#I'm behind. I need to work on stuff. Has been a rough week.

[twilightarcade]

They gave me mental illness because they knew I would be too powerful if I could function as a normal human being

[atinylittlepain]

Hiya! I love your writing so much it's amazing. Can I request Joel and Reader! smut? Maybe angry s3x? I loveeeee grumpy Joel. They would def be primal and rough and fast about it too...oof. I'm not too good at coming up with plotlines haha

Anyways thank you so much if you do! :3

oof, this was fun to write

gif by @tightjeansjavi

Menace

Joel Miller x f!reader

Joel Miller masterlist

When Joel refuses to join her at the bar, she has a good time by herself. But he just can't stay away.

warnings | 18+ SMUT, rough sex, little angst, little fluff, mostly just smut tho

...........................

If Joel were here right now, she knows he wouldn’t like the looks of things one bit. Not because she’s in any sort of danger, the only real danger at the Tipsy Bison is whatever that cheap grog is that they keep stewing in the back. No, what Joel wouldn’t like to see is her having a good time, for once, without him. And that’s exactly what she’s doing. 

It’s a Friday night in Jackson, a town in which she can actually enjoy the luxury of having a real Friday night after a long week of patrol shifts. Joel, in all his brooding glory, had rejected her invitation to go out to the bar, telling her that all he wanted was some “fucking peace and quiet.” She hadn’t let that get her down, though, scoffing at his petulant grumbles and heading out by herself. And she was having a damn good time too.

“Goddamn, girl. Giving me a run for my money.” She grins at the man, idly spinning her cue stick in her hands as she walks along the pool table. 

“You better shape up then, or you’re gonna owe me another drink.” The man throws his head back in a laugh at that, his eyes crinkling up as he looks at her. His name is Teddy, one of the younger men around town who also works patrol shifts. She had a shift with him earlier in the week, and he had been warm and welcoming to her, still pretty new to the swing of things. It doesn’t take a genius to see that he’s flirting with her, and she’s happy to play along for now, knowing she’s got her grump of a man waiting for her back home, probably snoring in bed already. Love is strange, but she is Joel’s and he is most certainly hers, and she wouldn’t have it any other way. But for now, a little banter with this sweet boy isn’t going to hurt anyone.

“Watch and learn, Teddy. I’m gonna show you how it’s done.” The man whistles low as she bends over the table, lining her cue stick up with her target. So what if she’s hamming it up a bit? Shimmying her hips and flicking her hair out of her face. A small crowd has gathered around the table to watch her smoke this kid, and she’s enjoying the feeling of letting loose after being tensed up for so long.

She moves cool and slick around the table, driving home her last three balls before setting her sights on the eightball. It looks like a tough shot, and she revels in her confidence that she can sink it, feeling Teddy’s eyes sweeping down the slope of her back as she arches over the table. There’s a hushed swell of laughter and a few whoops when she hits the eightball clean into a pocket, and she turns and shoots Teddy a crooked smile.

“Pay up, boy. I want the good stuff this time, top shelf only.” Teddy barks out another laugh, but it quickly dissolves as his eyes flit just behind her. She feels him before she sees him, the solid warmth of him pressing up behind her and a broad palm splaying over her shoulder. He’s certainly not snoring in bed.

“You’ll have to take a rain check, son. She’s needed at home right now.” The low rasp of his voice tells her all she needs to know. He saw her, and the little moves she was making, and now, Joel Miller is pissed.

She can see the bob of Teddy’s throat as he swallows, nodding jerkily. She winces at the crack in his voice when he says that’s alright, he’ll see her around. Joel may be a grump, but he’s also a scary grump when he wants to be, like right about now as he’s steering her out of the bar with his hand still on her shoulder.

“Putting on a little show for all them townsfolk, darlin?” His southern drawl always gets headier, slower, when he’s angry. It’s never a good sign when she starts having a hard time pulling his honey-thick words apart. But she refuses to let him intimidate her, huffing as they trudge through town toward their house.

“It was just a little fun, Joel. I know you’re not too familiar with the concept, but—”

“Oh, you’re wrong about that, darlin. Me and you? We’re about to have a whole lot of fun.” So it’s like that. She can’t help the excited shiver that runs up her spine at his words, heat already starting to lick at her core. She’s known him long enough to know that when Joel is pissed at her, it can only go one of two ways. Sometimes, he’ll shut down and sulk off, keeping his distance until he’s gotten some sense back in his body to come talk to her. But other times, his anger flirts over into a jagged lust, only simmering to cool when they’re both too sore to bitch at each other anymore, a heaving tangle of sweat and pleasure. And judging by the hard flush she can see peeking out of his shirt collar as they get home, she’d put money on this being one of those other times.

The instant the front door closes behind her, he’s pressing her back up against it, swallowing her gasp as he licks into her mouth. She presses her palms into his chest to try to get some space, but he’s immovable, dragging his lips down her neck and nudging the collar of her shirt out of the way to suck searing bruises into her collarbone. She tugs harshly at his hair to get him to finally take a breath.

“Hey, hey. What about Ellie?” 

“At Dina’s.” And with those few gruff, syllables, he’s back on her, shoving his jean-clad thigh between her legs and pressing up hard into her core, her hips immediately grinding down to seek any kind of relief to the quick-building heat blooming up her spine. 

“You’re something else, you know that? Saw you acting so tough, so cool down at the bar.” His words are a smear across her chest as he works the buttons of her shirt open, dipping down to mouth at the fabric of her bra the moment he gets access, her back arching up into his mouth as she lets out a long sigh of his name. He chuckles into her skin.

“None of them know how sweet you get like this, though. S’just for me, right?” She chokes on a breath as his hand wrenches down the front of her jeans, rough fingers swiping through the slick pooling between her folds. He drags his nose up her cheek as he works one, then two of his fingers into her, her knees buckling when he crooks his digits just so, her cunt clenching hard.

“Asked you a question, darlin. Who’s all this for, huh?” His fingers are pumping into her relentlessly, the squelching noise of each thrust embarrassingly lewd and loud. It’s all she can do to give him a response.

“You– it’s all for you– fuck– only for you– it’s– just you– please–” He laughs, the smug bastard, smearing a kiss to her temple as he continues to fuck her with his fingers, the heel of his palm digging just right into her clit.

“That’s right, baby. S’all for me. Think you can give me one just like this? C’mon, know you can. Be good for me. Just for me.” He doesn’t have to tell her twice, her cunt already spasming around his fingers as she lets out a broken cry, pleasure crashing over her in ebbs and flows as he fucks her through it. He finally relents when her preening whines turn into whimpers, pulling his hand away and sucking his fingers into his mouth as she slumps back against the door.

She’s a complete mess, her shirt hanging loosely off her arms, the cups of her bra shoved down to let her tits spill out, while Joel stands before her still fully clothed, a contrast that sets heat simmering in her belly all over again. She closes the gap between them this time, pressing in for a demanding kiss as she shrugs her shirt off the rest of the way, fumbling behind her back to snap the clasp of her bra open as well. Joel’s hands are on her right away, palming the swell of her tits before squeezing just harshly enough to make her gasp into his mouth, her fingers stuttering where she was working on the buttons of his shirt. He seems to get the hint, swatting her hands away from his half undone shirt and tugging it the rest of the way off by the collar. 

“I need you right now, darlin. Got me fucking aching here.” 

They’re a stumbling swirl of limbs as they fumble upstairs to their bedroom, banging into walls and slamming doors along the way. 

He gets her exactly where he wants her, on all fours at the end of the bed, and she yelps as he wrenches her jeans and panties down her thighs. She cranes her neck over her shoulder, catching a glimpse of him, his jeans rucked down just enough for him to free his cock as he fists himself over her, his other palm kneading the swell of her ass. He nudges his swollen tip through her folds and she shivers at the sensation, trying to press her hips back into him to get more of anything. Joel doesn’t seem to like that though, laying a harsh smack to her ass that makes her nearly jump out of his hold.

“Mind your manners, darlin. Don’t get greedy on me.” She huffs, trying to look back over her shoulder at him but he presses a rough palm between her shoulder blades, forcing her back to bow until she’s collapsing onto her arms, cheek smushed into the sheets. 

He presses into her with one hard thrust, his hips grinding into the plush of her ass as she lets out a broken cry.

“Fuck– always so tight for me– fucking made for me, huh?” She can’t respond to his breathless words, not with the brutal pace he’s setting, the sound of skin slapping echoing through the room as he pumps into her, his leaking tip hitting a spot inside her that has her mouth opening in a silent scream. Suddenly, he’s snaking his palm up her chest, pressing between her tits to pull her up until her back is snug against the warmth of his chest, his lips pressed hotly to the shell of her ear.

“Tell me you’re mine, darlin. Wanna hear you say it.” She lets out a low moan as his hand dips down, the rough pads of his fingers dragging across her clit. Meanwhile, he’s skirted his other palm up to her throat, curling his fingers lightly, a faint but firm pressure making her mind go hazy. 

“I’m yours– I’m all yours– please, I’m so close–” His thrusts are getting shorter, more of a deep grind up inside her that has her clenching hard around him.

“Want you to say my name when you come, darlin. Make a fucking mess– c’mon, that’s it.” It becomes too much all at once, and she finds herself letting out a panting sigh of his name as pleasure finally snaps inside her. His hands slacken where they had been holding her up and she collapses forward, resting her teary face in her arms as he fucks her through her high.

“So perfect for me, darlin– shit– just a little more, huh? Fucking close.” His hips start to stutter against hers, and she does her best to press back against him.

“Please, Joel– want it so bad– c’mon, baby, give it to me.” He lets out a low curse, pulling out and fisting himself once, twice, before he’s painting her ass with his spend. He lets out a hard breath before flopping down next to her on the bed, dragging a hand down his flushed face. She winces as she lets her legs splay out, slinking down onto her stomach. There will be bruises tomorrow, without a doubt. She crooks her face to the side to look at him, still panting, eyes scrunched closed.

“Feel better now?” He cracks one eye open, glancing at her before fully turning on his side to steal a kiss from her lips.

“Fucking menace. Yes, I feel better now.” With that, he flops onto his back again, crossing his arms behind his head. She shimmies over to rest her head on his chest, her chin propped up on his sternum so she can look at him. 

“You better get me cleaned up, Miller. Made a damn mess.” He huffs, bringing one hand down and smacking the curve of her ass, making her yelp in surprise. She tries to kiss away the all too smug grin on his face, but it’s still there when she pulls back.

“I will. But first, I gotta know. Where the hell did you learn to play pool like that?” She lets out an exasperated laugh at that.

“Come with me to the bar next Friday night and I’ll tell you.” A low grumble resounds through his chest, but he’s still smiling as he shakes his head at her.

“You’re on, darlin. I should warn you though. I’m gonna whoop your ass.”

“Looking forward to it, Miller.”

[bobafetts-princess]

Stranger and the Bear Pt2

Summary: Logan has literally tossed your ex out of the bar and taken you upstairs to your apartment. Sexy stuff follows 👀👀

Pairings: Logan Howlett x Fem!Reader

Word count: 2.3k

Warnings: Smut. Lots of it. Oral (both receiving). PiV. Condoms don’t exist on this blog (use them irl, pls). Hair pulling, Logan talks dirty. God I want him to blow my back out.

A/N: If you’ve seen this on ao3, I’m the same person! I have Logan brain rot 😩

Pt. 1 can be found here!

“Thank you, Logan. I really mean that.” You said, trying to interject as much appreciation into your voice as possible.

“There’s nothing you need to thank me for,” Logan said, glancing over at you. You finished your first beer, getting up off the couch again to get another. You heard the couch shift and heard Logan ask where the trash can was but when you turned to tell him, he was right there. Logan was close enough that you were almost chest to chest, the only time you’ve ever been thankful for a small kitchen. He’s tall, definitely taller than you, and when you glance up at him you can see the desire in his features. You aren’t sure which one of you makes the first move, you just know that one second he’s in front of you and the next second his lips are on yours. Their softness surprises you, but the way he grabs at your body is anything but soft.

“God, please tell me you want this,” he groans, his lips sucking at a soft spot on your neck. “I’ve wanted this for weeks,” he says, large hand cupping your ass.

“I want this. I’ve thought about this so many times over the past couple months.” You admit, gasping at the feel of his mouth on your skin. And you had, countless nights you’d envisioned what he’d be like in your bed. Would he be rough? You thought so. Would he be vocal? Definitely, you felt like. Was he dominant? Did he like to pull hair? You definitely felt like your questions were going to be answered soon and you couldn’t wait.

“Fuck, Bear. I’ve thought about this so many times. Do you understand how much I've wanted to bend you over the bar top?” He told you, running his hands up and down your sides, kissing you in between his words.

“Me too.” You admitted, hot at the fact that he thought about you in that matter.

“You’re gonna look so fuckin’ good stuffed with my cock.” He said and his words made something hot shoot through your body as his hands worked their way into your hair, pulling your body against his. Vocal was definitely a yes. His lips seal over yours and you lean into him, hands on his strong shoulders.

“Fuck Bear,” He grunts, breaking the kiss to work his way down your neck. Suddenly, his hands grasp under your ass, lifting you and settling your core against his hardening length. You gasp, arching, and his lips find a sweet spot on your collarbone, making you groan. He walks through your apartment, but his legs were so long and your apartment was so small that it only took him four large strides to make it from the refrigerator to the bed where he laid you down. Your legs were still hooked around his hips, but he stood as straight as he could and looked down at you. His hand cupped your cheek and he slid it around to grasp your neck. "I'm gonna fuck you so good tonight." He promises and you shiver, grinding down on his cock through your combined sets of jeans.

His hands reach behind his back and unlock your legs from his hips, placing your feet on the floor. You whimpered at the loss of contact but Logan chided you.

“I gotta get these off, you impatient brat.” He said, his tone affectionate. He undoes the button on your jeans with a flick of his wrist. “And this,” He says, shifting the material of your top up. “As much as I love it, it’s gotta come off for all the things I’ve got planned for you.” His promises make you pant with need and excitement. His strong hands pull your jeans down your legs, admiring the little pink panties you had on. His fingers tug at the little bow on the front before his attention switches and he’s taking your top and bra off.

“God,” he says, cupping your breasts. “They’re as perfect as I thought they would be,” you flush and gasp when his rough fingers find your nipples and pinch. He takes his time worshipping your body, finding all the spots that made you arch, groan and let out breathy moans tainted with his name. His mouth works across your body, sucking on some spots and nibbling on others. His hands cup your breasts, his teeth pulling at your nipples and you found yourself already heading towards the edge. His hands finally work their way into your panties, covering the tips of his fingers with your slick before moving up to circle your clit. You gasp his name and he pulls back from your breast to look at you. “Can I take these off?” You nod and he strips you of them as he drops to his knees.

“What a pretty pussy,” he whispers, almost to himself as he presses two fingers inside you and It feels so good that you can’t even get a full sentence out. You need more but your words are stuck in your throat.

“Please,” you choke out, making Logan’s ears prick.

“Ask me again.” He demands.

“Please. Please more,” you tell him, voice stronger. His other hand comes down to touch your clit and you cry out his name.

“You like that, baby?”

“Fuck. Yes Logan.” You tell him, rocking your hips down on his fingers at a steady pace. He lets you take what you need, keeping the pressure steady. Fuck, you’re so close to the edge but you need something more. You don’t even have the chance to ask for more because Logan senses it. He shifts so one hand is inside you, one hand is pulling at your nipple, and then he leans down to give your pretty, neglected clit some attention.

“You’re going to taste so good,” he says before he leans down to get a taste. He groans before increasing his pace, pushing you closer and closer to the edge until you can’t hold off any longer. “Cum for me,” he tells you, “please,” and it’s his need to see you get off that finally pushes you over the edge. He works you through it, talking to you the entire time but everything sounds like you’re underwater so you couldn’t recall what he said even if you tried.

“Fuck.” He says once your breathing returns to normal, “you look so pretty when you come.” He kisses his way up your body before reaching your lips, this kiss full of passion and need. His clothes are still on and you make it a personal mission to get them off. You push the jacket down his shoulders, refusing to break the kiss. You toss it in a corner of the room before lowering your hands to work his belt buckle and jeans.

You get the belt off and the button popped, using your toes to get his jeans pushed down his well muscled thighs. He steps out of them, kiss becoming more rough and needy as he does. You slide your body off the bed, breaking the kiss, but when your hands go to pull off his underwear, you’re surprised to find he isn’t wearing any. He smirks at you then his pulls his white tank off, leaving him completely naked. You take a moment to enjoy the view, his hairy and well muscled body standing before you. You move and take Logan’s cock in your hand. He hisses through his teeth at your touch, his muscles rippling with restraint. He was thick. Thick thick. Not uncomfortably long, but definitely big enough to stuff you full. You take his head into your mouth, swallowing him down. His hands dig into your hair, the slight tug sending jolts down to your pussy.

“Ah. Fuck.” He grunts as you wrap your hands around him, swallowing his thickness inch by inch. “Fuck. That mouth is as good as I imagined.” He tells you, spurring you on. The hands surrounding him worked what you couldn’t fit in your mouth, eliciting more moans from him. You did your best to deep-throat him, going until you gagged. You started a good pace, taking as much of him in as you could, his hands in your hair encouraging you along. The longer you sucked, the rougher he got, pushing and pulling for you instead of with you. You loved it though, it turned you on. You let go, allowing Logan to work your mouth up and down his cock, hands stroking what you couldn’t fit. His grunts and growls became louder and louder as he raced towards his end but before you knew it, he was pulling you off. He grabs you by the elbow, roughly but carefully, and tosses you face down on the bed.

“As fuckin’ amazing as that mouth is, I wanna come inside this.” He said, two finger stroking down your pussy before plunging inside. He thrust into you roughly and you meet him stroke for stroke until he pulls out. You whined, close, but the head of his cock lined up with your entrance instead.


