#and at last! she’s here! and she’s full of silly fun details! | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

worldsover · 5 months

Note

Will we ever get a sequel for Heejin's birthday fic? Just asking btw

Sorry. I am allergic to completing tasks to 100%. For example, as I mentioned in its author notes, there was never even meant to be a sequel since this was supposed to be one story, but instead I posted the incomplete version because the alternative was no story for her birthday. That being said, I do at least have a bit more written, so the same thing applies here: it's unfinished, but at least it's something?

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Heejin Birthday Fic cont.

~2.5k words, incomplete draft of the continuation to Transcendence/Pareidolia ft. Heejin

This wasn't fun. Well, it's a little fun. All the games the two of you play.

The best/worst part are all the videos she sends. She starts with the typical: eating an ice cream cone, having cream drip on her fingers; covering herself with oil and rubbing it over her entire body; holding a vibrator to her clit, waiting for your text about what position you want her in; showing her sopping pussy from various angles, and you can tell exactly which angle she sent you and why.

And then her videos get dirtier. There's Heejin on a vertical video, sitting on her bed, dildo deep inside her pussy, just talking. She talks about how she imagines your cock sliding in and out of her pussy, ramming her g-spot and fucking her senseless, while your fingers rub her clit and your mouth suck her tits. You would fill her up with your cum, dripping out of her pussy, down her legs. Then she would get the taste of your cock as she cleans it with her mouth, and how the cum mixing with her juices would taste even better as she slurps it all up. Heejin has a gift for describing things with vivid detail. You never realized just how eloquent her tongue could be. You can't wait until it's on yours again.

There are the times you meet and end up making out and nearly fucking, but you manage to stop. You keep each other on the brink. Sometimes you want to rip each other's clothes off and ravage the other right then and there, and your hearts would race at the thought of all the consequences and dangers involved with doing it outside. But you had to be patient; you were the one who suggested waiting, after all.

But the weeks pass, and you grow restless. You can't wait to claim Heejin as yours, in the most intimate way possible.

And finally, October 19 arrives.

✦✧✦✧✦✧

The restaurant is a small, cozy establishment, with warm lighting and ambient music. You and Heejin are dressed in semi-formal attire, and you admire how beautiful she looks in her black dress, with a slit up the thigh that shows off her perfect legs. You're both a little giddy with anticipation. You feel like it's Christmas, ready to open the ultimate present, even if she's the birthday girl here.

As you sit at the table, Heejin's phone lights up with birthday messages from her friends, and you can't help but wonder what they would think if they knew about you two.

"Wow, you're popular."

She giggles. "I know, it's silly. But, it's kinda sweet."

You take a sip of water. "You know, Heejin, it's been fun, these last couple of weeks, edging. I've never gone this long."

Heejin scoffs. "You're one to talk. It's been hell for me."

"I believe you."

You start to eat your food. The flavors are rich and savory, and the portions are generous. The two of you chat about the usual stuff, like work and your family and the newest set of anime coming out, but no matter how you try, you can't resist being glued to her every touch. Her finger absentmindedly twirls around a strand of hair. Her thighs shift in her seat. A napkin wipes the side of her mouth. The candlelight, and the warmth of the establishment makes her glow, and you're hopelessly under her spell.

Of course, her heel brushing against your inner thigh doesn't help.

"You seem tense," she says.

"Great observation."

"You know, for some reason, I don't feel that full, even after all I ate."

"You wanna go to another restaurant or something?"

Heejin rolls her eyes. "That's not what I'm hungry for."

Your mouth rounds to a circle.

She rubs her heel on your pants. "What?"

You throw the napkin on the table and stand up. "Excuse me, I have to use the restroom."

Heejin bites her lip as you walk away. You enter the bathroom. It's its own individual room, fancy and well-kept. You walk up to the sink and splash cold water on your face, sighing.

You use the toilet. Then, you use your phone to find the nearest hotel and its nearest vacancy. Can't even wait to bring her home. You text her your plan for the night.

Seems even that is too much waiting. A knock. She texts you back.

> open the door.

You gulp. You do, and Heejin steps in, her breathing erratic, her smile mischievous. She pulls you by your tie for a kiss, shoving you against the door. Your tongue and hers are tangling, and you reach for her breast. Your knee is lifting her skirt, and she's grinding against it.

"Heejin," you say, "we gotta, we gotta go somewhere else."

"I can kneel here." And she does just that. "We can make this quick."

She unbuckles your pants and frees your cock, your limp-cock instantly hard in the warmth of her mouth, instantly in the back of her throat.

"Heejin, no, wait, we were saving..."

Pop. "Oh, what, like you don't wanna blow your load down my throat and cum all over my tits and face?"

She's pumping, her fingers slick and tight around your shaft, your cockhead rubbing against her face. She sucks on your balls.

"I bet you'd absolutely ruin this fucking dress with your load."

In the next five minutes, Heejin proceeds to slather your cock in her spit while sucking you down with best blowjob you've ever received. Her lips and tongue are tight, and the heat of her mouth and the vacuum of her suction feels so divine around your cock. And her moans, oh, fuck, how you missed her moans around your shaft. The vibrations tickle your skin and your nerves. You're thankful for the door and the weight of your body preventing the two of you from collapsing, because the pleasure is making your knees weak. And if that wasn't enough, Heejin is relentless in her dirty talk and her sucking.

"God, your cock is fucking amazing. I wanna drink your cum forever. I wish you could shoot your cum deep in my pussy, fill me up. I can't wait to get your cock in my cunt."

She bobs faster, deeper, sucking more intensely. You're about to burst. She knows. Heejin reaches between your legs and squeezes your balls.

Then, she pulls back. Pop. "So, where's the hotel?"

✦✧✦✧✦✧

You pay for your meals, and then you're on the way to the hotel. It's a short taxi ride away, and the two of you keep your hands to yourself.

Once you're in the elevator, you hold Heejin's waist, and she faces you, giggling.

"What?" you ask.

"Nothing," she says. "Just… happy."

You lean down to kiss her. "Have I told you enough that you're the prettiest girl on the planet?"

"A couple times." She kisses back. "I don't mind you telling me more."

You brush strands of hair away from her face. She puts her hands on your face. Your hand slides up her waist to cup her cheek. She runs her thumb across your bottom lip.

Ding. The elevator doors open, and you step into the hallway. Your room is a few steps down, and you unlock the door.

It's a basic suite, and you don't waste time, dropping your stuff, locking the door, and moving to the bed, pushing Heejin down and kneeling to her height.

She giggles. "Gotta catch up, huh?"

You slide her shoes off her feet, then your own. Then, you slip your hands under her dress and hook a finger on her panties, moving them down her legs. All the while, she takes off your suit jacket and undoes your belt. You move Heejin's panties completely off her ankles. They're soaked. She lies down on the bed.

Your cock is throbbing, but you can't stop staring at the view.

She blushes. "N-no, no more edging. Please. I need to cum, so, so fucking bad. I need you in me, right fucking now."

You swallow. "Don't worry. I'll be inside you soon enough. Just, lemme get a good look of your body first."

Heejin smiles. "My body, huh? What, what's so special about it?"

"Everything."

You're on top of Heejin now, caressing her face.

"Everything," you repeat. You lower your head. "Especially your eyes." You lower your head again. "And your lips." You kiss them. "And your neck." You kiss. She moans. You continue kissing downwards, licking along her collarbone, nibbling on the side of her throat, biting her shoulder. Then you lick the valley between her breasts, pull down the neckline of her dress, and lick circles on her nipples. You hike up the hem of dres to reach a hand to her pussy. "And, this." You rub her lips.

She moans. "What… about that?"

You crawl lower, your face between her legs. You spread her lips, already wet, and you stick your tongue inside her hole. "The prettiest pussy I've ever seen." You lick up her slit.

Heejin grabs your hair and pulls you. "I'm sorry, but I can't wait anymore. Fuck me."

You wipe your mouth. "Yeah, yeah, sorry."

"Just… put it in me already."

You get on your knees and rub your cockhead against Heejin's lips, smearing pre-cum. You rub it around her clit, and she shudders, whimpering.

Heejin pushes on your chest. "Wait, hold on, sit up. I wanna watch. Please. Your cock… entering me. I can't wait to see it."

You nod. Heejin sits up too. You grab Heejin's thighs and spread them. Your cockhead rubs against Heejin's entrance again.

"Holy shit, holy shit," she says.

You lick your lips. You push your cock into Heejin's hole, and your head is swimming in her heat, her wetness. Her pussy is already sucking you in, and Heejin is already moaning, and her whole body is already trembling.

"Shit, Heejin, you're already going to cum?"

She nods. "Yes! I'm sorry, it's just, you're finally, finally inside me. I've dreamed about this, so many times, and now it's happening."

"Me too. It's fine, it's fine." You pull back, and then you thrust again, a bit deeper, and Heejin shudders again. "Holy shit."

You pump slowly, Heejin moaning louder and louder, her pussy squeezing you tighter and tighter. Your grip on her thighs is tight, and you push her down, burying your cock deeper. Her back arches, and you start thrusting faster. You grunt. Heejin's pussy is milking your cock, sucking you deeper, and you're pounding her cunt, her moans and your grunts filling the room, until she lets out a scream, a high-pitched, satisfied noise, and her walls are convulsing. And just as you said, you empty your load deep inside her, rope after rope, a thick batch of semen pooling in her hole and leaking past your shaft.

"Holy… shit," she says. Heejin's trying to catch her breath. She looks up at you, a slight smirk on her face. "You're still hard, right?"

You look down. You're still hard.

Even though her legs writhe and her toes curl, she fucks herself into your shaft, covering it in more and more cream.

"Fucking, hell, Heejin, just like that?" You clench your jaw.

"Yeah. Yeah, we just started. I love watching you pump your cock in and out of my pussy, seeing it get all sloppy."

You chuckle. "Slut."

"For you." She wraps her legs around your waist, her arms around your back. "Wreck me."

You can do nothing but comply. Heejin's eyes roll back, her lips tremble, and her nails dig into your back, and you fuck her, you fuck Heejin, hard. Using your own creampie as lube, your cock plunges and slams inside Heejin's pussy, over and over. You pick her up from the bed and pound into her as you carry her around the room, making loud wet slaps fill the air. Then, you set her down on the desk, gripping her shoulders, and the room shakes with your thrusts.

Heejin screams and babbles. You're about to cum again already, and so is she. You love her expression, like she's completely drunk to your cock as she loses herself to the pleasure of it stuffing her, pushing your first creampie out just to fill her up again. You're sure she can feel your heartbeat from how far your cock is in her womb. You slow down, then you pull out. Heejin's pussy is drooling cum, and she lies flat on the desk. Your head is so light that you only just now realize you're still cumming, so you jack off onto her body, mainly covering her dress in cum, though some of it reaches her chin. Heejin promptly licks that clean.

"Why," she says. "Why'd you stop? You're, you're still hard. Please."

"Turn around. Get on your hands and knees."

She obeys. "Yes, sir," she says, and you like the way she says that.

You grab Heejin's waist, and then you slam into her pussy. Your pace is just as brutal as when you started the night. Turns out that edging for weeks, then cumming inside a woman's tight pussy, then pulling out and painting her in your cum is more than enough to keep your cock rock hard, and Heejin is more than eager to have your cock pounding her hole as many times as you want.

After the fourth round, your fifth climax, Heejin is a mess on the bed, and so is your cock. It's covered in her cum and your cum and some of her saliva, and her tongue is lazily circling your cockhead while she rests her head on your thighs.

"Do you, do you want to keep going?"

Heejin nods. "Why? Are you tired?"

"I mean, I'm pretty sure I have another few in me. But my abs are killing me."

"Oh yeah? You should try doing planks."

"The way you do them? Yeah, ri—" You're interrupted when Heejin climbs up your body and grabs your cock. You flinch. "No, wait, wait, wait. Wait, Heejin."

"Are you afraid?"

You gulp. "Very."

"I promise it won't hurt. It'll be fun."

When Heejin says it, you believe her. "Fine. Go for it."

Heejin grins. "Awesome." As she positions herself over your shaft, the creampie you filled her with starts to leak onto your stomach, and she holds your cock to point it up towards her hole. She lowers her pussy, and your cock enters her again. She rides you, holding your cock by the base so that the entire time, you feel the entirety of her tunnel envelop you, and your cum is squishing all over her insides.

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If I do get around to finishing the story, I will probably delete this and the initial version of Transcendence, post the full version instead. Big if.

#asks #anon #loona smut #kpop smut #reader insert #male reader #artms smut

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adamcoled · 9 months

Text

jealousy | rhea ripley

rhea ripley x fem!reader

summary: you and rhea aren’t anything official, but you’re still jealous upon seeing her flirt with others.

word count: 3,838

warnings: just slight sexual implications i think?

a/n: WOW um okay hi, i haven’t posted writing on this blog in YEARS but i recently got fully back into wrestling and have developed such a love for rhea ripley. so i decided to start writing again, but it’s been so long this definitely isn’t my best work. here’s to getting back into the swing of things i hope! (also i know samantha is engaged to ricochet and ofc all of it is just character work, but it made for a good plot soo)

Rhea was a flirt. That much was true long before you, and it was certainly not a secret to most. She had the charm, and of course the looks, so people were naturally drawn to her, and she loved that. Flirting, to her, was fun – harmless fun, for the most part – and typically it never went beyond cheeky comments or tantalizing gestures.

So when Rhea began flirting with you, initially you didn’t think much of it and really had no reason to. She was attractive – incredibly attractive – and her voice could melt you instantly if you let it; but this was just her thing. At first, you would catch her staring at you backstage or at other company events. Then, she started making it a point to tell you how beautiful you looked each time she saw you. From there, you were texting a lot more and hanging out outside of schedule. But still, it was never anything official and they were never labeled as “dates,” which you internally hated yourself for forgetting.

