he?” Ann sighs once, staring down at him where he finally passed out between them, soft, chubby knees he got from his daddy bent askew and long fingered hands for a child tucked beneath a milk fat cheek.

“I don’t think I’d have made it without him.” Elaine admitted once and when Thumper gave her a searching look she went on, “Before there was you, there was just him. And when everyone else was ready to be happy again after Jo, he never minded when I’d take him to a room to nurse him and -“ she trail off, face lit warm by the harem lamp’s multi gemmed glow and the golden bedding around them, dark hair pinned up in rollers to show how young her face really is without paint and artifice, “-I even remember once being in Elvis’ trailer on set, right after and it was like every kid who cried around me-my body would respond and let down more and I-I didn’t have a baby for it. Except for baby Jack, and I remember sitting in that hot trailer on the lot while all the kids were out with Elvis touring the set and I was…crying.”

“Of course you were.” Ann snuggles closer, reaches over Jack’s little form to squeeze Elaine’s arm.

“I was sobbing my eyes out, actually.” Elaine admits with a shy turn of her head towards the padded headboard, “While he nursed. And then I felt his chubby little hand, all clumsy and sweaty, wiping them off without ever breaking his latch on the nipple. Wiping the tears off my cheeks.” She clarifies, “I didn’t know a baby could be so loving in the way I needed, and I’ve been close before, Jesse was my world I swear, and Ella is like watching myself again. But -his dimples pop when he gives that crooked grin and he won’t even let go of the latch, just a little…” she mimics his grin with her thumb in her mouth Ann laughs at the sight.

She laughs at the things Elaine finds funny and and she gets why Elaine loves what she loves. And night after sleepover night, Elaine finds herself admitting more and more and gets back an earful in return. It makes her giddy and makes her kick her feet when she picks up the ringing phone and hears her friend on the other line.

“I think I need to freshen up my hair.” Elaine will sigh into the receiver.

“I like how you’re growing it out, less structured, it’s younger!” Ann will agree before adding just as emphatically, “Just needs a little trim and some styling. I can come Thursday.”

One such Thursday in ‘64 Tink came out of the bathroom with tin foil in her hair and scared giddiness in her smile.

“I’ve got a surprise for ya,when you get back, Naughty.” Elaine told Elvis on the phone, forcing herself not to bite her nail in anticipation and ruin the new coat of polish.

The surprise had been an auburn haired wife.

Elvis noticed the effects of the sleepovers himself, beyond the wild sight of auburn hair, even as he looked at them askew and with a confused belligerence about fun being had without him, and many a demand regarding “what sorta fun are ya having? You’re my wife, dammit!”

His logic that ‘it don’t count if its two girls’ when excusing a night of the three of them rolling in Ann's rough cotton sheets as soon as Viva Las Vegas wrapped, didn’t hold up now. Now it very much did count that they were two little girls. Two unsupervised little girls and he was relieved when Jack stayed with them, but less so when he heard from Jack that they painted their piggies and arm wrestled in their nighties.

Elaine legitimately enjoyed grappling on the fluffy white carpet of the music room floor after ice cream had been served and wiped from childrens’ chins. It was something she tried with Elvis and never managed to win except by clinging to his back like a limpet, and even then he’d win by crushing her into the pile with his weight.

But with Ann she could tussle and strain and keep up some of that old verve that had once had her nailing softball practice in high school and currently crushing Vernon at tennis. No one in the Memphis mafia was allowed to tackle her or ought else when games were played on the lawn and no amount of flattery convinced Elaine of competency she had not exercised in years. Thumper provided just such a foil and Elaine found herself winning and losing with a clean conscience and sore body time after time, children applauding at either result.

She felt a little wild, like she had when Elvis brought the three of them together that first night, pacifying her qualms about the rightness of it as only he and his unfailing logic could do. But these days she was less and less burdened by rules or even expectation, it was her own house, her own life and if Elvis Presley had cracked open the door on hotel sheets, then Elaine saw little blame to be garnered from stepping over the threshold and creating a little world for herself that made her feel more than used up and unsellable. A “fact” Colonel Parker and the family Enterprise winced over daily. She could shut herself up in Graceland or Palm Springs and see to it that her children got an education, her husband's favored meals were served when he deigned to come home and her sanity was somewhat in place for it all by any means possible.

Elvis, for his own part, knew damn well he’d invited in whatever wild spirit of independent merrymaking Elaine now partook of. He also trusted her implicitly to keep it under wraps within the halls of their house, to indulge respectably and set a good example for his children.

It was undeniable, since her friendship with Ann began, she was looking younger, happier and more content than he’d seen her since before the tragedy, before Jo.

And Elvis cared mostly about that.

And in the way of those who do not know how to comfort others regarding a tragedy that they themselves have not recovered from, he found himself making concessions and negotiations, a bit of “so long as I can keep this, you can have that” sort of bargaining.

The ‘this’ and ‘that’ were never quite verbalized, but it was understood in that miserable harmony of married couples that he’d keep his women and his crowd of unedifying friends and employees so long as she might have household stability and a certain license to be a nutcase. Perhaps it would buy him and Larry time to figure out whatever fucked up Retrograde or inner chakra was keeping him from being able to bodily make love to his wife in the traditional way.

Larry swore he was only scared to make another child and lose it, hence why his wife remained hypothetically attractive but he could not complete his attraction carnally.

Elvis thought Larry should stick his head in the wood chipper for such a simple answer, there’s no way in hell that’s all there is to it and yet it likely was and Elvis couldn’t quite manage to accept that. Accept that he was still grieving. It wasn’t an option really. Not with everything else going on, all the different ways he was needed and wanted elsewhere, and not with the way Elaine swore she was fine until he could figure it out, so long as he loved her and was there for their kids.

Which he is. And when he’s not, Ann’s there. And Dodger. Or Marlon -on Daisy’s insistence. Or the whole damn nation.

So, much as the current order of things rankled Elvis, perhaps out of some suppressed awareness of his own role in it, ultimately having his Happy Tink back was his greatest wish.

And if it made Thumper happy as well? -goodness, it was a better end than most dalliances could boast.

But it was hard being a little sidelined, and when Charlie pointed out that Elaine must feel similarly about his flings and his fellas, Elvis wasn’t sure what the hell he was on about as Elaine was very much incorporated in both, as much as she liked to be. She just liked to be less and less and that was on her. Charlie still suggested he tell her how he felt about it.

But then Tink beat him to it.

He was laying there in bed, at Graceland, at some pitch black early morning hour one time, with five sleeping children scattered in their bed, when she told him she didn’t mean to make him feel lonely. It was all Elvis needed to hear. That she knew she was doing that, and if she knew it, then he knew that before long she’d find a remedy. He just needed to be a little more patient.

Which wasn’t his forte but Tink was quick and ingenious and once she’d come up with how to help, he just about wished she never had. The cure was as cruel as it was mouthwatering.

Elvis was in his trailer one day, on a movie set as Elvis was most days this year, and had spared some time from shooting due to another department needing to sort something out. The something didn’t matter, what did matter was that he got to sit in his trailer with his friends earlier than usual for an evening, put on his helmet and watch the game. And then his team won. Which, in the raucous, bottle clinking, cigar lighting jubilation of celebrating such a win, had him almost missing the ringing of the telephone he had wired in.

Only the Colonel and Graceland and little blonde Shirley from last movie set had his number and so Elvis scrambled over his red sofa cushions, threw off his helmet and leaned over to pick the phone up, hollering, “H’allo?” into the receiver while chopping at his throat with his hand in a demand for silence from his boys.

“Naughty?”

“Why, if it ain’t my pwecious baby wife.” he cooed with a sappy grin on his face, happily flipping on his back in the cushions, all being right with the world with his girl’s voice in his ear and his team in the playoffs.

“How’re you doin’ baby?” she asked him sweetly, and he could hear her settling into the sheets, the rustle couldn’t be from the kitchen.

He kicked his feet up above his head and propped them against the wall, “Pretty damn good, you watch the game?”

“Jesse and Thumper gave me a play by play.” she informed him.

“What were you cookin’?”

“Dumplings. Couldn’t step away.”

“Aww.” he knew it had to be something precious and easily burned to keep her from watching. “And now?”

“Now I’m petting Whiskers.” she informed him.

Their cat. “I trust Annie ain’t pettin’ any kitties of mine, is she?” he mumbled in a discreet little growl, cupping the phone to his mouth.

Joe glanced over anyway. Elvis found the toe of his boot tapping a jittery rhythm against the trailer wall and as annoying as he found it himself, he couldn’t stop. He felt nervous, oddly, like when he used to call Elaine from Germany, way back when before she’d joined him. Back when he wasn’t sure he knew her fully. She kept him on his toes and he liked that, it made his blood rush and satiated his natural eagerness for newness -but oh how he wondered sometimes how she always dredged up this newness. If he knew her, really knew her would -would she keep being so surprising?

Fuck. Maybe Larry was right, maybe he needed to pop a pill like an old fart and get it on with her, get it outta his system.

Where were they? Oh, cats. And Ann.

“Elvis, c’mon, really.” Elaine chided with a giggle, “Ann is setting up the pedicures.”

“Oh.” Elvis sucked in a breath at the way such a reassurance sent the blood from his panicked brain to his jealous heart and then melting down like molten desire right between his legs. He flexed his belly and gnawed on his thumbnail. “Oh yeah?” he tried again and sounded so damn wrecked that every friend in the place looked at him as if he’d just put on a porno. “Y’all paintin’ your piggies? Mmm? Pink, yeah? Fuck’meee.”

“Mhmm, well, she hasn’t gotten to painting yet.” Elaine expounded with a sigh, “She’s oiling them up, I’ve had to endure a fifteen minute sermon on dry cuticles, Elvis, and now she’s squeezing and rubbing my poor piggies till they’re tingly-“

“Laney!“ he hollered as if she dropped a 2x4 on his own toes and the guys crowded in, a mixture of mockery and interest on their faces. Elvis spread a hand out on his chest to regulate his breathing and cursed at the realization that his wife wasn’t the slightest bit clueless as to what she was doing. “Oh Laney, what -what’s she usin’ to oil ya?” he begged to know, his nose breathing deeply as if he could guess it a thousand miles away.

“Baby oil, Elvis,” Elaine sounds so earnest in his ear, “I told her you don’t let me use nothin’ else on them.”

“Good girl.” he growled after realizing she couldn’t see his decisive nod of approval at her obedience.

“Oooh” he hears her breathe in his ear and startles up from the couch in a little flail that has no destination save that he heard his wife moan and it requires some expenditure of energy from him or he’ll go nuts laying here imagining her in her babydoll nighty, her pretty little bare toes getting oiled up by Annie.

“Tink, what she doin’ to yous, Tink?” he demands urgently, and the guys crowd closer, Elvis tugs at his pant leg and knows it’s futile, his rock hard dick is trapped in Edith’s well tailored trousers and all he can do is bring his feet off the wall and spread as much as he can.

“S-she’s rubbing my arch.” Elaine tells him, “I was wearing those pretty little white heels all days, the white ones you got me.” she reminds him and he smiles at the visual of her clicking through their home.

“She makin’ ya feel good?” he prompts his eyes glossy and far away from his gaudy trailer and the smell of cigar smoke. “Rubbin’ the sore right out?”

“Yeah, yeah feels good.” She slurs.

He can just picture her all puddled and lax and slippery- “Hers all gooey?” he hopes, running a hand over his belly that keeps flexing and quivering like little Elvis is deep in cunt.

Elaine on the other end of the line smirks at the shift in his tone, gone entirely from jealousy to fanciful imaginings that are far, far beyond anything she’s indulging in but somehow it’s terribly exciting to know what he’s thinking, to lure him in and have only his own, nasty, boyish mind to blame for the misfire. She winks down at Thumper who truly is doing a remarkable job on those sore arches and gives another little moan. “Yeah, yeah I could fall outta bed I’m so gooey.”

She hears the shuddering breath he takes and can imagine him, crisp slacks and ruffled pompadour, laying on his back against velvet red cushions, legs splayed in a pantomime of dying and his lackeys gathered around like a sleazy last supper.

“I think we’ve really got his motor thrumming, Thumper.” she feels safe enough to giggle and hears Elvis give only a heart rending:

“Goddamn, whyyyy!” over the phone in reply.

“Need a defibrillator, boss?” she can hear Marty ask him and hears only petulant moaning about needing a wife in reply.

It did the trick, or at least, part of the trick. The trick of making the Presley’s feel connected to each other again and Larry agreed that it was good, a good step towards normality even if it was a little polyamorous and crowded for a typical marriage. Such phone calls made Elvis feel included and Elaine nearly re-besotted with a man who, when on the other end of a phone line and thousands of miles away, sounded desperate and devoted, something her wifely self hadn't felt from him in a little while.

Elvis brought home amongst his many gifts a couple of new cameras, and having taught Jesse how to use the still one, paid his son five dollars for each documented arm wrestle and diving contest. How he paid his wife for each documented lingerie try-on and manicure session was never revealed but her shoe box of pastel gauzy Polaroids suggested the compensation was ample incentive. How Tink paid Thumper was anyone's guess and no one’s knowledge. Maybe it was that Cartier diamond set she wore to a premiere the following week.

It was a natural graduation of events that Elvis should, being at home during one of Thumper’s convenient memphian layovers, be a camera wielding witness to one of these night time pamperings. They politely ignored him and his bright lights that beamed on their little haven in front of the dresser, pink satin chairs aglow and their faces almost angelically washed out on the film. That night, Elaine’s hair was restored to a deep chocolate color, Ann’s outfit for her next premiere was chosen and the silk pajama’s Elvis donned for the evening had to be discarded.

The camera wielding didn’t stop there, when Thumper was brought down to Circle G Ranch, an entire production was made, the only picture film Elvis Presley ever fully produced and directed and costumed in the 1960’s -and it was full of subtext, straw, piglets, bare skin and harmed vegetables. But it occurred over an slippery, sweaty, pungent afternoon and was not a sleepover and so has no place being detailed in this chapter.

What does deserve a place here is the great Tink and Thumper adventure with Benetint that happened about a year into this charming, girlish, sleepover habit.