"Don't worry princess, you'll be full in jus' a second." He begins pushing inside, the stretch deliciously painful, Logan taking it slow so he doesn’t hurt you. He feeds you inch by inch until he bottoms out with a feral grunt.

“Fuck. Bear. This pussy will be the death of me.” He tells you, hand finding your hair and pulling you backward, asking if you were okay. When you tell him that you’re fine, you like it, he pulls a little harder. Your back arches, and he starts a rough pace, the angle allowing him deep with each thrust. You’re so keyed up already that it doesn’t take you long to reach the edge again. You reach between your legs to circle your clit, clamping down on Logan’s cock as the pleasure shoots through your body. “Fuck,” he grunts, “that’s right baby girl, touch your pretty pussy for me. I want to know what it feels like when you come all over my cock.” His words send you spiraling and you come again, crying out Logan’s name as you do.

When you come down, he let go of your hair and lets you fall naturally onto the bed, his hands digging into your hips as he holds you in place. He’s giving it to you, snarling his pleasure as he thrusts in and out of your ‘sweet pussy’ (his words).

Eventually he pulls out, flipping you over onto your back and sliding back in. One hand finds your breasts, pinching and pulling your nipples while the other finds the back of your neck, holding you in place so that he can kiss you as he fucks you. Your hands found his wrist instinctually, but you weren’t worried, you had a feeling that your stranger, your Logan, would never hurt you. His breathing is heavy in your ear as he sucks an earlobe into his mouth, biting down on the sensitive skin. It makes you gasp and tug at the hairs on the back of his neck, where your own hand was. His hips sputtered, his consistent pace breaking and you knew he was close. You fluttered your walls around him, and the hand that was around your neck moves to stroke your clit instead. You come undone for a third time, screaming your pleasure as you squeeze around him.

“Can I come inside you? Do you want me to pull out?” He asks and you think you’ll die if you don’t feel him coming inside you. So you tell him to come inside you and he groans, dropping his head to the curve of your shoulder.

He buries himself to the hilt and lets out an animalistic snarl as he reaches his end. His upper body collapses onto yours, his heavy build a nice pressure to ground you. He lays there for a moment, slowing his breathing until it was normal. He wraps both arms around your lower back, lifting the both of you as he locks his lips with yours. He starts the short walk to the bathroom and you wish it was longer because the man could KISS. He fumbles around the sink, grabbing the washcloth on the edge and running it under warm water, kiss never breaking and Logan never setting you down. He walks out of the bathroom, but turns, pressing your back up against the wall. He was still hard and you were still wet, so he slipped in easily and thrust lazily into you, never breaking the kiss.

“Fuck. This pussy is so good.” He says, thrusts becoming stronger and deeper as he finally broke the kiss. “I’m sensitive. I won’t last long.” He admits, teeth catching the shell of your ear as another orgasm built inside you.

“Me too.” Was all you could manage. His fingers plucked at your nipples and his teeth nibbled around where your shoulders and neck met. His thumb circles your clit, his thrusts hard and rough now, his hips moving at a relentless pace. Your orgasm hits with a vengeance and you clench hard against him, triggering his own orgasm. He roars, driving himself upwards and biting down on your shoulder, harder than any bite before this but god, it feels so good. Sated, he walks back to your bed, but he’s more exhausted than he’s letting on because once he lays you down gently, he collapses next to you.

“You okay?” He asks and your hand cups his cheek as he rolls to face you.

“I’m great,” you smile. “How about you?”

“Never been better,” and you get the feeling he’s being completely honest. After a few moments he takes the washcloth and wipes you clean, then himself and tosses it into the hamper.

He settles back in next to you, the both of you naked but Logan is warm and his natural heat wraps around you as he does. It doesn’t take long for the exhaustion to hit you and once Logan covers you up with the blankets, you’re quick to fall asleep. Logan, for the first time in years, sleeps soundly next to another human being.

[d0rothydraws]

Plus size reader has been sick and busy for the last 2 weeks. Sylus has also been busy, resorting in them not having sex for that time. Then, you feel better one day.

content: f!reader, plus size reader, description of fat bodies, very body positive, oral f! receiving, teasing, smut

w/c: 2.4k

Ao3: Here

a/n: I had an idea and it turned into this which was NOT my idea but I hope you enjoy it anyways. I want to write more plus size content as a big girlie myself I need to make my own food for this community.

also i'll be posting less because I'm starting a new job but I'll try to post now and then but also i'm going to try and write a bunch of prompts and oneshots for kinktober so if i do write stuff, I might just be saving it for october.

if theres anything you want to see with any of the boys for kinktober, send me an ask or comment and i'll make a list. I'll write pretty much anything.

You and Sylus have been busy as of late. Meetings, work, other obligations that left you tired. On top of that, for the last week you've been fighting off a cold. So, reluctantly much to the both of you, you had not had sex for two weeks; which for you two, two weeks ago seemed impossible. Two weeks ago it seemed like every few hours you were being dragged away, pulled onto his lap, lifted onto the counter, in the shower, against the door. Everywhere, anytime.

Of course you both were pent up, but your relationship was more than sex. You enjoyed each others company, and he would hold you close no mater how worried you were about getting him sick. He would kiss your forehead, his touch gentle and caring as you waited until you recovered. You swore you drank a years worth of orange juice which, in turn, upset your stomach more. He would tease you about wanting to get better so quickly, that he enjoyed taking care of you. But you knew he was just as eager as you.

So when you woke up one night you noticed how you felt imminently.

The feeling in your throat, gone. The weight behind your eyes, gone. The soreness in your stomach, gone. It was like you were a new person. As you sat up in the bed, knowing Sylus was still awake, probably in the attic watching a movie, your heart raced. You already felt the excitement build inside you as you just thought about what the next couple hours would consist of.

You changed clothes, your frumpy baggy night clothes replaced with a thin tank top that left nothing to the imagination. The curve of your soft stomach poked out slightly through the bottom of the fabric. Shorts replacing the thick pajama pants you've been wearing for two weeks straight. You looked at yourself in the mirror, pleased at the display. You weren't shy about your body. Not anymore, not worth him. He told you time and time again how your curves drove him wild, how his hands would sink into your body. The way your thighs touched and shook as you walked. You caught him looking more than a couple times. And now, with everything on display, your mission had begun.

Making your way up the stairs to the attic you didn't try to be quiet. You knew he would be able to hear you, anyways, you wanted him to see you. As you immerged, the room was dark. Sylus preferred to use a projector, the white canvas stretching the entirety of the wall beside the door. And in an instant, his eyes were on you. The red piercing the darkness more than the projector light did. You didn't hesitate or falter though as you walked right past him to the little bar that was behind the couch.

"What's got you all dressed down, kitten. Did you get too hot?" He said the concern clear in his voice but also, there was a roughness that he's been holding back for weeks present. You felt the sound make your head spin.

"Yeah, I got another hot flash." You said moving to grab a bottle of water that you knew you weren't going to drink, but you wanted to catch him off guard. "What are you watching?" You asked as you moved to stand behind the couch. You could nearly see the hair on the back of his head prickle at your presence. Before he could answer you leaned down, your lips pressing against his ear. Your voice low, your chest pressed against the edge of the couch, against his back as he felt your soft body against him making his breath hitch. "I don't think I seen this one before."

You felt his body tense against you, his hand on his drink tensed as your hand moved over his chest, feeling his muscles flex under his sweat shirt. He turned his head trying to look at you, but in turn, you took advantage, pushing your lips against his now exposed neck. What you didn't expect, was for him to moan.

"I thought you were still sick, sweetie." He said with an edge to his voice as he tried to not let his emotions get the better of him. But you both knew he was more sensitive than what he wanted you to believe. As he felt your teeth graze his neck, you moved back up to his ear, catching the lobe softly with your tongue.

"I was. And now I'm not." You said matter-of-factly, leaning more over the couch so he could feel your chest on the back of his neck. Sylus moved his hand, trying to touch you, any part of you before you moved away, circling the couch. You stood Infront of him, your body casting a shadow on the movie. His eyes raked down your body, his cheeks having a faint red glow. Slowly you walked over to him, your thighs trapping him against the couch. You sat back on him, watching his throat constrict slightly as his hand touched the soft curve on your side.

"You look very appetizing right now." He said with a groan, feeling your body in his hands, his cock twitching under your ass that was barely covered by your shorts. "Are you sure you're feeling better. If we start it will be hard for me to stop especially when you look like this." He said, his breath heavy as his hands moved to your love handles, the soft dough like area melting under his fingers as he started to sink his fingers more into you. His hands kneading your body as his cock twitched again. You pressed against him, your stomach and chest soft against his hard one, filling the space between your two bodies.

"Aw are you saying I'm cute? I could say the same about you." You teased as your own hands moved to the hem of his shirt. He helped you, taking his hands off you just long enough to let you pull it over his head and toss it to the side of the couch. His eyes narrowed at your comment but he smirked softly, enjoying the hunger in your eyes as you looked at his body. His muscles flexed, so defined, strong. And yours on top of him. Soft, more curves than he could hold in one hand and just as sexy as him. You complimented each other.

"Oh darling you're much more than cute" He purred, his hands on you again as he trailed down your curves to grasp the side of your thigh. His other hand moved to the top of your tank top, pulling it down more and more until it ripped. He watched as your chest was slowly revealed more as he stretched out the already thin shirt. The sight made his mouth water. You shivered, watching as your chest shook softly from the fabric ripping, the rest of your shirt falling off of your shoulders. You teased him, using your arms to press your tits together, shaking them slightly. You seen a spark flash in his eye before his head pressed into the cleavage.

His eyes looked up at you as you moaned, feeling his tongue lick at one nipple a your other nipple as being pinched and played with by his fingers. You ground your hips against him, moaning as you felt him bite your nipple as if giving a warning. That didn't stop you from doing it again though. And this time, he ground back. Slow, and steady. He pulled his mouth away from you, a long string of saliva attaching him to your nipple before it broke.

Your hands moved to his chest, the palms brushing over the skin as you ground again, his hands moving to your hips, holding you still. In seconds, you felt the couch against your back, one leg hanging off of the couch due to the width of your thighs, but it only made his job easier since you were practically on display for him.

His hands moved over your body, body caging you in as he left no inch left untouched and un-kissed. He started at your neck, peppering kisses as he licked down between your chest, his hands returning for a second before he continued lower. He kissed down your stomach, taking extra time for his hands to play with you some more. To feel your weight in his hands, how your body was so soft against his. His hands weren't shy about any rolls you had, or extra softness. If anything he took his time to appreciate every curve, his hands and fingers making your dizzy as he slowly reached the top of your shorts.

His hands slipped under the band of your shorts, pulling them down to find the lack of underwear. He chuckled, trailing kisses down your soft thighs, nipping the inside gently as he felt you twitch and shiver from his touch.

"No panties? What a naughty kitten." He purred as he licked the inside of your thigh again, his other hand pulling the one that was hanging off the couch to rest on his shoulder. Before you could answer, his face was between your thighs. He had the hunger of a man that hadn't eaten in weeks. And in a way, he hadn't. One hand moved to grope your stomach, fingers squeezing and kneading the softness you had as his tongue pushed inside you. He moaned, breath heavy as you clenched around his tongue, pulling your hips closer, forcing his tongue deeper.

"You taste sweeter than I remember. All of that orange juice might have had something to do with it." He growled, pulling back for a moment as you gasped for breath at the sudden stop. You looked at him, the sight of his face covered in your juices, how he licked his lips. His free hand moved between your thighs, gently pushing two fingers in at once. Your body arched, eyes rolling back as he moved his mouth back to meet his hand. His lips moving to suck and lick your clit until you were shaking and begging him to not stop. As you came on his fingers, he licked you clean, not wasting a single drop as he pulled away, purring softly. "Delicious." He said, his voice heavy with arousal.

As you caught your breath, he moved off of the couch, discarding his pants and boxers. You looked at him, moaning softly as you felt heat flood your body at the sight of his thick dripping cock. It had been 2 weeks since you took him, and a thrill went through your body as you wondered how he would feel after so long. A hand moved to his cock as he rubbed himself, walking to you. His eyes raking over your body. You moved one leg over the back of the couch as if to draw him in more, if that was even possible.

As he repositioned over you, he kissed you slowly. You moaned as you tasted yourself on him, kissing back. A hand moved to your cheek as his thumb trailed your jaw. After a moment he pulled back, his voice earnest and soft.

"It's been a while, so I'll start slow." He said as he rubbed the tip of his cock against your wetness, coating himself slightly. You gave a soft nod, your heart fluttering at his sincerity before he started to push in.

Your body went numb. Your cheeks flushed as your mouth opened. every nerve in your body contracted at the feeling. Pure pleasure and some pain as you felt your body stretch. He did move slow, but the moans he made, the grunts as you clenched around him, it made it hard for the both of you. You knew he was big, you've fucked more times than you could count. But in your abstinence, your body forgot.

"God, Sylus." You moaned, a hand curling in his hair, another clawing his arm. "You feel bigger than I remember." You gasped out, nails digging into him which made him rut slightly, pushing more into you as you cried out.

"Oh, sweetie. I'm almost offended. But I suppose it's more of a happy surprise." He said with a chuckle before he bottomed out. Your head was empty, the only thing that felt empty if you were honest. The only thought was him. How full he made you feel. How deep he was, how much he stretched you as you shook around him. No wonder you fucked him several times a day, his cock was like a drug. A drug made for you and you alone.

As he started to move his hands grabbed your love handles, fingers sinking into the flesh as he pulled you closer. Your body jiggled with each thrust, your chest bouncing, thighs wobbling, stomach shaking. Sylus growled softly, his eyes darkening at the sight as his thrusts got rougher as if to see how much he could make your body bounce from his cock.

Soon, you felt his hips start to stutter. One of his hands moved to between your thighs, thumb working the hard little nub that was begging to be touched. As he felt you clench around him, moaning and clawing his arm which was definitely going to leave a mark, he felt how close you were. Your moans getting louder, your cries getting higher pitched as your face grew more red, legs shaking around him.

"You look so good like this under me." He said, his voice heavy with need as he continued his movement. His comment pushed you over the edge, your body shaking with pleasure as your orgasm hit you like a wave. You gasped out his name, hand falling off of his arm. Seconds later he followed after you, groaning as he painted the inside of your walls with his thick cum. He continued to pump into you, slower as he released, riding it out. Your eyes rolled as you whimpered. Had he not came this whole time? There was so much. You shivered as you felt your body get aroused again, feeling how much he was filling you before finally pulling out, his cock still half half. He panted, leaning over you as he put one arm on the couch arm rest.

Kissing you slowly, he brought his other hand to your face, holding you firmly. There was heat behind the kiss. His body still burning with that need for you.

"I hope you're not tired." He said against your lips, his hands moving to rub the expanse of your thighs. "Because we have to make up for lost time."

[thirsty4villains]

Cool Heat

Summary: You're an assistant for the Avengers. Loki has been hiding up in his room for the past week. You go to check on him and he's reverted back to his Jotun form, but he's not quite himself. The two of you discover that Jotuns go into cycles of heat, and Loki hasn't been in his Jotun form for over a millennia...

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Mentions of dubcon

Tags: Loki lives in Stark Tower with the Avengers, PIV, smut, humor, romance, Jotun!Loki, dom!Loki, spanking, more tags to be added

Find me on AO3, Wattpad. Previous chapters/other Loki fics on Tumblr by me here.

Notes: THANK YOU GUYS FOR BEING SO PATIENT, I'm sorry this chapter took so long to roll out. Real life stuff, I hope y'all understand. Please enjoy!

Tagged users: @nyxxharmonia @mischief2sarawr @drunkbirdbug @lorelibrarianlizbit @strawberry--fawn @thenotoriouserg @hereforsmutbcicantgetenough @salvinaa @bellajg21 lorielulu7 

CHAPTER 4

You woke up feeling more rested than you did most mornings. If you knew Loki was this good at sex you may have hit him up earlier. Asshole or no, he knew what he was doing. Last night’s events replayed in your head repeatedly: your dream that wasn’t a dream, your conversation, and ultimately the conclusion. They spun around in your head as you tried to assess because it was hard to believe that you had sex with Loki. You also wondered, was it wrong that you weren’t angry at him for having sex while you were unconscious? It definitely wasn’t right of him, but you’d been feeling so lonely and horny – horny for him – that you didn’t care. You quite enjoyed it, actually.

After mulling these thoughts, you took a shower, got dressed, and threw the sheets in the washer. It was nearing 11:00 am on a Tuesday. Shit, you were supposed to submit some reports to Coulson by nine!

You ran to the elevator and went back up to the penthouse. Gathering your paperwork and opening your laptop, you opened up the S.H.I.E.L.D. database and began uploading the work you should have submitted two hours ago. Thankfully, there were no text messages, emails in your inbox, or missed calls on your phone, so Coulson must be preoccupied this morning. Hopefully he wouldn’t notice the time stamp that read 11:28am.

In this moment you were eternally grateful the majority of your work was remote because if you came into S.H.I.E.L.D. headquarters three hours late because you slept in, Fury would have your head.

With that problem finished, you went to check on Loki. Back down in the bedroom areas, you stood in the hallway and knocked on his bedroom door. A sense of deja vu swept over you.

“Come in,” the god’s voice said behind the door.

The knob turned and you entered Loki’s room. He sat on his bed, staring at the wall opposite him. He seemed not all there.

“Loki?” you asked. “How are you feeling?”

“Not worse, but not better, either.”

“So you’re still..?”

“Still enormously frustrated sexually? Yes.”

A wave of insecurity washed over you. “It wasn’t… bad, was it?”