Because now, you were jealous. A fiery red jealousy that had you feeling betrayed without the entitlement to do so. For some reason, you thought things seemed different between you and Rhea. She seemed more serious and attentive, even remembering small details you’d told her about things you enjoyed. You couldn’t imagine she did that for just anyone she happened to flirt with.

Yet there you were last night, scrolling through Twitter and seeing endless posts about Rhea and Samantha. Rhea was being her usual flirty self, smiling, blowing kisses, and surely winking beneath those glasses, and it was obvious Samantha was enjoying it. Even worse, there were also comment threads with Cathy, and you knew it was all lighthearted, but it still made you feel some type of way.

You liked Rhea. A lot actually. Maybe that’s why you wanted to believe she liked you too and treated you differently from the rest. Clearly, you were wrong. And you weren’t going to be strung along in a game or play along with silly flirting when you genuinely hoped for more with her. That’s why now that she was here in front of you, you were going to be as indifferent as possible.

“Hey pretty girl,” Rhea greeted, smile beaming as always. She had finally found you backstage after you’d made it a point to not respond to some of her texts. It didn’t seem like she was too upset or phased by that judging by the greeting she’d given you.

“Hey,” you responded with only a half-smile of your own. That was something she definitely picked up on, because you swore you’d never seen her face fall faster.

“Are you alright?”

“Hm?” you hummed, dropping your attention back to your phone. Usually, she would have your full focus, but you were making every attempt to emphasize your feigned disinterest. “I’m fine, what’s up?”

Rhea used her thumb and forefinger to grip your chin and tilt it upwards, forcing your gaze towards her rather than your phone screen. Hastily, she studied your face as if she would be able to read your thoughts merely by doing so; with her eyes looking you over so intently, you felt your face heating up quickly.

“You seem off,” she finally commented, her finger tracing along your jawline from your chin before finally dropping back down to her side. You immediately missed the feeling of her touch against your skin, but that was something you would have to subdue. One thing you noticed was that Rhea seemed genuinely concerned, her eyebrows downturned and the smile she always wore - around you at least - nowhere in sight.

“No, Rhea, I’m really okay,” you shrugged.

“Then why are you acting like you can’t wait to get away from me?”

Her bluntness shouldn’t have come as a shock to you, but you were still taken aback when she asked so outright. While she usually oozed confidence, that seemed to be lost now. And it almost made you think you had been right about the two of you all along. But then you remembered how content she looked in those videos with Samantha, and how easily she could flirt with someone else when you had secretly been turning down advances in hopes there would be a real chance at a relationship between you and Rhea.

“I’m not acting like that. I really don’t care if you’re around or not,” you lied, and it was meant to sound nonchalant and unbothered but you silently cursed yourself for making it come out more aggressively.

“You don’t care?” she repeated incredulously, almost in disbelief of how drastically you changed. Just a few days ago, you were telling her how much you adored her smile with her head in your lap. Now, she couldn’t figure out why you wanted nothing to do with her - and it was crushing her.

“Listen, can we please talk about this later? The show’s about to start and the Judgment Day is up first, I don’t want you thinking about this out there.”

“Are we really gonna talk later?” Rhea questioned. “Or is that your cop out to avoid it altogether?”

And you hated her for knowing you so well, because it was partially your dread of the conversation. Still, you didn’t think it was a good idea to have it right before she was slated to go speak in front of thousands of people. At this point, she was frowning, yet still staring right through you.

“We’ll talk,” you promised.

“I have your word? Whatever’s going on is important to me. It really is, Y/N.”

The resolve of indifference you had was all but faded upon hearing how sincerely Rhea cared. You didn’t want to be just another game for her, but it was proving far too difficult for you to ignore your internal feelings. And she looked too pretty standing there, worried about you and looking at you in a way that made you feel naked beneath her eyes. Not in a sexually demanding way - not in the way too many people do - but in a way where you felt like she saw your very soul.

“Find me after the show?” you asked. “I’ll let you take me back to the hotel. Can’t exactly hide from my ride.”

You finally smiled wholeheartedly after making that joke, and Rhea had never been so happy to see a smile before. For a moment, she felt like everything was fine.

“Yeah, I’ll find you, angel.”

From backstage, you watched as Rhea walked out with the Judgment Day and cut a promo just as good as any other, if not better. It was impossible to tell the kind of conversation you two had shortly beforehand, and for that you were grateful. You weren’t sure you could remain as unphased as her, and seeing as you had a match tonight as well, you made it a point to avoid any further interactions with her during show hours. Busying yourself with your phone, Rhea still found a way to affect you when you saw her name flash across the top of your screen, indicating a text.

From: rhea :)

Good luck tonight ❤️

Half inclined to simply leave her on delivered, you hesitantly opened it and sent back a “thanks.” Following the Judgment Day’s segment, the rest of the show seemed to go by quickly, your own match fast approaching. While you were waiting in gorilla to make your entrance, you saw flashes of jet black hair out of the corner of your eye. A subtle glance over revealed it to be Rhea, naturally, standing there talking with Damian. Call it coincidence, or - the more likely case - call it Rhea’s tendency to be methodical with her actions. And like clockwork, her eyes met your own, leaving you no time to look away before she was grinning at you slyly. You thought perhaps her getting into character in front of the WWE Universe took away much of the previous unease and disappointment she felt during your earlier conversation. Because before, she seemed well and truly worried about the state of you, and you were sure she still was to some extent, but now her confidence had returned.

You had hardly any time to process it before you had to walk out, your theme hitting just as Rhea set her focus back on the man in front of her. That stupid, beautiful smile you thought to yourself. Right now, though, you needed to worry about your match against Zoey Stark, especially since you knew Rhea would be watching attentively.

Once the match began, you fell right back into your element. Zoey was a fierce opponent, but you had a fire beneath you and after a well-fought match on both sides, you came out victorious. You were feeling extremely proud of both yours and Zoey’s performance and partially hoped Rhea had watched the whole thing.

(She absolutely did).

Returning backstage, you noticed Rhea was now nowhere in sight. Your match was towards the last hour of Raw, however, which meant you wouldn’t have much time to kill before you’d have to meet up with her anyways. Thankfully, you found Liv, one of your closest friends on the roster, and knew you could spend the remaining time talking with her about anything and everything - the primary topic of discussion being you and Rhea.

“It’s just like, I think things are different with me and her,” you began, to which Liv nodded in agreement. “But then I see how she acts with other people, and I’m not so sure. Am I being delusional for thinking that way?”

“You’d be delusional if you thought otherwise! The girl is a flirt, sure, but she practically fawns over you at any given moment and is always asking about you,” Liv countered. All too often, she’d be the one Rhea would come to when she wanted to find out your whereabouts, as if Liv had a constant read on you at all times. You knew that to be true, but it still wasn’t total reassurance.

“You’re right, I guess. And I kinda told her I’d ride with her to the hotel so we could talk, sooo,” you revealed.

“I thought we were riding together?” Liv questioned, only slightly upset to be losing her driving buddy. If she had to make that sacrifice to advance things between you and Rhea, she’d accept it wholeheartedly. Just as you opened your mouth to apologize, someone else’s voice interrupted. A certain Australian accent.

“I’m sorry, did I steal Y/N away for the night?” Rhea quipped, placing her hand on the small of your back where Liv wouldn’t see.

“Actually, I’m willingly handing her over so that you two can figure your mess out.”

“Well, thank you so very much for that,” Rhea smiled, seeming genuinely appreciative. She redirected her attention from Liv to you. “Told you I’d find ya. You ready to go?”

You glanced down at your phone, not even realizing how much time had passed with you and Liv chatting. The show was nearing the end, and Rhea already had her bag by her side, meanwhile you hadn’t even gotten your stuff together yet.

“I gotta go get my stuff real quick. You wanna wait here for me? I’ll be quick.”

“I can wait,” Rhea nodded, to which you took off with a promise to be no more than ten minutes. Once you were out of earshot, Liv had a few comments for the taller, raven-haired woman.

“I hope you do right by her.”

“Didn’t realize I’d done wrong,” Rhea retorted, confusedly. “...Have I done wrong?”

Liv only shrugged, though she really did believe Rhea was unaware of how she’d unintentionally hurt you. “Nothing that can’t be fixed, I think.”

“Liv,” Rhea started, her face becoming more serious. “I really like her.”

“Then make sure she knows that.”

When you gathered everything and found your way back to Rhea, Liv was long gone and Rhea was leaned against the wall, her eyes shifted down and transfixed on her phone as she absentmindedly scrolled through Twitter. She looked too good even just standing there in her own world. But before you could admire her for much longer, she heard you approaching and glanced up from her phone, shoving it into her pocket immediately upon realizing it was you.

“Ready now, princess?”

The nickname rolled off her tongue so easily, yet it had your cheeks heating up within seconds. You nodded, following behind as she led the way to her car. Outside, she popped the trunk for each of you to toss your bags inside, and then she made sure to open the passenger door for you as well; it was the little gestures like that that made your heart flutter and your feelings for her to grow even stronger.

“Well, I just wanna start by saying you were amazing tonight,” Rhea complimented once she had settled into the driver’s seat.

“Thank you,” you giggled. “You watched it?”

“From start to finish, like always.”

She diverted her attention from the road towards you for a moment, taking notice of how much your face lit up after hearing that. And it wasn’t like she was lying just to make you feel good, either, because she did genuinely watch you each time you stepped into the ring, and she admired you heavily.

“I don’t believe you,” you laughed, although you only slightly meant that.

“I’m serious! Ask Damian or Dom, they’ll vouch,” Rhea exclaimed, pushing her hair back as she did. You weren’t quite sure what to say now, because one, you were feeling quite flustered knowing this, and two, you could only ignore the real reason you were sat in her car for so long. She took note of your silence and decided to tackle the subject head-on, a brazen move from her as always. “You don’t seem like you hate my guts now, at least.”

You rolled your eyes and chuckled at this.

“You’re being dramatic. I never acted like I hated you.”

“Slightly detested my presence?” she tried again, clearly joking at this point. While things seemed so perfect in this moment, you couldn’t help but think back to everything you’d seen flooding your Twitter timeline and how silly you’d felt for being so upset by it. As much as you liked Rhea, as much as it appeared she liked you, the harmless flirting had really gotten to you and forced you to reconsider much of what you thought. You weren’t even quite sure how to ask everything you wanted to ask, and you were admittedly fearful of rejection. But the only thing worse than rejection is never knowing.

“What do you think about me, Rhea?”

She was taken aback by this, you could tell, because she opened her mouth to speak several times but didn’t let any words out. To her, it was because she didn’t really know how to put it into words; there were so many things she thought about you, so many ways you made her feel, but it had been a confusing thing for her to navigate, unsure of your own feelings.

“I think you’re incredible, amazing in the ring, beautiful and kind but still assertive and badass,” she answered, hoping she’d said all the right things. Truthfully, that was only a small fraction of what she thought regarding you, but she was still holding back. Liv’s words repeated in her head, and she knew if she didn’t make it clear tonight, she may never get that chance again.

“And what do you think about someone like Samantha, or Cathy?”

You had caught her off guard again, the randomness of your question completely perplexing her. She hadn’t a clue why either of those two would be relevant, because - in her eyes - she had already basically forgotten the silly interactions they’d had. It still hadn’t pieced together in her mind that you were even the slightest bit jealous.

“They’re great,” she stated plainly. “Why?”

It was really now or never, you felt like. You had fed her pieces of the story, now she definitely wouldn’t stop until you told her everything, which undoubtedly included your own feelings. Rhea was focused primarily on the road, but she made sure to spare glances your way every so often, and each time you arrived at a red light, that focus was solely on you. She wanted to both try to read your expression and show you she was really, truly listening and wanting to hear what you had to say.

“I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t jealous,” you confessed.

“Jealous?” she repeated, even more confused now than before. But she noticed the way you retreated into yourself, suddenly finding more interest in your fingers. You could no longer look her in the eye, feeling nervous about the information you’d now divulged. This certainly didn’t deter Rhea, though, as she placed her right hand on your thigh and traced light circles with her thumb. “Why were you jealous?”

“I don’t know…it was dumb, I guess. I just saw the videos of you and Samantha, and then Cathy’s Tweets, and it made me feel like everything is just a game to you.”

Her thumb movement stopped, and instead she squeezed your thigh lightly, causing you to lift your head back up to look at her. She was already looking right back, admiring how beautiful you looked with the moonlight creeping into the car and a shyness about you she wasn’t used to.

“You’re right, that is dumb,” she affirmed. “Because do you think I know Samantha or Cathy’s top three favorite movies? Or their specific Starbucks order? The way they like their pizza? Do you think I’ve memorized all those things for anyone other than you?”

Before you could answer, Rhea moved her fingers to your wrist and asked you to push up your sleeve, which you did. She tapped directly on a birthmark of yours without even looking.

“Do you think I know each of their freckles and birthmarks?”

You were dumbfounded, at a loss for words with how much she really noticed about you. And that was only scratching the surface. While your flirtation had only started within the last few months, she had known you for years and had plenty of time to take notice of all these little things no one else would. Because she always had a soft spot for you, but you were in a long-term relationship for most of the time you’d known her, and she would never be one to overstep any boundaries.

“I just felt hurt thinking I may be falling for someone who only sees me as another person to mess around with,” you told her, taking note of how gentle her eyes were in this moment. She felt awful that she had hurt you, even unintentionally, and cursed herself for not being more aware and mindful. You weren’t committed to each other, but she still felt like she had made a mistake engaging in any kind of behavior that would make her feelings for you seem misguided.