They’d bought matching nighties you see, sheer with a gingham print. Yet, when going to photograph their charming selves in them, they found the rosiness lacking -or at least, Thumper thought it could be improved. The printed fabric was to blame for the faded-nipple effect but was too adorably bucolic to be abandoned entirely. So, after a foray into the smokey backstages of some Vegas showrooms, Ann arrived one day in Palm Springs with her sundry gifts for the children, and tucked into her purse, was an uninspiring little bottle of something that could easily have been mistaken for nail polish.

Sitting cross legged on the vanity, Elaine soon learned it was anything but.

It was too quiet in the bathroom, just their huffed breaths and the squeak of the lid unscrewing. Even before the icy chill flicked over her skin she felt her arms break out in gooseflesh and she sucked in a breath, bracing for the tickle. Elvis had done this, to her belly, that first time she’d grown his children and her belly rent apart with a lightning bolt down its middle.

It had felt loving then, kindhearted and boyish.

Ann crouching to bosom level, flicking the little brush with its smelly mixture across her pert nipples, breath ghosting against the red blush of Elaine’s breast, silk pooling useless off her shoulders -this was different, oddly so. Somehow more intimate than when a man, or what Elaine knew of men, did it. Here was no pleasurable usage to brace for, only girlish admiration and a charming lack of regard for ought else but this, this single, charged, shivering moment.

Elaine could see Ann’s dark roots from up above. She wanted to pull that thin bottom lip of hers and snap it back against her teeth. Feeling useless sitting getting adorned so soberly, Elaine swiped the hair falling into her friend’s eyes, up and off her brow and into the buoyant coif that chasing the children had already half dismantled.

It made Ann drop her brush. “I wasn’t expecting-“ she fumbled.

She went back to it, such warmth so close and Elaine watched with a confused heart as Ann swirled the icy slick once more over the outer ring of a babe abused areola, taking her bleeding little rosebuds and making them into dark cherries.

“How do they look?” Elaine asked Thumper as Ann stood at a little distance in the large bathroom, eyeing up her art with her absurd little brush raised, a consummate artist and a distracted friend.

“You look like I imagined.” Ann replied as if without thinking before her face colored the shade of the pink rug and she must roll her eyes in an effort to sabotage the escaped sentiment.

“Imagined when?” Elaine asked, leaning forward on the counter, not bothering to cover up as it would only smear, perhaps some part of her knew without consulting the mirror the image that she made.

A dark haired vixen with the body of an ivory cello, leaning forward with those creamy mounds topped like Shirley Temples with their little ornaments.

-knowing yet curious, hungry yet soft.

Ann swallowed hard and thought about the end of all this that Elaine had once predicted in the beginning, an end that was all wedding veils and bouquets and everlasting vows with some fella Ann was supposed to find and love since Elvis wasn’t available. Elaine swore it would come and Ann had hoped she’d been right. The idea sickens her lately, thinking of somehow there being some other best friend, someone else to flick bath water at and ogle in their silk pajamas, someone else to have her heart lurch over when the children crawl atop them and the motorbikes thrum beneath them. The more successful she got the more she wanted this.

Just this.

“When he used to talk about you.” she admits her imaginings had been detailed and flattering for the wife of the man she once lay beside. Not even in dreams of wildest jealousy and unfair slight could Elaine be anything but something Ann craved to know and be known by. “I-I dreamed of being stabbed by you.”

Ann had woken up flaming with desire from those nightmares. Pretty Elaine Presley coming alive from the front of a newspapers and screaming “traitor!” hacking at Ann’s broken little heart with a pie server. Only for Elaine to end up being kind, lonely and a bit of a tease.

“Why’re you crying?” Elaine asked softly, finally slipping off her marble perch and taking Ann’s chin in her hand firmly.

“I’m going to miss this.” she muttered miserably in realization of the overseas tours next year and the boys she entertained but didn’t like enough to trust with a single secret and the way Marlon was around here too often lately. “And you know too much of me.” she hit Elaine’s arm playfully.

The grip on her chin jerked in retaliation. “I’ve been worried. You’re getting famous.” Elaine admitted, and the way she referenced fame was if it was a cancer.

“But I can come here, right?”

“Always.”

“Even if I’m married?”

Elaine looked a little surprised and questioning and when Ann shook her head in the negative to being currently engaged she lightened again, “Especially if you’re married. Married women go mad without some woman to talk to about being married.”

“You’re some woman.” Ann purred because Elaine Presley was stood too near with her pale soft breasts brushing Ann’s arm.

“You could be too, if you’d let me paint you.” Elaine dug the bottle out of Ann’s chilled fingers and went back to the sink, her reflection showing the heightened color crawling down her neck. “Get over here Thumper.” she snapped her fingers and Ann slinked up on the counter like a condescending house cat. “Am I to paint over chiffon?” Elaine stared at the still tied nightdress unimpressed until Ann was forced to fling it open - to her credit, not without adding much pizzaz to the whole thing with a high kick that only barely missed Elaine's face and a haughty toss of her head.

Her act petered out with a shy chuckle that faded into fully nothing.

“You’re very pretty.” Elaine whispered as she stood frozen in front of her in a ready stance, bottle clutched and tiny brush brandished, looking like a juvenile boy trying to recall his father’s tips on how to flatter. “But, then - you know that, I suppose.”

“I’m cold.” Ann whispered, her eyes darting to the side.

“Oh, yes,” Elaine was suddenly in motion, stepping nearer with clear eyes, “this makes it worse. Trust me. I’ll be fast, I swear.”

“It’s fine.” Ann breathed and then promptly forgot how.

As if in slow motion she watched Elaine crouching to better see her work, and her pretty hand burdened with all of Elvis’ shiny spherical gifts descended until it made contact on her bare nipple.

“Oh Elaine.” Ann enunciated through a gasp, her hands that had been listlessly sitting on the countertop curled over the edge of the marble, gripping tight.

“Cold isn’t it?” Elaine murmured again, her hand coming to rest beside her work in direct opposition to the cold paint. Firm, steadying, warm flesh on her sternum made Ann tremble, she watched Elaine‘s eyes flick up to meet hers, an odd sort of edge and command in them she’d never seen before.

Or. Rather, she had, but only ever with Elvis, only ever directing that look to him.

“He did this to me once.” Elaine told her, voice gone deep and then another stroke of the brush. “Not my nipples -it was my belly.”

“Captain Marvel.” Ann huffed a laugh, recalling the way he’d made her trace the bolt on his wife their first night, eager as a boy who’d discovered magic.

“Captain Marvel is telling you to hold still, missy.” Elaine chided her wiggling friend and Ann felt a flush all over.

“I’m just breathing.”

“Hard.” Elaine snarked, staring down at Ann’s heaving chest with a sardonic brow.

The intensity of that gaze was too much.

“It’s too much.” Ann said it in defense and Elaine’s eyes fluttered up to meet hers, her whole body straightening.

“For you too?” Elaine begged tremulously and Ann felt a rush of connection at her vulnerability.

“For me too.” she nodded.

“Gosh.” Elaine exclaimed, startled but making no move to flee, she just stayed there, hemming Ann in on the countertop and studying her face like it was the dearest thing.

“This isn’t making it better.” Ann whined as she felt that beautiful face near hers -the thunk of Elaine’s forehead against her own soon followed.

She felt her hands hold her waist gently like a dozen lovers had before and none felt as tender as this.

“You know the thing about fame is,” spearmint wafted over Ann’s face and she closed her eyes to listen to Elaine’s soft, pondering drawl, “it's held up all those years as the thing that’ll make everything all right. When the only thing that makes things even slightly bearable is a friend who knows what you're talking about. If you ever get tired, Annie, of being known for all the wrong reasons, you just come on back. We’ll always find something of us here, I know it.”

Elaine’s thumbs played across freckled skin like dainty wipers on Ann’s cheeks, swiping off one tear after another into her dyed hairline and one mere jut of Ann’s set chin brought the lower half of their faces together.

plush, warm, minty, sticky, glossy, brushing, lilting

-turn aside.

“Do you wanna -the camera, Tink?”

“No.” Mrs. Presley answered honestly as she stepped back, a little tremble in her voice, “Not tonight. I think -perhaps I, perhaps we, should call Elvis.” Elaine stared off into the adjoining bedroom with swimming eyes, their little project once undertaken for his gaze had suddenly become too intimate to be shared, even with him, even as dried ink on a glossy Polaroid weeks from now, “And maybe bring in Jack, he looked restless.”

“Oh yes.” Ann cheered and it was weak, snotty, hoarse little lie. But it was for Elaine. Anything for Elaine. “Let’s.” she agreed.

—Yes. Bring in Jack, why don’t you? And Elvis and Marlon and your charities and your causes and when it gets too crowded with just us two, bring in the whole nation!—

Ann willed the puddling tears away from the rim of her eyes, it wasn’t fair how a woman so immune to jealousy as Elaine Presley could spark so much in others.

“I bet Jack will be up to my shoulder by the time I get back from tour.” Ann joked as they crept down the hall to their boy’s bedroom, “And Jesse will break my heart with your face on a teenager's runty little body.”

It was a promise. To be back.

And come back in good spirits and with good intent. To take as much as was offered, be happy with it. Just as she knew if she herself showed up tomorrow with a husband, Elaine would be as ecstatic as if it were her own dream come true.

Some friends really do just love you enough that way. And that had to be enough.

Tags, if you’d like to be added just drop a comment to that effect below. I don’t bite and I do adore feedback, I run off of even the slightest scream from you. I appreciate you all and hope you enjoyed this. Xoxo marina

@powerofelvis

@crash-and-cure

@elvisabutler

@heartbrake-hotel

@stylespresleyhearted

@thatbanditqueen

@crazymadpassionatelove

@myradiaz

@ash-omalley

@steph-speaks

@burningloverdoll

@angelface-555

@lookingforrainbows

@missmaywemeetagain

@coolgirl462

@kingdomforapony

@18lkpeters

@richardslady121

@from-memphis-with-love

@lillypink

@artlover8992

@pennyroyalcreep

@notstefaniepresley

@ellie-24

@renaissingle

@waiting4brucewayne2adoptme

@presleyenterprise

@marriedtopresley

@ashtag2887

@dkayfixates

@vampireindistress

@ashtag6887

@i-r-i-n-a-a

@obsessedvibee

@peskybedtime

@goth-cowgirl-03

@stephthestallion

@fav-fanficssss

@loving-elvis

[prettyboywoll]

Introducing Ella Hughes | Maveric Lamoureux x Hughes sister AU

A/n: All credits to go 🐧anon. Thank you so much lovey for helping me come up with ideas for this Au. Couldn’t have done without you. I appreciate you so much<3 ( feel free to correct me if anyone is wrong. Don’t much about tennis but did my best)

❁ born September 9th, 2003 (Luke’s older by 5 minutes)

❁ height 5’5

❁ favorite music artist are Taylor Swift, Luke combs, Harry Styles and Gracie Abrams.

❁ loves to read books

❁ always brings them out on the boat to help her relax

❁ her family nickname is daisy because ever since she was little she had became obsessed with collecting anything that has daisies on them

❁ every year for her birthday the theme is always daisies

❁ doesn’t like hockey but still supports her brothers

❁ Quinn is her favorite

❁ out of all her brother’s friends she’s very close to Cole

❁ she’s introverted, a sunny person. always happy and carefree, very soft in general

❁ she loves the spring/ summer, because that's when everyone's together and her brothers are at the lake house to enjoy the summer with her.

❁ instead of going to the University of Michigan, she signed with the Sun Devil Women’s Tennis team.

❁ Luke cried the night she told him. He would not leave her side and made sure to spend all summer with her before she left. Jack cried happy tears and told her he was very proud of her.

❁ Quinn wanted to hold his little sister in his arms forever. He couldn’t believe how grown up she was. It didn’t feel real to him until the last box was in your dorm room.

❁ He kept a smile on for her but on the plane back to Vancouver, he couldn’t hold it in anymore

❁ all three brother promised to call her at least 3 times a week

❁ when she is on the court she’s a different person. Shows no mercy, is very competitive and likes to trash talk.

❁ Ranked as high as #18 in the women’s world rankings

❁ also ranked as #1113 WTA singles ranking and #850 WTA Double ranking

❁ started playing at the age of 5

❁ also played soccer for a few months before she was kicked of the team for scoring on the wrong side

❁ is very into scrapbooking

❁ in high school she took photography classes and fell in love with it

❁ had a tiny crush on Tyler Duke in high school

❁ dated for about 5 months until she lost feelings

❁ met Maveric at a coffee shop when he came to train in Arizona for development camp.

❁ talked for about 6 months before he asked her out on a date

❁ January 3rd, 2023 he asked her to be his girlfriend by setting up a picnic, having a heart shaped daisy with a sign in the middle that said “can I be your boyfriend?”

[maskednerd]

FNAF Movie parallel Theory/Incoherent Ramblings! (Spoilers ahead.)

Originally, I was gonna give my thoughts on the film but I'm bad at opinions so theory time it is! This is just for fun and to share my thoughts.

I've only seen the film once so I might have misremembered a few things here or there. But there's no harm looking for connections and parallel to the games/books!

Since Mike isn't an Afton... his dad could be a subtle parallel to Henry Emily. Which would make Garett and/or Abby a parallel to Charlie.

Of course, the Schmidt family still has elements of the Aftons. But with all the changes to the lore, the Emily roles could have been added on rather than being non-existent like it seems.

Now, you may be wondering if I'm just desperately digging for any sign of Henry Emily in this film cus he's my favorite character (aside from Michael Afton). And to that I say-

...

Shhhhhhh... Pretend it's not that obvious.

Anywho, let's get to some of these parallels! Shall we?

Aunt Jane… Aunt Jen? Her name being a possible parallel to Henry's sister in the books.

Kinda a weak point here but I'll include it anyways. The Schmidt family is showed to be Christian, evident by Mike remembering them gathered around the table saying grave before eating. "For one of you, the darkest pit of hell has opened to swallow you whole, so don't keep the Devil waiting, old friend."

Mike mentioned that his father couldn't handle the lost of Garret, vaguely implying he took his own life. In both the books and the games, Henry committed suicide due to the lost of his child. Silver Eyes had the Suicide Bot and Pizza Sim had the fire. "I am remaining as well. I am nearby."