He shook his head. “Quite the contrary, it was exactly what I needed. I felt better, instantly. But it came back as soon as I awoke this morning. The fundamental issue I am facing, however, is this dreaded blue color – and these horns. I cannot will this form away with magic no matter how hard I try.”

You apologized for his state.

“Are you not disgusted by me?” the god asked. “After last night?”

“I already told you that it’s okay, you weren’t yourself,” you said.

“I also meant… after.”

“Like, the actual sex?”

He nodded.

“Are you not disgusted by this brutish, carnal form? How rough I was with you. These horns… these claws…” He sneered after looking at his own nails.

“No.” You blushed. “It was really hot, actually.”

For the first time in days, he laughed an actual, genuine laugh. “Sincerely? You human women are so strange. No Asgardian woman in their right mind would bed a Jotun.”

“Their loss,” you said.

He furrowed his eyebrow at you but also, perhaps there was a hint of a smile?

“No matter, my predicament is… URGH!”

Out of nowhere, Loki curled his right hand into a fist and punched the wall. Little pieces of drywall flew outward. Loki retracted his hand and a fist-sized hole was left behind in its wake. He dusted off a thin layer of powder from his knuckles.

You jumped back. “What was that?!”

Loki’s shoulders heaved. “I don’t know! That’s the problem! I don’t know. I have no clue why this is happening now, and why it’s so drastic. I get these changes in mood, like I’m nothing but an adolescent again who cannot even master his own emotions. I feel virile yet emasculated. We had intercourse, so why was it not enough?”

He punched the wall a second time. With gritted teeth and labored breaths he stared at it and you were unsure if the god was lost in thought or would lose his temper entirely. You watched his pecs and the dark blue ridges upon his body move up and down with his breaths. His lean arms, the biceps on them; those horns, those eyes…

Okay, snap back to reality. Loki’s having a crisis. Sex is the only thing that made him feel himself again, even if it was just for a few hours. Like he said, he was in heat; maybe just one go isn’t enough to get the job done.

“Well, we know what we have to do, then.” You outstretched your arms, offering yourself.

He turned from the wall. “What are you –”

“What position do you want me in, Loki?” You interrupted, asserting yourself. You fought the blush creeping up your cheeks. “On my back? On my side? Do you want me to blow you first? Pick one. You want to fix this, right?”

Loki stood there in shock; examining your face, your body language. Or was he checking you out? He dropped his fist that was prepping to punch the wall and his lips stretched into a devious grin.

“On the bed, all fours.”

“Now we’re getting somewhere,” you replied.

Stripping yourself of your clothes, you approached his bed, staying in the crawling position upon his mattress.

To your side he stripped as well, and he was already rock hard. That blueish purple cock sprang from his pants, rearing to go. He climbed onto the bed behind you, examining your backside. You jolted forward as his cold hands touched your thighs. You’d forgotten how cold he felt. His icy fingers traced the smooth skin of your legs.

Then out of nowhere, he spanked you. A cold, red handprint decorated your bottom.

You gave a small screech, jolting forward again – both from the low temperature and the sudden smack.

“You like that?” he asked.

“Mm-hmm,” you muttered, nodding.

Another smack, and this next screech was mixed with a moan.

“Your assertiveness was quite endearing, but remember your tone when speaking to your king.”

He spanked your ass again.

“My – my king?” you asked.

“Yes, your king. Did I not mention to you the other day that I was kept as a bargain by Odin? I wasn’t any Jotun child, I was Laufey’s son, the king of the Jotuns.”

Another spanking. You felt yourself grow wet amidst the pain.

“N – no, you didn’t mention that part.”

“Though I failed to conquer Earth, and Thor is the first heir to Asgard, since Laufey is dead I am still a king in my own right – of Jotunheim.”

“Oh. I’m sorry, my king.”

He gave you one last spanking, a lighter smack, a playful one. “I forgive you,” he said, lowering himself over your back, so his lips could graze your ear. He placed his hands on your butt, to soothe the irritated skin. The iciness felt good but you also squirmed due to your skin being so sensitive there.

With his new position, his cock rested against your cunt. You prevented yourself from lurching forward. He rubbed the cold member against your lips.

“Now your king shall claim what is his.”

Without further warning, Loki penetrated your opening, sinking completely within you. His chilly member made you clench around him. You gasped as you acclimated to him. Oh god, he was big. You didn’t know how you could forget since the last time you fucked him was literally hours ago, yet you were still in awe. His cool, dextrous fingers brushed your hips, finding the perfect place to grip in order to rail you. Then, he moved within you, and you already felt your juices coating him and your own thighs. Completely at his mercy, you allowed him to take all of you, as you kneeled on the bed, all fours, like an animal. He slipped in and out of your cunt at a deliciously fast pace, hitting the right spot every time. Your arms barely kept upright as you tried to keep up the weight of yourself and your balance as the god of mischief rocked your body.

While fucking you, Loki removed one hand from your hip to grasp your hair and tugged. Your head tilted backward so that you were forced to look straight forward instead of below. On one hand you could count how many times you were in Loki’s room, and you didn’t realize until now that he had a mirror mounted above the bed frame, so when he pulled your hair you were forced to look at the scene. You, your tits hanging, on hands and knees, and the blue god of mischief with one hand fisted in your hair and his cock taking you for all you’re worth. His mouth flashed a devious smile as your eyes connected through the mirror, and his red eyes gleamed of hunger and dominance. He tightened his fist in your hair and spoke.

“Enjoying the view?”

In your pleasure you found it difficult to form words.

He spanked your ass. The combination of that, your hair, the view ahead, and your cunt sent sparks through your body. A high-pitched moan escaped your lips.

“I asked you a question.”

Your legs quaked like jello, but you managed to say: “Yes!”

The light in the god’s eyes danced. Another smile graced his face, “Good.” 

He released your hair. Your head fell forward again, your arms collapsed underneath you, and now your face was buried in the mattress. With nothing but your ass in the air, Loki continued to drive into your pussy, chuckling at the state of you; tired, splayed out, and completely surrendered to him. He gave another playful spanking on your behind.

You gathered the blankets underneath, balling them in your fists as Loki delivered your pleasure unto you. All you could do was hold on, listen to the sounds of his hips slapping your skin and the wet noises of furious lovemaking, and praise his body into the bed. Your legs, before jello, were now an autumn leaf shaking in the wind and you knew you were so close. Loki dug his claws into your hips, claiming you once again and you were gone. Shouting into the blankets, your cunt tensed before finally releasing, and you climaxed on the god’s cold, pulsing cock; riding the waves and yet somehow keeping your ass in the air.

Your climax, however, was the catalyst for his own and Loki burst within you, sending a final few thrusts into your hole. He filled you again, uttering his own release to the heavens. Then you both collapsed onto the bed.

When he found the strength to roll off you, you excused yourself to his bathroom to clean up. After that, as well as re-brushing your hair and getting dressed, you entered his bedroom again to find him on the bed reading a book. Loki was still naked as the day he was born. One long, lean blue leg was crossed over the other as he lay back. Your eyes traced the ridges of his Jotun form up along his toned body, then up his face and ending at the curve of his horns. His eyelashes fluttered against his ruby-red eyes. How in the world did he see himself ugly in this form?

You spoke up: “It’s getting close to afternoon. I’m gonna make breakfast. Want anything?”

Loki looked up from his book and nodded. “Yes, I’ll be up in a minute. I’ll have whatever you are having.”

“Cool,” you said, returning upstairs to the penthouse.

In the kitchen you pulled out the cookware and ingredients to make scrambled eggs and hash browns. The items sizzled on the pans, filling the kitchen with the aroma of eggs, potatoes, and spices. Your stomach growled in approval and restlessness. Loki joined shortly behind you, now clothed in his usual garb of black and green. His horns stood high and mighty, even regal, atop his head, cutting through the air.

“This is the first time I have been out in this state at midday in nearly a fortnight,” Loki remarked. He looked around the room, almost as if he’d forgotten what it looked like bathed in noon’s light. 

“That’s rough. I’m sorry,” you said. “How do you feel now?”

“Better – much. I had thought I would need intercourse once and this would go away. Now, I am not so sure. I am hoping… soon.”

You nodded. “Yeah, especially since we don’t know when the others will come back from that mission, and if you’re still ‘sick’,” you airquoted. “...by the time they get back, I’m pretty sure they’re going to start getting nosy, maybe even suspicious.”

Loki growled, not enthused by that thought. A slight tingle tickled your southern area. Instantly, you wondered: were you an asshole for being attracted to his irritability? It’s not like you meant to, but the growling was, well…

“Do you need help with the cooking?” Loki said, interrupting your thoughts.

“Yes, thank you.” Good distraction from that moral dilemma. Thank you, Loki. “Actually, could you help clean up? Put some of the things away for me while I watch the stove?”

The god nodded and proceeded to help with his tasks. Cabinets were opened and closed as he put the spices away, he went and washed the silverware you weren’t using anymore, and threw the eggshells and other trash in the garbage. The food would be ready in just a few minutes.

The kitchen grew quiet again when he finished. So quiet, you thought he may have slinked off somewhere – to the bathroom or something. Until you felt a pair of hands on your hips.

“And you are well after our encounters?” he asked, his voice low and husky. His cool breath tickled your ear. 

One of his hands moved lower, cupping your ass slightly. A jolt of electricity flowed through you. He had you pinned between his front and the kitchen counter.

“The eggs,” you said in protest. 

“What about the eggs?” he quipped, squeezing you lightly.

“They’ll burn. Don’t distract me.”

“Then don’t get distracted.”

Loki proceeded to move his other hand to your other ass cheek, kneading both hands on your behind through your shorts. His mouth lowered closer to you, gliding his cold tongue against your neck. The hairs on your arms stood on their ends, goosebumps budding. The god licked slowly, deliberately. You shivered and Loki chuckled lightly against your skin. He bared his teeth -- his fangs -- and grazed the points over your carotid.

You tried to pay attention to the cooking food; flipping over the eggs, watching the potatoes, adjusting the heat as necessary. However, you were facing much difficulty ignoring the rising heat within your body.

Loki switched between teeth and tongue, lapping and nipping at your neck. You gasped when he bit your earlobe, smoothing over the pain with another lick. One of his hands moved to your front, sneaking underneath your shorts and underwear to play with you. His fingers toyed with your slit, wetting them in your slick and using his lubricated digits to circle your clit. You did your best to not lurch into the hot stove with his cold hands pleasuring you. Your hands gripped the handle on the oven as you moaned aloud.

“I told you not to get distracted,” the god teased. You opened your eyes – which you didn’t realize you’d even closed and quickly removed the eggs from the heat. The ends browned a bit, but they were nowhere close to burned; just a bit more cooked than you’d like them to be.

Your hands returned to the oven’s door handle, bracing yourself so your legs wouldn’t give in. Loki teased you mercilessly: one hand on your ass, the other playing with your clit, and his mouth, tongue, and lips attacking your neck and ear. You could already feel the hickey forming.

“Turn your head toward me,” the god urged.

You did, and met his gaze. He stole a kiss, deep and wanton, and cold; deliciously and illicitly cold. As you kissed, you realized this was your first one with him. A bit backwards, given you’d had sex twice before even kissing, but not unwanted. No, not unwanted at all. His kiss made you lightheaded and shivery, especially as he dove his tongue into your mouth. All this while he massaged your clit, soft and engorged and wet.

When the kiss broke, you took the hash browns off the heat too. “It’s hard to not get distracted when I can’t even see what’s in front of me.”

“Well, there’s no more distracting then, given the food’s done.”

“Mm-hmm.”

Without a moment’s hesitation, Loki yanked your shorts and underwear down your legs. They pooled at your ankles. He barely gave you any time to shake them off before parting your legs for him, exposing your opening for him, and he entered you swiftly. You gave a choked sound as you adjusted to him, his thick, chilly, irresistible cock planted within you. His hands moved; one on hip and the other under your shirt to pinch your nipples.

“I thought you were good,” you croaked.

“Oh, I’m more than good now,” Loki uttered as he began to move within you.

“I mean… We just fucked… not even twenty minutes ago, and already… Mmmf.” You bit your lip as he hit that sweet spot within you.

“What can I say? I finished cleaning up, then I began watching you. Your shorts barely covering your ass, accentuating your thighs, how your hair cascades down your shoulders. Something like a switch flipped inside me. I had to have you. You won’t deny me now, surely?”

“N – no.” Your thighs pressed together and your eyes shut closed. With anyone else this would be too much, but with him you didn’t find yourself growing tired, nor sore, nor overstimulated. Something about Loki, his touch, his voice made you want his sex just as much as he required it for his sanity.

So he fucked you there, on the kitchen counter, in front of the stove. The god of mischief thrusted into you, his chest pressed against your back. The chill of his skin radiated from his chest through your shirt, and of course his cold hands on your breasts and cock buried inside you aroused your senses and your attention. He drove his cock upward, and the best you could do was hold on for dear life as he fucked his divine jotun lechery into you. As they did when you were taken from behind, your thighs shook, your pussy clenched, and with a snap Loki spilled his frigid seed into you. His fingernails dug into your hips and teeth sunk into your neck as he completed his final thrusts, filling you with his load.

The two of you took a moment to catch your breaths. His chest rose and fell against your back, his wintry breath panting upon your skin. When he removed himself, a wet plop noise sounded as his cock exited you. His seed within you trickled down your legs, droplets of him dripping onto the tile floor. You moaned impatiently upon his removal, as you were still flushed with arousal. 

“Patience, woman,” the god spoke. “I am not yet done.”

Without warning, he grabbed you and moved you to an empty space on the counter. Placing you with your back against the granite, he lined his still erect cock with your entrance. His hands grabbed your ankles, resting them on the dip of his shoulders and again, he drove into you.

You screamed.

The frost giant god railed you with his cock, with complete and total access to your cunt, filling you to the brim. Within seconds, he hit the sweet spot within you at the perfect, fast, desperate pace, and you came on him. Your walls pulsed and contracted as you rode his cold member through your orgasm, screaming at the ceiling of Stark Tower. All the muscles in your body relaxed and you finally opened your eyes to see the face of a demon grinning lasciviously at you. His raven black hair rested upon his shoulders, a pretty contrast to his sapphire skin, and you watched him as he fucked you to a second completion.

A third time today – or was it fourth, since technically you fucked after midnight last night, and then this morning, and now… Your brain was too addled but yes, four was probably right. For a fourth time today, Loki came inside you, his member pulsating within you, ejaculating and filling you once again.

He bent down and bit your neck before separating. His scarlet eyes roamed over your body, entirely used and spent. He chuckled to himself. You must have been quite a sight at the moment, with your hair every which way and utterly drenched of him.

With a flick of his wrist, a golden hue emanated from his hands and then disappeared – the mess with it. All of his cum – on the counter, inside you, on the floor, vanished as if it had never existed. With a light head you carefully sat up and jumped down from the counter.

“You look like you’re about to faint,” Loki said.

“I’ll be fine, I just need food. It’s not customary for me to fuck multiple times before breakfast. I’m on an empty stomach right now and I just came three times in half an hour.”

You redressed yourself and plated the food. “Great, well, it’s almost cold now. You interested in cold eggs? ‘Cause that’s what we’re getting.”

“Are you saying you regret our tryst?” he teased.

“No. Yes… I don’t know. No, no I don’t regret it, but I don’t want cold breakfast either!”

You plopped your plate on the dining table harder than was necessary and sat in the chair, ready to eat your sad breakfast.

The god flicked his wrist again, and instantly steam emanated from your food. The smell of warm food filled your nostrils again and you devoured your breakfast.

“Would a ‘thank you’ hurt?”

“Fank you,” you said, mouth half-full.

Loki quirked an eyebrow at the utter impropriety. He redressed himself and joined you at the table.

“We are probably going to need to fuck once breakfast is finished. I’m already feeling the urge again.”

“Oh, sweet Jesus,” you muttered. This was the worst best problem you’ve ever encountered.

And he was true to his word. When the dishes were loaded into the dishwasher, Loki had you on the counter again.

[s1ut4evan]

cardio - kai anderson x fem reader

this is one of my first ever smut writings I’ve posted on my wattpad! :) please leave feedback and check out my account : s1ut4evan

thanks! ❤️

*smut, sex in public, p in v from behind*

"Ten more reps, that's all that's left." you thought as you felt the burning of your thighs. Today was your first day back at the gym in two weeks, so it's been kinda rough.

You look at your watch as you do your last rep, counting down from 15. It feels as if fire is running through your legs. "I don't want to do cardio today," you thought. "I am so wore out." You collect your things to head for the locker room. "Hey (y/n)." A voice from behind you said. Surprised, you turn around to see Kai, the hottest guy at the gym. His blue hair glistened from the sweat.

"Hey Kai, long time no see." you say with a smile on your face. "No kidding," he said, "I missed seeing your face." while winking at you.

Those words made you hot. With a red face you replied, "I've missed you too."

"Where have you been?" he said. "Had to figure some stuff out with school, my professor is working me too hard." you say as you rub your sore thighs. Kai looks you up and down. "I hope he's not working you that hard." he smirks.

You laugh out loud, "Oh no, not like that!" Kai bits his lip. "I want you."

You began to throb at the thought of Kai touching you. The next thing you know, Kai leads you to the men's locker room. "In there." he demanded, pointing to the shower room. Kai follows behind you. Your heart is racing. You gasp has he spins you around, placing his hands on your hips.

He thrusts onto you as he kisses your neck.

"Take these off." he says, pointing to your leggings. Obeying him, you take off your pants.

Kai grabs them from your hands and throws them to the side. Seeing how eager he was to fuck you made you tighten. You moan into his mouth, "Kai.." as he slips his fingers into your heat, rubbing your clit.

He pulls back and looks you in the eyes, "I'm gonna fuck you so hard."