“Y/N, I promise you how I interact with just about anyone else is entirely me in character,” she comforted. “I’m sorry for making you second guess that, but I’ve never felt realer emotions than I do with you. It’s like I can be me, just me. And I love that you make me feel that way.”

“I love when you’re just you, Rhea.”

“Then I’ll keep being just me, if I can start calling you just mine.”

Rhea was undoubtedly nervous asking you so boldly, but she was so damn happy to do so. She was staring at you hopefully, looking happier than you’d seen her since her WrestleMania win. And you were just as happy, not even realizing you had gotten to the hotel and had been parked for a minute or two now. Your entire focus was on her, eyes filled with adoration while she waited for your answer.

“I’ve basically been yours, I just needed you to be mine,” you beamed.

“I’m yours, love,” Rhea affirmed. “You are so damn beautiful.”

You wanted to instinctively look away, still feeling flustered even after the months of flirting and now technically being in a defined relationship. But Rhea knew you too well and gripped your chin before you could do so, keeping your face towards hers. Neither of you could get rid of the smiles you wore, too overwhelmed with happiness and adoration and love.

“Can I kiss you?” Rhea asked, eyes darting from your own to your lips. You nodded, and that was all it took for her to be all over you. Her lips melted into your own, and everything felt so right. Each time you pulled away, you were reconnected within seconds, physically unable to keep apart, both of you awaiting this moment for too long. You felt her smiling into the kiss, which in turn made you smile, and then you were two smiling, giggly messes. Finally, she pulled away for good (but not without one final peck) and laughed when she saw you pouting. She opened her door and made her way to yours hastily, scooping you out of your seat before you could even react. Then, you were pinned against the car with your legs around her waist.

“I’ll take you to your room?” she offered, placing feathery kisses along your jaw.

“My room?”

She laughed at how offended you sounded. “Our room?”

“Mhmm,” you confirmed. “You’re not getting away from me now, Ripley.”

You unhooked your legs from her waist and she carefully released her hold, allowing you to plant your feet back onto the solid ground. She followed you to the back of the car, popping open the trunk; you leaned forward to reach your bag, and Rhea - sly as ever - took this opportunity to smack your ass, only light enough to be a tease. Once you’d grabbed your bag and stood straight up, she was smirking, all too aware of her actions.

“Now why would I want to get away from you, baby?”

From then on, you both knew you’d be stuck with each other, practically inseparable and surely obnoxiously in love around all your friends - which they didn’t really mind, because seeing you so happy together was more than worth it. Rhea made sure to tone down her persona a bit out of respect for you, even though you reassured her you didn’t mind too much now knowing she was yours at the end of the day. Still, you couldn’t deny that you were more elated to scroll through your socials and see videos of interactions between you and Rhea rather than her and anyone else; and it definitely helped that she loved letting the cameras know you were hers.

#rhea ripley x reader #rhea ripley x you #wwe imagine #wrestling imagine #Wrestling Fanfic #WWE Fanfic #wwe fanfiction #wwe fic #wwe fluff #rhea ripley imagine

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tswhiisftteedr · 4 months

Text

Sleepover with a Queen! ☆ One Shot (Part 2 of ‘Hair Prank!’)

☆Dorm Leader!Vil Schoenheit x Choatic!Pomfiore Student!Female!Reader:

It has been 3 weeks since the kiss Vil’s room, the both of you had grown closer in that time, so he had proposed a sleepover to spend some more quality time together. And let’s just say you grew way closer by the end of the night…

Warnings: Mention of groin but in a non-sexual context, suggestive tones but nothing happens. Kissing, 1 or 2 swear words. Not proofread.

Ask: yahoo~ could I request the second chapter of the oneshot with vil? reader and he are having sleepover in his room? fluff and a lot silly reader's behaviour! pillow fight is an essential thing! she brings energy drinks and a lot of junk food🤭

Note: I didn’t think I would get asked for a part 2 honestly, but I’m very grateful for the detailed setting that I could draw inspiration from! This one shot is a bit more on the sentimental side. Also handrail is just when you slide/grind your skateboard downa stair rail.

| Part 1 | Part 2 |

☆ More under the cut. ☆

Tonight's the night of the sleepover, you could not wait to see what Vil has in plan for the both of you. It seems that the two of you have formed a strange relationship, yet it feels oddly nice. As you walk through the halls to reach your first period class, you can't help thinking about how you would spend the night in the same room you and Vil had shared a passion kiss 3 weeks ago. You have no idea just how much he has prepared for tonight.

You arrive with the junk food and energy drinks, and you see that Vil is still waiting for you.

His expression is one of anticipation, it seems like he's been looking forward to this as much as you did. He leans against the doorframe, playing with a strand of his hair as he gazes at you. Once he is faced to face with you, he smiles warmly, his tone taking on a flirty and playful tone. "Ah, there you are! How kind of you to bring the essentials. No party is complete without food and drinks, right?" He tells you.

“Yeah I couldn’t agree more! I also brought more ‘healthy’ option for energy drinks, so not to mess up your ‘super star’ diet too much.” You tease.

"Well, I wouldn't put it past you to try and sabotage my diet. I'm glad that you took the time to consider my health in the choices you made for our little party. Although, I must say that I'm more than happy to indulge myself in a few unhealthy snacks here and there, so don't worry about having to force your healthy options upon me." He comments sweetly.

“Than I’m glad, I won’t be the only one snacking away at the treats I brought after all!

Anyways you got anything particular for us to do tonight, you did say to leave all the planning to you?” You question excitedly.

"Hmmm, I did indeed say that I would take charge of the activities for this evening. And let me tell you, I have come up with quite the itinerary for us. We're going to have so much fun tonight that I have a feeling we may not even make it to bed by the end of the night." He says, with that suave voice of his, almost bewitching you. You honestly consider if ‘he did put a spell on me or is it just my imagination?’

Getting back on track with your playful persona, “Oh but isn’t that going to ruin your beauty sleep my Queen?” you ask mischievously to the beautiful man standing right before your eyes.

Vil stares at you with a smirk and raises an eyebrow. His expression is teasing and playful, his tone is full of humor. "Don't worry, I have no problem with missing a bit of my beauty sleep for one night, if it’s to have some fun with you. Besides, I'm more than confident that I'll look just as lovely in the morning. So, don't you concern your adorable self about it anymore."

“Alright whatever you say ‘dear’.” You say accentuating your last word to tease, as you pass by him, stepping into his room.

Vil's face full of amusement when he hears you emphasize the word "dear", he seems to enjoy it too much to say otherwise. He chuckles softly and follows you into his bedroom, the cheerful smile still plastered on his face.

He shuts the door behind himself, the sound of locks clicking fills the air. He seats on his big lavish bed, tapping against the cover gently signalling for you to take a seat beside him. His hands clasps in-front him to bring attention and a look of excitement on his face. "Well, in the first activity I have planned for us tonight, how about a little game... a classic really, Truth or dare?"

“Truth or dare, only at two people? Never done that before, but why not!” You did question it at first but you quickly came around the idea with your second sentence.

"Perfect! You go first. I'll be the one asking the questions. Would you prefer a truth or a dare?" Vil inquires from you.

“Then truth it is, I don’t want to be the first dare.” You tell him.

"Alright, truth. Let's start with something simple, just to warm up. What's the stupidest thing you have ever done in your life?" He asks, ready for a handful of a story from someone as chaotic and careless as you.

“Oh damn, um, probably was when I handrail 15 steps, even though I knew my board was in bad shape, like the type that is going to break soon. That did not end well, more precisely my board broke in half about three quarters down the rail.” You inform him, a bit bashful at telling about one of your mistake yourself instead of him figuring it out on his own.

Vil laughs quietly at your answer, a smirk forming on his lips. His tone is playful and teasing. “That's quite idiotic indeed. I'm sure that hurt like hell. Did you get injured?"

“Oh talk to me about it, the pain I got when my groin hit that stair rail could not be compair to any of scrapes I got my limbs that day.” You admit,

Vil's eyes widen slightly, though he still has the same tone of humor. His expression is surprised, but he can't help laughing a bit. "Goodness, that is really horrible. I assume you learned your lesson though, huh? Or are you still so reckless when skateboarding?"

“Well I sure as hell won’t go ever handrail with an almost broken board anymore. Never again.” You say a bit strongly the pain resurface from your memories, ‘Yeah never that again’.

Vil smirks when you say that, it seems like that little mishap that caused you so much pain was enough to teach you a lesson. He nods in approval, that was good to hear.

"Good to know you can grow up a little and learned your lesson. Now it's time for you to ask the next question."

“Okay then, truth or dare my grace?” You ask, almost getting used to calling him revering words, instead of just doing so to tease.

"Hmm... I choose dare darling" Vil answers, following your lead.

Vil's tone is calm and firm, as if he has his mind set on being able to handle whatever kind of dare you would dish at him. He leans against his bed frame, taking one of the sugary snacks you had brought along, his gaze is locked with yours as he munch on the treat. His mouth is curved into a devilish little grin as he watched pounder for a good challenge.

“Then.. I dare you to do your make up and post on your magicam story, but, you have to leave it unblended.” You dare him.

Vil's face is initially filled with a look of disbelief. He couldn't believe that you had the guts to ask him to do something like that, but he also had to hide his amusement. Vil's tone is still calm, but it's also laced with humor. "What? You want me to make myself look like a fool on social media, just for your own entertainment? What kind of a dare is that?"

“Well are you to scared to do it~” you playfully egg him on.

Vil's mouth curls up in a smug little grin, he seems amused to be called out. His tone is flirty, his expression mocking. "Is that so? You may believe that I'm too scared, but I'll gladly do this dare of yours and take my revenge on you later. I wonder if I'll get more embarrassing comments or compliments though..."

“Okay then, get on with it pretty boy!” you tell him.

Vil's grin only grows bigger as he moves over to where his desk is. He grabs his makeup set and starts pulling out the necessary materials. His tone is playful and mocking, though he still seems a tad bit hesitant. "Fine, if it means that I'm going to get back at you later for making me do this, I'm all for it. Just keep in mind that you're the one who asked for this in the first place. So no complaints."

“Don’t worry, I won’t~” you reply.

Vil snickers, he's getting excited to see the reaction of everyone when they see the outcome. But he wants to give you a good show. Vil goes over to the mirror to start applying his makeup, he doesn't even try very hard to make this look good. He does the bare minimum to apply the foundation, eyeshadow, blush, lip-stick and mascara. Though the end result is still sloppy and the blending is not present per your request, it is horrendous, Vil still has a playful grin on his face.

A couple minutes after posting…

Vil's fame has given the result he had expected from this dare, and now multiple people are commenting on his social media. The comments are filled with mockery and insults for Vil's sloppily done makeup. While Vil isn't offended by the insults, he can't help but find them humorous and is almost tempted to respond with some snarky retorts to make his audience laugh even more.

“Damn people are mean, didn’t expect to be that bad.” you say as you look at his phone over his shoulder.

Vil chuckles, he's glad to see that you're concerned for him, but he's not taking any of the insults seriously. One thing he's learned about fame and popularity is that there will always be people who want to tear you down or criticize your every move. Vil's tone remains flirty and smug, he still has a playful and teasing look on his face. "Relax, I'm not bothered by their comments. I'm used to it. Besides... I kind of invited it. I did look pretty foolish after all."

“Yeah but I still don’t like it, anyways your turn to ask me something. I pick truth by the way.” You tell him, grimacing at some of the nastier comments.

Vil nods his head in understanding, it's nice to see that you care so much. He smiles warmly at you and decides to ask you a question. His tone is still very flirty, the playfulness hasn't left his voice yet. "Okay, truth. I had a feeling I knew what you were going to pick already, and looks like I was correct. So, hat is your biggest weakness?"

“Your pretty face~” you tell the man beside you, but you quickly reflect and speak out a more profond answer. “Just kidding, honestly I would have to say the fact that I get into trouble too easily, sure it’s fun at first but sometimes I can really hurt others with my antics, I really don’t like it.” You tell Vil with a tone full of sincerity.

Vil grins mischievously, he can't help but find your first answer humorous as well. But when you deliver your second comment, Vil's expression softens slightly as he's surprised by your honesty. He nods his head in acknowledgment and smiles warmly. His tone is still playful as he chuckles, though now it's mixed with a little bit of flirtation. "Ahh, I see, I suppose that could be quite troublesome in some situations. So, you must get into trouble on a normal basis then?"

“I’m not the smartest, but I’m not dumb enough to admit something you don’t already know about dorm leader.” you tell him, like ‘hey I’m not on the same academic level as the housewardens, but I’m not stupid enough to tell you things so you can punish me.’

Vil giggles at your response, it seems like you're not the type to admit your past shenanigans that easily. Of course, he is your dorm leader and he has probably seen some of your antics. Vil's tone shifts slightly where it now has a flirtacious quality to it in addition to the friendly teasing. "That's fair enough. But I have to say, despite your mischief, you are still quite a charming person. So I'm sure you can just charm your way out of any trouble that you get yourself into, right?"

“Oh shush, the sugar from the snacks are making you delirious. Anywho truth or dare?” You play off his compliment, trying not to think about too hard.

Vil's eyebrows raise in amusement as he laughs a bit at your response. The flirtatious tone still lingers in his voice. "Oh, so you think it must be the sugar from the snacks? Hmm, guess we'll find out how correct your assessment of the situation is. You’ll be the one asking now. And I choose truth again."

You wanted to keep things playful, truly. But ever since the kissed that took place in this very same room… you couldn’t help but see Vil in a new light, feeling a bit insecure about his opinion of you.