Garret's death happened before the Missing Children Incident. In the photo that Vanessa shows with her as a child next to her father as Spring Bonnie, she has the same toy plane Garret had when he taken. Which Mike notices. But, with that photo being at the Pizzeria, it's assumed it's still open during that time. Yet Vanessa mentions the Pizzeria was closed shorty after the 5 children went missing. That photo probably wouldn't exist in that form if the place was dealing with an police investigation and a threat of closure.

During Mike's dream sequences, Garret seems unnervingly calm. Almost as though he went willingly. Yet it wouldn't make sense, out in the middle of a forest, for William to be dressed in the SpringBonnie suit in an attempt to lure him. But, if William was a family friend and trusted by his father, it would be easier to get Garret into his car.

If Garret Schmidt was a random child he abducted and murdered on a mere whim, why would "Steve Raglan" recognize that last name? Unless he saw missing posters, the news of the disappearance, or was keeping track of the viticm's families, why remember that random child you killed back in the 80s? One that wasn't even a part of the Missing Children's Incident at Freddy's?

At the end credits, there's the "COME FIND ME" audio easter egg resembling "SAVE THEM." A minigame heavily linked to the puppet, despite the puppet making no appearance nor having a single mention in the movie.

As for Abby... that springlock suit she was almost suited in looked an awfully lot like Ella, one of Charlie's toys from the books. For a reference to Elizabeth, it could have been a clown or something looking like Circus Baby. But why that possible reference to Ella?

Haven't read Silver Eyes in a a good while, but isn't there a sequence where Foxy is chasing Charlie through an arcade? Where she hides behind one of the arcade cabinets, just like Abby does?

Are these just random references and easter eggs pieced together in an incoherent rambling? Indeed they are, thanks for noticing! But that won't stop me from pointing them out for no one else to read.

[hannahssimblr]

The letters are there when I get home from school one Friday. Three of them among a pile, innocuous white envelopes with my name printed behind the little plastic window. I snatch them from the floor as Ivy squeezes past me into the hallway and dumps her school bag right by the stairs. 

“Hey,” I scold her absently, “bring your bag into the kitchen and finish your homework.” I turn the little stack in my hands, running my thumb over a logo in the corner of the top one, in case it’s a trick of the light, something I can brush away, but it’s real. From Amsterdam University of the Arts.

“I finished it at Ella’s house.”

I flip to another. Paris College of Art.

“You didn’t, Trisha told me you still have to finish that thing about… um…”

The third, Berlin University of the Arts. 

My stomach does a flip. 

Ivy heaves out the jaded sigh of an eighty year old and drags her feet back to her school bag, “It’s just a stupid thing, it will take five minutes.”

“Well then take five minutes, I’m going to go upstairs for a minute, and, um,” It’s hard to talk to my sister when I feel as though these envelopes are burning through my palm, “When I come back down you have to be done because we’ll need to go out.”

“Out?”

“Yeah,” I’m already halfway up the stairs, “I’ll tell you in a second.”

I boot the door shut behind me and tear into the letters like a starving beast. All restraint is gone now as pieces of the envelopes fly across the wrinkled sheets of my bed. 

I seize the first one in a frenzy, Amsterdam. I impatiently skip the blocks of text to get to the good stuff. 

....has approved your application...

I toss it aside.

Paris. 

...of your acceptance to our art program...

Berlin. 

...our great pleasure to notify you officially of your admission...

My hands are trembling, and with a steadying breath I force myself to slow down and read it this time.

Dear Jude Turner,  It is our great pleasure to notify you officially of your admission to Berlin university of the Arts for the Autumn semester of 2010. We thank you for having chosen our program, and we are confident that you will have a wonderful experience in Germany’s dynamic capital city.  Please read this letter carefully; it contains vital information on your course and housing placements! Information on payment procedures and schedules compiled for you in-

Okay, boring. I fold it up and shove it, along with the other two letters, into my blazer pocket and spring to attention. Do I need anything? I don’t think so. I burst into the hallway and down the stairs, through to the kitchen where Ivy looks up from her homework in alarm as I rifle through the kitchen cupboards. 

“What are you doing?”

“Just getting something,” I shove a bag of pasta out of the way and seize the jumbo bar of chocolate stashed in the back. 

“What? We have chocolate?”

“Yeah but not for you.”

“You hide it from me?” 

“Yeah I’m supposed to. Come on, have you finished your thing?”

“No.”

“Who cares, let’s go.”

I grab her hand and lead her out of the kitchen and down the hallway where I undo the latch and put her standing outside while I lock up. 

She looks stunned, “Don’t I need a jacket?”

I glance up at the ominous grey clouds moving in over the sea, “No, I think it’s fine. Come on.” 

Beginning // Prev // Next

[tulipsstudyblr]

How to Make it Through to the End of the School Year

I myself am pushing through to the end of my spring semester (gotta make it to finals week 😅) and it's rough, for sure. I'm rounding out my junior year of college and it's quickly hitting me that after this, I'll only have one more year left of school (as of right now).

I know I listed in the bio of this blog that there would be advice/study tips and while I am no expert, I can speak from my experience and what has worked for me. DIsclaimer: everyone is different and what I may or may not list here is not a cure-all for everyone, this is just how I stay productive and efficient.

Taking breaks! - I struggle a lot with recognizing my limits and taking healthy breaks so I can work best. Recently, a friend and I have been having outside study times ("picnics") where we sit and do some work and/or color. One evening, we even made chai lattes on the lawn to have while we colored. Personally, I love simple coloring books (like Disney, but I'm currently working in a Bluey book). Also, this past weekend, I made time in between my textbook readings to rewatch a favorite movie of mine, Ella Enchanted. I haven't taken the proper time to watch TV in a while, so it was a nice change of pace.

Properly eating and hydrating - This is also something I struggle with. I understand how easy it is to get hyperfocused and forget about food in the midst of studying. I am thankful to have a girlfriend who will check in on me when she can to make sure my water bottle is filled if I have been busy throughout the day, but I have also set an alarm on my laptop to ding every 20 minutes. I'm using the Google Chrome extension "Water Reminder", which has been super helpful for me! It's not super cutesy and aesthetic like other Chrome extensions, but I like the simple ding that reminds me to drink water in case I haven't in a while. Hearing a reminder to drink water also allows me to check in with myself to see how I'm feeling in terms of hunger. I try to schedule meals times specifically for myself so that I can remember to eat. Some people are really great about intuitive eating, but I am unfortunately not one of those people. Keeping track of the time and keeping meals times at 7:30 - 8:00 am (breakfast), 11:00 am - 12:00 pm (lunch), and 5:00 pm (dinner/supper), I find it easier to keep up with eating so that I can stay healthy and nourished.

Studying - probably a more obvious "tip", but with my own addition. I like to romanticize the idea of studying. I use specifically colored pens, marker, and highlighters to make each of my notes in class and outside of class to keep myself focused. I love things that are artsy and colorful, so using lots of colors keeps my attention on the material.

Self care - I love face masks, body lotion, and moisturizers. I can't afford the super expensive skincare that you see on TIkTok and Instagram, but I have found some products that work well for me. I like the non abrasive Neutrogena face wash, Nivea body lotion (with shea butter - this also helped heal my tattoos!), and peach slices acne patches (my current lifesavers). Freeman is a brand that makes some really good face masks that have worked for my somewhat senstiive skin and they have a good variety so that you can find what you may be looking for you. They're an inexpensive brand (I think) that works pretty well. Even my sister who is into cosmetology and skincare and knows all the nitty gritty details about what ingredients are good recommended the brand to me so I definitely love to use those when I can (no more than twice a week, though; no need to wear down my face)

Get a study buddy - if you're like me and you find it easier to be productive with another body around, see if you can find someone to study with you or to at least hang around you while you work. As I saif before, a friend and I have been having little picnics outside in the nice weather to work, but I have also met up with others in a library space or a study room to keep myself prodcutive. Some days, I am really productive on my own and in my room, but other days, I really need a change of scenery. Being outside of the space where my lovely bed is and having someone else bear witness to how productive or not I am being is certainly a motivator.

I may discover new habits that can help me as I progress through the next month, but as of right now, these are the main things that are helping me.

[thesweetnessofspring]

On the one hand it's Ella's mom's funeral and that's sad, but also Char is shooting his shot! That boy is down bad for a girl he's only heard stories about and he is not letting his first chance to get to know her pass him by.

And perhaps why this isn't sleazy is that Ella notes he was crying himself and his stories about her mother shows he did know her and appreciated the real her, with her humor and sass. Not the generic, false praises of the Chancellor or the superficial of Ella's father regretting her death because she was beautiful. But the same reasons why Ella loved her.

All of this cheers up Ella, makes her smile. And of course he's taking this as an opportunity to introduce himself, not marry her. He really does want to meet this funny, clever young lady and it's soooooo cute!

[lgbtqreads]

hi! i'm trying to fill in my reading list for the trans rights readathon - i was wondering if you have any recommendations for lesser known trans books by authors of colour? (preferably adult, but i'll take YA too!)

Sure! Check out The Subtweet by Vivek Shraya, Fierce Femmes and Notorious Liars by Kai Cheng Thom, Cinder Ella by ST Lynn, The Thirty Names of Night by Zeyn Joukhadar, and I believe it's only available on audio, but check out Sunset Springs by Kacen Callender. In YA, I'll add The Passing Playbook by Isaac Fitzsimons, Just Happy to Be Here by Naomi Kanakia, and Not Your Villain by CB Lee, though that one's a sequel - I'd read Not Your Sidekick first.

[eva-knits12]

Lazy Weekend

Trigger warning: smut, multiple orgasms-both male and female, male and female giving oral, female and male receiving oral, watching each other masturbate, praise kink, dirty talk (not in a degrading way), fingering, overstimulation, orgasm denial, fluff.

*This will be an 18+ over story. So if you're a minor, PLEASE DON'T READ. If you're 18+, read at your own risk!

Summary: Your fiance Steve Rogers comes back from a mission, and you both spend a lazy weekend together.

Steve is sleeping on his back, his arms wrapped you. He pulled you closer to him so that you could sleep on his chest. Your engagement ring sparkles in the early morning sunlight. Steve proposed to you on your birthday the year before, and he proposed with his mother's ring. He had it sized before he even popped the question.

The mission was to rescue and release hostages. The hostages were being held on a cruise ship, right off the coast of Spain. Tony and you both spoke fluent Spanish, so Tony really needed you. This wasn't your first mission where you were using the skills that you learned, thanks to your promotion. You really didn't want to mess it up. Everyone, including Nick Fury and Agent Coulson were also counting on you. You used the security cameras to guide everyone to safety.

You and Steve were exhausted. It was 9 a.m. by the time you both woke up. The automatic coffee pot made coffee earlier, but it was still on.

You and Steve were just going to have a lazy weekend together, and it wasn't often that you two had this. You and Steve had been planning for your spring wedding, and it was taking up a lot of time. This wasn't just any day. This was a day where you and Steve would become husband and wife, and spend the rest of your days as such. Today, you didn't have a dress fitting, and your bridesmaids have already had their dresses fitted. You also picked out the cake, the flavor, and planned on having cupcakes that looked like a waterfall.

Your and Steve's wedding was only a few weeks away, but it felt like it would be days away. Plus, your bridesmaids were throwing you a bridal shower next week, so having a lazy weekend with just you and Steve was a welcome change.

Steve had a few days old beard, and he always looked sexier with it. You and Steve were naked under the covers, and you both enjoyed a round of love making, which was your custom after missions. You both would have made love on the quinjet, but you both wanted to wait until you both got home, and were in bed. You both showered together afterwards, and made love in the privacy of your own home. In a way it was better than the quinjet, and Tony wasn't even around. If you both had, Tony would never shut up about it.

You just felt even more beautiful right now. Steve was right, you have a glow after you and Steve make love. Part of that glow was just from being in love with Steve, part of that was from making love to the man you were going to spend the rest of your life with.

After a while, Steve comes back with two cups of coffee, one black, the other with some vanilla caramel creamer and two sugars. You brush your teeth and wash your face while Steve fixes the coffee.

Steve is wearing his tank top and boxers. You're wearing a pair of panties and one of Steve's large hoodies. Steve is busy reading his book, and you're reading yours. Steve and you are just enjoying your coffee.

"Mmm, Steve, don't stop," you say.

Steve put his book down, and removed your hoodie, leaving you in nothing but your panties. Steve is kissing your bare shoulder, and your neck, and it feels so good.

"I can do this all day," says Steve, as he's kissing you all over right now.

"Mmmm, then we can spend the rest of the weekend in bed," you say.

"What's even better, is seeking you naked all weekend, doll," says Steve.

You and Steve wouldn't mind being naked all weekend.

You both finish your coffee. You and Steve don't get in the shower right away, instead, Steve kisses you lovingly.

"I love you, doll," says Steve.

"I love you, too, Captain Sexy Spangled Man," you say.

Steve and you kiss deeply and passionately. Steve lowers you down on the bed, and focuses on your more sensitive spots. You're enjoying the sensation, and you eventually remove Steve's tank top. He looked even sexier shirtless. Your panties are starting to become wet from your own arousal.

Steve starts to go down on you, and you are loving the sensation. Steve's kissing every inch of your pussy, and it's now starting to become soaked with your juices. You remove Steve's boxers, and lick your lips. You need Steve inside you NOW!

"Steve, please. Please! I need you, I need you inside me," you say.

"Mmm, soon doll, soon." says Steve.

You grab a hold of Steve. Steve's erection just feels good. You start to stroke him, and Steve let's out a moan. Beads of pre-cum were leaking out of his now swollen, red tip. Steve couldn't wait to be inside you. His erection was becoming more painful, more swollen, and was really throbbing.

When you were holding Steve's painfully erect penis in your hand, it turned Steve on even more! It turned you on, too because it felt good to hold Steve's erect penis, and you just loved the feeling of it. You also loved stroking him and it always felt beautiful, special, and Steve loved it. He loved how you made your strokes loving, and found a pace that worked for the both of you.

"Don't stop, doll," says Steve.

Steve has a look of pleasure and relief. You keep stroking him, because it's helping him feel much better right now.

"Are you feeling much better, Captain?" you ask.