Kai then pulls you into one of the showers. You begin to take off your bra and tee shirt. "Leave the panties." Kai says. Confused, you nod and do what you're told. "I want you to beg." he mumbled. You begin pushing down Kai's shorts while he takes off his shirt. Kai stops you from reaching into his boxers by saying, "Not yet, you need to beg."

"I want to feel you stretch me." you said in a whisper. "You what?" Kai begins to play with your nipples. You whine once again, "I want you to stretch me. I want you to own me." Kai smirked and without hesitation, spun you around and pinned you against the shower wall.

With his free arm, Kai turns the shower on and takes off your panties. You let out a moan as you feel the warm water overtake you. The anticipation is killing you.

"You're going to say my name. You're gonna beg for it." Kai says as he grabs your breasts from behind. He pulls down his boxers to reveal his length. You feel it press up against your backside, that alone makes you tremble. With your face against the wall you mange to say,

"Please Kai, fuck me. Fuck me hard."

You spread your legs apart and arch your back, giving him consent to your entrance. Kai places one hand on your hip and other on his length.

He rubs his tip around your clit, making you gasp. "You ready baby?" Kai asks, making you clench. "Yes please." you say. He then slowly thrusts into you, you both moan.

As he thrusts harder, he fills you up entirely.

"Jesus Christ you're so tight (y/n)." Kai says.

You feel him reach down to your clit, he rubs it gently. "Harder Kai.." you say between whimpers. The pressure builds up in your core as Kai rubs your clit harder. "Cum for me baby." he says. You moan out his name, "Kai…fuck!”

You feel him twitch inside of you as you release onto his length. Ecstasy takes over your whole body as he continues to fuck you harder. Your legs start to shake, Kai wraps his arm around you while grabbing your breast to hold you up.

"Tell me how much you want it." Kai exclaims.

You whimper once more, "I want all of you.

Give me all of you."

You feel yourself building up to a climax again, Kai still rubbing your clit. "Oh fuck me Kai." you moan as you release once again on his length. Kai thrusts harder and harder into you, riding out your orgasm. You feel him twitch, knowing he's about to cum. "God damnit (y/n)!" he groans.

Taking out his length to cum on the floor, you turn around and move his hand and take over.

You bite your lip as you stroke his cock, he pinches your nipples. "Fuck!" he shouts. Once he's finished, you remove your hand and place it on his chest. You both let out a sigh, then smiled at each other. He pulls you in for a kiss and you place your hand on his face. "And to think I was gonna skip cardio today." you laughed. Kai laughs with you while pulling you in for another kiss. "You don't know how long I've been wanting to do that." he says. "I could only imagine." you say running your fingers through his hair.

[nadianova]

How much time do you spend planning some of your visual novels? At least going by some of them being jam submissions, it feels like you go from pre-production to a finished build very quickly, and it's amazing how you can manage that while still having an awesome story and so many assets.

Also, what is like, the process of planning a story out for you, if there's any vague or concrete similarities that you've noticed?

i think the important context here is that if i get bored/have nothing to do i jhust immediately get really suicidal its like ridiculous how bad it gets(ITS FINE DONT WORRY ABOUT IT IVE HAD 5 YEARS OF THERAPY). so i hate being bored and want to occupy my time wit something fun whatever that is. if i have a project to focus on but especially if I'm working for a game jam i have a deadline and i just decide to myself okay i will release a game now.

because ive made a decent amount of games i roughly have an idea on my capabilities, i can estimate how long it takes for me to write a story so and so long and how long it takes for me to draw stuff i need and how long it takes for me to throw stuff in renpy. these are estimates like as in I'm not accurate with it but still enough that i generally know where to start cutting ideas since the most important part is just having something to submit. i also know to plan around my brain wanting to slam my head into a wall an my hands suddenly giving up on being able to draw.

i think thats the beauty of game jams it forces you to just go for it and release something. releasing a 'bad' game is better than no game at all. experience only comes over time and i think just going for it is the best approach there is. like its literally 2 weeks 1 month whatever of your life. if you have the time and motivation go for it. make it work or fuck it up it wont matter in the grand scheme of things

im not sure what is the motivation behind the question but i do want to point out that this is just my method (if you can even call it a method) and the only way to figure out what works for you is to just try until you find something that actually works for you

idk not everyone will find it doable/fun to plan around spending two weeks gamedev 10 hours a day just cause i wanted to fit in 100 cgs for a jam game but apparently i can do that when i cheat my stupid adhd brain into hyperfocus with adhd meds

READMORE BECAUSE I CANT STOP RAMBLING

as for planning tho i think ideas on their own are worthless and its always about execution in the end. a great idea or a meh idea are the same for me but i do still enjoy the planning process so i keep notes

like i see a great tumblr post or i see some art or visual novel has some scene that inspires me: i save that shit for myself

having a big collection of random floating ideas like that helps me easily pick from especially during a jam type duration. right now i have like 4-5 half-baked project skeletons, some are literally like 3 pictures and some like naomida are a hundred hours worth of me writing world building about how the toilets work in a city with no plumbing cause its -30celcius(i love bringing this up)=

i dont normally plan that much, i tend to just wing it. like for malmaid i seriously just had some rough ideas and just went along as i wrote

same thing for dddeviance i had a handful of scenes that i really wanted to make and knew what kind of start and end it was meant to have and just figured out how to fill the in between. a lot of plot points changed vastly like halfway through i realised my devil + angel combination was stupid and i should just go for fallen angel + angel.

i think there really is no simple answer tho (as evident from the long as hell post) i don't really have a 'process' because every single game has been worked on has come with different type of planning since I'm always trying new stuff to try and distract me from boredom. like I've been using obsidian for naomida while previously I've just used a empty discord serve as my notes app for malmaid and dddeviance

and tbh with naomida I'm running to a new problem where I'm definitely planning too much. like I'm spending too much time fidgeting with details in chapter 4 even when i haven't finished writing chapter 1 just cause its so easy to get in the loop of "oh ill just change this one line" and boom 20 mins spent playing with my notes that didn't really progress my game since by the time i reach this point the whole scene might have shifted to something else

.

but if i had to squeeze an answer itd be something like everything related to my art or writing or games is just like "oooooo that seems fun i should remember this for later" and then i just string 10-100 of those into a story

i tend to write my stories in a format of

character A does this and that

this happens here

puppy play ryona piss orgasm

new day and then this happens here

sad thing happens

more piss orgasm

the end

and just like start filling in more details and working on my story in a nonlinear fashion until i feel like i have a strong enough skeleton that i can start writing my scenes. i hop around a lot, often preferring to write the fun scenes first like ero stuff or the ones I'm the most interested in and then the rest is just filling the blanks and stringing the cool scenes together

[trulybetty]

Flings | Frankie Morales x f!Reader

Pairing: Frankie Morales x F!Reader (no use of Y/N) Word Count: 3,975 Warnings: Mature, no smut smut, but illusions to maybe some smut? Talk of food, alcohol, and a little angst - I think that's it, I apologize if I've missed something, please let me know if there's something needing adding. Summary: Five times things were supposed to be a fling between you and Frankie until it wasn't... AO3: Linked

A/N: Bookstore Frankie has taken on a life of his own, the original piece that this all came out of will be finished soon and I hope it lives up to expectations - I'm determined this week to get my WIP list down!

Fling. noun 1. a short period of enjoyment or wild behaviour. - a short, spontaneous sexual relationship.

1. Just a Fun Night Out

You had thrown caution to the wind and sent Frankie a text message that night after Cat had left your apartment. As she had said, different was good and what was the worst that could happen? No sooner had you sent the message, you had a response almost instantly. 

Frankie: I thought I wasn’t going to hear from you Maverick ;)

You hadn’t gone to bed until three am and called in sick the next day.

When he wasn’t participating in ‘military stuff’ the two of you were engaged in a back-and-forth of messaging. Seeing him again would have come sooner, but between the both of you, your schedules didn’t align until two weeks later. It had been intentional on Frankie’s part to arrange to meet at the same bar you’d had your first chance encounter.

Neither of you were under any false pretenses that this was going to be more than just a night of drinks, laughs and maybe, just maybe a nightcap at your place when closing time was called. 

No sooner had you closed the door behind you his hands were in your hair, his body pressing you up against the door. It was a furious tangle of limbs as you both tried to free one another from your clothes. His hat was the first thing to go, thrown across the room. His fingers fought with the button of your jeans causing him to curse furiously in Spanish before your fingers took over. The air was thick with want and need, your bodies aching for each other. With precision, you unbuckled his belt and slid it off him, throwing it aside after his hat. 

As you stumbled down the hallway towards your bedroom, the anticipation between you and Frankie grew more intense. At the edge of the bed, his hands roamed over your skin, leaving a trail of hot kisses on your neck and collarbone.  The atmosphere was electric as his hands slipped under your shirt, swiftly pulling it off. Your hands mirrored his actions, fingers deftly navigating the buttons of his shirt. Desperate to feel his skin against yours, you made quick work of them.

Together, you fell back onto the bed in a tangle of arms and legs. Taking a moment to catch your breath, Frankie framed your body with his, his arms holding him up over you. He dipped his head to kiss the tender spot between your neck and shoulder. His lips tracing your neck before his teeth nipped at your ear.

Your fingers snaked up his back, his shoulders before they tangled in his hair and with a tender tug you pulled his face to yours, your lips meeting his in a hungry and passionate kiss. There was a weight behind it, something more that neither one of you were able to think straight about, more focused on something more physical.

“I’ve been thinking about doing this since the moment I saw you tonight,” he said, his voice low and rough when you finally broke apart.

You smiled at him and ran a hand through his hair. “Likewise,” you replied.

As Frankie kissed you goodbye in the morning, you’d both smiled and agreed to meet up the next time Frankie was in town.

Somehow, conveniently, your schedules never had an issue of conflict from there out again.

2. A Chance Meeting in a Different City

A couple of months later, fortune seemed to pull you and Frankie together again in a momentous twist of fate. You found yourself in San Francisco for a work trip, your nose buried in a book at a coffee shop down on the pier. Frankie was there too, a coincidence that neither of you could have planned. Military aviation drills were taking place that week, and he was in the area for the events.

The day had been long, and you were lost in your thoughts when an imposing shadow suddenly crowded your space. Annoyance bubbled up inside you, but as you looked up, ready to voice your irritation, you were stopped in your tracks.

Standing there, looking just as surprised as you felt, was Frankie.

“Maverick,” he said, flashing that teasing grin of his.

“Frankie!” You exclaimed, jumping up and nearly knocking over your coffee. “What on Earth are you doing here?”

“Could ask you the same thing,” he said, sliding into the seat across from you.

The initial shock quickly turned into pleasure as you both recognized the serendipity of the situation. Plans were hastily rearranged, and the two of you decided to seize the opportunity to explore the city together.

Over the next few days, you found yourselves walking the bustling streets and enjoying the tourist sights of San Francisco between conference meetings and Frankie’s own commitments. 

Nights were spent in your hotel room, it seemed no matter the city you both seemed to gravitate towards your bed. The past months had consisted of frequent visits to Seattle by Frankie and you'd even made the journey down to Pierce County to see him once or twice.

“You ever think about how this all started?” Frankie murmured, his breath warm against your ear.

“With your pilot pickup line?” you teased, snuggling closer to him.

He rolled his eyes, “Yeah, that, and everything else. I mean, what were the odds we'd meet like that? And then run into each other again here?”

It all felt so natural, so effortless, that neither of you questioned it.

3. New Year's Eve

Cat and her husband were throwing a New Year's Eve party and you had casually asked Frankie what his plans were two days before. He had told you that he was free and so you’d asked him if he wanted to join you, and you told yourself it was because no one should be alone for the new year and that was the only reason you’d extended the invitation.

The insanely large Costco-sized TV illuminated the living room playing the start of the countdown of the New York Times Square ball drop.

Ten.

You laughed at the party hat Cat had just unceremoniously placed on Frankie's head, she told him that it was strange seeing him out without his standard hat on, so in her tipsy state had written Standard Oil on the paper cone hat in Sharpie and plopped it on his head before giving you an equally garish one to wear also.

Nine.

The bubbles of the champagne tickled your lips as you brought it up for a tiny sip, ready to toast the New Year once the countdown was complete.

Eight.

Frankie reached around you to grab his own glass, he shifted closer, his hip knocking into yours, he didn’t step back.

Seven.

Your heart started beating a little faster, a mix of excitement from the impending new year and the unexpected intimacy of Frankie's proximity. The scent of him, familiar yet always exciting, mingled with the festive air around you.

Six.

The room was getting louder as more people appeared from around the house to watch the ball drop. Frankie’s hand rested on your hip as he turned you to face him.

Five.

You tried to dismiss the fluttering in your stomach as just the champagne, but deep down, you knew it was something more to do with the man in front of you.

Four.

The countdown was nearly over, and the room was filled with anticipation. But the only thing you could focus on was the look in Frankie's eyes.

Three.

As the countdown was close to reaching its climax, the room started to fill with shouts of excitement. But amid the festive chaos, you were drawn into an intimate bubble with Frankie. He leaned in, his breath warm against your ear, and whispered, “I'm glad I came tonight.”

Two.

You turned to face him, your eyes locked, the world around you forgotten. “Me too,” you whispered back, your voice filled with emotion.

One.

As the crowd around you erupted in cheers, and the New Year was ushered in, Frankie's lips met yours in what started as a sweet kiss before your arms wrapped around his neck and his around your waist. The kiss deepened and the two of you tried not to spill the drinks in your hands.

“Happy New Year Mav.” he grinned as he pulled back to look you in the eye.

“Happy New Year Frankie,” you echoed, your voice catching a little.

Frankie's hand found yours, his fingers intertwining with yours. He leaned in to kiss you again, happy that you had messaged him two days before with an invitation to see in the New Year's. He hadn’t cancelled plans so fast before, furiously texting Santiago that something had come up and wouldn’t be attending the arranged party on base.

“Want to get out of here?” he asked before draining his glass. 

You nodded enthusiastically as you finished your own drink, “Let’s go.”

4. Valentine's Day

The salty taste of the bacon from your sandwich left its mark on your lips, and Frankie couldn't help but admire your quick tongue poking out to lick them away. In response, he licked his own lips appreciatively. 

You were both in your bed, the sheets dishevelled and the only reason Frankie wasn’t as naked as you were was because of the breakfast you were both eating. He’d not long returned with the food and coffees for you both from the bakery down the street after the two of you had enjoyed a lazy morning bed. You'd fallen back asleep and the breakfast was a welcome surprise.

What had also been a pleasant surprise was the bouquet of red roses that had turned up at your door the day before his arrival in town, Valentine's Day, with a card attached that simply said: “Just because.” You hadn’t questioned him on them. Just breathed in the aroma of the fresh flowers before finding something to put them in. Then spent the day working from home admiring the display out of the corner of your eye

You glanced up shyly from your sandwich as Frankie’s gaze on you grew more intense. 

“What?” you asked, feeling the heat creeping up your skin.

He leaned forward and brushed his thumb over your bottom lip before pressing his own to yours. He pulled back, smiling. “Nothing, I just can’t take my eyes off of you.”

You feigned indifference to mask the effect his words had on you, trying to make light of it.  Placing your now empty plate on the bedside table you looked back to Frankie, laid out on the bed next to you. His arm was folded under his head and you could see the bottom half of his tattoo poking out from under his shirt sleeves. The lines of which you had become very familiar with over the past months.

Shuffling over you straddled his hips, your knees nestled on either side as your hands pushed up his shirt to pepper kisses over his chest. With little fight, it wasn't long until his shirt was up and over his head and flung to the floor. He buckled his hips up and there was no missing the small "mm" that escaped from his lips. 

“Mav,” he breathed as his hands pulled you down to crash his lips against yours.

His kiss was a sudden rush, igniting butterflies in your chest. Your lips parted instinctively, and the soft touch of his tongue against yours sent shivers down your spine. In that moment, all resistance melted away as he gently guided you onto your back, his weight settling above you.

“Thank you for the flowers,” you murmured quietly as he trailed your jaw with kisses.

You could feel the smirk forming as he continued his trail to your ear where he nipped your ear, “No clue what you're talking about.”

5. A Wedding

You weren't sure when you both started relying on phone calls rather than texting one another. But it had become commonplace for either of you to carry out everyday tasks with the other's voice in your ear, chatting about any and everything.

It was during one of those calls that Frankie had asked if you would be his plus one. Get out of town for the weekend, free drink, free food, good company and two nights in a swanky hotel he'd jokingly said he had no business staying in, and maybe your presence alongside him might bump up his status allowing him to get away with staying.

You don't know what made you say yes - but you did.

You'd danced, flirted, enjoyed one another's presence and finally met the elusive men that formed the operative group Frankie was a part of.

“So,” you grinned over the glass of wine in your hands, “you're all real then.”

“Yes ma'am,” Will replied from across the table, tipping his drink to you.

“For a while here Francisco,” you said his name slowly and deliberately, savoring the way it rolled off of your tongue. You'd noticed that each time you called him by his full name, he'd let out a slight smile at the corner of his lips, “had me believing that his whole pilot thing was some elaborate ruse.”

Frankie chuckled, taking a sip of his own drink. “I'm not that good of a liar,” he said with a wink. You knew he was telling the truth about being a pilot; after all, the private tour of the barracks he'd given you shortly after you met cleared that suspicion.

You shook your head smiling, “No, you're not.”

Santiago smiled widely as he gave Frankie a friendly pat on the back, “She's a catch, Frankie.”

Frankie held his hand out to you, beckoning you sincerely. “C'mon Mav, come dance with me.”

So you allowed him to lead you out to the dancefloor, it was a slow song that the two of you swayed along to. His hips pressed against yours, his hands at your waist, yours around your neck.

As the song ended, Frankie didn't release you from his hold. Instead, he dipped his head down, his lips brushing against your ear. “You look stunning tonight,” he murmured, his breath hot against your skin. “Thank you for coming with me.”