“Do you actually like spending time with me? Like are you just doing it for the sake of our friendship, to keep things between us amical so I don’t cause you more trouble?” You ask softly, avoiding eye contact after such a vulnerable question.

Vil's gaze narrows slightly upon hearing your question, he's not sure how you want him to answer. But after a moment of hesitation, Vil shakes his head. There's no way he would let you doubt his intentions. "Of course I enjoy spending time with you. I think you're quite an amusing person, and I always look forward to having conversations about anything and everything with you. I believe that our friendship is quite genuine, and of course I'd never want you to just cause me more trouble. So relax... there's no need to doubt me."

“Oh alright, thanks… anyways I pick truth again.” You tell him, hopping the fact you were flustered at the sweet and honest reply, didn’t show in your voice.

After a moment of thought, the corners of his mouth curl up in a playful grin. “Hmm, truth, huh? What a predictable outcome," He teases.

“Alright then, my sweet y/n are you interested in me, as in ‘is the kiss from last time a one time thing or did it mean more to you?” He asks you leaning forward, barely closing the distance.

Obviously you deny as a first instinct, fight or flight type of thing.

Vil chuckles again, he finds this rather amusing. Your attempts to hide your feelings are quite easy to see through. The truth is clear, you are obviously attracted to him, at least to some extent. Vil stares at you for a moment, letting the tension build before letting out a teasing groan and leaning back against the bed frame once more. There’s no need for you to say that you’re attracted to him bluntly, when you are so obvious about it. A slight grin plays on his lips as he teases you further. "Oh come on, you know you are into me.."

“Your so vain my Queen, but.. I mean our kiss, it’s not something I would mind doing again” you begin,

“Is that so?” The actor inquires.

“Yeah, um- so truth or dare?” You ask, trying to change the subject.

“Truth.”

“Are you truly attracted to me, or was the kissed we share last time just a thing of the moment?” You ask, basically reworking his his question, like you would do with a thesis statement when writing a conclusion.

“Wasn’t that my question?”

“Well we never agree not to repeat questions,” you point out.

“Alright then. To answer your question, yes I am truly attracted to the chaotic, annoying, and wonderful person sitting in front of me.” He admits to you, with a now sweet smile plastered on his face.

Did Vil start crushing on you about the same time you started crushing on him, yes. Was he going to tell if you didn’t ask him even though he asked you, also yes. If you want an answer out of a Queen like Vil Schoenheit, you had to work for it. Or at least be brave enough to ask in your case.

“Oh, that’s good to hear.” You say shortly.

“Is that all?” he teases.

“Yes, Truth or dare?” You were persistent on not underlining the fact you liked him too much.

“And I thought we were getting sentimental in here, boo hoo, crossing you out Y/N.” He said with a crossing motion from his right hand following it. “Anyways dare.”

“Well since we’ll since you’re into me, and gracious am I.” ‘fuck, I’m starting to sound like Crowley.’ “ I therefore dare you to kiss me.. please.”

Vil looks at you, a mischievous smile playing on his lips. He leans in closer, his voice low and seductive. "Well, since you asked so nicely, how could I refuse?" He closes the distance between you, capturing your lips in a passionate kiss.

This kiss felt different from your first shared one, this one felt romantic not just a way to blow some steam.

Once you part lips, you stay slightly dazed, that is until you feel one of Vil’s silk cover pillows hit you square in the face.

The room soon fills with the sound of a pillow hitting the wall as the two of you engage in a playful and energetic pillow fight. Some of the horrible make-up Vil was wearing stained the pillow covers of the ones that actually managed to hit him. Laughter in the air as you both enjoy the silly and lighthearted moment together. And creating memories that will last a lifetime.

As the pillow fight comes to an end, you find yourself lying on Vil's bed together, catching your breath and enjoying the moment.

“What next?” You ask.

The night continued, you had moved on to the next activity which was a couple rounds of ‘Last one’ which was this world’s version of uno and a game that was similar to monopoly.

Than you moved on to movies, Vil had picked out quite a couple that you both enjoyed. But you had insisted on watching one more movie, one he starred in, due to the lack of his appearance in the previous ones.

And honestly, you knew he was famous, but damn, his acting was wonderful, you almost cried at the simple romcom which in he was the male lead.

After watching it, you were both too tired to keep going. So after finishing your skincare routines, with the mandatory silly face selfies with the moisturizing masks on, you layed done on Vil’s Alaskan King bed.

Then…

“Do to think you would be interested in going out with me?” you ask, turning to your side to fully look at him.

His gaze meets yours, and there's a spark of something way past friendship in his eyes. He takes a moment to gather his thoughts before speaking.

"Actually, I've been wanting to ask you the same thing. I've enjoyed every moment we've spent together, and I can't help but feel a strong connection between us. So, yes, I would love to go out with you." His voice is filled with sincerity and a hint of nervousness, waiting for your response.

“Well I can assure you I feel the same.” You tell him now looking up at the ceiling.

He then grabs your face softly and placed a peck on your lips. “That’s marvellous.”

Then you both giggle…

Come the next day,

You had woken up later then Vil, he was probably already at breakfast. Meanwhile the disturbance that brought back from dreamland to the real world was still persisting.

So you stood up from your spot on the large bed, and a grab of your phone only to see the flooding of teasing text from your friends on magicam, multiple had linked a singular post. Of course you clicked on it, and lo and behold. It was a picture of you, with lipstick very much so overly lined, in addition both of your eyelids were covered in a mush of purple and black eyeshadow.

You opened your camera app for a second, only to see that the distasteful make up was still on.

You quickly checked who was the poster behind that atrocity, and as expected it was Vil. Mister Vil Schoenheit had posted a picture of you in a horrendous state to his magicam, one followed by over a million of people.

‘But hey, at least the caption was sweet.’ At the bottom of the photo you could see ‘My girlfriend’ written, followed by a couple of heart emojis.

Well he did say he would get his revenge…

Thanks @bananaseq for requesting!

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precious-little-scoundrel · 4 months

Text

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

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#elvis fanfiction #elvis presley #elvis fanfic #sarge and lil mama #elvis presley fandom #elvis presley fanfiction #elvis and me #welcome home elvis #elvis one shot #elvis imagine #elvis x oc #elvis x reader #elvis smut #elvis presley fanfic #Elvis #elvis and priscilla #ann margret #Elvis x Ann Margret

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slightlyhopefulromantic · 10 months

Note

Samantha? Cause really curious about her in your au

send me mnmoms au asks pwease i need to talk about this au

samantha samantha my samantha <33 i could talk a LOT about samantha in my au. canonically, her main character trait is like... high intelligence, low wisdom, and thats about it. which usually is very sad, but for me specifically is great because it means i go crazystupid with her. i will try to be brief but HKFGDJHFJKD gonna preemptively assume this will have to go under a cut anyways tho, because i love to ramble !

as stated, samantha's main character traits in canon are like. ron's hot moron4moron wife, will fall for a nigerian prince scam, is very straightforward but kind. which is absolutely fantastic and i love her more than anything, but i needed more than that. so i made her god's favorite weirdgirl <3

samantha's class is a life domain cleric! i need to work out the exact details still (i think maybe something to do with samantha's jewelery since i always draw her with a very specific biiig golden necklace), but when she was transported to the forgotten realms, she was chosen by a low ranking goddess to receive her gifts of healing. i think she fits well to be the healer (though mercedes knows some low level bard heals as well), it fits her kindly therapist vibes. i did also, unfortunately, made her a "i could fix him (absolutely cannot)" girlie because you just gotta be honest. its so real for her. which i think also fits for a healer LMAO so shes the partys healer! you may be saying "hey, travis, arent clerics supposed to have high wisdom? didnt you say samantha is high intelligence, low wisdom?" and yes. they do. she is. this is a dungeons and daddies au. theyre not meant to be good at their jobs. in general, samantha is the optimist of the group - shes cheerful bordering on (and often crossing over into) full on ditzy, shes the 'people person' of the group so she is usually the one who is sent to sweet talk people along with mercedes, and shes just. everyones sunshine. shes level-headed, sweet, and a total doggirl. mercedes and morgan both call her "sammy" near exclusively, which i know could be heresy against the ronnie/sammy special nicknames headcanon, but i cannot help it. shes just a sammy to me.

shes also very very very convinced that she is the leader of their little group, but carol is convinced that she is the leader of their little group, and the two of them bicker about it constantly. theyre very in love but if samantha cant passively aggressively tell carol that actually, samantha was the one who got them out of the last kerfuffle no thanks to you, she will self-implode.

because of her therapist position, i wanted samantha to come off as a character that seems very put together, emotionally intelligent, and normal when you first meet her. however, as time goes on, you realize she is actually very silly and not... great... at emotions when it comes to herself. its kind of a fun opposite to her dear ronnie! plot-wise, shes on this roadtrip as a bonding exercise with her son, who she loves very dearly <3 they used to be extremely close, but ever since the death of her ex-husband, her and terry junior have struggled to see eye to eye. the main issue here is that she tends to go 'therapist mode' with her personal issues - she thinks she has to put terry's feelings first, so she only asks him how hes doing, how hes feeling, how can she help etc without ever showing her own feelings on the matter. in samantha's head, shes being a good mother by not putting her feelings onto her son. in terry junior's head, samantha is pretending that terry senior never existed in the first place. so samantha's character arc actually resembles darryl's in a lot of ways, where she has to learn to be emotionally vulnerable with her son!

i couLD SAY EVEN MORE THAN THAT BUT THIS IS ALREADY VERY LONG i have many sammy thoughts. shes my dear darling golden retriever girlfriend except actually i think she would be a chocolate lab because they are known for being friendly, affectionate, extremely playful-

#monsters and mommies au #samantha stampler #dndads #raemeh #isadora this one goes out to you. my dear samantha stampler stan friend

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ficbrish · 5 months

Text

A Ten Year

Rating: Explicit 18+ only!

[AO3 Link]

[Kinktober 2023 prompt thanks to @absurdthirst! October 26th - Tentacles, Angels/Demons]

[[TW/CW: Blood, tentacles, choking, magic drugs, alcohol]]

Summary: Vistri and Gale figure out a magical way to temporarily shift into mind flayers, and Astarion and Vistri take it for a test run.

Takes place during post-canon (10 years after). There are SPOILERS FOR THE ENDGAME OF BG3 directly under the line!

[Click here for my other Kinktober one-shots]

Gale blushed when they asked him for help.

Vistri wore her hands on her hips and that devilish smirk of hers, “You are this era’s grand master of illusion magic, are you not?”

It was the tenth anniversary of their Netherbrain victory, and Vistri and Astarion had something special in mind for the group’s festivities.

“And you’d do this…” Gale asked carefully, “At our little party?”

Vistri giggled and slapped him playfully on the arm, “No, silly! A party favor for everyone to take home. Something cheeky for after.”

Gale looked to Astarion for help, but that only made things worse.

Astarion sucked his teeth, “We’re not selfish, darling. We propose you make enough for all of us to have a bit of fun.”

Why did Gale ever suggest they visit him in Waterdeep? It was always something with those two.

“Can’t you just shapeshift?” he grunted.

They both had their hands on their hips now and were frowning at him.

“There’s no artistry in that,” Vistri complained, “Besides, it’s not a matter of appearance we’re after. Well, not just appearance.”

“We have a…” Astarion gave an expanse hand gesture, “Fuller experience in mind.

“A task easily managed by a sorcerer with an ancient draconian lineage such as myself,” Vistri taunted, “But I figured a wizard��like you would be into the magical intrigue of it all. Think of it like a fun puzzle!”

“A wizard puzzle,” Astarion added, and then they exchanged one of those insufferable shared looks.

“You’re laughing at me,” Gale said.

“We’re not laughing, darling,” Vistri said in that voice she used to make devils willingly run back to the hells, “We’re humbly asking for your assistance.”

Despite himself, Gale was flattered. It was quite an interesting puzzle after all. What if, for just a night, they were able to become mind flayers?

There were three key aspects to this particular puzzle: First, taking on the physicality of a mind flayer. Nothing real, just a mimic (which mainly involved shapeshifting, as Gale previously suggested). Astarion and Vistri possessed the necessary arcane talents, but this treat wasn’t meant for just them alone, and the others were going to need a bit of help. Astarion suggested shapeshifting scrolls, but that wouldn’t be specific enough. So, Gale and Vistri wrote up their own scrolls with a unique spell tailored to their specific purpose.

Setting was the next, but no less important, aspect. Turns out Astarion and Vistri’s idea of a full experience was a full, immersive, and detailed experience. Their vision required an illusion that would seemingly turn a room into the Astral Plane. Gale jumped at the opportunity to show off his expertise. Of course, they could always draw up another unique scroll, but there was always a risk of counteractivity. Besides, another scroll wouldn’t earn him bragging rights among his colleagues at the college. Luckily, Vistri always made sure to restock Gale’s supply of mushrooms from the Underdark whenever she and Astarion popped by. They could distill some of those into an elixir to induce a highly controlled hallucination.

It was the last aspect that was most intimidating.

“Just how do we capture the mind of a, well, mind flayer?” Gale mused.

Vistri’s brows were woven together in deep thought, “Hmmm?”

“Mystra’s tits! Were you even listening?”

She’d heard his voice, but her imagination was running wild with what could occur if they managed to pull this off. Shivers ran through her spine like a tremor as she thought of Astarion wrapping a tentacle around her neck, long fingers with pointed, ebony nails trailing along her inner thigh…

“Vistri!”

“What?”

“You weren’t listening to me again,” Gale fussed, “You’re off somewhere else. Let’s just break for the day. I have many other tasks that require my attention.”

“Gale!” she whined, “Come on, Gale!”

He frowned; a thick book tucked angrily under his arm. Vistri had to resist the urge to laugh. Gale was always so… Gale.