Steve looked painful and uncomfortable. You keep stroking him until he felt better. Beads of pre-cum were still leaking out of him. Eventually, some semen started to leak out, leaving a white streak on your thigh. Steve was trying to keep his cum in. He really was waiting until he was inside you. He wanted to make sure you took every drop of him.

"OH, FUCK DOLL!" says Steve, as pleasure and relief washed over him.

Steve removes your panties, leaving you completely nude. Steve kisses every inch of your now naked and completely soaked vagina, Steve's tongue was dipping in and out, and he was also fluttering kisses to the lips of your pussy. Steve eventually reached down and was rubbing your nub with his thumb and forefinger, which was now swollen. It felt warm, and Steve wasn't too fast or too slow. His pace was perfect. With his other hand, he's dipping two fingers in and out of you, and this feels amazing. Steve always done this, giving you that clitoral stimulation that he heard so much about, You explained it to him, and what you can do. Steve wanted to try using his fingers on you, and he heard about this. This was all about pleasure for the both of you.

Steve and you tried different types of this, and Steve found toys too intimidating. He tried using a dildo, but found it confusing. You explained that he can use his fingers, if he liked, and he was willing to try that, and that he can use his other hand to stretch you, and his dominant hand to also stimulate you. When Steve tried it with his hands, you let your pleasure was over you. Steve was also turned on by this. You've been using this method ever since, since it worked for the both of you. You explained that clitoral stimulation just isn't for you, it's also for him. You both needed to be stimulated in order to make sex more pleasurable and more enjoyable for the both of you.

You also explained that one of you could sit, while the other masturbated. You could have him watch you masturbate, if that's a preference. Steve was curious about that one! So, one night, when you and Steve wanted to experiment with a different method of making love, you both watched each other masturbate. It turned out that it was a huge turn on for the both of you.

You started, slowly. You stood in front of him, you reached down, and started to rub your clit. You used your other hand to stimulate the feeling of Steve's cock inside you. Eventually, you let go, and your orgasm turned Steve on.

Then, it was your turn to watch Steve. You watched Steve, stroke himself. He kept doing this, and it was slow at first, the pace being perfect. Eventually, Steve lost control, and went faster. Steve let go, letting out a guttural grunt, but Steve was still erect. You told Steve to switch places, he could sit there, and he could spread his legs a bit to make room. You kissed Steve lovingly and passionately, paid close attention to his sensitive spots, and then straddled him. You grabbed the condom he remembered to grab, opened it, and then rolled it on him. He had his first orgasm as you were rolling it on him. You grabbed his cock, lined yourself up with him, and pulled him inside you. You both had sex right then and there, but it felt like it was so much more.

You also explained that you could both try making love using different positions. You explain that he can try ones where you're on top, and he's on the bottom. He very much liked the mastery. After watching each other masturbate, you loved to initiate sex. For Steve, it helped him, too. It made him appreciate you more, and he saw a side of you that he never saw before. It turned out you did have a bossy, dominant side that only came out during sex. Steve loved this! It helped him turn off his captain switch.

You explained how different positions make the act of sex more pleasurable, and that it was good for the both of you. Missionary was tried and true, but it gets boring having sex in one position only. So, the mastery was a winner. Doggy style-both the original and the standing version was another clear winner. Spoon was a winner. Lotus was also a clear winner. You explained that the different positions were for the both of you. Spoon and missionary were the perfect positions for lazy, slow, and perfect sex.

You also explained that lots of couples watch porn, and that's enough stimulation for some couples. You both tried that one, but it just didn't feel right for the both of you. Watching each other masturbate was the one!

You also explained that you could both make a video of the both of you having sex, and that lots of couples do this. You and Steve try that, and it was a clear winner. Steve and you had your own personal version of porn for just the both of you. This helped with watching each other masturbate because it helped give you that visual, and it helped move things along for the both of you.

"Steve, please, don't stop," you say.

Steve keeps going, and he keeps kissing your pussy, and he keeps dipping his tongue in and out. The feeling of his beard against your naked pussy just added to the sensation. He kept rubbing your clit, and you felt the coil in your belly about to snap.

Finally, the coil in your belly snaps, and there's no going back now. You let it happen. You feel it happening.

"OH, FUCK! FUCK STEVE! OH, FUCK!" you scream, as your first orgasm washes over you.

"That's it, doll. Keep going," says Steve.

"Keep working your way through this, doll. You're doing great, keep going," says Steve.

"Let it out. Don't hold back my beautiful dirty doll. Let it out," says Steve.

You keep going, and Steve keeps talking your through your orgasm. Your orgasm is over in no time.

"Good girl," praises Steve.

Steve is still rubbing your nub, and is still dipping his fingers in and out of you. Your juices from your arousal are all over his fingers.

"OH GOD! FUCK STEVE!" you scream, as this next one washes over you.

You let you orgasm happen, and Steve works through it.

When you had your first orgasm, Steve liked to talk you through it, and work through it, which helped the both of you.

Good girl," says Steve.

Steve raises his fingers to you, which are now covered in your juices. This was something new, and Steve really wanted to explore this.

"There you go, keep sucking," says Steve.

Steve is talking you through this, and you also discover that you like this. It seems so innocent, but so dirty, to be sucking the arousal off of your fiance's fingers.

"Mmm," you say.

"How does it taste? I bet it tastes sweet," says Steve.

"Mmmmmm, this tastes so sweet, and it tastes so good," you say.

"There you go, keep sucking, You're doing great," says Steve, as he's rubbing your clit. The more stimulated the both of you were, the better.

"Keep sucking, you'll be rewarded," says Steve.

"Are you finished? Do you still need to keep sucking your juices from your pussy?" says Steve.

"I still need to keep sucking, Captain," you say.

"Good girl," says Steve, when you not only said your need, you also called him Captain.

Steve also discovered that you had a praise kink, and he took that and ran with it. He didn't take advantage of it, You both discovered this by accident. You and Steve were making your first video of the both of you having sex, and well, Steve started to praise you. You loved it, and he praised you when you had an orgasm. That made him even harder, and when it was your turn, you also discovered that he actually liked dirty talk. Yep, Captain "Language" America actually liked dirty talk in the bedroom. Who knew?

Steve wasn't even inside you, yet. Your orgasm actually pleased you, and it pleased him, and only caused him to become harder. Steve had even more cum leak out of his already swollen cock.

Eventually, Steve grabs himself, lines himself up with you, and with you also holding him, you both guide him inside you. Semen was already coming out of him at at unholy speed. You're legs are already spread, and Steve welcome this. He kisses you passionately and deeply, and you both just lie there for a few minutes. You just feeling Steve inside you just made him feel even better. He wanted to wait for a few minutes until the swelling went down even more. You let out a sigh, and Steve lets out a guttural moan when he enters you.

"That's it. You get to now have my cock. You've been waiting, and you've been so good, my dirty slut," says Steve.

"Shit, doll! Oh, fuck. this feels good!" says Steve.

Steve's cum was already starting to fill you, and seeing you enjoy the sensation of Steve's cum filling you was turning Steve on even more. You were turned on by the very feeling of Steve being inside you, filling you with his hot, white cum, and it actually felt good for the both of you. This was the first time you and Steve didn't use a condom, so sex actually felt even better, because there was nothing between your bodies. Normally, you or Steve would reach for a condom. Not this morning. You and Steve discussed this ahead of time, and Steve wanted to wait until you both got back from the mission.

Steve and you kiss lovingly and deeply again, this time Steve starts to move. You rock your hips, and Steve welcomes this. This time, Steve starts out slow, and you love this. Steve and you would speed up to an even faster pace that was perfect for the both of you.

"Shit, doll. You feel so good! This feels so good!" says Steve.

"Mmm, Steve. Please," you say, as Steve is kissing the spot on your neck that is making you see stars.

"Mmm, right there," you say.

"Please, what, dirty little whore?" says Steve.

"Please, don't stop. Please, move inside me," you say.

"That's better, my dirty doll," says Steve.

Steve moves inside you, and you let you're primal urge to come happen. Steve feels this, too. You need to come, he needs you to come. You feel the coil in your belly snapping.

"OH GOD! FUCK STEVE! FUCK!" you scream.

"Good girl," praises Steve.

Steve is still moving inside you, and he now feels much better and much more comfortable. Making love to you right now was keeping him going. Releasing his warm, white liquid inside you was keeping him going, and you anticipating this was even more of a turn on. Just helping your fiance with his painful, swollen erection was enough of a turn on for the both of you

Eventually, you wrap your legs around Steve, giving him a new angle. Steve is welcoming the new angle, and eventually, he picks up the pace. You welcome this.

"Not sure how much longer I'm going to last, doll," says Steve.

Eventually, Steve speeds up, and his thrusts have now become faster and sloppier. Steve slows down, and in one final thrust, he lets go inside you.

"OH, GOD! "OH, FUCK, CAPTAIN! OH, GOD!" you let go, letting pleasure wash over you.

"Good girl," says Steve.

"OH, FUCK, DOLL! SHIT, DOLL!" screams Steve, as his orgasm washes over him, making you have another orgasm that was completely unexpected, and came out of nowhere.

"OH, FUCK! OH, FUCK CAPTAIN! OH, MY FUCKING GOD, CAPTAIN!" you scream, as your final orgasm washes over you.

"Good girl," says Steve.

You feel Steve twitch inside you, and you also feel his warm white liquid being released inside you. Ropes and ropes of his cum were already being released inside you, and they were filling you in a way that satisfied you. It was also satisfying for Steve, knowing that your and Steve's lovemaking made you both feel pleased, and it was better than your ex-partners. You pull Steve down for a loving and passionate kiss, and you and Steve just lie there. Steve is still inside you, and you're both coming down from your highs.

"I love you, Captain Handsome," you say.

"I love you, doll," says Steve.

You and Steve kiss passionately again, and Steve rolls off you, wrapping you in his arms.

"Mmm, that was amazing, Steve," you say.

"Mmm, that was the best," says Steve.

With all the wedding planning, missions, and the fact that you were working more, love making between you and Steve also fell by the wayside. But today, it was all about your and Steve's primal urge to express your love as a couple.

You kiss Steve lovingly, and are just lying with Steve, under the covers. You and Steve are just staring at each other lovingly, and Steve kisses you lovingly again. Steve grabs some boxers and his favorite hoodie, and Steve grabs one of his hoodies, and a pair of panties for you. Steve grabs some socks for the both of you, and you get a glimpse of Steve. Steve pulls the covers off you, picks you up and carries you bridal style to the shower.

"Mmm, Steve," you say.

Steve and you strip down, and Steve backs you into the shower. You turn on the water, and the next thing you both knew, you and Steve enjoy round two in the shower.

As your drying yourselves off when your both done, Steve wraps his towel around his waist. You're dry, you just comb your hair and put on your moisturizer.

Steve is just sitting in the bed, with his towel still on.

"Clothing optional weekend, Cap. Permission to remove my hoodie!" you say.

"Permission granted," says Steve.

You rock your hips back and forth, causing you and Steve to both laugh. You give Steve a loving kiss, and start to focus on his sensitive spots. To be honest, you and Steve have always been curious about males receiving oral sex from their partners. Steve heard about this, but never experienced your lips being wrapped around his cock. Steve started to have another erection, when you removed your hoodie, and stood there, in nothing but your bra and panties. You reach back, undo your bra, and remove it. Steve was becoming more erect.

"Stay just like that, Steve. If it feels uncomfortable, the safe word is Brooklyn," you say.

"It's about our pleasure, and our comfort," you say, giving Steve a quick kiss, and you kiss him passionately after a while. You pay close attention to his sensitive spots, lingering at each spot.

Steve was sitting on the bed, his erection on full display.

"Just spread your legs slightly more," you say.

Steve spreads his legs a little more.

"That's it, Steve. Right there," you say

You knelt down, and started to kiss his length, making sure each one lingered a little longer. You see his swollen head, and get excited. You wrap your lips around, and start to play with him, using your tongue, pulling in him a little more every time. You pull him in as far as you can go, and as far as he feels comfortable.

Eventually, you finish. You and Steve didn't use the safe word, because you took your time, which Steve welcomed. What you couldn't fit, you stroked. Plus, you trusted each other enough to try new things and explore in the bedroom. Well, wrapping your mouth around Steve's erect penis actually felt better than expected. You and Steve didn't see what the big deal was, it was just an erect penis, and the woman he loved was making this kind of sex more intimate. Steve had hooded eyes the whole time, and even put your hair back in a ponytail.

Steve ejaculated into your mouth, letting ropes of his warm white semen fill your mouth, and you swallowed his warm white liquid. It actually felt good doing down your throat.

"Mmmm, that was better than I thought," says Steve.

"It wasn't even gross, or disgusting. It was amazing," you say.

Giving Steve oral wasn't just for you. it wasn't just for Steve. it was for the both of you, and for Steve, it felt better to be on the receiving end of it, and you giving. You just sat there, with your head on Steve's lap. Steve was sitting on the bed, completely naked, and is lovingly stroking your hair.

You and Steve just enjoy the silence, with Steve still stroking your hair, and your head is still on his lap.

"Mmm, I'm hungry, doll. Breakfast?" says Steve.

"Mmmm, that sounds good. It will taste even better after sex," you say.

Steve puts on his boxers, and his hoodie, but you just wanted Steve shirtless right now. You throw on your hoodie, but leave your bra on the floor. You're only wearing your panties underneath the hoodie.

You pull out the bacon, and Steve gets the eggs. Your fixing the bacon, and Steve lines a plate with paper towels. Steve stands behind you, and puts his arms around your waist.

The bacon is ready, and Steve cooks the eggs. You make the toast, and butter it. You place the jelly on the table, and then slice the toast, and place it on a smaller plate on the table.

You and Steve talk and eat. The breakfast tastes way better than it should. Why did breakfast always taste much better after morning sex?

You and Steve clean up, and you load the dishwasher. Steve comes up behind you. He wraps his arms around your waist, and then grabs your chin, and turns your head towards him. He kisses you lovingly, and when you and Steve break the kiss, you lean your head back into his shoulder. You two just stay there, and Steve starts to kiss your neck. You move your head to the side to make more room. He's kissing you in the spot that's making you see stars.