Your heart fluttered in your chest, his words sending a shiver down your spine. “You don't look too bad yourself,” you replied, a hint of teasing in your voice. “and you're welcome.”

Amidst the laughter and the champagne toasts, you both found yourselves watching the newlyweds with a strange sense of longing, though neither of you mentioned it to the other. Choosing instead to brush it off as nothing more than a fleeting emotion, but it lingered, nagging at you both for the remainder of the weekend.

The One Night.

He never came into town on a weekday, it was always between a Friday and the weekend. That should have been your first indication that something was up. He also hadn’t used the ridiculous nickname he’d bestowed on you, Maverick, that outwardly you voiced your displeasure at but inwardly you had grown quite fond of it. 

The other bigger tell that something was going on was the fact that he hadn’t kissed you. He’d kissed your forehead when he’d walked through the door, hugged you a little longer once he made it through the threshold and was now sat as far as possible at the other end of your sofa.

It was just a year shy of the night the two of you had first met.

Your relationship had defied conventional labels, existing in the spaces between dates and casual encounters. Though words had never been exchanged, the unspoken understanding between you both was a bond that had grown stronger over the last year. But with the way he was acting, you were convinced this was it. That this was him telling you that he'd met someone.

So when the words, “I'm being stationed in Colorado next month.” came out of his mouth, he'd had to ask if you'd heard him because you were still processing that there wasn't another person. 

“You're...what?” you finally managed to stammer, looking at Frankie, his eyes filled with a complex mixture of excitement, fear, and uncertainty.

“I've been reassigned to a new base in Colorado,” he repeated, his voice firm but his eyes soft, searching your face for a reaction, “but I... I don't want to go without talking to you about it.”

You blinked at him, your mind still reeling, the weight of what he was saying sinking in slowly. This was more than just a fling. It was more than just a casual thing between two consenting adults. This was real, and the very real possibility of losing him was hitting you like a sledgehammer.

“You want to talk about it?” you asked, your voice trembling, tears threatening to spill over. “What is there to talk about? You're leaving.”

Frankie's face fell, and he moved closer, reaching out to take your hand. “It's not that simple, and I know you know that.”

“Know what?”

Removing his hat and tossing it onto the coffee table, he ran his hand through his hair with a frustrated sigh. His gaze fixed on you with a mixture of exasperation and affection. “Come on Mav, I know you're not this obtuse,” he stated with a playful grin, as if the answer to the unspoken question was written across your face.

You swallowed hard, “Frankie, I–” you attempted to find the words as your brain struggled to catch up. 

“Look, whatever this is,” he didn't wait for you to find your voice, “I'm not ready to walk away, at least not without at least asking you first,” you watched his shoulders raise in a deep sigh as it let it go slowly, “will you come with me? To Colorado, will you come with me?”

The air was sucked out of your lungs and the room was filled with silence, your mind racing as you processed what he was saying. It was true, the two of you had become more than just a fling, but this was big. This was a life-altering decision.

You stared at him, disbelief written all over your face. “Come with you? To Colorado? Frankie, I have a life here. A job, friends, family.”

“I know,” he said, his voice cracking, “I know it's a lot to ask, but I can't imagine being there without you. I, I can't imagine my life without you.”

The tears were flowing now, and you were unable to stop them. A year of emotions, a year of denying what you felt, what you wanted, was crashing down around you, and there was no escaping it.

“You're asking me to give up everything,” you said, your voice filled with doubt. “You're asking me to take a huge risk.”

Frankie wiped away your tears with his thumb, “I'm asking you to decide if this is something you want, if you're willing to take a chance on me, on us… me.” he took in a deep breath, “But if you're feeling anything like I do about you, then you know that I'm serious about this, about us.”

When you didn't respond he sighed, “Look, I'm going to go and let you think about this. I'm not leaving for another month. If you don't want to come, then–” he drifted off, he hadn't really contemplated the possibility of you saying no, “then it's been an amazing year and–” his voice caught in his throat, “and I think I can be happy with that.”

He leaned in and kissed you. It was a deep embrace, his lips lingering on yours. His stubble gently scratched your face as if it were the last time he would feel you this close to him. He lingered for a moment, his forehead resting against yours as he took in a deep breath before he stood and left your apartment.

You sat in the silence of your living room, the click of the front door an echo as you processed what had just happened. 

Frankie was leaving for Colorado in a month.

Frankie had asked you to move to Colorado.

Frankie loved you?

You looked at the coffee table, Frankie's hat was still there where he'd left it.

You snatched the hat from the table and grabbed your keys before sprinting to the door. With no time for an elevator, you took off down the four flights of stairs. When you reached the lobby, it was empty. 

You opened the door to your apartment building and frantically scanned the street, looking for Frankie. There he was, standing beside his truck down the street, his hand in his pocket for his truck keys. You watched him run a hand through his hair and curse when he realized he didn't have his cap. You didn't waste any time as you watched him fish his keys out of his jacket and unlocked the door of his truck.

“Frankie!” you shouted, he looked up startled, his hand on the door handle.

You continued to run towards him, your heart pounding in your chest. When you finally reached him, you practically collided into his chest, wrapping your arms tightly around him. He stumbled back a few steps, but quickly regained his footing and returned the embrace.

You were talking into Frankie's chest, a rapid, breathless spill of words that tumbled out in a rush. He couldn't make out what you were saying, but he held you close, his arms strong and reassuring around you.

“Mav,” he said gently, trying to calm you down. “I can't understand what you're saying. Please, slow down.”

You stepped back, your eyes wide and filled with a mixture of fear and determination. You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself.

“Frankie,” you said, your voice trembling. “I'll go with you. Wherever it is, I'll go with you,” you said with more conviction to your voice. “I don't know how this is all going to work and logistics,” You said with a small laugh, “but I do know,” you took in a deep breath, “I love you and I'm not okay with the idea of this between us just ending here.”

“That's all I need to hear,” He dropped his forehead to yours, there was no missing the smile that lit up his face, “I love you too Mav.”

He slipped one hand around your waist as he softly thumbed your lips with his other, before leaning in to kiss you. The kiss was sweet at first, but soon turned into something more. Something hungry, something desperate to make up for the both of you failing to acknowledge what had been growing between you for so long.

“Do you have to be back on base tonight?” you asked breathless.

He shook his head, letting out a laugh. “I took a couple days off,” he admitted with a shy smile. “I wasn't sure how this was going to play out—it was either ending in your bed together or drinking beer in mine alone.”

“I think I have a couple of sick days I can cash in if you still want to finish this in bed? I mean, I have beer too.”

Frankie chuckled, “I'd like that,” he leant down to place another kiss to your lips, the admittance of your feelings for one another giving him no restrictions in letting you know how he really felt. “I think we have some catching up to do,” he said softly

You nodded, smiling through the tears that still lingered. “Yeah, we do,” you murmured, and hand in hand, the two of you headed back to your apartment.

[rose-riot-johnson]

Hello can I request a gang orca x reader (fem) fluff to smut? Orca working late and the reader tries to get him away from work? Reader sitting on orcas lap and getting him riled up. Clothes remaining on for orca, and orca kinda being shy and very gentle about sex. He’s a bit hesitant to having sex in his office but he can’t hide his excitement for it. (The reader is kinda a tease and softly strokes his bludge). The sex is romantic, no one calling each other degrading names or being super loud, just gently/rough sex. (He warns her about making noise)(Lights are off in his office and the computer light is the only thing that helps the reader see orca besides his red eyes). Orca enjoys letting her ride him and gently bends her over and works up to a rough pace from behind, while telling her how much he loves her. Creampie, and after care before they go home. The end! (Add details as usual, background, dialogue, and more. If you wish)!

I definitely will see about working on this Gang Orca fanfic you requested😃👍To warn you it could take me a while, because of a recent busy schedule and stuff going on in my personal life😅Also I'm gonna add a NSFW in this fanfic (if you don't mind) , so this will be the first requested fanfic the will get a NSFW or SFW type genres without mentioning NSFW or SFW for the request... So to warn you I do write NSFW and SFW type fanfics than I do with regular and head cannon(?) type fanfics. As for sex positions you mentioned about the reader riding Gang Orca and Gang Orca riding the reader from behind, so I will see what I can come up with from there hopefully I can write that part correctly.

☕Trying To Get Gang Orca To Wind Down☕(Kugo Sakamata, aka Gang Orca x Female Reader)

Genres: Fluff to Smut, NSFW and Sex Aftercare (Warning +18⚠️: Sexual Contact (Including (Sexual) Teasing, Bulge Stroking, Boob Groping, And Vaginal Penitration)

You have tried for weeks to get Gang Orca to take a break from his work, because he has been over working himself to get his work done. While you get he has to get work done before the deadline, however he focuses on his work nonstop and sometimes gets it done way too early.

You try to convince him to take a break for atleast a couple hours, because you know everytime he has been doing his work, he will only focus on that amd he will forget about his tummy, sleep, his well-being, etc... So, you knew you had to come up with a plan to help him take a break from his work for atleast a couple hours, if not the whole night...

One night, as you expected, Gang Orca decided his usual habit which was working late at night, no matter how tired he is, so you managed to sneak into his office, considering he's only focused on work and all the lights are, except the computer light, because he needed the computer on for his work, obviously.

You then somehow managed sneak behind him and massaged his shoulders... Gang Orca looked behind him to notice you (trying not to show he's spooked), as he asked, "I'm curious how you managed to sneak into my office, (Female Reader Name)?", before proceeding to stand up, then noticing you were wearing much less than usual.

You explained to him about how you got into his office, why you got into his office, the fact you know he will secretly get excited about the sex when opportunity happens, and other things you plan on telling him. He was hesitant about the sex at first, however he knows that neither one of you will be sure about if you will get that opportunity again.

As you gently stroked Gang Orca's bulge he groaned and whispered, "Don't Forget, (Female Reader Name)... We have to be quiet... We can't have anyone hear us... Remember what happened last time?".

Gang Orca laid down on the floor, so he can let you ride on his cock. You moved over your underwear, so you can insert his cock inside of you easier.

As you rode on his cock, the both of you held moans back trying to keep yourselves quietly, as possible, as he had you bend over a little bit, while trying to ride him, as he tells you how much he loves you.

A few minutes after you were riding him, he suggested to try out a different position, which you happily agreed, as you got off his cock and went to his desk to get yourself prepped up for what he's about to do with you from behind with you hands on the edge of his desk.

Gang Orca then went behind you and put his cock inside of your pussy, as he starts to thrust inside of you. As he continues to thrust himself inside your pussy, he gently bends you over, his thrusts get rougher the more he thrusts and he tells you how much he loves you, while he moves his hands underneath your bra to grope your breasts.

Once he came (creampied himself) inside of you, he decided to heat up something warm for you since he has the equipment to make you a cup of (hot drink of reader's choice), while thanking you for your company.

Gang Orca, then massaged your back, arms, sides, neck, legs, and feet, before he got you completely dressed. The last thing he did before he went home with you was make you another cup of a hot cup of (hot beverage of reader's choice).

It was definitely the most relaxing night you and Gang Orca ever had.

☕The End☕

I hope you enjoyed the Gang Orca fanfic my Tumblr Peeps😃👍As for you @watergod57-69 I hope I did well on the request😃👍Apologies for the wait😅Busy schedule and stuff happening outside of social media in general (I only did fanfics on Tumblr despite of having account on other social media platforms)😅Anyways I still hope you enjoyed the Gang Orca fanfic and hopefully I didn't rush the fanfic😅😃👍

[virtualvault]

What Good Girls Get

Pairing: Switch! Marc Spector x Sub!reader x Dom!Layla El-Faouly

Summary: While Layla is away, Marc wants to play. Being the good girl you are, you reject his advances and she rewards you while Marc is left to face the consequences.

Warnings: Dom/ Sub dynamics, polyamory, punishment, brat!marc, dirty talk, praise kink, degradation, rough sex, sex toys, strap-ons, squirting, oral(f) receiving, oral(m) receiving, pet names, fingering, begging, spitting, slapping, aftercare, cuddles(Let me know if I missed anything:))

Word Count: 4.5k

A/N: This is only my second fic so I'm still working on getting better at exposition and stuff but I'm actually really proud of the smut and dialogue in this one. As always, feedback is welcome and encouraged. Enjoy!!

"We shouldn't. Layla told us we can't fool around while she's gone." you whine as you lay on the bed, Marc hovering above you. His face is buried in your neck while he plants sloppy kisses across your skin. You do your best to stand your ground but make no move to try and get him off you.

"Marc, I'm serious. Did you see the look in her eyes? She really meant it. I don't know about you, but I don't want to get on her bad side. We just got off punishment for the kitchen incident." It was quite a punishment too, but to be honest you deserved it. A few days ago, Layla had gone out to get dinner while Marc graciously offered to stay behind and help you finish preparing the dessert you were making for your friend's birthday. His help soon turned into a distraction as he started grabbing at you and pulling you against him, despite your determination to focus on the task at hand.

It started with Marc innocently feeding you a few of the strawberries you were cutting up and by the time Layla returned he had you on your knees, his dick covered in whipped cream, and you eagerly cleaning it off with your tongue. She had forbidden you two to touch yourselves or one another for the rest of the week as punishment and didn't let either of you out of her sight. She knew that would lead to more trouble.

That's why when she had been called to attend an event that would require her to stay across town overnight, she was hesitant. If it were just you, she wouldn't have worried. You're always on your best behavior. Unless Marc is there. He's always the instigator. You can count on one hand all the times you've been punished for something that didn't involve Marc. You craved Layla's approval, needed her to be proud of you. Marc made that incredibly difficult, though. Despite your better judgement, you almost always gave in. He had this hold over you that made him impossible to resist. Especially when Layla isn't there and you miss her.

Marc misses her desperately when she's gone as well, and that's part of the reason he acts out. It also doesn’t help that he is a brat through and through. For him, all the rules fly out the window the moment she steps out the door. He loves to rile her up. Lately he's been pushing his luck and punishments have been getting increasingly severe. Instead of turning soft at the end like Layla has a habit of doing, especially when it comes to you, she's started implementing 'no touching rules', ruined orgasms, edging with no release, withholding pleasure, etc. He also just can't help himself when he gets you all alone. It's like a switch flips in his brain and he just wants to pounce on you. Make you misbehave like he does. He knows you're Layla's good girl and he loves to see you turn into a dirty little slut for him.

"C'mon, it's not like she just ran out to the store, she won't be home until tomorrow. There's no way she'll find out." He continues to kiss down your neck and palms at your chest, making you arch your back.

"Yes, she will. I don't know how she does it, but she can always tell."

"That's because you can't lie to save your life, baby. You know, you really need to work on your poker face." he jests, and you shoot him a glare. But you can't help the small smile that forms on your face because you know he's right. If you're ever hiding something, you distance yourself from Layla, unable to even look her in the eyes. When she finally makes you, whatever you're hiding comes spilling out of you, completely out of your control. And if it had something to do with Marc, which is usually the case, he gets in trouble as well. It's detrimental to you both.

" You really don't want to?" Marc asks. He gives you puppy dog eyes, pulling out all the stops to try and get you to give in.

"Of course, I do." You play with the hem of his shirt, trying to ignore the way you feel his bulge against your thigh.

"I just really don't want to disobey her. We don't have to wait too long; she'll be back tomorrow. And who knows, maybe she'll even reward us for being good. It's been a while." You offer, trying to convince not only him but yourself to resist the temptation.

"It's been a while for me. She rewards you all the time. It's not fair." He pouts and pinches your sides, making you giggle.

"That's because you actually have to behave for that to happen, dummy. You just have to learn to follow the rules. And tonight is the perfect opportunity to try it out." you stroke his hair reassuringly. It would do him some good to practice some restraint.

"I'll try." he says, with absolutely zero sincerity in his voice.

"How about we go watch a movie instead? She never said we couldn't cuddle." He nods, smiling at you innocently enough to convince you he has given up. You cup his face and pull it to yours, and you plant a soft kiss on the tip of his nose. He stands, helps you up, and you both head to the living room.

Marc manages to keep his hands to himself through most of the film. He has you held against him, fitting snuggly in his side. You rest your head on his shoulder, enjoying the safe and warm feeling he provides. You even start to doze off, but awaken when Marc shifts, telling you he's heading to the bathroom. In his absence, you lay your head down on the cushion. Rolling over on your stomach, you feel yourself succumb to the drowsiness again. A few minutes later, you are startled awake when you feel the couch dip, and a weight settle on your backside. You curiously turn your head to find Marc straddled across your thighs. You try to wriggle away, but he puts his full weight on your back and effectively stops you. He starts kissing and licking down the back of your neck.

“Marc, you were doing so well. Let’s just go to bed.” you plead.

“I'd love to take you to bed.” he responds, then starts softly nipping at your skin.

“That’s not what I meant, and you know it.” You feel him grin against you and it sends tingles across your skin.

“C'mon it’s not like I'm going to tell. And you’ll have until tomorrow evening to get yourself together enough to face Layla. You can keep one little secret, can’t you?” You are already putty in his hands and let wanton moans fall from your lips at the warmth of his mouth on your skin and his hands grabbing at your sides.

“I want to so bad. I just… I wanna be a good girl.” you whine.

"Well, it's nice to know one of you respects me.” Layla chimes in, and you both jump, startled by her surprise entrance. Neither of you had heard her come in. You freeze, and so does the man above you. A feeling of dread falls over you but is overtaken by a feeling of delight when your eyes land on your beautiful girlfriend. She’s still wearing the outfit she wore to the event, and she looks breathtaking.

"I managed to find a way to come home early to the loves of my life and this is what I find. Did I not make myself clear before I left?" She scolds, but there is a slight playfulness to her tone.