“Maybe tell your boyfriend to ‘come on’ you. Clear your head so we can get work done on our…”

“Sex magic?”

“I absolutely refuse to call it that.”

“Oh, look at you! You’re in a mood.”

“I am!” he said as he stormed off.

Fussing felt so nostalgic. Come to think of it, this was sort of like their own personal love language. Still, they spent so much time apart these days, the distance made Vistri feel guilty. As if she’d taken a lovely piece of cake only to smash it into the ground.

“Hello, darling,” Astarion greeted delightedly as she entered their rooms.

Together they made ten years fly by, yet Vistri felt like she was beholding his face for the first time, only just now becoming acquainted with his voice. She still felt like that when they reunited after being apart for any amount of time. Even just within the space of half a day.

Vistri pouted, “I think he hates me.”

Astarion affectionately pretended to be fed up with her, “What’d you do this time?”

“I… teased him a little.”

“Oh, come now! If he was ever going to hate you over that, we wouldn’t ever be invited to stay.”

Vistri laughed, and its ugliness made her the most precious thing. Astarion had no choice but to wrap his arms around her and feel her convulse against his chest.

His eyes were soft, “And I wouldn’t have you any other way.”

Vistri closed hers to soak up the heat and sincerity in his tone. It was sweeter than a song.

Their tongues did the rest of the talking. Then they found each other’s skin underneath their fine clothes. Passing breath back and forth until they eventually sunk to the floor and melted into each other.

Afterwards, they gazed in amazement while their chests wracked like stormy waves. Vistri wiped a drop of sweat off Astarion’s brow that threatened to fall into his eye.

“Let’s take a bath,” she purred.

When they all met for dinner later Gale was no longer peeved, but he had a look of madness about him.

“I’m feeling inspired,” he announced, raising his glass, “To us! And the pursuit of…”

“Debauchery,” Astarion offered.

Vistri smirked.

They clinked and sipped. Gale excitedly took over the conversation with theories on mimicking the psychic link of a mind flayer. Another elixir was obviously out of the question. One would just cancel out the other. And they’d already ruled out the use of more than one scroll.

“—but what if it’s something we wear?!” he exclaimed, the punchline to his lecture.

“Well, I like it,” Astarion said in a high, breathy tone. Then tilted his head and lowered his voice for dramatic effect, “Question is: What should we enchant?”

Undergarments would be the most fun, but those would probably end up discarded, breaking the effect. Any sort of necklace or diadem was a bad idea for the same reason. So, they went with the most basic answer, a ring.

“Boring, but sort of perfect,” Vistri said, “In theme with our little get together—It reminds me of that ring Omeluum gave us, the Ring of Mind-shielding, but—”

“Ring of Mind-flayer,” Gale joked.

Vistri chuckled, “Exactly. I think it could be nostalgic. Don’t you agree, love?”

Astarion swallowed a gulp of… well, somebody’s blood, and set down his goblet to take hold of her reaching fingers.

He nodded, “The rings themselves make splendid gifts.”

“Party favors!”

“Yes, dear,” Astarion patted her hand, “Party favors.”

Gale chewed thoughtfully and hummed, getting ready to say something.

“Do you think everyone will be ready to turn into mind flayers? Even though we wouldn’t be actually turning into one—I mean, we worked so hard not to after all. Now we’re making it into a game.”

“A sex game,” Astarion clarified, just because Gale’s reaction was always priceless.

“With your brilliant ring idea, anyone can skip the mind flayer bits and still have a blast” Vistri said, “But that’s the draw of it for me, personally. I like to face my fears in the bedroom.

“Really puts the whole vampire companion into perspective,” Gale muttered into his wine.

“I think it has the potential to be quite healing, frankly,” Vistri went on, “You know: Take control of the thing we used to not be in control of.”

“And fuck it,” Astarion added.

“But not… At the party. Right?”

“No, Gale!” Vistri scoffed, “Do you tend to host orgies at your other family reunions?”

“Fair enough,” he chuckled, “But you both better remember that. I’ll have no illithids at the party proper! Not when it’s my turn to host.”

The first tenday was a disaster of failed attempts. Their unique shapeshifting spell was easier said than managed. The rings ended up being the simplest part. After all, it was just a stack of enchantments: Warding to connect the pair, mind reading, and a mix of charm and psionics for the transfer of sensation and feeling. Those only took time because they had to be bonded pairs. The elixir proved to be just as tricky as the scrolls, but after Gale remembered to enchant the mushrooms, they had something viable.

Just in time, they pulled it off. The only thing left to do before the party was to give the whole experience a test run.

v---v v---v v---v v---v v---v

Astarion giggled and tossed his curls, “Ah-hah! I finally have a part to play. You don’t know how droll it’s been. Sitting around while you and Gale figure out the secrets of naughty magic.”

“Oh no! Have I been neglecting you?”

“You have!” he pouted.

“Rest assured, my beloved. What we’re about to experience… Trust me, it’ll be worth it.”

“Uh, oh. You’ve got that smile on your face.”

“What smile?”

“The one that says you’re about to eat me right up.”

“Lick the bones clean,” Vistri said between kisses.

“Promises, promises.”

“Speaking of promises: It’s all safe! We’ve already tried out each component individually, and you and I are just checking to see if the full experience lives up to our expectations. Which, obviously, Gale and I couldn’t test ourselves.”

“It would’ve made for an interesting plot twist if you did,” he teased.

Vistri raised one of her brows. She wanted to quip back, but her heart was beating too fast. The fantasy was so delicious, and now the actual moment was here. Whenever she walked or shifted her legs, she could feel the wetness between them, but her nerves were also frothing into worry.

“Are you sure you want this?” her eyes were so wide.

Astarion squeezed her hand and chuckled guiltily, “My love, I’ve been aching for this moment for days! The transformation is a little scary, mind you. But the very thought of surrounding you, with more arms than I can currently manage, is more enticing than any fear.”

“We can dispel the effect at any time! Drink another elixir, take off the rings—”

He stopped her with a gentle peck, “You’re rambling again, darling. We’ve gone over that many times. Try not to worry and just have fun.”

She nodded.

“It doesn’t hurt, does it?”

She shook her head, “Just like any other shapeshifting spell.”

“Nothing we haven’t done before.”

He winked and she blushed.

Vistri wasn’t aware she was feeling a little shy until she spoke, “Why don’t we start with the elixir?”

“Take me to the stars,” he consented.

The little bottle was enough for them to share. Vistri had two little glasses already lined up, but when she went to pour them, he pulled her closer, flush against his chest.

Astarion’s kiss knocked all thoughts from her head, leaving only sense. Her nerves transformed and ignited into a blaze, his tongue guiding her to the ache of the ravenous. Vistri couldn’t breathe, only gasp. Astarion punctuated it with his teeth, biting and tugging her lip. She groaned deeply in response.

Vistri couldn’t stand on her own when he wrested lips from hers. She held onto Astarion to steady herself, grasping the front of his tunic.

He took the little bottle out of her hand, “Be a dear and open your mouth wide for me.”

She did as commanded, tilting her head back a bit as he pulled out the topper. Slowly, he poured some of it onto her tongue.

“Don’t swallow.”

Vistri held it in her mouth.

“Good girl. Now give it to me.”

Astarion relieved Vistri of her burden, drinking the elixir from her lips. Then he tossed back the rest of the bottle and fed it to her in return.

The effect wasn’t immediate, but trickled in. Gale’s tower slipped away and became the Astral Plane. Furniture grew into rocks; and walls, cliffs. The ceiling was no longer a ceiling, but an impossible sea of comets and stars.

Astarion chuckled with delight, “You know. This is exactly how I remember it.”

They relished in the illusion together for a while. Vistri proudly pointed out all her contributions, and vented about everything she thought the elixir’s effect lacked.

“I really wanted to capture the smell of it, but we just… I thought maybe an ointment would do, but Gale almost lost all the hairs in his nose when we tested it. Do you remember how the place smelled?”

He thought for a moment, “Like burnt sulfur and strawberries.”

Vistri laughed, “Strawberry?”

Astarion shrugged, “That’s the way I always thought of it.”

“Something burning, magical, and a little sweet,” she agreed.

Her fingers lightly brushed along his arms while they sat and watched the comets dance. Under the stars, the gentle and ordinary became an aphrodisiac. Her touch was a habit; her fingertips always languidly stroked Astarion’s arms when they talked together like this. She was doing the very same now, paying no mind to her gesture or the way it made his skin feral.

Astarion took her hand and dragged it downward for Vistri to bear witness to the effect she was having on him. She stopped her breath, her body screaming for his.

“What do you say, dear? Time for the rings?”

In keeping with how they took the elixir, Astarion slipped a ring on Vistri’s finger, and she did the same for him. More than their minds, their entire consciousness became known to each other. Thoughts, feelings, and sensations were completely shared.

The arousal that roared like a bonfire under their casual intimacy was no longer a secret. Astarion could feel the throbbing tightness in her core, and her blood rush. The wet heat waiting for him beneath her clothes was as real between his own legs as the pounding of his stiffened member. These rings were already better than anything they’d tried since the tadpoles.

“A real mind flayer would be able to control what they exude to their thralls,” Vistri explained, not acknowledging his discovery, “But Gale and I figured a two-way transparency would be more fun.”

“I can feel both of our hearts beat,” he stated contentedly.

“And I know exactly what you’d like to do about it.”

Astarion’s thoughts were in her head, taking off her clothes. He could feel her excitement stir into a “yes” she didn’t even have time to speak. In the space of a second, Astarion made a proposition, Vistri accepted, he checked if she was sure, and she begged him to do it. Their lips didn’t move, their eyes barely shifted expressions. Understanding was intrinsic; experiencing each other’s experiences, like they were living in the other’s skin.

How about we never take these off? | You’d like that. Wouldn’t you? | Gods I would Gods I would Gods I would.

Piece by piece, they undressed each other. A tunic for a tunic etc., never removing their own items. Beholding each other, unwrapping like gifts, and bearing explicit witness to the beholding.

Like a god Like a god Like a god. | You are perfect. | Taste me. | Eat me up. | Like a god Like a good Like a god.

“One. Final. Bit,” Astarion was on his knees, punctuating his words with kisses trailing up her thigh.

He felt Vistri’s impulse to moan before he heard it bubble up from the depths of her. He pulled down the soaking strips of cloth that were her undergarments with just a finger. They came off so easily, as if eager to escape her legs.

His tongue met her other lips, just a tease he could himself savor. Vistri smelled the way her blood called to Astarion through her skin, feel the roaring tremble inside his heart as he banished his predatory impulses far away where they couldn’t harm her.

He looked up at her, lips shining with her slick, “Please let me have a taste.”

Devour you. | Devour me, | Consume you. | Consume me. | Never stop Never stop Never stop.

More than knowing what Vistri wanted, Astarion had his own desires for what to feel through her senses. A deep wave of security and bliss shivered through her whenever he wrapped his hands around her neck or teased his fangs against her throat. An ecstasy, so beloved it would have moved Sune herself to tears, beamed though Vistri when he started to rut, her knees tucked under his shoulders. The sanctuary Astarion found in her body was now a temple made for him. It sang his praises.

“We still… Mmmph! Uh!—Scrolls,” she struggled to say.

“If you let me die now, darling,” Astarion purred, “I’ll live longer for you later.”

He always knew when to hold back because their edges were the same, but now he had direct confirmation. He took them both as close as possible, then paused for Vistri to writhe and groan and plead. Then he’d start again, but slower, never taking them to the edge, but strolling nearby, until they both felt they were going mad.

Vistri offered her throat and Astarion took it. Selflessness and greed coexisted at the point of his fangs. She could taste her dragon blood on his tongue; cold, spicy, and a little bit sweet. The life flowing into him radiated through her as it slipped away. She could feel his senses heighten and become louder than her own.

His breath was thick with her blood when he leaned close and whispered into her ear, “Strawberries.”

Their laughter started and stopped as Astarion moved faster, groans overtaking their lips.

The illusory stars above were just like the ones that blossomed behind their eyes, their bodies wracking with pleasure. Astarion sank his teeth back into her as they rode it out. Vistri’s blood in the throes of her pleasure was the best thing to ever meet his tongue. It brought him to life.

“Wow!” Vistri exclaimed, making Astarion laugh again as he licked her neck clean.

“Gods, you’re perfect,” he murmured against her skin.

She was too preoccupied by catching her breath to return to compliment.

He frowned, “Why are you always the one out of breath when I do all the work?”

“Astarion!”

“It’s all right, dear. I quite like it when you pant like that,” he said heatedly, “Makes your tits jiggle.”

She pushed him off her with a big smile on her face.

“I love you too,” she smirked, calling out what lurked behind his tease.

“Oh, there’s no denying that,” he wriggled his fingers, “Not with these.”

Vistri stifled her laugh, “You were right. The rings alone make a good gift.”

Astarion clicked his tongue, “Party favors, dear. Are we forgetting?”

“You’ll have to bear with me, darling. A moment ago, I couldn’t even recall my own name.”

With that little comment, he was ready for the scrolls. After a quick Lesser Restoration cast for Vistri, of course.

“Before we go ahead, answer me this: How exactly does a mind flayer cum?”

“It doesn’t. Not technically. It feels pleasure, don’t get me wrong. There’s erogenous zones all over, and I’ll show you them all,” she narrowed her eyes suggestively, exactly in the way she’d picked up from him, “But there’s no biological climax in the way we understand it. How do I put this? There’s nothing for it to arrive at. Any sort of big, explosive, ecstasy it feels comes from its thralls.”

Astarion raised a brow, “All the more reason for us to take turns then.”