Steve and you were still in hoodies, and he reaches up, and starts to play with your nipple. This is form of stimulation also worked for the both of you, and you discovered this, when you two tried the modified version of doggy style. Eventually, you reach back, and pull his boxers down just enough to release his now erect penis. You grab his cock, and rub it against your clothed pussy.

Steve reaches down, and removes your panties. They slide down the floor, then Steve keeps his hands around your waist. You reach down, and start to rub your nub. Steve eventually removes your hand, and replaces it with his own fingers. You start to dip your fingers inside you, and when they're nice and lubricated, you reach up, and place them in Steve's mouth.

"Mmmm, doll," says Steve.

"You taste so sweet and so good," says Steve.

You eventually grab a hold of Steve and start to pump. Steve enjoys this new sensation, and he keeps rubbing your nub. Eventually, you remove your hand from Steve's cock, feeling that he is stimulated just enough. This morning, he was so overstimulates, and in pain from holding his cum in. You explained that even though you and Steve started having sex without a condom, holding his cum in wasn't good for him. It needed to be released, and if some is released before he's inside you, it's okay. He didn't have to wait, his penis was painful, throbbing, and uncomfortable from holding it earlier. The sex-including oral, and including right now-was the perfect way to release whatever semen was left over. In fact, you realized earlier that Steve was overstimulated.

"Steve, please," you say.

"Watch me, baby. Watch me make the cum come out of my cock," says Steve.

You kneel down on the kitchen floor, and just watch Steve pleasure himself. He keeps going until his cum leaves his swollen, erect cock in thick, white ropes. You remove your hoodie, and are now completely naked.

"Wait, Captain," you say.

"That's it, kneel just like that," says Steve.

You kneel on the linoleum floor, and Steve has grabbed a hold of his cock. You start to suck on his cock, and Steve helps things along by pumping himself, and you've grabbed onto his hips for support. You've never tried this with Steve standing up, but you two could do it with him lying or sitting. That's was well and good, and you and Steve wanted to try it this way. What better time like the present?

"Good girl. You're such a good dirty little whore," says Steve.

Cum is now being released into your mouth, and your pumping what you can't take. You keep swallowing, and Steve and you are actually enjoying this. Steve keeps praising you, telling you that you are taking this so good, and that's this is what you, his good, dirty little slut and him need to do more often. You and Steve have done this before, but not in the kitchen, You've done this in the bedroom. You and Steve just wanted to try this out of curiosity, and well, you both liked it. When Steve is done, you lick him clean.

Eventually, Steve helps you back up. You lean on the counter to help you regain your sense of balance, and as you lean forward, Steve grabs his penis, which is now even more erect, then enters you from behind. He starts to kiss your neck, and Steve starts his thrusts. He found a rhythm that worked for the both of you.

"FUCK, DOLL!" says Steve.

"OH FUCK, CAPTAIN!" you say, your orgasm washing over you.

"Keep going, keep moving. That's it, just like that," says Steve.

You're leaning forward, and your moving your hips back and forth. Steve is thrusting into you, and Steve is praising you.

"You're doing so well, dirty doll, taking your Captain so good," says Steve.

You an Steve keep this up, and you feel another orgasm coming. Steve feels it, too, so he tells you to just let this happen and to just let it out.

"OH, FUCK STEVE! GOD STEVE!" you scream.

"Good girl," says Steve.

Steve loved talking you through your orgasms, and he loved praising you when you had one.

"You're holding back, doll. Just let it happen," says Steve, when he sensed that you were holding back, because you really wanted him to watch you pleasure yourself, so you wanted to save some of your energy.

"FUCK STEVE! OH MY FUCK, STEVE!" you scream.

"That's better," says Steve,

You and Steve keep at this for a while, and Steve finishes. You feel Steve's final thrust, and you feel ropes of his cum being released inside you.

For holding back, Steve denied you your next orgasm. Which was fine.

"For holding back, you can't have this next one. Resist the urge, doll. Cum for me when I say so," says Steve.

Your urge to have your orgasm is stronger than ever after a few minutes, so you ask for Steve's permission.

"Permission to come, Captain?" you ask.

"Permission denied. I can't let you come yet," says Steve, who has arms around you, and has his fingers dipping in and out of you.

"You still can't come. You may come when I'm finished," says Steve.

You were trying your hardest to resist, but every time you wanted to, Steve kept denying you.

"Nope, not until I'm ready," says Steve.

"But Captain...I need," you plead.

"Nope, permission denied," says Steve.

Steve comes back around, so that he's now facing you.

"Okay, please pleasure yourself for me. Remember, you can't cum until I say so," says Steve.

You immediately start to pleasure yourself. You keep going, and keep going and keep going. Steve is enjoying this, eventually you feel like you're about to snap, permission from Steve be damned.

"Okay, now you may come doll," says Steve, seeing you tear up. Steve didn't want you to suffer any longer.

You let each orgasm wash over you, and the last one is the strongest.

"FUCK STEVE! OH, FUCK STEVE! HOLY FUCK!, you scream.

"That's it, keep it coming," says Steve.

Steve backs into a chair, and sits and watches, while you continue to masturbate, and have orgasm after orgasm.

"Good girl," says Steve.

You keep going until you bottom out. You're just exhausted from having multiple orgasms. You're exhausted from masturbating until you came on your fiance's command. You're exhausted from the earlier round.

"Here, come sit on your Captain's lap," says Steve.

You go to put your panties and your hoodie back on, but Steve stops you.

"Don't bother with clothes, doll," says Steve.

"Come here," says Steve,

You do as your told, and sit in Steve's lap. Steve wraps his arms around you, and kisses your cheek, and lovingly strokes your hair. Your head is resting on his shoulder.

"Mmm, that was the best kitchen sex we've had," says Steve.

"We're making up for a ton of lost time," you say.

"Mmmm, true. I miss this," says Steve.

"I miss this, too," you say.

You and Steve didn't realize how much you two missed the act of sex because you both had been busy with missions, paperwork, meetings, and wedding planning. So far, this morning just felt like you had weeks of pent up sex and pent up desire just needing an outlet. Back to the tried and true later. You and Steve needed to let this out, you and him needed this outlet. It actually felt better now that you two were letting it happen. It's as if the last several weeks were waiting for the both of you. You and Steve had a healthy sex life. You made love five nights a week. Sunday, Monday, Thursday Friday, and Saturday were the days you and Steve often had sex. Those mornings, you also had morning sex. That helped Steve get rid of his morning wood. When this happened the first time, Steve apologized.

"Try peeing right now, Steve," you tell Steve.

"You have nothing to apologize for. It's normal," you say.

Steve tried to pee, but just couldn't. He wasn't pee shy. You told Steve to come back to bed, you had another idea. You kissed Steve passionately, and you two proceeded to make love. That was actually more helpful to the both of you. When Steve got up again, you went and made the coffee, and Steve peed. You saw him grabbing himself, standing with toilet seat up, and he was emptying his bladder. It helped to pee after sex. Steve wiped himself, flushed, then washed his hands. You peed, then brushed your teeth.

Your hand is across his chest, and Steve starts to gently rock you. The gentle rocking lulls you to sleep. Steve continues to rock you, and sees that you've fallen asleep. He kisses your forehead, and he gets up, and carries you to the couch. He lays you on the couch, covering you with a blanket. He gathers his boxers, your panties, and both of your hoodies. He neatly folds everything, and places them on the recliner. Steve gets behind you, and falls asleep next to you. Steve wraps you in his arms, and Steve falls asleep, too. The mornings sessions really wore the both of you out, so a nice, long afternoon nap in each other's arms was just what you two needed.

You and Steve wake up, and Steve kisses your shoulder, and down your arm.

"Mmmm, can we just lie here and spoon, doll? says Steve.

"Mmm, permission granted," you say.

You feel Steve's hard on, and you explain what you want Steve to do.

"I'm going to back into you, slowly, okay," you say.

You pull Steve down for a loving and passionate kiss. You grab Steve from behind, and he grabs himself. He lines himself up with you, then you both guide him in. You back up as far as possible, and you and him start to move together.

"Cum with me," you say.

You both have an orgasm together. Steve and you kept going until you both bottomed out.

You and Steve have lunch, then have dinner. You and Steve wake on the couch the next morning, and it's Sunday. Lazy morning sex was just what was needed. You and Steve make love, slowly, and you have an orgasm. Steve praises this.

You and Steve just spend the rest of the day being lazy slobs, much like you did yesterday in between rounds. Today, it was just about being lazy, and you and Steve snuggle on the couch. You kiss Steve lovingly and passionately after you two watch one of the videos of you two having sex, and Steve is completely nude, and he was masturbating, his hot, white liquid coming out of his cock. Steve can't even move, he's that hard. So, you kiss him passionately, then kiss him all over, focusing on his sensitive spots.

"Here, let me," you say, as you straddle him.

You grab his cock, line yourself up with him, and then you lower yourself down on him, and Steve responds. You keep at this, until the coil in Steve is ready to snap.

"FUCK DOLL! FUCK, DIRTY LITTLE DOLL!" screams Steve as his orgasm washes over him.

"That's it, Captain Fuckmerica, just like that," you say.

Now, that was a new one! Steve kisses you passionately, after he pulls you down. He loved it when you took control, and set the pace, and set the stage. It made the both you feel stimulated, because it allowed for you take control, and it allowed for Steve for much better stimulation, and he didn't need to work as hard to get you going. It was good for him, because it allowed him to for much better access to your pussy and your clit, and it also allowed him to take a back seat and just enjoy the act of sex, and he could just enjoy being inside you.

Steve loved dirty talk, mostly it was him talking dirty to you. It was new for you, too. So, you both love dirty talk, and you needed to do this more often to him.

"Mmm, doll, says Steve.

"OH FUCK! STEVE, FUCK!" you scream.

"Good girl," says Steve.

You kept going, and Steve kept praising you. After you finish, you're sitting on Steve's lap, and kiss him passionately.

"Mmm, doll. That was perfect," says Steve.

"Steve, this was amazing, it was even more beautiful, it was even more perfect," you say, and kiss Steve lovingly.

You're still in Steve's lap, and you and Steve just sit there, with Steve lovingly stroking your hair. Steve kisses you lovingly, gets up, and carries you bridal style to the bed. Steve and you just have some plain, good old fashioned, missionary sex.

The lazy, sex filled weekend was just what your both needed. You and Steve take a nice, long bath together, and Steve rubs your little nub, and then dips his fingers in and out of you.

You enjoy this. When you and Steve get out of the bath, Steve sits on the bed, cross legged, hoping to hide is erection. You see Steve's erect penis, and you start to gently stroke him. You kiss him lovingly and passionately, and Steve grabs your hips so that you won't fall off him. You sit with your legs on either side of hips, and grab his cock, and you line yourself up up with him. You guide him inside you, and you rock your hips. Steve starts to thrust, and you let Steve have the first orgasm.

"Come on, Steve. You get to have the first one. Don't hold back, just let it out," you say.

"SHIT, DOLL!" screams Steve.

'FUCK CAPTAIN!" you scream.

"Good girl," says Steve.

You feel Steve twitch inside you, and he releases ropes of his cum inside you.

The candlelight just added a nice, romantic feel to the bedroom. The light catches your engagement ring, and it sparkles. After, you just hold Steve in your arms, with him resting on your breasts.

You and Steve just loved the Lotus position. You loved how closer you two became, and you just loved the intimacy of the position. It really allowed for the both of you to enjoy each other, and for Steve, it allowed him to feel even more stimulated, and it allowed better clitoral stimulation for you. It also allowed Steve to feel you at an even better angle. You were right. Clitoral stimulation wasn't just for you, it was also for Steve.

The next day, you and Steve wake up in each other's arms. That morning, you and Steve just enjoy some nice, lazy morning sex. You just lay there, wrapped in his arms, and it feels so good. Before you and Steve get ready for work, you and Steve have some shower sex.

It's like this for the next several days. On Thursday, you start your period, so Steve spends the rest of the weekend taking care of you. It gave you both the chance to rest, and it gave him and you the chance to have some true intimacy. You two just make out right in the shower, and then in the bath when you take a hot bath to help relieve your cramps.

You and Steve need to have lazy, sex-filled weekends more often.

Sorry, people. I had to make this 18+ because this took a direction that I really wasn't expecting. I just decided to run with it, and it just worked out. Please be kind, because I don't write smut at all. This is my first time writing smut. I also wanted to add in some fluff. Please keep in mind, kinks should be mutual. Anything you and your partner want to do in the bedroom should be discussed by the both of you, and always remember to get consent. Also, please remember to use protection. I don't have to remind people, it's just common sense. In this, unprotected sex was discussed by two consenting adults. So, with that being said, please remember that anything you want to do with your partner, discuss with your partner. Also, it's okay to discover new things in the bedroom. In this, the the reader and Steve discover that the reader also likes dirty talk. Dirty talk should also be discussed-what terms do you both prefer, what you're comfortable with, how far are you both willing to go, etc.-with your partner. Also, remember that clitoral stimulation-or any stimulation-isn't just for you, it's also for your partner. You don't have to use toys. Toys aren't for everyone, so you and partner can also experiment with what your like in order to get stimulated. Just remember, certain things just aren't for everyone.

Please enjoy!

[dotty-literati]

So one fun thing you’re able to do is check the archives of newish Tumblr users and pinpoint a specific Twitter Event that caused them to join. For your convenience, I've compiled a timeline of notable Twitter Events.