Marc, still refusing to look at her, lifts himself into a sitting position. You glance back at him and see the look of contemplation on his face. He could play this one of two ways. He could apologize profusely and get on his hands and knees begging for forgiveness, or he could stand his ground and see how far he can push his luck. Being the brat he is, he obviously chooses the latter. Not even bothering to answer her, he flips you over and Layla rounds the coffee table to stand in front of you both. He moves his eyes to hers as he starts grabbing at you and sliding your shirt up, exposing your breasts. Layla’s silence is deadly, yet the look on her face is eerily calm.

He grabs your bare chest and starts tweaking your nipples, and you whimper at the sensation. You don’t want to upset her, but it just feels so good. You rub your thighs together trying to relieve some of the pressure building in your core.

Neither of your partners notice as both sets of eyes are locked in a stare, waiting to see what the other will do next. The mischievous grin on Marc's face makes you nervous. You know he’s playing with fire and isn’t considering the consequences. But as always, his behavior manages to stoke the flames in the pit of your stomach. You don’t know what it is, the thought of testing Layla's patience yourself never crosses your mind. But seeing her reaction when Marc does it makes you want him to keep going, even though you know he’ll pay for it later.

You grab Marc’s wrists, not even sure if it’s to stop him or urge him on and you shoot Layla a pleading look, silently begging her to do something. Marc finally looks away as he brings his mouth down to one of your breasts. He latches onto your nipple and rolls it between his teeth. You let out a squeal and squeeze your eyes shut.

“Do you want him to stop?” You don’t even hear what Layla says as Marc's other hand travels down your stomach and lands on your clothed mound.

“Look at me, angel. I asked you a question. Do you want Marc to stop?” Trying to steady your voice as his fingers slip into your underwear, dragging up and down your wet folds, you whimper, “It feels good but…but I don’t want to disobey you.” She gives you a soft smile and wears a proud look on her face, causing a warmth to bloom in your chest. She walks towards you and bends down so her face is level with yours.

As she starts petting your hair she coos, “Of course you don’t. Because you’re my good girl, aren’t you?” you preen at her words. No matter how good Marc’s touch makes you feel, nothing compares to Layla's praise. With a newfound strength and determination to prove her right, you push Marc’s hand out of your pants and shove his face away. He watches you cover your chest, making it impossible for him to continue, and he huffs.

He sits up and contemplates his next move. He was really banking on you giving in and being able to test your girlfriend's patience together. Even when he's facing punishment himself, he loves seeing you endure one too. Seeing Layla's little angel get in trouble turns him on in a way he can’t describe. But it looks like you had more willpower than he thought, and he’ll be taking this one on his own.

As a last-ditch effort, he blurts out “She started it.” You gasp, knowing that’s a bold-faced lie.

He continues, “She was on me the moment you walked out the door. But you know how irresistible she is when she begs, I couldn’t help it. I’m just doing what you would’ve done.” He leers back at her, trying to stand firm. Layla sighs, not believing him for a second. She's getting frustrated. As much as she hates it when you two break the rules, she hates when you lie about it even more. She usually lets you off easier if you come forward and tell her what really happened. You always do but Marc has the habit of dodging the truth until she drags it out of him. It’s a nasty habit that she’s determined to break, and now is the perfect opportunity.

“He’s lying! He was trying to fuck me all night! I told him you’d be mad, but he wouldn’t listen.” You match the glare he shoots you, and he grabs your thigh firmly in warning, not appreciating the outburst. But you weren’t going to roll over on this one. You had worked really hard to finally find the strength to not give in for once and you’d be damned if you went down for this with him. You want your reward for being a good girl and you aren’t going to let him ruin that.

“You believe me don’t you, Lay?” You look up at her through your lashes and give her the sweetest look you can muster up. The nickname brings a smile to her face, and she replies, “Of course I do, baby.”

“But” Marc starts, and Layla raises her brow at him, daring him to keep testing her patience. He backs down immediately, hanging his head in defeat.

“Go lay on the bed sweetheart.” She instructs and leans down, connecting her mouth with yours. Marc, enjoying the show, subconsciously starts stroking your thigh but she is quick to swat his hand away. “You, go stand at the foot of the bed. And keep your hands to yourself.” she commands, and he follows you into the bedroom, dragging his feet.

He stands in front of you now, arms crossed in annoyance, and you smirk at him. “Thanks a lot.” he sneers.

“Hey, I said to be patient and we’d get rewarded. Maybe this will teach you a lesson.” you say smugly, and he rolls his eyes.

Layla enters, grabbing the chair from the desk and placing it in front of the bed. She makes Marc strip. She then ties up his hands and orders him to sit but leaves him unrestrained otherwise. She removes her jacket and proceeds to strip you, softly caressing your sides as she does, and your skin heats up under her touch. Shifting you, she lays you at the end of the bed, parallel to the headboard, and gives Marc a full view of her body and yours. Normally he'd be thankful but under these circumstances it's torturous.

She makes her way down your body, nipping and sucking at your skin. She's always thorough, taking the time to admire every inch of you. After leaving your stomach and thighs covered in love bites, and running her tongue over your marked skin, she buries her head between your thighs. She's gentle and diligent but she doesn't rush. Doesn't eat you out in a frenzy like Marc tends to do. She knows your body better than you do and knows just what to do to have you fall apart on her tongue.

She has to hold your waist down as you writhe on the bed. Your sultry moans and desperate cries have Marc involuntarily bucking his hips into the air, begging for relief. Before you know it, she has you cumming hard and you grind your hips against her mouth as she sucks on your clit, helping you ride the waves of pleasure. Giving you a second to catch your breath, she then positions you on the edge of the bed, exposing you to Marc, and takes her place behind you. She wraps her legs around yours and uses them to spread your thighs. Her movements begin slow, like before, and she starts by gently circle your clit with her fingers. The torturous speed has you crying out for more. Wanting to give you whatever your heart desires, she dips her fingers into you. They slip in easily, and each delicious drag of her digits against your walls has you bucking your hips against her hand.

Your arousal starts to form a ring around her fingers and drips onto the floor. The sight has Marc falling to his knees in front of you, face nearing your center. Layla gives him a warning look, but she can feel you getting close, so she doesn’t want to stop. Then she gets an idea. She pushes faster against that sweet spot inside you and matches that rhythm as she starts rubbing your swollen bud. Mesmerized by the sight, Marc leans his head against your thigh.

“No touching.” Layla commands and he nods. He doesn’t move any closer, practicing more restraint than he ever has in his life. She starts nipping at that spot under your ear and it has you squirming. You feel that familiar pressure building that you didn’t feel with your previous climax and smile, realizing what’s about to happen, and your whole body tenses. “I'm cumming” is all you can say before you start spasming and you explode all over his face. Marc flinches slightly at the unexpected splash of your arousal. It just keeps streaming out of you and he quickly opens his mouth wide, groaning as your sweet nectar coats his tongue. He gives Layla a pleading look, and she knows what he wants.

“You can clean off her thighs.” she says, loving the hungry look on his face. He laps at your drenched thighs and savors the taste that he's been dying for all night. You let out a satisfied purr and you eyes fall closed, feeling soothed by the warmth of his tongue. When he's finished, he takes a moment and just stares at your sex. Before he can stop himself, he lurches forward to indulge in your arousal from the source. Before he can reach you, though, Layla yanks his head back by his hair, clicking her tongue at him.

“Still don’t want to listen, huh?” She moves from behind you and drags him back to the chair. You already miss her warmth, but your excitement grows as she goes to open the trunk you keep on the corner of the room and pulls out some rope and a harness with the familiar pink silicone attached to the base. Your heart starts beating faster and you bite your lip, thrumming with excitement at what’s coming next. She inches the chair closer to the bed, and Marc is now just inches away. She ties him to the chair now, ignoring his grumbling. With her guidance, you are now on your hands and knees, head halfway off the end of the bed, now face to face with Marc. As Layla puts on the strap-on, you can’t help but smile at the pout on his face. You've never seen him this frustrated before and you would feel bad for him if it didn't turn you on so much.

Your girlfriend situates herself behind you, kissing up your spine, and you pull her up so her mouth meets yours and you moan at the saccharine taste of her. When she breaks the connection, her mouth finds your ear and she whispers, “You’re doing so good for me. My obedient girl.” The comment makes your heart swell. You hum, looking her in the eyes, and whisper “I love you.” She nuzzles her face against yours she affectionately replies, “I love you too, angel."

She sits back onto her haunches and rubs the silicone up and down your folds, each flick against your clit making your breath hitch. As she slides the length in to the hilt, you cry out and she sets a maddeningly slow pace. You're about to beg for more, but she already knows what you want. She slowly pulls out to the tip and then slams back into you, and begins giving you those hard, deep thrusts you crave.

After a while, your arms give out underneath you and you fall onto your chest. The arch of your back gives her a delicious view of your ass and she gives it a quick slap. You whine for more and she continues, landing multiple hits to both your cheeks and thighs and you squeal in delight. When she's done, she grabs firmly onto your hip with one hand and the other comes up to settle on the back of your neck and she pulls you back to meet her thrusts.

With your face now just inches away from Marc, you stick your tongue out, unable to resist the temptation to taunt him. It's a pretty juvenile thing to do, you admit, and can’t help the giggle you let out at the sight of the frustration bubbling up inside him, the aggravation showing clear as day on his face. Before you can pull your tongue back in your mouth, he leans forward and spits fast and hard, some landing in your open mouth, and some on your cheek. You gasp, but your surprise quickly morphs into a pathetic whine, loving the taste of him. You drag your tongue over your lips and the surrounding area, trying to get to the spatter that missed your mouth. A satisfied smirk appears on his face, and he mutters, "filthy fucking slut." You whine at his words, and it has you clenching down onto the silicone filling your cunt.

Layla, however, was not amused. She shoves your face down onto the mattress and leans over you to deliver a harsh slap to Marc's face. He moans at the contact, relieved to finally get some sort of stimulation. Before the sting can even settle over his skin, she delivers another. Then, she removes her weight from you and pulls your head up once more.

“That wasn’t very nice, was it baby?” You don’t respond, honestly wishing he'd do it again.

“Oh, you liked it didn’t you, naughty little thing.” You moan at her teasing and look Marc in the eyes, whining, "I want something in my mouth.”

He jolts forward, wanting to break free and give you what you want. An anticipative look crosses his face, and he hopes Layla will make him part of your reward.

“Oh, I'm sorry baby. Here you go.” Determined to keep Marc out of this, Layla hooks her fingers into your mouth. She chuckles at Marc's reaction as she sees his shoulders slump, clearly disappointed. You immediately wrap your lips around her digits and he zeros in on your movements, imagining it was him in your mouth instead.

Her thrusts become more brutal, each one knocking the thoughts right out of your head. You feel yourself mentally slipping, unable to form even one coherent sentence. All you can do is babble nonsense, hoping she understands how close you are to your release. Layla drags your head up by your hair and you face Marc again, mouth open and drooling down into the sheets. He's seen that look before and he knows you're right on the edge. He looks you right in the eyes and whispers, " Do it, baby. Cum." He's not even sure you heard him, but your eyes immediately roll to the back of your head, and you start shaking. Layla holds you against her, knowing you love the closeness and skin to skin contact when you fall apart. All you can feel is white hot pleasure and you're crying out, mouth open in a silent scream as you gasp for breath. You don't even have time to come down from your climax before Layla starts pounding into you again, hard and fast. She holds you down, making you cum again and again.

When she can tell you've had enough, she stops her movements but stays planted inside you to the hilt, knowing you don’t want to feel empty just yet. She runs her hands all over you, trying to bring you back to her and help steady your breathing. You can't tell how much time has passed but when you're finally conscious of your surroundings again, the first thing you see is Marc's pitiful form in front of you. You want to help him. His angry red tip looks painful, and you actually start to feel bad for him. You somehow muster up the strength to reach an arm out to him and he looks at you lovingly. You were just fucked into oblivion, but you still want to make sure he feels good. It makes him smile and he desperately wants to pull you into his arms.

“Can I touch him, please?” You look over your shoulder and give Layla your best puppy dog eyes, hoping she'll cave like she always does when you look at her like that. She arches her brow at you and asks, “Am I not enough, sweetheart?”

“No! You are!” you reply frantically, immediately regretting your words. You continue, “Just look at him. So pathetic. I think he's learned his lesson.” He's been waiting so long and he’s so frustrated he can feel tears starting to form in his eyes. “Please. I'm so sorry. I'll behave. I promise." he begs.

She sighs, feeling conflicted. She knows she has pushed him hard but he did deserve it. She feels herself turning soft at that needy look in his eyes and concedes. She knows what he really wants. He wants one of you to ride him until he sees stars. This is still a punishment, however, so she decides to give him another form of relief.

Leaning down and kissing the crown on your head, she checks in, making sure you're not too overworked. She really gave it to you hard and wants to make sure you don't overdo it. "Are you sure? You look a little worn out." You're touched by her concern but nod eagerly.

"Go ahead baby. He can have your mouth." The sigh of relief that leaves Marc makes you want to laugh. You turn back to him, and your outstretched hand moves to caress his face. He leans into your touch, and kisses at the palm of your hand. You slide it down off his face and Layla helps you to your knees. He makes the most pitiful noise when you take him into your mouth, finally feeling the relief he's waited hours for. You have him cumming in just a few minutes and he thanks both of you profusely.

You're all exhausted, but that doesn't stop them from loving on you. Layla goes to draw a bath while Marc picks you up off the floor, placing soft kisses all over your face. He carries you to the bathroom, where Layla begins to do the same as Marc places you in the tub. The feeling of their love wraps you like a warm blanket, relaxing your mind as the bath water relaxes your tired muscles. You're half asleep when you all finally pile into bed, cuddling up close to one another. Layla lays you in the middle of them the middle and they wrap their arms around you and each other. Not having the energy tonight, you and Marc will be sure to give her a proper 'welcome home' in the morning.

[canirove]

Rice, Rice, baby | Chapter 16

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Masterlist

“Liv, you seriously didn't have to buy them anything for Christmas.”

“I’m their favourite aunty, Kennedy. I had to get them something” I say while watching one of the twins try to eat the wrapping paper from one of the presents. “Besides, thinking about what to get them and then going shopping has been one of the most joyful things I've done lately. Who knew buying kids’ stuff could be therapeutic?” I chuckle.

“How are you?” Kennedy asks me. “Like, truly.”

“I have good days and bad days” I shrug. “But the good days have begun to overcome the bad ones.” 

And that started just a couple of weeks after what happened between me and Declan in my car. Because what did he do? Make it Instagram official that he and the singer were dating. And what did I do? Have the biggest breakdown known to history.

When Alex showed me their joint post during our lunch break (kind of lame to announce it like that, but who am I to judge), I felt as if the hole in my chest had started to grow at lightning speed, swallowing me completely. I wanted to cry, to scream, to hit something. And I did all that at Tottenham's gym, where I ran to hide myself, and where Micky found me.

“Liv, what are you doing?”

“Looking for something I can hit!” I yell.

“Why?”

“Do you seriously have to ask why?” I laugh.

“Declan…”

“Yes. Him” I say, kicking a yoga mat and making the ones standing next to it fall.

“If you want to hit something, why don't you try this?” Micky says. “It's less harmful, gets the job done, and they won't fire you for destroying the gym.”

“What?” I say, turning around.

“This” he says, holding some boxing gloves. “It has helped me in the past and I think it can help you too.”

That first day all I did was cry and scream while he held the punching bag, letting all my anger go. But when I woke up the next day, my arms feeling so sore I could barely move them, I noticed that the hole was a tiny bit smaller. So I started to meet with Micky in the gym when we both were free, him teaching me how to properly box while I felt like every punch was closing the hole a bit more. 

“I'm glad to hear that” Kennedy says. “But you aren't looking that good.”

“Uh?”

“We have matching bags under our eyes, Liv. And last time I checked, you didn't have three children that drove you crazy” she chuckles. “Are you sleeping well?”

“I mean… I'm sleeping a lot more than usual, even taking naps throughout the day. But I still feel tired, it's a weird feeling.”

“Not so weird. I felt like that when… Nah, it can't be.”

“What can't be?”

“I felt like that before I knew I was pregnant with Leo. But it doesn't make any sense because you haven't been with anyone since before the summer, have you?”

“Yeah, that doesn't make any sense” I reply, not really answering her question. “It probably is just stress from these days.” 

Too much work, then the training with Micky after not working out for ages, the fact that I'm still emotionally healing, that I'm having to spend Christmas with Alex and his family when things keep being weird between us… That has to be it. 

“You could always ask one of the team's doctors to run some tests if that makes you feel better.”

“Nah, there is no need. I'm fine” I smile. “Do you want me to help you with bath time and putting them to bed?”

“Yeah, sure. You take care of Leo, I'll take care of the twins” Kennedy says. But there is something in the way she's looking at me, that tells me that she won't forget so easily about the conversation we just had.

━━━━━━❃━━━━━━

“Liv, wait” Madders says behind me.

“Hey” I reply, turning around. “Doctor Smith?” 

“Hello” he smiles. 

“Great, you know each other.”

“Of course we do, Madders. He works with my dad, remember?”

“Oh, yes. Silly me” he chuckles. “Anyway, he has something to tell you.”

“Me?”

“Your dad and James have mentioned that you've been going through a rough patch and they are worried it may have affected your physical health. That's why they've asked me if I could run some tests and make sure everything is fine.”

Kennedy. She told Madders, of course she did! This is what her look from yesterday meant!

“That's very kind of you, but there is no need.”

“C'mon, Liv. It'll be just a blood test and maybe a peepee one, right?”

“Peepee?” I laugh.

“You know that's how Leo says it and now I do it too without thinking” he shrugs. “But that'll be it, won't it, doctor?”

“Just the basics” he says.

“I'm fine, James. Maybe a bit stressed, but fine” I insist. “It'll pass after the holidays, you'll see.”