Are you sure you’d like to go first? | Yes!

“You worry too much, love.”

I can feel your nerves. | Pay them no mind.

Vistri let Astarion into her memories; her and Gale trying the scrolls themselves. The transformation from the scroll was nowhere near the real thing. Astarion’s body wouldn’t twist into a horror. He would only be drenched in a shower of sparkles that magically gave him another form. And tickled a bit.

“I know. I know.”

“I’m ready,” he assured her. This whole thing was his idea in the first place, after all.

Her heart wasn’t in her hesitations. It was beating so fast, begging him to get on with it.

“Tut, tut! Don’t be impatient now, dear. You’ll tempt me to draw this out,” he said winking with rakish affection.

Vistri’s entire being was rushing with thrills that exploded and died like a series of fireworks in her veins. Astarion couldn’t resist her like that. He had to have one more kiss with his own lips, one more pet with his own hands. He pushed a finger between her thighs.

“Oh, you’re a gorgeous little slut, aren’t you?” he moaned, “I just fucked you, greedy thing. Already soaking and trembling for me so soon after.”

Vistri clung to his shoulders and moved her hips pleadingly. A sweet hint of soreness was overpowered by the way his finger felt inside her. She tried to push it deeper, but he pulled it away.

“Blasted tease!” she cried out.

He chuckled, “I’m not done with you yet, dear.”

Astarion held out his hand, and Vistri fetched the scroll. His fingertips were practically salivating as they grasped it. Their minds crowded with fantasies of how to fuck and get fucked, creating a to-do list long enough to keep them occupied for days.

The longing to become his nightmares, and dissolve Vistri into senses alone with it, made Astarion’s voice tremble as he recited the incantation. It worked all the same. A shower of sparkles, that really did tickle a bit, engulfed his form and made him a mind flayer. Not a proper one, but as much of a mimic as magic would allow.

Astarion looked down at his swirling tentacles and felt the top of his pulsing head with thin, billowing arms. It was a little jarring, but that just made their blood run faster.

Oh, this is weird. I like it! And you’ve got such a delightful, perverted look on your face.

Vistri relished the way his voice boomed in her head. It shook her mind, like he was too big to take. Her need made her dizzy, all mixed up with his.

Look at you! Thanking the gods, whom you have no faith in, at the very sight of me. I say! This is fantastic.

He was already a lot taller than Vistri, but now he towered. Astarion was a frightening thing to behold in this form, and Vistri’s reflexive fear only stoked her hunger.

Interesting.

“What?”

Still not casting shadows.

“You’ll have to help me remember to tell Gale. He’ll want to take note of that.”

Vistri, I’m a mind flayer if you haven’t noticed. Can we tentacle now and talk about Gale later?

She smirked and came to him. Her delicious strut trying so hard to cover up her discomposure, but Astarion could hear the snarling in her core. It snapped with teeth that wanted to devour and be devoured.

Vistri reached out with hesitant fingers, letting them fall into his tentacles. They had a hard flexibility to them and felt oiled rather than wet. There were four, and she wanted them all around and inside her.

Astarion’s arousal was palpable and thick in the air, pressing in on her, choking her.

Touch me more.

This time her hands met him with surety. She stroked along his tentacles like running fingers through long hair. It made him purr. Almost like her hand on his cock, but not quite. It was more similar to dry humping in the dark, clothing a barrier between them that their heat seeped through—that dulled sort of rubbing.

Vistri put her mouth on them, licking him up and down. Their feet left the ground, levitating together above the floor. One of his appendages gently brushed her shoulder as another teased along her throat. She tossed her head back, surrendering to his touch.

How depraved do you want me?

Her hands crawled up his tentacles, tugging as they climbed, until they were eye to eye.

“Fuck me until nothing is left.”

Your wish is my command, love. Although I do have to leave a little something of you. It’s my turn next, after all. And I expect to get as good as I give.

She felt him on her chest, gliding downward. Then another snake around her waist. And yet another caress the top of her thigh. The fourth stayed where it was around her neck.

His query and her permission were communicated in a blink. Astarion brought his monstrous hands to the back of her thighs, grinding her against him out of habit. That also made him purr.

Ah, the promised tour.

Vistri’s voice was breathy and distracted, “There’s another erogenous zone between a mind flayer’s legs, even though they’re all…” She paused as the one on her thigh just barely brushed along her swelling middle, “Ten-tentacles.”

No, dear. I only have four.

The tip of the tentacle between her thighs was coating itself in her arousal. Vistri’s breath skipped, and she called out his name to ground herself.

I do love how you whimper.

He added pressure around her neck, feeling her pulse pound in his own ears. He could add plenty more, but Vistri hadn’t earned that yet. She begged him to get inside her, so he squeezed her ass and snaked another between her cheeks to poke around from the other side.

She was delighted, “You bastard.”

I know.

He wasn’t going to give her what she wanted just yet, the torture was too delicious.

When Astarion had enough of levitating and petting and teasing, he put Vistri prone on her back. Two tentacles toyed with her tits, squeezing and sucking them. She writhed under him, moaning and pleading for more.

Eager. Eager.

The other two wrapped around her legs and pried them apart. Tenderly, Astarion dragged a long, black nail along her inner thigh. Its sharp point gliding over such sensitive skin.

Hold still, lest I cut you. I cannot savor your blood in this form.

The throbbing between her legs was the clearest thing to him in the whole world. It was a prayer, and he was the god meant to answer. If Astarion knew life was going to be like this, he would have endured better those 200 years.

She reached upwards, inviting one of the tentacles on her chest to wrap around her wrists. Tightening himself around them felt like a marriage. Vistri gasped as Astarion pinned her wrists above her head and moved his nail to her completely exposed stomach. The threat saturated her senses and made her body tremble with vulnerability.

He took the opportunity to tease her folds. The feeling was so loud, it screamed inside his head. Unable to tell if the relief was for her or himself, Astarion finally eased his appendage inside.

Vistri’s cries echoed, reminding them this wasn’t really the Astral Plane, but a stone tower.

Don’t stop. | If he hears, he hears. If he hears he hears. If he hears he hears. | Don’t stop.

They didn’t stop. Not until her pleasure peaked too many times to keep track of. Vistri kept begging for more, and this effect lasted for as long as they wanted. It wasn’t until he added more of himself, and kept adding more; until his monstrous, huge hands clawed at her back as all four appendages writhed around and in and out of her, creating a cacophony of bliss the two of them got to share; that Astarion undid the spell, leaving her spent and sore.

“My turn!” he announced excitedly from his own lips.

Vistri pounced on him with kisses of gratitude.

“How was that for you?” she asked.

“Let’s just say you’re going to love it.”

There was a glazed look in his eyes, like Astarion was more arousal than self. Vistri smirked and kissed him with gentle tongue.

“I promise to give as good as I got.”

“You better.”

He didn’t know it was possible for him to be harder than he already was until he saw Vistri in that terrible form. There were so many new ways to be ravished.

Astarion pulled her to him, showing her where he wanted to be touched, wrapped, squeezed. He levitated with her in rapture. A tentacle teased his shaft while another wrapped around his thigh and flicked the tip of his head.

“Have mercy,” he whimpered.

But that’s not really what you want. Is it?

“No. I want—Gods above… I want to be taken. See myself spill over you. All of you.”

I want to do things to you that will make us both blush for days.

He chuckled, “Haven’t we already?”

When he pushed her to the ground and straddled her, Vistri snaked a tentacle up to his neck. She wrapped another around his waist, holding him in place. The other two snaked around his ass and thighs, prying them wider apart and squeezing. Astarion moaned.

His cock dripped and one of the appendages around his thigh rubbed it to wet him. His curls tumbled as he threw back his head. Slowly, the tentacle snaked around his throbbing bone.

You mentioned you wanted to watch yourself spill over me, dear.

His hands embraced the tentacles wrapped around his neck and waist, stroking them softly and begging through their minds. Her fourth appendage stroked the skin behind his balls and teased his hole.

You writhed inside me so well, my love. Would you like me to return the favor?

The desperate way he shouted “yes” turned Vistri’s purr into a low rumble. Enveloping Astarion in a warm mind’s embrace, she flooded him with memories of loving kisses as her tentacle entered him and found that special spot. His grip around her other tentacles was so tight, the thrumming pleasure almost turned to pain.

His ecstasy wasn’t shy. It cried out and eventually broke free of him. Vistri watched him lick the mess from her tentacles before dispelling the effect. Then off came the rings, and they fell panting into each other’s arms.

Astarion kissed her, happy to behold her usual form, “You are a gorgeous and wonderful thing!”

“I’d say that works pretty well,” Vistri remarked.

Astarion laughed, “You’re sure we want to give these out instead of hoard them all to ourselves?”

She melted into giggles, “Don’t be greedy. I know how to make plenty more.”

They ended up taking another elixir just to find where the bed was, a little something invigorating to restore them after such rigorous activity. When their room came back, they jumped into bed and sank blissfully into it together. Even though they experienced everything through each other via the rings, they still talked for hours about it under clean, silk sheets.

“I’m glad that we won, but maybe it wouldn’t have been so bad if we lost,” he joked.

Her laugh echoed on the stone.

A few days later, everyone was finally gathered together in Gale’s tower. The others were uneasy when they found out Vistri and Astarion had been staying for a while before. They didn’t trust those mischievous grins on their faces.

“We have some party favors for everyone to take home,” Vistri announced.

“And we think you’re all going to have a lot of fun,” Astarion smirked.

[Click here for my other Kinktober one-shots]

#vistarion #kinktober 2023 #absurdthirst kinktober list #promt fill #vistri #astarion #astarion ancunin #bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #full fic #tav x astarion #astarion x tav #ten year fic #BrishFics #smut #fluff #lemon #bg3 spoilers

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glindaupland · 4 months

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The Phantom of the Opera | Seoul, South Korea | 동팬텀 x 송크리 Review 3/6

October 12, 2023

The Phantom of the Opera | 전동석 Jeon Dong-seok

Christine Daaé | 송은혜 Song Eun-hye

Raoul, Vicomte de Chagny | 황건하 Hwang Gun-ha

Carlotta Giudicelli | 이지영 Lee Ji-young

Round 2 of Jeon Dong-seok! Ah let's see what my excuse was this time... "How could I possibly let go of a center 5th row seat that I snatched? And a different Christine, Raoul, and Carlotta means it's a different experience!" Sure, whatever helps you sleep at night, Elisa. But hey it was very different!!!

Here's my second silly little Dong-seok ticket holder because I booked both of his seats on Yes24. I was 5th row center this time, which was almost out of the chandelier's range and just ever so slightly more to the left than my previous seat. But this is still an incredibly close view …and I still brought my binoculars to stare everyone down despite that.

Hannibal Rehearsal / Think of Me

I'm really in love with Lee Ji-young Carlotta. She definitely acts like a very classy and elegant normally, but she's really cute and dramatic when she gets angry. She leans more into the Italian accent and the stubborn demanding diva attitude. I thought she fit very well with Park Hoe-rim's Piangi because of her personality and voice.

I like the detail right before 'Think of Me' starts when Song Eun-hye's Christine does this little throat clearing and nervous swallow. Her eyes were wide like a deer in headlights. Ji-soo acted more timid like she was about to melt on the spot, but she was about to bolt I think this is one of her best moments in the show. She's radiant and truly looks like a new soprano making her debut. Despite her voice still being a little strained from illness (you may or may not recall she was out a few days which resulted in the understudy Kwon Ga-min's very eventful debut), I still enjoyed her vibrant enthusiasm that shined through. Her cadenza is beautiful and she holds her last notes for such a long time before she gives the cutest proudest bow to complete the song. Hwang Gun-ha's Raoul is so funny when he gets up to cheer for Christine because he's really loud and boisterous. He's probably especially embarrassing for the managers to sit with bless his heart Unfortunately, you can't appreciate the full acting and extension of her notes with this video but you can still at least appreciate her voice:

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Angel of Music/Little Lotte/The Mirror

She has lots of little girlish mannerisms in addition to the cute awkwardness before 'Think of Me'. When Meg wanted to know who taught her, Christine opened her mouth excited like she was about to speak, but then paused looking like she was very stumped about how to even begin explaining. After hugging Raoul, she was particularly flustered by the closeness and looked around nervously. She also looks at her hand and touches it in surprise when he kisses it on the way out of the dressing room. Gun-ha's voice is very unique and quite deep for a Raoul. His Raoul definitely has that charismatic aristocratic feeling. Some people find it strange, but it doesn't bother me honestly. My grievances to air are about other things that I'll explain later. I had a much closer view and better angle of 'The Mirror' this time both with and without binoculars (yes even that close I was pulling those out okay) so I was able to see the Phantom's face a lot clearer in the mirror. At one point he closed his eyes and breathed in deeply with his hand to his chest like he was really satisfied hearing her plea to him. I think SEH Christine's reacted to the Phantom like she finally needed to understand who her Angel of Music was. She was nervous, but looked slightly excited as well.