2022

Elon plans to buy Twitter

- April 4: Musk formally discloses a 9.2% stake in Twitter

- April 14: Musk offers to buy Twitter for $44 billion

- April 25: Twitter accepts the offer

- July 8: Musk withdraws offer citing issues with spam bots

- July 12: Twitter sues Musk to enforce the deal

- July 29: Musk countersues

- October 4: Musk revives the original deal to avoid a trial

- October 26: Musk carries a bathroom sink into Twitter HQ

- October 27: The acquisition is complete & Twitter goes private

Mass layoffs and resignations

- October 27: Musk fires several key Twitter executives

- November 4: Twitter lays off half of its employees

- November 4: Twitter decimates its communications department

- November 10: Security, privacy, & compliance leaders resign

- November 15: Musk fires employees who criticized him on Slack

- November 17: Hundreds of Twitter’s remaining staff resign

- February 2023: Twitter lays off 10% of its remaining employees

Twitter banlist updates

- November 18: Andrew Tate and Jordan Peterson unban

- November 19: Donald Trump unban

- November 20: Kanye West unban

- November 21: Marjorie Taylor Greene unban

- November 24: General amnesty for past banned accounts

Blue check mark arc

- October 30: Musk announces monthly verification subscription

- November 9: Twitter launches verification subscription

- November 11: Twitter suspends verification subscription

- December 12: Twitter relaunches verification subscription

- December 12: Twitter announces removal of legacy verification

2023

Blue check mark arc (continued)

- March 23: All accounts must pay for verification starting April 1

- Late March: Celebrities and organizations refuse to pay

- April 11: 4/20 is the final date for removing legacy verification

- April 20: Musk reveals he pays for certain people’s verification

- April 22: W/o legacy, verified becomes status symbol for losers

- April 23: Accounts with 1+ mil followers receive free verification

Spring cleaning

- May 8: Twitter plans to remove accounts inactive for 30+ days

- May 11: Musk announces he's stepping down as Twitter CEO

- June 1: Ella Irwin, head of trust and safety, resigns

- June 4: Linda Yaccarino becomes Twitter's new CEO

Summertime madness

- June 30: Twitter requires users log in to see tweets/profiles

- July 1: Twitter limits the number of daily tweets users can read

- July 5: Users are now able to see tweets without logging in

- July 23: Twitter rebrands to X

- July 26: Brands must buy ads or lose X verification

- July 28: X opens ad revenue sharing for verified creators globally

- August 2: X Blue users can now hide their check marks

- August 18: Musk says "Block is going to be deleted as a 'feature'"

- Sep. 2: X will limit poll voting to verified users

- Sep. 4: Musk threatens to sue ADL for alleged ad revenue loss

Fall

- Oct. 9: X Blue users can limit replies to verified accounts

Winter

- Nov 29: Elon Musk tells advertisers: ‘Go fuck yourself’

Miscellaneous Events (mostly Twitter)

- January 10: Musk’s net worth dropped $182 billion in 2022

- January 10: Algorithmic “For You” page is now the default

- January 24: Users can now set chronologic timeline as default

- February 1: Twitter moves to discontinue free access to API

- March 26: Twitter reports parts of its source code leaked

- March 27: “For You” page will only show verified accounts

- March 27: Only verified accounts will be able to vote in polls

- March 29: Twitter introduces three tier system for API access

- April 3: Musk changes Twitter logo to Doge

- April 20: SpaceX Starship launch concludes with explosive finish

- May 12: Tesla recalls 1.1 mil cars in China citing safety concerns

2024

TBD

ye

[pennyserenade]

all we ever wanted was everything

interlude i: henry & mariella - fade into you | ao3 link

pairing: javier peña x female oc, javier peña x named female oc (mariella), male oc x female oc rating: e (explicit) tags/warnings: angst, smut, talk of children and pregnancy, marriage, depression, infidelity.  word count: 6.7k summary: theirs is a story as old time: married much too young, certain they were pioneers on those unbeaten paths of love. all they ever wanted was everything & all they ever discovered was how none of it was really as original as they had hoped. it is a love story & it is not.  a/n: you don’t technically have to read this but i think for the sake of the story & all  understanding of mariella as a character, it is recommend. also it does play an important part in the next chapter, but i do think could get by without it.

The clock ticks past midnight at the college library and no one notices. Mariella Tawes and Henry Rath are both little more than lowered heads at the opposite ends of the same room, drawing in the same tedious, steady breaths.

She is studious at the wrong hours, insomniac and homesick, and he is making up for another weekend of fun. His head swarms, full of numbers and equations, and hers tilts, rested on the palm of a tired hand. Mariella’s mouth follows along silently with the words on the page and Henry’s eyes are prone to wandering in her direction. He chances a glance at her now and then, and finds she never looks back, so he grows braver still with the length at which he inspects her each time.

He remembers her name. They had health together last year in that cold, creaky classroom with old Mrs. Severson (who remembered, ironically, as being pretty severe with the deadlines). Her name is Mariella, pronounced Mari-ella. He wonders if she remembers him. She doesn’t seem to notice him from her corner of the world – and didn’t then, either – so he guesses probably not.

Henry is good-looking: hazel eyes, more green than blue, generous nose, boyish smile with a heavy bottom lip, and a head full of thick brown hair that falls shaggily over his ears and cascades just above his eyebrows–just how the girls like it. If you think of an All-American boy–try to conjure up an image–he might be the product you receive. Someone, in the spring of his Freshman year, told him he was the Pacific Northwest’s answer to JFK Jr, so of course he is not alien to the attention of women. He doesn’t really need more of it, but for some reason he’d really like Mariella to look at him just once.

Maybe that’s why he’s staring so hard. It’s not just a glance anymore. He’s inspecting her the way she’s looking at the book in her hands, careful and captivated.

She looks up at him, notices, like she can hear his thoughts. He smiles at her, not as nervous as he ought to be for having been caught. He wanted to be caught. It's the truth. She smiles too, before she ducks her head and finds her book page again. Her cheeks tint red and he feels poorly, but nicely too—liking the idea that he might be something that could make her nervous in a warm way. They go back to their quiet, to their own work, until his hungry stomach upsets the balance in the room thirty minutes later. It grumbles for seconds that feel like hours.

He laughs nervously, embarrassed. She smiles, reserved. “I haven’t eaten in a while,” he says.

“I think the pizza place is open down the street,” she provides kindly. He nods; it is. During the week, he works there. It is odd that he has never seen her there.

“Are you hungry? Would you like to go with me?”  He is personable. Mariella is less so, it seems, but not in an unwelcoming way. He can tell she’s shy. He remembers that she rarely ever raised her hand in class.

She shakes her head. “I’ve got to study.” The book in her hand is lifted, as if to say: see.

He smiles. “That’s fine. I’ll bring one back for us.”

He doesn’t give her the time to protest. When he comes back, cheeks red from the winter bite, he’s got half cheese, half pepperoni. She’s still in the corner, softly whispering a passage to herself. “Which kind?” he asks, opening the box in front of her.

“It’s okay, really,” she tells him. She smiles. “Eat your pizza. I don’t need any.”

“Are you sure?” he frowns.

She shakes her head again. “I don’t want to take your pizza. I’m okay, really,” she insists, still smiling. A polite smile, cushioning a rejection.

He gives up, trying not to act too defeated. He probably wouldn’t take his pizza either, now that he thinks about it. “Okay,” he tells her. He goes back to his side of the room, opens the math textbook that has been making his head feel heavy, and gets back to work. Grease stains the college-lined paper as he begins yet another problem.

“You’re Henry, aren’t you?” she asks out of nowhere.

When he lifts his head, he sees her looking at him from all the way over there. Her finger is tucked in between the pages of her book and she is beautiful in a way he can’t necessarily pinpoint, and wouldn’t want to. He nods sheepishly. Rejection does wonderful things to the ego, especially at hours like this. Even JFk Jr. would blush. “Yeah,” his voice says for him.

“I’m Mariella. I think we had a class together.”

“Yeah, health last term. I didn’t know if you remembered.”

“I did.”

She did. He blooms with his newfound boyish crush.

They are going to fall in love. It’s written between the lines of the grease stained paper his number is sketched on—the one he gives to her just shy of one am, and she keeps for decades after.

—

Leafs fall on campus the day Henry walks Mariella to class for the first time. They meet in the middle of the large university, at the edge of the empty soccer field. She wears a maroon cable knit sweater and her smile grows incrementally as he approaches her. His hair is wet, curling around his ears already, and the wind is biting as it blows in his direction. He wouldn’t have put this off for the world; he’d jog halfway here from the gym, wet droplets falling onto his heather-gray sweater the whole way. Even with the shower, he smells somewhat like chlorine and clean sweat, but he’d made it. His chest burns from the effort, but he beams at the sight of her–a beautiful square toothed smile.

They’ve been seeing each other in that tentative way young people do when they’re not sure what the other one wants; casual non-dates at the cafeterias peppered across campus, kissing in the back of his car with the radio turned down low on weekends; promises to see each other throughout the week. But no one dares to say the word date or boyfriend and girlfriend. They exist in the liminal space of the pre-relationship, and it’s beginning to worry him.

“Want me to carry those?” he asks her, nodding to the books in her hand. They don’t seem to be weighing her down, but the act seems chivalrous and he wants to be helpful, giving. Last night he’d explored the inside of her mouth with his tongue, tasted the salty column of her neck and felt her over her white lace bra. The car had gotten so stuffy, and she’d been grateful to let him draw up her blouse — it had proved rather tantalizing for them both. But as nice as that was, he doesn’t want her to think that’s all he wants.

“It’s okay,” she tells him. He looks so handsome like this: dripping wet, his chest rising and falling, so earnest. He’s got such an intense stare–so imploring.

Henry likes her–really– and she knows it, which scares her most of all. Something about him makes her feel helpless. He is like a cosmic wonder, some shooting star that tails its way across the night sky and fills you with hope – all while making you feel the precariousness of human life.

“You didn’t have to walk me to class, you know? I’ve been doing it by myself for a long time,” she says, though not unkindly. Her voice is always warm with him, even without her trying.

His bottom lip protrudes and his eyes go droopy, as if he is a puppy dog that’s just been kicked. “You don’t mind it, do you?”

“No. No, of course I don’t,” she's quick to clarify. “I just don’t want you to think you’ve got to do it.”

A cloud of relief flushes into the ecosystem of his body. He wears a contented grin as he breathes out: “I do want to. I like being around you, Mariella”

If  he only knew how much she wanted him. She can’t shake this feeling of impending failure, can’t shake how it looms ominously over each interaction they have together. At the dining halls she worries her food choice is wrong. In his car she worries he might have more experience than she does. On walks such as this one, she worries his inspecting gaze will catch an errant behavior, an ugly mark, too much smile or too little—anything—and find her no longer attractive. The fact that he seems so pleasantly happy to be here with her, walking, stuns her more than it ought to. It isn’t that she isn’t pretty. It’s not even that being pretty is what matters most to her. What Henry has brought into her life, along with a pocketful of joy she’s trying her best to ignore, is the realization that she’s afraid she’s not lovable. That something is wrong, always has been wrong, and that when she opens herself to him, he will find it.

“I’d like to take you as my date to this party I’ve been invited to next week.” He broaches the topic gingerly as they round the corner. They branch off into a more secluded pathway that she takes every day to this class. The stony decade old buildings provide an echoey background as he says,“It’s a low stakes affair, just something a friend of mine’s putting together.”

She stares ahead, feeling the lump of fear form in her throat. Now is the time to back out, she thinks. But for some reason she can’t. His body bumps into hers and he apologizes weakly for the misstep. In his voice she can hear nerves. She looks at him. His face is open, nothing to hide on its handsome expanse; he is nervous. “You don’t have to,” he adds quickly, “I just thought maybe since…”

“I’d love to go,” she tells him. Okay, she thinks. This is it. You are going to do this. This being: pursuing him, allowing herself to be pursued, falling in love with him. Getting serious. This is more than she’s ever given to any person in her life and it makes her flush. A grin breaks out across her lips and she feels like laughing. He looks like he feels that way, too.

“Great,” he says. “I…Would you like to have lunch with me? After your class?”

“Yes.”

“Two yeses in a row. I feel like I’ve got a good streak going here.”

“You do,” she laughs. They turn another corner. When they bump into each other again, no one apologizes.

“Mariella?” he asks.

“Yes?”

“Would you be my girlfriend?”

Her eyebrows draw up to her hairline. She looks to see if he’s joking. He is not.

“Okay.” It doesn't take her long to decide. This is a part of the plan, after all, just served up sooner than she imagined. “Yes.” —

In Harvey, James Stewart talks to his imaginary bunny and loses his mind in the most endearing manner. He’s set to the soft volume of six tonight, heard but not always seen. The hues of the movie throw shadows on Henry’s face and Mariella admits to herself that this boy is devastatingly good looking. Her heart thrums nervously in her chest as his warm hand skirts up her leg. They’re going to do it. He’s got condoms in his bedside table and a bottle of lube in the bathroom, if needed.

It isn't Mariella’s first time, nor his, but there’s an exciting freshness to it anyway. He gathers her up in his lap, asks her once, twice, ten times whether or not this is okay. His hand fondles her breasts, grips at the flesh of her ass, and drags a slow path to the waistband of her underwear. She nods against his forehead, warm with desire and flush with excitement. Last week he had fingered her in his car, in a position much like this one. She’s been thinking of it since, let’s it cross her mind at odd and obscure hours of the day. To be wanted by Henry makes her feel good, seen, human. When she thinks of his fingers inside of her, the way he kissed her hotly as his fingers ran over clit…

She moans wantonly and he nods, encouraging her. “Please,” she tells him softly, “Now.”

Suddenly Henry is above her, in her, forearms pitched at either side of her head, tongue in her mouth. Her hands guide his ass and her legs embrace him, the entirety of her body opening for him. He groans softly as he sheaths himself inside of her. Beneath them, the mattress groans from the pressure of their sway. It is nothing. It is everything. People have been doing it for centuries and yet nothing like this, not the way Henry and Mari do it now. It is flesh meeting flesh, the undoing of neatness and propriety that has guarded her for too long. Mariella gasps earnestly when he comes inside of the condom and he kisses her until her lips are red and plump and ache a little. Then he does something no man has done before and he makes her cum too, his lips glossy with her want at the end. She likes him.

In the post-coital aftermath, they finish the movie. He holds her loosely against his naked frame and touches her appreciatively, a thumb stroking a nipple, or her stomach, or some place as innocuous as her cheek. When he tells her that the movie is a favorite of his father’s, a man who calls him once every five years and who he scarcely knows past that single fact, Mariella falls a little in love with him.

Henry Rath understands her before he knows he does.

—-

They move in together, in an apartment close to campus. During the summer they had searched relentlessly for a place, calling long distance from Laredo to Washington, racking up unimaginable phone bills as they circled their newspaper entries with red pens. They hummed and hawed over the possibility of their future and now they stand in it: A plain two bedroom that costs three hundred a month. 

The manager had been so adamant that they take the apartment as soon as possible — “These things go fast because we’re so close to campus” — so they did. Because why not? It's been two years and Henry’s finally got a diploma. He wants to hang it somewhere that’s all his. 