“But what if it doesn't?”

“Then I'll say yes to those tests.”

“Promise?”

“Yes, I promise” I sigh. “Now can I please go home? My mum wants me to help her clean around the house, we are hosting this year.”

“Ok, fine. But we have Doctor Smith as our witness. If after Christmas you are feeling like shit…”

“He can run those tests.”

━━━━━━❃━━━━━━

“You didn't have to wait with me, Madders.”

“What kind of older brother would I be if I left you alone?”

“The not annoying one?”

“Meh, meh, meh” he replies, sticking out his tongue.

I had had to do it. I had had to get the tests done. And why? Because during Christmas things hadn't improved. 

I felt sick most mornings, and by dinner time I was so tired I could barely keep my eyes open. All I wanted to do was to lay down in my bed while watching period dramas and wish I got to dress like a princess. Oh, and speaking of periods… Mine was nowhere to be found. Which has only made the tiny voice that has been in my head since Kennedy told me she had felt this tired when she was pregnant, get louder and louder.

But me having all these symptoms could be just stress. I googled it and it matches. So it has to be that, not that Declan had better aim than all the strikers in the Premier League together after just one time not using any kind of protection. 

“Isn't it taking them too long? He said he'll have the results by the end of the day.”

“Maybe they were busy with other stuff” Madders says, resting his hand on my leg and stopping it from moving like crazy. 

“Or maybe there is something wrong with me.”

“Liv, no. Don't you dare going there.”

“Then why hasn't he called us yet? Why…” 

“Oh, there you are” Doctor Smith says, opening the door of his office. “Sorry for making you wait, but the system went down and it took it a while to recover and allow us to log in.”

“See?” Madders whispers.

“Please come in, Olivia. You can wait here, James.”

“Can't he come with me?” I ask.

“I would prefer to talk with you in private” the doctor says. That's it. There is something wrong with me, I'm dying. Or worse. My suspicions are right. “But if it makes you feel more comfortable…”

“It does. Thank you” I say, holding Madders' arm as if my life depended on it. Which can very well be the case. 

“Ok, so” Doctor Smith says once we are sitting down in his office. “All the tests came back perfect, but…”

“But?” I ask, grabbing Madders hand and squeezing it so hard I fear I may break it.

“Olivia… You are pregnant.”

[xmalfoyweasleyx]

The more that you say, the less I know

Steve x (Henderson!)Reader, based on the song Willow -Taylor Swift --> my Taylor songs masterlist

Summary: Y/N is Dustin's older sister, she comes to town and meets Steve. But it seems the boy has some commitment issues...

Angsty but fluff ending <3 , between 1.5-2k words

I'm like the water when your ship rolled in that night.

Rough on the surface but you cut through like a knife

“My sister is coming to town! I’m gonna meet her here” Dustin said excitedly, hanging on the Family Video counter while Steve was focussing on organizing some tapes. “Wow, wow, wait. I didn’t know you had a sister?” he questioned, looking up from his work for a split second. “Duh, didn’t I mention that?” Dustin answered confused. “No? why didn't you mention such an important family thing but litterally tell me all kinds of other annoying and boring stuff?” the boy complained. “Well, she’s my half-sister and lived with her dad for 4 years now. So I haven’t seen her in ages. But she’s really great and smart.” Dustin talked admiringly with a big smile on his face. “Actually, she would be a pretty great match for you, weren’t you like.. searching for the one or something like that” Dustin suggested. Steve chuckled. “Dude, I appreciate the matchmaking but I don’t think your sister is going to be something for me, no offense” he waved off uninterested while walking away from the counter to stack some shelves.

“Hey dude! She’s kind and like... pretty funny actually, but okay” Dustin said disappointed, following Steve through the store like a puppy. “And by the way, I’ve given up on finding the one, it’s bullshit” Steve sighed. 

That’s when the bell rang, a beautiful girl that looked around 20 years old entered the shop. “Y/N!!” Dustin screamed running to the girl. “My god Dusty you’re all grown up I can’t believe this” she giggled while hugging him tight. Steve looked at her with wide eyes when they approached hem. Never in his life did he expect that Dustin Herderson’s sister would look like that, sound so sweet and cause a weird tingling feeling in his stomach. He was shocked, to say the least. 

“You never told me your sister was going to be so goddamn hot” he whispered in Dustin’s ear. “Ew dude, calm down with those words” he answered. “You must be the guy who’s been babysitting my little brother,” Y/N smiled. “Um - I-well… you could call it babysitting.. but..” Steve stuttered, making Dustin giggle. “I’m Y/N” you interrupted, reaching out your hand. “I’m Steve, nice to meet you” he smiled back.

***

The more that you say, the less I know.

Wherever you stray, I follow

It became a habit, visiting Steve when he had his break. It almost felt like a dream. The autumn sunshine in the afternoon. You and him picnicking under the tree in the beautiful field hidden behind Family Video. Laughing, touching, teasing. In the last 3 weeks, you two became closer and closer. Other people might say it was easy, Steve liked you and you liked him. Why wouldn’t you start dating? At first sight it all seemed obvious. You saw each other almost every day and it had been a while, since Nancy actually, that Steve had been showing interest in a girl for that long. But it wasn’t that easy. And you didn’t understand it at all. It was like you knew two different boys. Every time you got closer, Steve shut down.

It was a wednesday afternoon when you leaned on the counter, nibbling on some sandwich, staring at the boy you developed the biggest crush on. You both sat in silence. “Steve” you sighed. He didn’t look up. “We need to talk about our conversation from yesterday”. You had asked him on a date the other day, finally finding the courage. You didn’t even need that much confidence since you two already acted like a couple sometimes. He changed the subject immediately after you asked. As if you didn’t already go on some kind of dates when you picnick or pick up Dustin together after school. It left you confused and sad.

“What is there to talk about” he snapped. Your heart sank, surprised by the angry tone in his voice. His eyes filled with guilt immediately after he saw the hurt in his eyes. “If I’m that horrible or just some toy to fix your boredom with, you could just tell me” you responded, turning around to leave and go home to be alone. “No, I’m sorry Y/N, I…” he sighed from behind you. “You what? Tell me” you turned around angrily. Steve didn’t seem to know what to say. A doubtful look plastered his silent face. “That’s what I thought” you said disappointed and he watched you walk away.

***

Wait for the signal and I'll meet you after dark

Show me the places where the others gave you scars

Your bedroom was silent, you laying there in your bed, thinking, crying, an ache in your heart. It seemed all very dramatic, you laying there in the dark, not able to fall asleep while the rain splattered on your window. It was almost midnight when you got startled by a silent knock on the glass. Steve stood there. Drenched. You rushed out of your bed to open the window before the boy could fall off the roof or something.

“Steve what are you doing here?! You’re soaked” you were worried, but still angry. “I’m so sorry, it’s just… it’s just so confusing” he said shivering. He looked sad, almost like he’d been crying too but it was hard to see with all the rain on his face. You didn’t answer and grabbed a warm towel from your closet first. “Here” you whispered, putting the soft towel around him, feeling his broad shoulders underneath the material. His features softened when you touched him and he looked comfortable. It was silent, your bodies close. “Why are you here?” You asked softly, trying not to drown in the hazel eyes staring lovingly into yours. You didn’t understand, one moment he snaps at you and acts like there’s nothing between you two. The other moment he looks at you like he’s never been more in love.

“I’m sorry for playing with your feelings.”  He sighed. “I really am”. 

“Then explain it to me, why?” you whispered while he was toying softly with a lock of hair on your shoulder. Your foreheads almost touched. “I’m scared,” he said with a crack in his voice.

He seemed so vulnerable, you had never seen him like this. Little shivers from the cold, his eyes teary and filled with guilt. You stroked his wet brown locks softly and he leaned into your touch, closing his eyes. “Come sit on the bed with me” you suggested.

“The thing is.. I-I’m acting so weird because it’s the first time in a long time I felt this way” Steve confessed. “What do you mean?  Why is that bad?” You asked. “It makes me scared, I have this terrible feeling, that this will fail, that you will get bored of me eventually and.. it’s not going great at home, I know that’s not an excuse but, I’m.. I..” he stuttered, nervously toying with his fingers. You touched his hands delicately, trying to give him some comfort. “I won’t hurt your feelings like others might have done, if that’s your concern, I promise.” You whispered, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek. “This is what scares me too, the goddamn tingles I get when you do that” he chuckles, being a little more comfortable. “That’s not a bad thing Stevie. I don’t know the details of what happened with you before, but I can tell you, love is not a bad thing” you said. “Love?” he asked. You nod. “Can I kiss you?” he said, moving closer. “Please”

Wreck my plans

That's my man

Kissing Steve Harrington was one of the best things ever. He was tender, yet passionate. You were laying on your bed now, making out with your legs tangled and your hands in his soft hair.  “I could kiss you forever” he sighed while placing soft kisses on your cheek and neck. “So, don’t stop then” you teased. Steve giggled, grabbing your hips and pulling you even closer to him with a soft groan of satisfaction. “Don’t challenge me, baby”.

You fell asleep in his arms that night. Your head on his chest, his chin resting in your hair. His arms were wrapped tightly around you and your one leg was placed on top of his. His warmth and smell made you fall in a deep sleep. Listening to his soft breath. In the arms of your man.

[gothicprep]

so, apparently marvel is in disarray. ahead of the marvels coming out this weekend, variety dropped a bomb on the studio's somewhat dire state of affairs, as the franchise has hit its first real rough patch since the release of iron man 15 years ago. among the issues: jonathan majors, whose domestic violence arrest continues to hang over marvel's plans to make his character the thanos-like heavy for the next sequence of movies, the weak box office projections for the marvels (which some have said is tracking lower than recent bombs like the flash), the unending flood of hashtag content on disney plus which is overwhelming audiences who are finding it harder to keep up with the interlocking stories that have served marvel so well over the years, shoddy visual effects, spiraling budgets such as the reported $25mil an episode for she-hulk, a show that looked terrible because of the shoddy effects work aforementioned, behind the scenes chaos as kevin feige works to slash budgets and kill projects that aren't coming together. one movie at risk is the forthcoming blade reboot with mahershala ali, which has gone through rewrite after rewrite including reportedly one draft in which blade was the fourth lead in, quote, "a narrative led by women and filled with life lessons".

that last line has provided a lot of laughs for people like jay gothicprep, and critics who insist that marvel's efforts to diversify the lineup have led to much of this disaster, indicative of disney's overall failure with things like indiana jones and the dial of destiny or animated projects like strange world or lightyear. while this is potentially true (i guess, it's possible) it doesn't seem true because this certainly wasn't the case when black panther and captain marvel were both cracking the billion dollar mark a few years ago. rather it just seems, more simply, that marvel has run its course. marvel was hit by a double-whammy of endings. the thanos storyline that'd dominated the first ten or so years of the project came to an end. at the same time, the pandemic began and disney plus started flooding the zone with content, creating a natural break point for audiences that had no desire to watch hours of tv to understand 1.5 plot points in whatever the next movie that's coming out is.

this preamble is getting kind of long, and i have a lot more to say, so i'm going to continue to thought dump about this under a cut.

first of all, i'm still laughing like a week later at the women led life lessons description. no one has disputed that it happened. that description is the funniest thing i've ever read in a trade industry report possibly ever. what in the hell, my friends. did a writer even talk to a producer about what blade was? it's a movie about a guy with a sword who kills vampires! it's pretty straighforward! that sounds like something i want to see! there were three of them already, and two of them were pretty good!

anyway, i think you can take that incredibly ridiculous description of a draft that maybe wasn't the main draft – this movie has been through tons of writers and directors – and see some of the real problems with marvel's creative direction, which is that they've stopped making movies that highlight the core concepts of their characters. there are other problems as well, but when's the last time they put out a movie that was like, "iron man. he's a guy in a metal suit and he fights a bad guy." or "spider man. it's a guy in a spider suit with spider powers. he's got girlfriend problems and he fights crime around manhattan and maybe there's dr octopus." they don't do that. their recent stretch of movies have all been these impenetrable multiverse stuff with ties to tv series that you haven't seen and maybe won't ever see. there was a whole 25 minute section in black panther 2 that was setting up armor wars and ironheart. and like. who needs that sequence, which was boring and looked like total garbage? and now armor wars is being redeveloped lol. they've just departed from a lot of the core concepts that powered their earlier films.

they have some other problems. they've leaned into a slate of characters that is not all that well-known or inherently super popular, even for marvel being able to deliver on making billion dollar films out of guardians of the galaxy and such. maybe with the exception of spider man, which they don't get a full cut from because sony owns the actual movie rights. then there's the fact that the streaming series, by all accounts, aren't great but you *feel* like you need to have seen them. they're all real big problems. marvel needs to go back to making movies that are named after a character who's a superhero with a clear concept. guy with spider powers fights crime in his neighborhood. even though those movies got kind of repetitive, they did well enough because they didn't stray too far from the character concept.

i think, too, as a viewer, when you have a studio churning out so much stuff that's not good, you get the impression that the superhero industry feels entitled to your time and entitled to your money while not delivering.

this summer also represents an interesting counterpoint to what's happened with marvel and dc. the sheer amount of stuff that you devote every waking minute to keeping track of the damn things got exhausting and made movies stop feeling like events. this summer we've had barbenheimer and the eras tour, and those have been both big events and felt exciting. barbie was a chance to be campy, oppenheimer was a chance to see something serious and cinematic, the eras tour was exciting for fans of taylor swift who couldn't afford to spend $3k on taylor swift. and they felt this way because they were all unlike anything you'd seen at the movies in recent years. they had a high standard of quality, and going, it genuinely felt like people were there because they wanted to be, not because they were being force marched by a cultural behemoth to be there. you can't summon that same kind of energy for a marvel movie when it both feels obligatory and you expect it to be bad.

it also feels like there's a certain contempt for the audience where it concerns quality problems. i mean, i don't think that this is the intention. marvel isn't saying "we can deliver this stuff that's garbage and people will see it anyway". but one of the things i thought was the most damning about that variety story was the fact that, on some of the marvel tv shows, the final effects were inserted after the shows were released. so if you watched the show on opening night, you probably didn't see the final effects work. the arrogance involved in that is insane. it speaks to a total vanished pride in putting out a good product.

even some of marvel's better regarded films were heavily edited and heavily worked on right until the end, in part because kevin feige would come in and fix things, so stuff would have to get reworked. that's why effects deadlines were super tight and people were always crunching at the very end of this. there was that incredible quote from sam raimi from a couple months before the second doctor strange came out where he was like, "i think it's done but i'm not sure. marvel, they work on their movies until the very end." the director didn't even know if his own movie was locked or not because he clearly wasn't the one making the decisions about what the final print would look like.

that can work if you're making two movies a year and have a supervisor that comes in during the process and says, "i need you to redo this, in this way". but when you stretch that out to three movies a year, plus god knows how many episodes of television, there's no way to do that and make it a high quality product.

an instructive lesson comes from the book "disneywar", which chronicles michael eisner's time at disney. and one of the things in this book was the development and deployment of "who wants to be a millionaire" in america. bob iger is head of abc at this time. the guys making this show do it for a week. audiences love it. it's putting up huge numbers. everybody is excited. it's crushing it in the ratings. and the people who made it wanted to keep doing special week or two week long engagements that people would show up for. and iger was like, "no. i want this every week, three times a week, forever." and audiences got burnt out on it quickly, because it was something that only really worked as a special that ran for a week and disappeared for a few months. that's what the disney plus strategy feels like with marvel.

[thatanimeramenchick]

Yandere DOL Headcannons

So, I've been cursed by Tumblr. Thanks to you degenerates I now know about the existence of Degrees of Lewdity, and just spent the last two or three weeks of my life completely devoted to binge playing it. While I do have MAJOR problems with how um... "broad" some of the "fetishes" get I'd be lying if I said I didn't think it was a fun game. (And yes, I know you can turn them off, but why the frick is some of that crap even an option???? Just no. Right to prison.)

Anyway, this trashfire game is getting added to my list of things I now write for. So ask away for headcannons. All normal rules apply. Decided to write some yandere headcannons for non-love interest characters.

EDIT: Honestly, I don't think I'll be writing anything else for this game. I've had a dry spell with it and looking back I can't believe I even played it. 😅 Yes, I was playing Vanilla mode basically, but still, I just... I can't people. So no, I'm not doing request for this. My good girl guilt is too strong. I'm still not ready to delete this though?

---

Briar

It would take a lot for someone to catch their attention. They've seen and done most everything, so you would really have to stand out in both appearance and personality to draw them in.

They like to have other people do their dirty work for them. They pay their goons to stalk you throughout the city and take pictures of you. Security is also there to keep the town pervs off of you. If you’re employed by them, they may have your fellow workers dig up information on you by rooting through your stuff in the dressing room or befriending you. When they finally do decide they has to have you, they may have their employees yank you into their car or office for a “friendly chat” so that you two can come to a sort of agreement on what kind of relationship he wants from you. Will sugarcoat it to look like just a business deal, but there’s a much more possessive motive behind it.

How they treat and interact with you if you reject them will be greatly affected by whether you are working for them or not. If you are, they are not above using some real nasty methods to keep you under their thumb, such as threatening to repeatedly have you pimped out against your will until you learn to be more obedient. If you’re not a sex worker or if you’re a virgin, they may simply pay to have a gang rough you up a bit as opposed to having them rape you, though they’ll make sure they leave a threatening message that one of your close friends may be on the receiving end of that treatment if you don’t come to them. Oh, and they are not playing. They have absolutely no qualms with carrying out their threats.

Leighton

I literally hate this man on a deep, personal level.