The Phantom of the Opera

I got to experience Dong-seok's third boat failure. That's four if you wanna include him crashing his Y&K Phantom boat (yes I'll always bring it up and make fun of that it's funny) I was wondering why the boat hadn't come out yet and I thought maybe it'd be okay when I saw the front peeking out a bit even though it was oddly coming out from the side rather than the back...and then I saw him uselessly rowing without moving until he just gave up. Anyway, Jesus miracles were performed once again! He very sweetly guided Christine, lighting the way for her and showing off the view. They looked at each other when they sang the "fantasies/secrets" line and he lifted her chin up to meet her eyes. He smiled when he nodded once with SJS, but because of the unique situation here, it seemed even sweeter. :') Also, since I was so close, I could see the doubles they used for the walkway above with my binoculars

The Music of the Night

SEH Christine takes a bit longer to warm up to the Phantom. She started off more hesitant and wary yet still curious. I wouldn't say she's afraid, just uncertain. JDS Phantom was especially awkward and inexperienced, even more than the last time. He felt like a younger man experiencing his first love. I just think he feels and tries to be seductive, suave, romantic, etc, but he gets so overstimulated easily that he ends up fumbling. It was like she was an alluring fire that he was drawn to, but he kept foolishly burning himself getting too close. Like before, he touched her shoulder lightly and briefly, but pulled back nervously with a wavering voice before using his other arm to wrap around her. But you could see a bit of subtle relief when she relaxed in his arms. I remember Christine sort of nuzzling in closer to him which gave him more confidence to lean in as well. He was still a little shaky though trying to hold in his emotions By the end of the song SEH Christine a lot more at ease with the Phantom and actually captivated by him. She was finally starting to understand the beauty of this music of the night that he was trying to show her. Both Christines would get very moved at the end with watery ears, but I think this is the show I actually saw the tears falling from one of them. I could see him wiping the tears from her face gently when he had put his cloak over her at the end

Stranger Than You Dream it

I'm trying not to laugh typing this, but I think the pose he had here when he turned to face her looked so...here I'll leave this:

It was this, but he was angry and covering his face with the hand that's not holding him up and leaning forward more. Everyone else was on their knees, but he had to stick his long leg all the way out for some reason which is really not important or notable I guess, but I found it amusing okay SEH Christine always watches the Phantoms while SJS looks down until the end when she starts to feel bad for him. He and Christine had a moment where they reached out to each other at the end of the crawl almost touching before he turned away quickly. I don't think she was really fully afraid of his appearance. It seemed more like his reaction was what upset her. She looked disappointed that she couldn't reach him

Notes I/Prima Donna

LJY Carlotta is so perfectly expressive and she matches so so well with Piangi. I love how she started off Prima Donna so pouty-faced. It seems like she's slowly warming up, trying to hold back from showing that their words are sort of pleasing her because she's still mad and stubborn (and maybe it's also so they can continue showering her with praise)

Il Muto

SEH Serafimo is so sassy. She just makes the silliest most exaggerated looks like pure disgust at the kiss or huge goo-goo eyes at the Countess. She puffs out her chest with her hands on her hips making a pouty face like she's this little charming tough guy. Words don't do it justice honestly. This is my favorite version of this scene

LJY Carlotta also kills me. The way she still tries to act put together, but clearly cannot keep her shit together. She lets out "말하지말고 / Don't speak" as a loud growl like she's emphasizing what she just said to her out of character before. It was hilarious watching Monsieur André's interaction with the conductor below when he was pushing for the ballet to start from this close. He was seriously about to lose his mind.

Masquerade / Why So Silent?

Sitting in a much closer seat, I think I can understand what people mean about hearing Dong-seok sing during Why So Silent. It's not so loud, but it was definitely there under the pre-recording. Under the skull his mouth moved in a much more natural way rather than the exaggerated way needed for the skull to move (which meant the mask didn't move much)

Twisted Every Way

SJS Christine looks so tired of everything during this scene, but SEH Christine is a lot more shaken up whenever she's in distress. I think it's another way her Christine feels a bit younger? But by 'Wishing' you can clearly see the growth she's gone through (although it was stronger in the second two performances I saw because she still seemed a bit ill this one) LJY Carlotta develops some more sympathy towards Christine at this point so when she says she's crazy, it sounds more like she's genuinely concerned for her mental state HGH Raoul. is so loud at the end I thought my ear drums would explode in the 5th row. You can accumulate severe ear damage between him and the ballerina screams. (Although I also just think the sound in the theaters I went to was incredibly loud because Rebecca Act 2 almost burst my eardrums as well in 2nd row)

The Point of No Return

And again, the more he's around Christine, the more destructive it is for him. You're just hurting yourself, king! He was extremely anxious around her, back to his usual route. Rather than the frustration he had before, he had quickly rising anxiety. He clutched his chest during the same line that KJT Phantom had mimicked Christine's movements at his performances. As he reached back for her on the bench, he was shaking and not brave enough to lean closer to her. This proposal he was a spineless disaster. He could barely get near her to put on the ring when he had been so forceful about it the previous performance. It didn't feel inconsistent though. It just seemed like a different branch for his Phantom, an alternate outcome for the same characterization.

Final Lair

SJS Christine was so afraid looking around and clinging to the edge of the boat when she would get taken down to the lair in 'Down Once More'. SEH looked frightened as well, but then in response to the Phantom's words she turned cold. Every performance SEH Christine would plead "잠깐만! 잠깐만! 잠깐만!" (- Hold on, hold on! or Wait, wait!) til he let her go. JDS Phantom was especially childish this performance. Or I guess in a different way? The previous show he had his angry tantrum, this one he was a complete wet mop of a man. When he said his face is what poisoned his love reaching out to her, she rejected him, turning away bitterly. But when she told him she wasn't afraid of his face, she tried to touch him and he gasped and started hyperventilating a little The energy JDS Phantom and HGH Raoul had when arguing though like oooo the girls are fiiiiightiiiing~ It was a little funny Most of his reactions to Christine's rejections like the veil throwing were actually chipping away at him this time instead of building an icy wall. I also think since SEH is the "stronger" more independent Christine these responses were maybe rougher to this more sensitive version of his Phantom When he was on the throne at the end, he reached to touch her face, but stopped and began to stutter out "날...날..시ㅣ험...하지마..." ('Don't test me") trying to stop himself from crying. This performance he opted for one of his occasional line changes - "선택해 - Choose" to "날 선택해 - Choose me!" Tears were pouring from his face and he was pulling at his collar again like he was struggling to breathe while sobbing. The kiss was similar to the one before, but I think he looked sadder When he sang "사랑해 / I love you" the first show, it was so soft you could barely hear it and the end was barely audible. This time he was choking on the word while SEH also struggled not to cry. She tried to reach out to him from the start, but because he was so stuck in his self-hatred and insecurity, they were never given a chance. So this is where they ended up. After Christine and Raoul got into the boat, he picked up the veil smiling before he slowly began to sob intensely into it. He looked like he had completely fallen apart

I think I preferred the October 8th show just because it felt so unique, but I felt so happy I could see Jeon Dong-seok twice (well three times on the trip, but twice as the Phantom) and get such different experiences out of it each time. I'm also really glad he was able to achieve his longtime dream role ❤️ I'd like to hope that in another decade-ish whenever POTO comes back he can return to the role and give us an new version with even more skills he's learned overtime (also because I think he'd be the perfect age then)

I feel like I should now mention they already had the Dracula video ads up in the theater since he made a u-turn back to the Charlotte for the show. He'll be on one of the 3 CDs for the new Dracula cast recording (why couldn't they do this for POTO) So there was double Dong-seok all over the theater. What a nice sight for me 😌

I will drop promo just because I can! He is now unmasking himself to reveal a pretty face instead of unmasking to reveal uh...well what the Phantom has going on?

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Since there's not really official content of his ALW POTO, you can also have a taste of his Y&K Erik (there is also a version of the live cast recording with him as Erik with Kim So-hyun as Christine) Come join me as I pray for him to return to the show for the 10th anniversary in 2025 so I can go see him.

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#I MISS YOU KING #also can you believe his poto experience has actually upgraded his dracula #hes like a whole new animal #what show can he cook in that can improve his skills for a POTO return im fascinated #the phantom of the opera #poto korea #오페라의 유령 #전동석 #송은혜 #황건하 #jeon dong seok #song eun hye #jeon dong suk #hwang gun ha #lee ji young #이지영 #poto review

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zahri-melitor · 6 months

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New(ish) Comics:

Batman #138: I’m reading this again as this is just such a great comic. Seriously Zdarsky, well done. So many different fight details here. I particularly noticed Bruce is demonstrating super-strength on this read for some reason – he breaks both Dick’s escrima stick and Tim’s bo staff, he rips the door off a car (??!!). There are so many neat details of ‘something is seriously wrong with Bruce’ here.

Blue Beetle #2: I like the note here that Booster is taking Ted away to heal somewhere else in time. I also enjoyed that all the JLI folk instantly nominated Tora to go comfort Jaime. And finally, I am delighted to see characters finally suspicious of Victoria Kord because! I have been so sus on her! Since her first appearance in Graduation Day! Her vibes are indeed off! (And it’s not just the clear autism – I do not get nearly these levels of ‘when do you turn out to be an evil plant’ from say Dani Garrett, who is also intensely female autistic about the scarab and her grandfather)

Birds of Prey #2: The art in this comic remains immaculate. I love the x-ray, out of panel drawings for passing between the ‘real’ world and the magical world. In terms of the plot – I’m still not 100% in here trust wise, but Thompson is winning me over, issue by issue, by reassuring me she understands the characters and is making considered decisions to justify why this lineup. I really really think they screwed themselves a bit with the way they announced the lineup – the vibes in the comic itself are far more clear on who’s a long term choice (Cass, Barda) and who are more likely ‘this storyline only’ choices (Harley, Zealot).

Fire & Ice: Welcome to Smallville #2: This continues to make me so happy in its level of fun and metacommentary. I love the collection of villains, because there’s one existing rogue in each line (Beefeater, Maxie Zeus, Gentleman Ghost) and the six new ones, though admittedly Linka and King of Cats are somewhat linked to existing characters/mantles. The goof levels are off the charts (I lost it at the “Guns don’t kill people. I kill people” line) Anyway come for Bea and Tora remaining extremely ‘on a break’ as they definitely don’t date…uh…siblings, stay for the shenanigans. Maybe Bea and Tora will finally get to kiss in issue #6 (the kiss will obviously be a cheek peck or an accident during a fight scene or something)

Shazam! #4: Garguax the Distressing, Emperor of the MOON! I love him. He’s so silly. Chew on the scenery a bit more, Garguax! Also Billy manages to avoid mind control by realising he’s about to have his first ever kiss with a bee supervillain and deciding he’s not cool with that. Go you, Billy. This comic remains deeply committed to serious silliness and Silver Age vibes (Mark Waid. Dan Mora. Do we need to enforce the ‘one gorilla a month’ rule from the 1970s on you?) which is exactly what I want from the Shazamily. Also Darla appeared, my beloved.

Warlord #22: this week in Skartaris Travis was fighting a werewolf! I would pretend this was a surprise revelation on the very last page, but given someone turned up and shot a silver arrow during the very first fight scene, let’s just say this revelation was signalled.

In addition to the amusement I always get when archery occurs in this title, Grell enjoyed two full pages of serpent bondage scenes. Enjoy some assorted scenes.

Oh Mike Grell. Never change.

#newish comics #z canon read throughs #next I'll get to the last issue of gotham war

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little-peril-stories · 5 months

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The Prince of Thieves (new and improved) - looking for readers!

For the last few months, I've been working on editing The Prince of Thieves, a story novel which was originally published on Tumblr and ao3 between October 2022 and June 2023. As I work through the last few chapters and prepare to write the new opening, I thought I'd put out some feelers...

By the end of this month (hopefully), I'll be seeking feedback on this manuscript!

I would love to connect with folks who are:

okay with whump (I would never call my writing gory, but there is LOTS of angst, captivity and restraints, hopelessness, torture, illness and bodily injury)

comfortable giving honest feedback on the characters and story

willing to point out any particularly egregious typos once in a while if/when you spot them

fine with it being pretty. uh. long. let's ballpark 150k? will give a final word count when it's done.

able to use Google Docs or Microsoft Word

able to provide feedback by ***February 29, 2024

***If I take too long to finish editing, this date will get moved back, of course. :)

✨ express your interest here. ✨

Details below the read more!

Here's the silly tongue-in-cheek blurb:

guy and gal get arrested and tormented by super cool, totally normal constable while pals on the outside freak out and make bad decisions; fun 1800s prison vibes with a side helping of angst and chosen family

Below is a more blurb-y blurb:

The goal of Iustitia aecum, the notorious thieving gang, is to steal from the rich and give to the poor. For a few years, that’s exactly what Jamie, Will, Colette, and Geoff (as the gang’s inner circle) do; they slip through the fingers of the law time and time again.

One day, everything goes wrong.

Will, by a stroke of fateful misfortune, falls into a trap meant for Jamie, the real leader of IA, and ends up in prison—in the custody of Constable Baden Hatchett, an officer who is willing to do whatever it takes to get Will to crack so he can bust IA and bring all its members to justice.

With execution—his brother’s and his own—hanging over his head, Will resolves to take his secrets to the grave, swearing not to betray the only family he has left.

Bree Cooper is one of IA’s runners, privy to no secrets save for one she learned by chance…that she was never supposed to know. When she, too, falls into the hands of the constabulary, she is forced to reckon with her past (a complicated history with Constable Hatchett himself) and her future (the gallows).

Will and Bree’s lives were already intertwined, and when they find each other again behind bars, they will rewrite the stories fate has planned for them—together.