Mariella wraps her arms around his torso and lays her head against his back. She moves with his muscle, listens to him speak through the sinew of his body. “It’s so hot,” he groans, but he doesn’t tell her to get off of him. He bangs a nail into the wall and laughs with boyish pride when it turns out alright. She had told him she worried that his craftsmen skills weren’t up to boot. 

“You did it,” she says, poking her head out from behind him. He lifts an arm and she pulls herself through, hanging off his side. It is hot; she can feel the sweat on the small of his back. They inspect his work with  grins only people in love can wear; soft and pleasant, like life is a cloud and they’re ready to sleep on it. “I probably shouldn’t have,” he responds. But he’s happy he did. 

She nods; she told him so. But this is so new. He is a college graduate and she’s a year out from her own degree. For the first time in her life she will never return home after the year finishes. This fact alone is enough to make Henry warm with excitement. Two summers without her had been long–even with internships to keep him busy. He visited her once, midsummer this past year. Laredo had welcomed him as most places did: with open arms. Mari’s father thought he had a good head on his shoulders, and told her so. And secretly, without her knowledge, Henry had asked the man—who could be intimidating when he wasn’t actively being warm—if asking Mariella to marry him would be alright. 

“At twenty-three it is easy to think you know what the world wants for you,” James told him. But he’d said yes after Henry added on the fact that he wouldn’t do it until Mariella was finished with school. So there’s this apartment and the promise of more to come. It’s pleasant to have so much future, an endless expanse of more stretched out before them. 

They will even thrill at the insanity of shared holidays, divvying themselves up between Laredo (her father’s) and Washington (his mother’s) with a bewildering delight. Their marriage is inevitable, but time is no race. Unlike their parents, they vow to do it right. -

She wears an inexpensive pink gown that her father had bought her for a different occasion–her college graduation–and admires the way her simple gold band looks against the tan of Henry’s suit. It’s fitted, the first he’s ever had. He’s so handsome that she feels a deep and incessant need to just touch him. Her husband. The word feels ethereal and interminable, sweet on the tongue as she nuzzles her head into his neck and whispers it. As they sway along to the soft sound of wedding acoustics, he lays his hand on the small of her back. Married in a church earlier today and celebrating in the back of her grandparents’ sizable home, Mariella feels like she’s beat some magnificent curse. After the reception, they travel into the thick of the Washington woods. He’s gotten them a honeymoon cabin, equipped with a hearth. There is no reception, just trees and the eerie quiet of vast woodlands. What is usually the makings of a horror movie seems a respite with him.

She wraps herself around him in an armchair, moves into his lap, lets herself gasp with pleasure. There is no one around to hear. He tastes like forever, his tongue finding her own, his cock deep inside of her. They move like they did when they were dancing, a sway, his hips meeting her hips, a rhythm so comfortable and easy as to allow for conversation.

“Two children,” he rattles off, tucking her hair behind her ear. He looks down between them, his voice heavy with his own desire as he watches them connect. Henry. He’s got a mole on his cheek and he wants to fill her with children. His wedding ring rests against the softness of her curves and hers presses into the firmness of his bicep. Two children, he says, because he and Mariella are the only children to two sets of parents who didn’t work out. It’s lonely being the only creation. She nods against his forehead and presses her lips to his. They gasp into each other as he fills her deeper.

She’s on birth control so the sentence is little more than a fairy tale, but they like it. Maybe it’s sweet naïveté or honeymoon foolishness. Perhaps it’s the fact that they’re tucked away in the trees, no one coming to disturb them for a week, not even in the form of a phone call. Whatever it is, they enjoy it. They form these stories between them, hips moving together in wedded sync. She feels him deep inside of her and her cheeks tint red as he tells her, against the cusp of her ear, “Let’s make them now, Mariella.”

It’s so easy to agree knowing it can’t happen. Playing pretend like children, except now the concepts are grander and the playing is different, a shade more intimate. She closes her eyes and imagines hazel-eyed children in a beautifully lit house, their little feet in the palm of her hand. Their toes will look like his; their smile will look like hers. Maybe they will inherit something from his mother. Maybe something of her father’s. It doesn’t matter. There will be two and they will not be lonely, and they will be half of him and she will love them just as much, if not more.

Her and Henry are going to grow old together. They’ve discovered love, really discovered it, a groundbreaking newness to the oldest thing in the world. It's never been like this, not between anyone else. Mariella is so sure.

- During the first summer of their new marriage, Henry makes friends with the principal of a private Catholic school. They stand cart to cart in a long checkout line and find common ground on a topic as simple as Sunday night football. By the time they reach the end of the line, Henry’s got himself an interview. They need an accountant as badly as he needs a job. In the parking lot, holding a package of hot dogs in one hand, he leans forward and shakes the man’s hand with the other. He is so pleased with himself that he calls Mariella as soon as he gets to the car.

He gets the job because he’s Henry: lovely, affable, and qualified. He does a good job. Such a good job, in fact, that they take Mariella on too.

At first she is a helper for a large second grade class, but then she matures quickly into a full fledged teacher herself. Mrs. Miller has a baby in December and decides the baby needs her more than her little classroom does. There is talk of Mariella being set to take on kindergarten next year, too because Ms. Neely, a seasoned kindergarten teacher, is ready to move up with her class.

The air is full of promise. Their future feels nearer and nearer every day. They buy a moss green ranch house with a downstairs and an upstairs, and two extra rooms for anything they want. They get the approval to paint it tan by the Homeowners association and they laugh together about the fact that they have to ask for things like that.

Henry falls asleep on the couch sometimes, too tired to drag himself to bed but they are happy. They married young and people told them it would be hard. And it’s not terribly hard, not as bad as they made it seem. He is still adoring. He brings her flowers for no reason, and he still loves her enough to take her on dates every Saturday night, no matter what. She can’t ask for much more.

——

Henry’s wearing a red baseball cap. His cotton white t-shirt is paired with blue-wash Levi jeans and he looks devastatingly good–like a baseball player on a day off. It is the school’s annual end of summer picnic. Mariella wears a pink summer dress that falls to her ankles, and a delicate gold cross on her neck to make up for the indency of bare shoulders. Children and parents alike call her “Mrs. Rath” as she helps pass out food.

One of the mothers is flirting with Henry, the way mothers tend to do because school accountants don’t usually look like this. It makes Mariella ache with pleasure. His muscle is flexing beneath the cotton of his shirt as he plays idly with a baseball in his hand and listens to the woman. It’s like he’s James Dean or Marlon Brandon: an American dream lover in the flesh. He is all hers.

The mother looks at him like he’s the greatest thing on God green’s earth and he’s so polite, so kind, nodding along to her like he doesn’t notice. Perhaps he doesn’t. She wouldn’t put it past Henry.

He turns his head and sees her. He begins waving like crazy and the mother turns her head to look too. When she sees Mariella she smiles like a woman who understands, or one who’s been caught, and nods her head respectfully. I see, the move says. And Mariella beams. Yes, she thinks warmly, he is all mine.

She finds she wants to bury herself in the love he has for her. She’ll give him children, of this she is certain. Not now, but one day. They both intrinsically understand this, so he doesn’t ask and she never says. Their condoms and their concepts stretch on, because they are so young and life is so sweet with ripe possibilities, but she knows, looking at him, that she must do this for him. She loves him more than anything. If she is going to give anyone children, it has to be him.

-

Her mother was older than this by the time she had her.

Henry and Mariella experience a shift, eat separate dinners on Wednesdays and Fridays, and make friends with people at work. He goes golfing sometimes, talks about country clubs and moving away. This is ennui. She shrugs, content with life but open to the possibilities. Or is she content? Is this just boredom she’s grown used to? She finds it’s better not to think about that. It is contentment.  

One night Henry asks her about babies. It is not a forbidden topic but they’ve begun to treat it like it is. He has come home late, a little buzzed, and he is groping her. She doesn’t mind. It has been two weeks. “When?” he asks softly into her ear. She leans back into him, hums. He humps against her backside and seems to forget she doesn’t answer.

She has children. Fourteen, all small and bright and lovely. There’s a precocious little girl who she favors, and almost makes her consider the possibility of it. It just doesn’t seem like the right time now.

Some day, she will give him his children.

They are still young. There is so much time. –

Over a cup of coffee, Mr. Seton confesses to Mariella that he loves her. His classroom is across the hall from hers and he seems to be her only friend these days. They’ve bonded over many things: music, old movies, the fact that they’ve both got busy, active partners and that they are the youngest on the roster this school year. Henry has so many friends, and seems to make a new one every week, despite the fact that his job is rather isolated. It makes Mari nervous, like there’s something wrong with her. When Mr. Seton – whom she calls Adam when there are no children around – tells her he loves her, she feels betrayed. You were my friend, she wants to tell him, in the same tone she uses to tell a student she is disappointed in them.

When she gets home, she tells Henry. He is upset—not at her, he makes sure to clarify—but at Adam. He asks her all kinds of questions about him, and though they are spoken in a gentle tone, she knows: Henry is upset at her, even if he says he’s not. It’s an undercurrent, his anger, his frustration.

“He knows I’m married,” she adds hopefully, as if it will help. But she has wondered all day if maybe she hasn’t been doing a good job at showing how married she is–wondering if maybe somewhere along the way Adam had figured out something she hadn’t. When Henry asks, “And Adam’s wife? Does he not think of her?” she knows the questions are meant for her, at least in part. And Mariella’s husband? Does she not think of him?

Henry loves Mariella more than he has ever loved anyone. If this divide they’re experiencing is because of children then he won’t ever ask about them again. He hadn’t even meant to. He’d gotten a little tipsy that night and it had slipped out, but it doesn’t matter to him. Not this much. He’ll do anything if it means that goddamn teacher won’t tell Mariella things like that again. Next time he sees her–tomorrow–Mr. Seton will know Mariella is too goddamn in love–that it will be pointless and embarrassing to confess something like that. Their love is invincible and this is just a kink because they married young. Everyone said they’d go through rough patches and this is one of them. How dare that man think his confession could come to anything?

“Mr. Seton, love your own wife,” Henry can imagine himself saying to the be-speckled, wannabe home-wrecker. He is nothing if not equable, even to those who threaten his domain, his life. “You’re going through a rough patch, and my wife will not be your garden of Eden. She loves me. She tells me what you said. Your secrets are her stories to me, because she loves me.”

Maybe not so equable, then, not in his own mind. Not to Mr. Seton. Not to fucking Adam.  

Later Henry fingers Mariella on the staircase. They don’t make it to the bedroom because they can’t; it's needy and desperate. It feels like before, like she is twenty and he is twenty-two and this is that shitty apartment they rented together their second summer as a couple. It feels like that until he asks her to say she loves him. She does, and he asks again, over and over and over, and he swallows the words in his mouth along with her moans. They go down like stones, hard and sharp. They are true–she does love him–but they are also just words, yet to be eroded by the pleasures of deep meaning.

Mr. Seton loves her, but Henry loves her more.

She loves me, she loves me not.

God, they married so young.

- A third anniversary. They don’t think of children, at least not together. Henry does, but it makes him ache so he tries not to. They’ve got a lifetime ahead of them and Mariella is not yet even thirty. They will have her eyes, her mouth. They will have his eyes, his nose. They will be perfect and loving and worth the trouble and the time and this desperation he can’t seem to fix.

Mariella forgets to say she loves him in the morning before work but remembers many more times throughout the day. This is just life.

- They argue. It is so rare that they do. They are not like this.

It is angry. His anger is large, not violent, but it makes her lip trimble anyways. For the first time in her life, she thinks she could hate him. She does. But then she doesn’t. She loves Henry so much and this is her fault. She works so late, comes home too tired to do anything but sleep.

“What does a teacher even have to do that late, Mariella?” he bellows and it is an ugly accustation. She counters: “Are you saying my job is somehow less important than yours? You don’t think I need to stay out as late as you because what–you make more?”

The argument becomes about so much of nothing in the end. Henry wanted to go on vacation—and it was only a suggestion. She was unrelenting and mean and they end the night by fucking. Fucking, unlike anything they’ve done before. It is ugly and they don’t use a condom. He cums on her thigh, mostly, and she is afraid two weeks later when her consistent period isn’t consistent anymore.

She doesn’t buy a pregnancy test to assuage her fears, not that first week, and she doesn’t tell him. The thought of it makes her sick. She can’t bring a child into this. It is so boring and ugly, and they are so young. She has fourteen kids in her class and she doesn’t want to take time away to be a mother. Not yet. She knows she will not be like Ms. Miller and he will not understand. Henry aches to be a parent. She can’t barely handle it, the way he aches. When her period comes she wants to be happy, but she is so notably unhappy now. Henry worries more about the teacher who confessed she loved her, to the point of quiet paranoia. He asks her so many questions about him. He finds the pregnancy test in the trash. They don’t talk about any of it. - Henry doesn’t want to divorce Mariella, but he realizes that he has to. He’s watching a movie late at night and she’s gone, at a conference for teachers and he is so excited for her to get home, wants her more than ever. But he knows what will come is not the Mariella he needs. It’s this idea he’s in love with, and maybe he’s that to her too. Ideas don’t stretch very far.

She doesn’t love him anymore. Not really. Not the way he needs her to.

They discuss it in the shower when she returns. He can’t tell if she’s crying as she leans her head back into the water spray. “It’ll cost money,” she tells him, so matter-of-fact he wonders whether or not it's a badly timed joke. It is and it isn’t. She loves Henry. She only said it so she wouldn’t promise babies to make him stop talking about it. Because she can’t do that. Not yet. Not now. Probably not ever. She is only twenty-six.

She read once that babies inherit fears and anxieties of the mother when they are in her womb. Her mother had been twenty years old and scared to death of her, of the idea of having to care for her alone. Maybe that’s where she got this: a fear of motherhood. Or maybe she’s just wrong, born out of sorts. She’s got a maternal instinct but an emotionally barren womb. It's no man’s land, working but unavailable. Everything will come out wrong somehow, she knows. If God was that cruel to Eve, what’s stopping him from doing something as twisted as that to her? Nothing.

Henry will never understand that. She is only twenty-six today and next time she will be only twenty-seven. Or maybe she will just be twenty-six and divorced. Who knows?