Genre: drama, historical/period piece, whump / POV: 1st-person most of the time, 3rd-person for flashbacks / Narrators: multiple (5 of 'em)

sneak peek to see if the style is for you:

It’s cold up here on the roof of the boarding house—that’s why no one else is up here, probably—but there’s something delightfully bracing about the wind scrubbing the day’s dust from my skin while the stars gaze down. It’s delicious, almost wicked, to peer into the city streets from so high. Up here, no one else can see me. Up here, no one can say a damn thing when I pull up my sleeves. There’s no one to gasp or gawk as I reveal the soft, scandalous flesh of my arms and trace my fingers along, throwing into sharp relief what must remain invisible at all other times: black-as-night ink painted on the canvas of my skin. It’s a shame the tattoo would send me to prison if the constables saw it, because it’s beautiful. Sometimes I just stare down at the details—the leaves bursting from a tree in full bloom, the ring around its swirling, entwined roots. Would anyone else, other than my fellow runners or the constabulary, know what it means if they caught a glimpse? I’m not so sure, but they’d certainly be confused if they saw it on my arm. Silas Cooper’s daughter, tattooed like a common criminal? A gentlewoman like her? How? Why? What happened? I scowl into the night. Breanna Cooper died with Silas, or at least I like to think she did. When I think back on the girl who stumbled, dry-eyed, away from her father’s deathbed and then ran from the man she was supposed to marry, out into a chilly autumn night much like the one I’m gazing into now, I don’t recognize her—don’t recognize myself. That girl ran into a life of nothing, yes. But isn’t that also what she ran away from?

✨ express your interest here. ✨

Friends who have already read TPOT, you are welcome to do a reread if you want, but there's never any pressure, ever. 💕

Thanks for your time!

#lps the prince of thieves #lmk if you want to do a swap!!#seeking beta readers #looking for beta readers #looking for readers #looking for feedback #whump writing #whump story #...oh and I guess I'm unveiling the new banner too lol

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raayllum · 2 years

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I haven't seen any tdp content besides the 3 seasons on netflix, what is this through the moon thing I'm seeing and how do I access it?

Hello, welcome, and thanks for the follow! TDP keeps its core stuff in the TV show, so anything else is a fun bonus to help fuel speculation for the fandom and worldbuilding expansions in small ways (food, climate, some slight cultural stuff, etc).

That said, TDP does have a lot of extra material running around, all of which are canon (or close enough in the case of the novelizations).

Tales of Xadia, a full-fledged RRPG that is probably the biggest lore drop we've had so far. Canon and with a lot of those fun details I was alluding to earlier, like little folklore stories in each of the kingdoms, other types of dragons, stuff like that.

Book One: Moon and Book Two: Sky novelizations. Some character details are changed (a couple of wonky ages, Moonshadow elves being vegetarians) or scenes, but generally canon.

Callum's Spellbook, a sweet silly version of his sketch/spellbook from the show, featuring little character profiles and notes from each of the characters, and so much gushing about Rayla, bless his soul.

However, what you're talking about is Through the Moon, a canon graphic novel and probably the most important canon supplement we've got so far. It's set about a month after S3 and focuses primarily on Rayla's declining mental health as she mourns her parents and becomes worried that perhaps Viren survived, as well as her relationship with Callum. I've compiled the most important / plot relevant pages here (which is largely just the last two pages of the graphic novel itself, and earlier pages included for context). The graphic novel largely just shows the lead-up to why Rayla is not in the first episode of S4, but I trust the show will explain that on its own terms, as 4x01 just establishes the fact she's absent so far, not why.

The other prominent graphic novel came out just this past July (so almost a month ago!) and is called Bloodmoon Huntress. It's a prequel focusing on young Rayla and how she, Ethari, and Runaan became a family. There's a character here who may appear later on in the series, but we don't know if it'll be in the show or in some other way.

The graphic novels are available on Amazon, Kindle (that's what I have bc it's cheaper and I wanted to edit / screencap them accordingly), and most book sites for online or in-person purchase. I also think there's a copy floating around online, but I haven't had to go looking, so I'm not sure!

There are also the recent short stories (under tdp shorts) set during the timeskip between S3 and S4, with Callum's taking place after Rayla's departure in Through the Moon. You can read each of them here in order of release:

Patience: Aaravos focused

The Queen's Soul: Janai focused

Inheritance: Callum focused

The Royal Council: Ezran focused

Just a reaffirmation that none of this is required reading, but the Rayllum and Ruthari fandoms, respectively, talk quite a bit about Through The Moon and Bloodmoon Huntress for obvious reasons.

#tdp #the dragon prince #masterpost #thanks for asking #agent-wash1ngtub

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attilarrific · 2 years

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Yes, that's right, it's REAL HIDDEN TRACK. The regular one, not my silly Jin Guangyao nonsense! Say thank you to the very generous @forablueeyedmiracle (that @ tag is not working, sorry!), who requested some more of this nonsense with bonus having to be physically affectionate for fake dating reasons.

It has been a While, so if you need to refamiliarize yourself, masterpost is here.

Enjoy!

Wei Wuxian is behaving…oddly. Jiang Cheng would probably say that Wei Wuxian always behaves oddly, but Lan Wangji knows better. Wei Wuxian is surprising, frequently. Thrilling. Unique. But he always behaves exactly like himself, each surprise simply another way in which he is completely Wei Wuxian. Now, however, as Luo Qingyang discusses the concert they’re meant to give, he’s quiet. He fidgets, but doesn’t interrupt, doesn’t tease, doesn’t inject his excess energy into the conversation.

“And you two—” Luo Qingyang says, turning to Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian.

Wei Wuxian jumps slightly. “What? What about us? What did I do? Everything’s fine!”

Luo Qingyang stops, narrowing her eyes at him. “Well, now I think something isn’t.”

Wei Wuxian laughs, brushing it off, but his eyes dart to the side too quickly, and Lan Wangji leans forward, trying to catch his eye. It doesn’t work.

“My mom thinks he’s getting married to Lan Wangji,” Jiang Cheng says abruptly. “It’s a whole thing. It was awkward as hell.”

Wei Wuxian agrees immediately, but when Lan Wangji changes the direction of his gaze, he finds Jiang Cheng frowning at his brother. He looks angry, like a brewing argument, but on Jiang Cheng, that’s probably the same thing as concern.

“Fine,” Luo Qingyang says. “You two, please try to be as publicly affectionate as possible during this concert? Kiss some more. You’ve been doing fantastically so far, so keep it up, would you? It’s making my job so much easier.”

“Jiang Cheng and Wen Qing don’t make out on stage,” Wei Wuxian protests. And it is a protest, Lan Wangji realizes with increasing worry. It’s very clearly an objection. Wei Wuxian is—bothered? He doesn’t want—

But everything has been fine before now. Hasn’t it? It’s been—

Has Lan Wangji done something wrong?

He wracks his brain, trying to remember, but—Wei Wuxian had come home from his apparently awful dinner with his adoptive family, and he’d seemed unhappy, but not unhappy with their fake relationship or Lan Wangji’s increasingly obvious affection. Wei Wuxian had seemed pleased enough for them to spend time together. That’s not the same thing as kissing on stage during a stadium tour, but surely—surely if Lan Wangji had made some kind of mistake, he would know.

“Jiang Cheng and Wen Qing have also spent years being extremely low key about their relationship,” Luo Qingyang says, because the conversation is continuing while Lan Wangji tries to remember every detail of the last few days. “You know what they haven’t ever done? Made out against a car door in full view of the press, your fans, and anyone else with an internet connection. Declared love at first sight to an entire talk show studio audience. Talked about their fake sex life where photography crews could hear.”

“Okay, listen, that was—that was—I don’t know what any of that was, but I’m not conceding the point.”

Lan Wangji’s fault, is what every single one of those things had been. And perhaps Luo Qingyang realizes that—or, more likely, she just thinks Lan Wangji is more inclined to be reasonable; more fool her—because she turns to Lan Wangji and says, “Kiss on stage. A lot, please. I don’t want anyone doubting the reality of this ridiculous story.”

Lan Wangji swallows. “If Wei Ying doesn’t want to—”

“No,” Wei Wuxian says immediately. “No, it’s fine. She’s right, it’s fine, why would I care. It’ll be fun, it’s fine.”

It cannot possibly be, and Lan Wangji is very much not ready to be done with this conversation, but Luo Qingyang clearly is. She smiles and says, “Good, glad to hear it. Keep the rest of it in mind, and please, for the love of everything, don’t play something unreleased and unrecorded without running it by me first.”

She leaves, and for a moment there’s silence. Then Wei Wuxian sits up straight and claps his hands together. “So, we’re playing something unreleased and unrecorded without running it by her first, right?”

“I fucking hate you,” Jiang Cheng says, and then, “Yeah, okay.”

Wen Qing darts a glance at her boyfriend and then shrugs. “Sure. She’s used to us by now. It won’t exactly come as a surprise.”

Since Wen Ning and Lan Wangji don’t disagree with Wei Wuxian without a better reason than making Luo Qingyang roll her eyes at them, that’s that—or it should be, except Jiang Cheng says, “Wei Wuxian, do you have any love songs lying around?”

Wei Wuxian just stares at him for a moment. “What?”

Wen Qing is frowning at her hands, folded neatly on her lap, but Jiang Cheng just makes an impatient noise. “Love songs,” he repeats. “You have to kiss him on stage anyway. Two birds, one stone—come on, Wei Wuxian. If we do a new love song now, it doesn’t fucking matter what you put for the lyrics, everyone will think it’s about Lan Wangji anyway. You can dedicate it to him, whatever else. All that. Everyone will eat it up.”

“I—” Wei Wuxian says, and then he stops.

“Come on. You always manage to write way more than what we can fit into an album, there’s got to be something. Something that got scrapped because it didn’t fit a theme or something. As long as it’s not literally about a girl, we should be fine.”

“Maybe even if it is about a girl,” Wen Qing says slowly. Her eyes are narrowed slightly, fixed on Wei Wuxian now. “People will hear what they want to. It doesn’t have to really mean anything. It’s like fortune tellers. They say something generic, you find ways to make it specific. Even if it looks like it fits, it doesn’t actually.”

Wei Wuxian blinks, and then he says, “Uh, yeah, sure, I think I have some stuff. It might be a little rough, though.”

Jiang Cheng just brushes off. “Whatever, we’ll polish it. We’ve got, like, what, three hours? Plenty of time.”

Lan Wangji would really like to use any of those three hours to try and figure out what’s upsetting Wei Wuxian, but Wei Wuxian is already throwing himself into the process with more excitement than he’s shown for anything else so far, so—so it’s probably fine.

“I think I have stage fright,” Wei Wuxian says without any kind of lead up, staring at the green room ceiling. He only says it because Wen Qing’s the only other person in the room, everyone else having been stolen for various pre-show things. Probably he should know what those things are, but he wasn’t paying attention.

“You don’t,” she tells him, which is why she’s the person he’s saying this to. “You’ve never had stage fright in your life.”

“I know,” he says. “But I think I must.”

She doesn’t say anything for a moment. She might be making faces at him, but that’s why he’s staring at the ceiling: so he doesn’t have to know what kind. “You’re nervous?” she asks him at last.

Not nervous, not exactly. He shakes his head. “I think I might throw up?”

Another silence, longer this time, and then she suddenly gets up and stands over him, looming and forcing him to look at her. “Look,” she says firmly. “You had a weird conversation with your foster parents. Yu Ziyuan’s pissed at you because now she thinks you might get married before Jiang Cheng does—seriously, who cares, it’s not like I’m going anywhere whether we sign a marriage license or not—and Jiang Fengmian’s all delighted about your new relationship. It’s making you feel guilty about the whole thing. Up until now, you haven’t been lying to people who matter. It’s normal to start feeling uncomfortable with the whole thing.”

Wei Wuxian stares at her, and then he sits up so fast he almost bashes their heads together. “Oh.”

“Makes sense, right?” she says firmly.

“It does.”

“So relax. You don’t have stage fright. You’re experiencing guilt. It’s fine. You’re honestly doing the best thing for everyone, because things would be much, much worse if everyone still thought I was cheating with you. The guilt is normal, but it’s not necessary. You’ll get over it eventually.”

“Right,” Wei Wuxian says. “That makes so much sense. Yeah, that’s—that’s definitely all it is, shit. Thanks, Qing-jie.”

“Any time,” she says, heaving a sigh that sounds as relieved as he feels. “Just remember—everything’s fine.”

“Everything’s fine,” he agrees.

He repeats that to himself often during the concert—every time he hangs off of Lan Wangji’s shoulders, every time he presses their lips and bodies together. He repeats it especially firmly when he introduces the new song, the one that’s unreleased and unrecorded and very much not run by Mianmian. He’d thought a couple times—it does sound like it could be about Lan Wangji, is the thing, but Wen Qing’s probably right about the fortune teller thing too. It sounds like it could be about Lan Wangji because he’s looking for those connections now.

And everyone else will be too, especially since he opens it by saying, “This is a new one! Our manager’s going to kill us for playing it for you, but the thing is, we couldn’t ever release it before because—well, because I wrote it, and I was worried it was going to be a little obvious.” The crowd cheers and he grins, doing his best to egg them on. “Lately I feel like all my lyrics are about a certain someone. What do you think, do you guys want to hear it?”

Everyone very much does, which might mitigate Mianmian’s all-consuming rage when they get backstage. And everyone wants to hear it because they believe in Wei Wuxian’s beautiful romance, so he does his best to sell it. He sings to Lan Wangji, winking at him and flirting as outrageously he can, and when it’s over, he throws his cittern to the side and just jumps him.

Lan Wangji responds instantly, kissing back with enough fervor that Wei Wuxian ends up bent backward and only resisting the call gravity because Lan Wangji is holding him up. Wei Wuxian loses himself in the sensation of it all at some point—loses time, loses track of what he’s feeling. Somehow, when he comes up for air, he’s laughing. He’s not sure when the anxiety—the guilt—turned into delight, but he can’t seem to stop smiling.

“So you liked the song,” he says, teasing.

Lan Wangji leans back in to bite at his bottom lip meanly. “Yes,” he says, and then, just loud enough to be caught by the mics they’re wearing, “I love all your music.”

And he means that, Wei Wuxian knows, so their weird, weird lives are more than worth it.

#hidden track #hidden track update #things i write #forablueeyedmiracle

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