—

It's raining so hard outside that they’re wet from the downpour. He’s kissing her like he’s never kissed her before. Her lips are cool against his own. She shivers, drenched. They are going to be fine. She is an April baby and it always rains on her birthday. He gives her a necklace that’s too expensive but just her taste. They discuss a child quietly in bed that night and he is so excited. She is twenty-seven and terrified. They are going to be alright.

Aren’t they? - Henry asks Mariella for a divorce in the summer. By Christmas they are. She goes back to Laredo, tail between her legs. She doesn’t eat properly for months, but life moves on. - He invites her to the wedding. They promised to remain friends and this is how he is  a friend. She knows it’s not mean, that Henry really wants her there. The wife looks so different from her. She wonders how badly she must’ve fucked him up. Mariella declines. She is meant to be a good friend the way she was meant to be a good friend: hardly. - He is a father to a baby girl. Her name is Emily and she is their concept, an idea they formed together as a married couple, come to life with some other woman. She doesn’t have anything of Mariella’s, not the eyes or the mouth or the nose. Mariella tells him congratulations so earnestly she hates herself for it later. She is in Washington to visit her grandparents. Her grandpa is dying, which is something she might’ve told him before, but can’t now. He has a child! The grocery store is so overwhelming, all that bad fluorescent lighting and passing carts. She just needs soup. He tells her to keep in touch, really means it because he’s so goddamn happy and full of life. A beaming new father. She doesn’t keep in touch. Of course she doesn’t. - Randomly, he writes to her. Asks how she is, says that he wonders about her. His daughter is yay high and his wife is happy. Mariella writes back. She’s got a new job as a teacher. It’s been a good week so she sends the letter and forgets about it until he sends one back. They talk and talk and talk, safety in the miles between them.

She is happy to be his friend. - She visits her aunt and her grandmother at the beginning of summer. Henry isn’t on her mind until he’s in her line of vision. Another grocery store. She’s wearing a summer dress and her hair is shorter than it’s been in ever. His daughter tugs at his shirt and they stare at each other forever, remembering the life they had once lived. He asks about dinner. She says yes. Of course. They’re good friends.

They spend the night having sex, and it’s familiar. It  isn’t supposed to be like this. He is home. She was so young when she fucked it up. They are in love or maybe not. Maybe this is just the past mistaking itself for the present. That happens when you get lonely enough.

“You’re so…” Henry stutters off. His fingers dig into her hips, his groan deep as she fits herself over him again. “Tight,” he finishes. “God, Mariella. It..” His pace quickens, the sound of bare skin hitting bare skin evading the sex scented air. “It’s never been like this.”

Her skin tints red. A furrow settles between her eyebrows and he wrongfully mistakes it for mounting pleasure. She feels his satisfaction between her legs, his moan low and guttural as he takes in the sight of her above him. When he opens his mouth to speak again, she raises her hand, covering his wet lips with her fingers. The unashamed obscenity of his words is so unlike him. She never thought about the ways he’d be attuned to his other wife, about the ways doing this with him would make her think of the fact that he’s no longer hers. He takes her finger in his mouth, his hot tongue eagerly swirling around it.

His eyes connect with hers for the longest second in the world. They are the most promising thing she’s ever seen, wet with silent apology and the pain of their enduring love. Maybe even a little bit of remorse. He’s a cheater, after all, and she is his willing accomplice.

Beneath the soft orange hue of the bedside lamp, his eyes are green, freckled with familiar browns and blues. She replaces her finger with her tongue in his mouth. He tastes achingly of home, of their abandoned Washington ranch house someone else probably owns now. It’s so ironic she could cry. He does, a little; their kiss becomes salt drenched and tragic, but real, honest, like it should’ve been at the beginning and not now, some place even further beyond the end.

He twitches inside of her. He pushes her downward, so close to his chest that her nipples scrap over his chest.

Her cheek rests against the warmth of his lips.

She is gone by morning and he frowns, touching her side of the motel bed like he’s not quite sure she is really occupied by it. But she did. He remembers. Hip to hip, mouth to mouth, married in memory. When he gets home, his little girl opens her arms and giggles into his embrace. His wife is in the office, the one they share. She is also an accountant and she doesn’t ask where he’s been, but he tells her anyway. “Was at work,” he lies.

She believes him, because why shouldn’t she? He is always at work.

—

It has been three months. He leaves her a voicemail once, twice, three times and she deletes them all. His wife does not know. His daughter asks him why he’s gone so much. He cries in the shower and wonders why the hell he lets Mariella ruin his life.

And the answer is as simple as anything, but no less painful: because he loved her first and he might love her always. He is envious of the men he cannot know exist--the ones he imagines might be entertaining her. He wants to fly to Laredo, to ruin her life, but does not. Life moves on.

All they ever wanted was everything. He realizes that was too much. He will settle for half of it. 

[coinandcandle]

Brigid Deity Guide

Who is Brigid?

Translated as “The Exalted One” in Old Irish, Brigid is a Gaelic-Celtic Goddess of many things including fire, poetry, fertility, spring, and craftsmanship. Other spellings of her name are Brig, Brighid, or Brigit.

Not unlike many of the Tuatha Dé Danan, Brigid is thought to be a Triple Goddess, similar to The Morrigan. Some believe this means she is three sister goddesses or that she is one goddess made of three different aspects. These sisters, or aspects depending on your belief, would be Brigid the Healer, Brigid the Smith, and Brigid the Poet.

By far Brigid was one of the most popular goddesses of the Celts, as she had variations across the Celtic world where her name was Brigantes or Briganti.

The Welsh know her as Ffraid, in Scotland her name is Brìghde/Brìde.

Parents and Siblings

Dagda (Father)

Aengus (Brother)

Midir (Brother)

Aed (Brother)

Cermait (Brother)

Bodb Derg (Brother)

Lovers or Partners

Bres

Children

Ruadán

Epithets

The Exalted One

The High One

Brigid of the Hearth

Notes

Though the Dagda has been established as Brigid’s father, it’s not certain who her mother is. Some say Danu, others say The Morrigan, though this is less likely. I personally have yet to find anywhere that names a mother with any evidence.

Brigid is considered a Mother Goddess.

Brigid has been conflated with the Catholic St. Brigid, who was the daughter of a converted Druid. It is believed by some that St. Brigid of the Catholic church was inspired by the Goddess. The two share many features and even a holiday.

St. Brigid’s day is February 1st and lands on the same day as the Irish-Pagan holiday Imbolc, leading some folks to believe that the saint is a Christianized version of the ancient goddess. However, no study has found there to be any historical link between them.

Brigid was likened to the Roman Minerva, the Greek Athena, as well as the Proto-Indo-European goddess of the dawn.

Brigid has also been known to go by Dana or Danu, though they are also separate deities.

In mythology, Brigid invented Keening, which is a mix of weeping and singing while mourning the death of her son.

Brigid is heavily linked to Irish Holy wells.

Brigid is also known for prophecy as she was worshipped by seers.

She is associated with fire due to her associations with the hearth and smiths

Ultimately there is very little historical information about Brigit, surprising considering she is so popular now and was popular even in the past.

Modern Deity Work

Disclaimer - Not all of these are traditional or historic correspondences nor do they need to be. However, any correspondence that can be considered traditional will be marked with a (T).

Correspondences

Rocks/Stone/Crystals

Gold

Brass

Iron

Fire Agate

Warm colored stones

Herbs/Plants

Oak (T)

Rowan

Clovers

Heather

Chamomile

Early spring flowers

Blackberries

Animals

Boar (T)

Oxen (T)

Serpents

Offerings

Milk (T)

Honey

Alcohol

Candles

Coins (T)

Acts of Devotion

Light a candle

Hold a bonfire for her (or use your fireplace)

Create or recite a poem for her (T)

Hone your craft, whatever it may be!

References and Further Reading

Brigid, Bright Goddess of the Gael - Mythicalireland

Brigid - Mythopedia

Brigit - Britannica

Brigit - Mythus Wiki

Brigid - Druidry.org

Myth and Legends of the Celtic Race by Thomas Rolleston via Sacred Texts

Song of Brigit - Celtic Wonder Tales by Ella Young via Sacred Texts

The Spirit of the Celtic Gods and Goddesses by Carl McColman and Kathryn Hinds

Devotees and Followers to check out:

@mrs-k-cottage-witchch

@polyteleology

@the-purvashadha

as recommended by the community.

Edited for accuracy.

[lover-of-skellies]

Rank scariest fnaf animatronics or weirdest fanfic you've read

Hmmmmm. I've had fnaf brain worms for a while now, so I'm gonna do that, and I'll try to cover as many of the animatronics as possible, minus the different skin versions that pop up for different events/DLCs/whatever

1 = fuck THAT, nuh uh, that's the stuff of nightmares

2 = mildly creepy, unsettling, don't leave me alone with it I'll be super uncomfortable

3 = I would happily dropkick it into the ocean

4 = y u so ugly bruh

5 = keep it behind a heavy duty glass wall and chained down first and THEN I can tolerate being around it

6 = aight it can roam around in the same room as me as long as it stays over on the other side from me

7 = friend shaped, looks cute or is a goober, I trust this one to not hurt me

8 = just a guy, they are simply there, I'm indifferent to them

9 = not at all scary, I may even smooch them

**There's so many names here and it's a bit of an eyesore. Read at your own discretion**

Nightmare Freddy, Nightmare Bonnie, Nightmare Chica, Nightmare Foxy, Nightmare Fredbear, Nightmare, Nightmare Mangle, Jack-O-Bonnie, Jack-O-Chica, Grimm Foxy, Nightmarionne, Nightmare Endo, Nightmare Cupcake, Nightmare Balloon Boy, Nightmarionne Bots, Twisted Freddy, Twisted Bonnie, Twisted Chica, Twisted Foxy, Twisted Wolf, Stanley, Ella, Plushtrap Chaser, Phantom Freddy, Phantom Chica, Phantom Foxy, Phantom Mangle, Phantom Balloon Boy, Phantom Puppet, Fetch, Scrap Baby, Burntrap, Stitchwraith, Eleanor, Julius' Exoskeleton

Withered Freddy, Withered Bonnie, Withered Chica, Withered Foxy, Toy Freddy, Toy Bonnie, Toy Chica, Mangle, Balloon Boy, JJ, Shadow Freddy, Shadow Bonnie, Shadow Puppet, Shadow Balloon Boy, Circus Baby, Ballora, Funtime Freddy, Funtime Foxy, Minireena, Music Man, Funtime Chica, Rockstar Chica, Rockstar Foxy, Lefty, Carnie, Dark Freddy, Neon Bonnie, Neon Chica, Burnt Foxy, Dark Foxy, Shadow Mangle, Party Freddy, Prototype Glamrock Freddy, Yenndo, The Mimic, Ennard, Molten Freddy, The Blob, Dreadbear, Lucky Boy, Springtrap, Dark Springtrap, Golden Freddy, DJMM

Cupcake, Funtime Cupcake, Golden Cupcake, Shadow Cupcake, Neon Cupcake, Freddles, Bidybabs, Bon-Bon, Electrobab, Bonnet, Little Joe, Magician, Human Heads, Fortune Teller, Lemonade Clown, Fruit Punch Clown, Mini Music Men, Dee Dee, Helpi, Tag Along Freddy, Lonely Freddy, Plushtrap, Theodore, Baby Crawlers

Scraptrap

OG Freddy, OG Bonnie, OG Chica, OG Foxy, OG Puppet, Fredbear, Spring Bonnie, Rockstar Freddy, Rockstar Bonnie, Happy Frog, Mr. Hippo, Pigpatch, Nedd Bear, Orville Elephant, Endo - 01, Endo - 02, Glamrock Endo

Glamrock Chica, Montgomery Gator, Roxanne Wolf, Glamrock Mr. Hippo, Jack-O-Moon, Moon*, Security Bots, Map Bots, Mop Bots, Party Bots, Worker Bots, Mask Bot, Head Chef Bot, Server Bot, Attendant Bots, Nanny Bots, El Chip, Captain Foxy, The Entity, Security Puppet

Alien Bots, Comedy Bot, Magician Bot, Driver Assist Bots, Instructor Bot, Pizza Bot, Wet Floor Bots, Helpy, Glamrock Freddy, Rockstar Foxy's Parrot, Yarg Foxy

Candy Cadet, Giant Cupcake, Mystic Hippo

Glamrock Bonnie*, Sun, Eclipse

Moon* - I'd smooch him, but I know he'd probably strangle me for not sleeping as much as I should, hence why he needs to stay on his half of the room

Glamrock Bonnie* - He gets pity smooches because LOOK at him. The poor guy is in literal shambles. He needs so much maintenance, therapy, warm blankets, and hugs

[iwbomoon]

about me ☆

my website

interests- music, making hyperspecific playlists on every emotion i feel, kafka & literature, using pinterest + shuffles + spotify is my form of comfort, love trying out new cuisines, all forms of art, love binging kdramas & studio ghibli movies, cats and spring weather.

hobbies- i make song covers on yt sometimes, play piano, violin & ukulele, annotating books, gardening, reading, spending time with my family, taking pictures, studying, watching anime and finding new genres of music

aspirations- i want to do my best in any field and live with no regrets, preparing for med school, want to learn electric guitar, write more often and read more books

favourite books- the metamorphosis, gone girl, carmilla, the secret history, song of achilles, circe, the trial, crime & punishment, les miserables, tender is the night, to kill a mockingbird, the bell jar, wuthering heights, mxtx's works, picture of dorian gray, no longer human and every depressing piece of literature to ever exist

aesthetics i love- dark red, record store, jazz club, romantic & classical academia, light beige, dark brown, beaches, stars, flowers, baroque, museums, rockstar gf and red coquette

musicians- hozier, laufey, portishead, dpr ian, walk the waves, ella fitzgerald, girl in red, clairo, mitski, arctic monkeys, the smiths, jonghyun, deftones, wisp, taemin, the rose, chet baker, d4vd, liszt, jannabi and the list goes on

films/shows - la la land, dead poets society, znmd, twinkling watermelon, maurice, pride & prejudice, black swan, vincenzo, howl's moving castle, etc

intp, scorpio, 19, she/they