If you’re a student, they will have all kinds of excuses made to have you sent to their office. If you’re a delinquent this will be easy, but I see Leighton liking to take advantage of an innocent student, because that’s the kind of pile of human bile and horesecrap that he is. They would have you drawn in by either inventing reasons for you to need detention and discipline or wanting to “make sure you’re ok” because they supposedly heard your home life was difficult or that you weren’t feeling well. May want to give you “personal” health inspections.

With their camera fetish they’re going to want lots of pictures of you in every possible state. May also request “special” videos of you. If you have agreed and ever want to stop, it really sucks to be you, because they’ll threaten to release them if you aren’t obedient.

If you show any interest in a fellow student, they will make sure to pull them aside for "discipline" as well, and may even have you join in. They're perfectly fine with a threesome as long at the end of the day you realize your theirs.

Remy

I hate to burst ya’ll’s perverted bubbles, but I don’t think Remy would do the cow treatment with their love interest. They look at the player as cattle when they buy them and treat them as such. While they may have a certain “special interest” in tending to you, at the end of the day, you’re a cow, and they are not screwing a cow.

Now, don’t get me wrong. Their personality is extremely domineering and if they want something, they have made it clear throughout the course of the game that they get it. They will use and even take sadistic glee to an extent in using force to get what they want, as is shown in how they ransacks Alex’s farm and how they whips the player with joy when they refuse to plow. So if they have their eyes on a someone, they are getting them and taming them into submission. I just don’t think it would be through the cow treatment.

May try to woo you the more traditional way, using their riches and personality to try to win you over. If that doesn’t work though, some sabotaging your current love life and manipulating your financial situation by pulling some strings with your housing and job. If all else fails, maybe some threatening your loved ones will work. Don’t want everyone you love and care about lives being utterly ruined? They want you. Doesn’t really want to kidnap you if they don't have to, but they are not above it if things you are being a real brat or don’t really have anyone they can threaten you with.

After you either submit into entering a relationship or they abduct you, they use the carrot and stick method. Being bad gets you punished in various ways and revoking privileges, while being good has them treating you kinder and letting you do things you enjoy. They still keep you on a really tight leash though.

[aching-tummies]

Sounds like you had a rough time would be a shame if someone made it worse. Coming up behind you and placing their hands of your tummy. You thinking their gonna help with how bloated you feel but they only plan on making it worse. Your tummy is tight and hard from how bloated it is but they don't care they squeeze it anyway. Jiggling your tummy just to everything angrily slosh together as you moan in discomfort. Seeing how tight they can squeeze you before you lose everything. They would definitely tease you about how bloated you are by poking your bloated belly hard

Honestly, everything about this one (except for the partner and what they did to me) is basically a real experience. I made that discount chicken-noodle soup for myself when I was sick maybe five days in a week and it honestly felt like none of it digested by the third day. I think I skipped meals completely and fasted on the fourth day because my belly felt too damned bloated to have any appetite at all. Doing dishes was honestly terrifying and I was legitimately fighting back wet belches out of fear of suffocation all day between the third and fourth days.

As I write this, I realize I need more inspiration for dialogue in situations like this. Words definitely failed me.

I choke back another wet hiccup as I try to focus on rinsing the dishes without leaning on or bending around the counter as much as I normally do. If this kitchen counter were an inch higher, all of these plates and utensils would be getting re-filled very quickly rather than getting clean.

Apparently, sickness has decided that my stomach is going to refuse to digest for a while. I feel like a detergent pod--my belly bloated and swollen with a viscous liquid that'll burn my esophagus when exposed to the soft tissue.

My stomach rolls, rumbling without sound as the liquid contents churn inside my torso. My normally-trim stomach is visibly bloated out just a tad--plainly visible due to the form-fitting camisole I'm wearing. Thanks to fever and other symptoms not giving me a break, wearing the camisole is more efficient than anything else at the moment. I have plenty of spares, they're easy to wash and dry in a hurry, and when I feel overheated I can stand around in just the camisole, or rush to toss some layers on when I get too chilled. Unfortunately, the versatile clothing does very little for my ill-feeling stomach other than make it blatantly obvious that something's going on in the area. I've seen you leering at me in this get-up--eyes glued like a magnet to this liquid-y bloat that's refused to go down for the last three days.

I've been dodging you all week due to the sickness. Thankfully, you've been at work, but while you're home I usually have retired to the guest bedroom and thrown the lock for good measure. As much as we both love stomach-stuff, I honestly spent all those hours too sick to indulge in anything--including sleep. The last few nights have not been kind with the fever keeping me up by alternating between chills and sweats every ten or twenty minutes. The headache has been intense, and my stomach has refused to settle for the better part of a week.

I haven't eaten much of anything this week. I've made myself discount chicken noodle soup with chicken-flavoured boullion powder, onions, garlic, and macaroni and survived off of maybe a litre or a litre and a half of that stuff each day for the last three days. So...water and about three litres of soup is all that's entered my gut in the last three days. Honestly, it feels like it's all still in there, sloshing away as I carefully rinse off another plate. My stomach has been feeling increasingly more and more bloated with each day. It definitely doesn't feel like gas, especially not when I wake up to sour liquid lapping at the back of my throat. It seems my poor, little tummy has taken sick and refused to work over the last three days. Honestly, I have half a mind to just throw up and hope it makes me feel better, but the stuffy nose and congestion throughout my throat and chest threatens to asphyxiate me every time I try, so I end up swallowing back the hot and sour liquid that keeps coming up like some incessant groundhog.

I lean forward slightly with a groan as my stomach does another liquid-y flip.

"Unnngh...urk!" I yelp as I feel a new sensation--dry hands have slid over my camisole, coming to rest just over the crest of my bloated belly, right along my ribs. "Nnngh...ugh...d-darling...no." I bat at your hands, wincing as the force ripples through my bloated tummy. Your hands are in dangerous territory and it honestly scares me.

"Awww...poor tummy. So, so bloated." You tease, rubbing a languid, light circle over the tightest part of my stomach. Your rubbing causes another soundless rumble to tumble through my turbulent tummy, bringing up a wet belch.

"Nnngh...urrrrp--hic--b-babe...n-no. Please...n-not here...ulp...n-not on the plates."

My belly is surprisingly firm beneath your palms—bloated up with pretty much everything that has passed my lips in the last three days. You give it a light squeeze with your palm—testing the tension. Your hands pat roughly, dislodging a few more pitifully small wet belches that burn my throat and threaten to baptize the sudsy dishes in the sink with something nasty.

“Unnngh...nnnngh...” I mewl and moan, leaning back against you in a futile attempt to get away from the pressure of your hands.

You chuckle, jiggling my bloated belly and delighting in the wet 'glk' noise as well as my sudden reaction to bend over the sink with my eyes wide. I swallow desperately, trying to clear my throat enough to suck in a greedy breath of air. Damned congestion. I know I'd feel much, much better if I just threw up and purged the sick from my tummy—but there's a very real risk of suffocation due to congestion making it so that not only can I not breathe through my nose, but I also can't suck in enough air to even try to hold my breath for any length of time. I always thought 'shortness of breath' was just put there for people with pre-existing breathing conditions, or that it was legalese. Nope—it's real—and it is terrifying.

You continue to pat at my tummy with your left hand, jostling it uncomfortably and causing me to be reduced to moans and swallows as I fight to keep the waves of sick down. Your right hand rubs circles all over my bloated belly, varying the pressure based on what you think will cause me to moan. Eventually, you take to poking—jabbing your finger repeatedly into the tightest parts of my belly and delighting in the sharp cries and harsh belches that it causes. You nail my navel with one particularly forceful jab and I feel my mouth flood with something thick and sour.

[batsplat]

continuing with rgu/motogp and casey&vale thought exercise. during Casey’s ducati days the team (and also some tracks) were sponsored by Alice and they literally had an eye as a part of their logo design. it’s just too good not to use it and one could go in a pretty surrealist direction with it even.

right! yes! agreed anon! absolutely!

the way my ask-answering process currently works is that this genre of asks get a sort of instant prioritisation (the other asks are lovely but I need more active brain cells than I currently have at my disposal for a lot of them), which means I actually did start answering this like... immediately when I got it. then I got side tracked answering this ask about the similarities between casey/valentino, which I kinda feel like has ended up forming a lot of the spiritual foundation for the stuff here. now, quick look behind the curtain - where I'm at right now with life is that most of my ask answering happens a) when I'm commuting, b) when I'm eating, or c) when I'm about to fall asleep. except this past week, this process (and much of my life in general) has fallen apart as I have been ravaged by first a malfunctioning smoke alarm, then the combination of a malfunctioning smoke alarm and fever, and now just the illness. anyway basically this is my lengthy way of putting a disclaimer at the top that everything in this post was written in a state of mild sleep deprivation OR severe sleep deprivation fuelled by a smoke alarm in my bedroom beeping loudly once a minute for six days straight OR illness-induced fatigue. like my brain is empty at this point, there is nothing left, I just sort of long for oblivion. luckily at most three people will read this ask, so it's all good. let's roll <3

you're so rightttttt anon, yes!! that logo!! I had not clocked the surreal possibilities at allllll but obviously. they are there. here's the logo on the bike!

man that was such a nice looking bike. like 800cc was an awful era of racing but you can't argue with the aesthetics

here it is with the ad board backdrop

it's actually quite a nice logo.... here's a clean version of it:

I don't think this company exists anymore in this form, some italian tech thing idk, so no concerns over being a capitalist shill here. also it was still a fair bit less crowded back then, it's one of five logos on the bike rather than one of fifty. I like the idea you have these eyes sitting all around the track, very panopticon-y. as you zip by them and they watch you go round and round. both on the circuit, on the bike itself, on the leathers... in an early 2008 race, in estoril I believe, casey had some kind of issue with a camera dorna was making him test that ended up swinging around during the race. he talks about it in his autobiography in the context of his rough start to 2008 and all his various frustrations, but somehow entirely fails to miss the irony of a literal camera tormenting him. like come on casey, that's the thing you're always complaining about, don't you think that's kinda funny? how it's now not just like, abstractly making your life hell but also literally doing so? come on casey

AND ofc it's there when he's fighting valentino

this will be some time in 2007, I like how it looks like the eye is kinda peaking out at valentino from the side of the bike

you can kind of go in a few different directions with this eye thing, right. in a way, the obvious one is to position casey as the object of observation, of how he was constantly being watched and judged, of how he would have preferred to be riding out on his own without any of this other stuff but he was constantly forced to be part of the world of the paddock. the media was waiting for him to slip up, he was always being assessed, even his bike has sometimes faulty cameras attached to it. that's sports as entertainment - the aspect of his occupation casey was always least comfortable with, which made him so very different from valentino. you can even tap into the uneasy relationship with ducati, how they were watching him and judging him and all of it... blaming him for their troubles, not giving him enough credit for their successes. judging his diet! such a major theme of the 2009 saga, right, how they just refused to give him adequate support.... there's really something to like,, specifically the element of them judging his body, I think, this sort of 'oh, if only he ate and trained directly, if only he wasn't eating so many sweets' (a real bit of rhetoric they used btw!!) that has such a pernicious and controlling and nasty vibe to it that it really fits with having the eye on the bike itself. staring back at casey and demanding perfection from him and not even paying him his dues when he is actually perfect. big brother may be watching you, but he will never love you. creepy. awful

I've been thinking a lot about casey lately (yes yes, I'm sure this'll come as a shock) and what I find so compelling about him. and there's a version of him that I... look, not to judge anyone, do whatever, but there's an interpretation I do 'sometimes' see that I just personally find both slightly off base and also boring as shit. like, you can make casey into this very one dimensional 'always right about everything' opinionated hater who went in, beat valentino a bunch of times, showed everyone how talented and amazing he was but he was the victim of valentino's malevolence and then he left again, and now he keeps dropping correct hot takes about how awful everything is about current motogp. to me, this is all very flat. if casey were just very talented and a great guy and simply a bit introverted, I would find him boring as shit. so I was thinking about like.... how talented he is, how he's kinda the talent in the sport, and how usually the phrase 'the greatest talent this sport has seen' has to be the biggest turn-off imaginable in sports for me. but for him specifically, the sheer extent of that talent I think is a really key storytelling detail. I actually find it an interesting starting point to say that he really might just be as good as it gets on that specific metric. like, I don't care about measuring talent as a literal metric because... idk man, I just don't care, but it is narratively compelling to allow him to have the most raw potential of literally anyone. it's all there. he was born to ride, he was raised in a way that allowed him to become a truly unique rider - the kind you'll never see before or since. it's very primal, isn't it, taps into that early stage of the development curve: you have all this promise as a young child, where there are no other complicating factors, just an expression of raw ability, of a sort of purity... and at that stage, everything is possible. the talent is there to win twenty world titles. the talent will never, ever be the stumbling block

but of course, winning twenty titles isn't as easy as just having a lot of raw talent. I think there's something very nicely bildungsroman-y of casey setting off away from australia to european soils, where it's... you know, every step of the way up the ladder in the australian system, then through the british ranks on a whole different continent, then through spanish where he doesn't speak the language... it's obviously quite radically expanding his horizons, step by step, and it's also this horrifying process where he's slowly being subjected more and more to the world's gaze. you know that thing where casey had thought mat oxley was the guy doing him dirty when riding in the british championships - beyond being a funny story, I think it's actually kinda noteworthy that casey is already so hyper aware of how he is being perceived when he's a fifteen year old riding in a national championship. obviously, casey was making through his ranks with a real lack of security... the hypersensitivity always has to be attached to the context that for so many of his formative years, what people thought about him really, really mattered. he wasn't always the best at distinguishing between what was just, y'know, a journalist doing their job and the sort of unfair criticism that was actually fucking with his chances at career progression - but obviously that's pretty understandable. it's a real vulnerability that stems from... being beholden to that world's gaze. that constant pressure of young athletes, where they simply have to impress whoever happens to be watching. the talent spotter, some management agency representative, some team member who could open a door one day, a random journalist.... it all matters

and of course in that context, it's key how uncomfortable casey always has been with being watched. from his autobiography (in this post, which is about the gnarly topic of how the dream of being a rider was forced onto him by his parents - not irrelevant to this conversation):

well, y'know. that's all right then! if he's just crying because he finds the attention of others so distressing, it's not a problem! it'd only be a problem if he was crying because he doesn't want to ride! I'm sure this is something that casey will just magically deal with by the time he's grown up! nothing to address here if you're his parents, just a normal part of the process of becoming a professional motorcycle racer!

there's a romantic ideal to casey that I do have mixed feelings towards. both fascination and wariness, certainly. I think you can really lean into it with this pure, natural talent business, this sickly child becoming this fragile adult who has this sort of fast burning genius that is very bright very soon but inevitably consumes itself. the mystery illness, the early retirement, all the questions of 'what if'... people really love that angle, the tortured genius of it all, how there was always more possible if their bodies and minds hadn't conspired against them. I have many issues with this, from my distaste towards treating talent as the ultimate metric of worthiness in sports (you don't deserve to win more if you're more talented lol), to my dislike for how casey's mental health ends up being framed in these conversations, and just a general bleh feeling about injecting too much of a tragic note into the discussion of this type of career. you get the sense people pay less attention to casey's actual career than they do to a theoretical idea of the career that exists in their heads, and even then a lot of the time it's to push some kind of an agenda about a non-casey rider. still, listen, we're talking surrealism here - and sometimes you can lean into a trope to critique it, right. like, the trope is clearly there, might as well acknowledge it. and the exact manner of his 'downfall' really does come through the weight of the world's gaze, doesn't it, where he's constantly being exposed and picked apart and taunted. he hated it even when he became a child, and he just was in no way prepared for how big a role that constant attention would play throughout his racing career. it's just this fundamental incompatibility... the way this raw talent ends up running into the brick wall that is the reality of what modern professional sports looks like. again, this isn't a framing I'm a massive fan of - but that kind of prodigious talent does kinda get given a sort of... ethereal dimension, where it's not really suited to the true nature of the world and inevitably gets ground down by the cruelties and injustices. that tension between the elevated, the otherworldly, and the material realities it is subjected to. now, if casey had responded to this by being some sort of suffering shrinking violet poor martyred lamb, he wouldn't be anywhere close to as fun. he might be a prodigy, but he's also a whiny little shit who wasn't always doing himself any favours with how he was dealing with all those material realities. the general point still stands, though - and there's something kinda fun to giving The Gaze itself a corrosive power, the ability to eat away at casey through its mere existence

time to bring valentino back into the picture. I also think the talent element is really key with the valentino rivalry. like, to be clear here, I do not give a shit which one of casey and valentino was literally more talented, in large part because I just don't really believe in talent as a valid construct. everything about this is a boring debate to me when there's so much interesting stuff going on with these two that nobody ever seems to want to discuss :(((( so let's do that discussion here. and let's just say for a minute that valentino does look at casey and at the very least believes he might be as talented as valentino is, if not more so. from the similarities post:

like, we can quibble with phrasing here, but I think if you are saying that someone's 'pure talent' is 'unbeatable', then you might kinda be calling him the most talented guy to ever do it? does kinda live rent free in my head! valentino also said casey was "one of the greatest talents ever in motogp" which, while phrased a little less extremely, does give us a baseline to operate from with regards to how valentino perceived casey's abilities. when we're talking about 'gaze', in my mind there's something fun when you lean into the interpretation that valentino's gaze was not only very much on casey, but on casey quite early. the paddock was all over the place with regards to casey in his early years - where obviously people did spot the talent but didn't clock HOW good he was and also tended to dismiss him for various reasons, including his actual performance (often it really was his bikes that were more to blame) and, well, his personality. the rumour goes that casey was blocked not once but twice from joining yamaha, first in 2005 for the 2006 season with a satellite contract and agreement to join the factory team in 2007, and then in 2006 for the 2007 season. with the second one, casey does kinda imply in a very *wink wink nudge nudge* way that he enjoys deploying that valentino was the one to block him, and this is also something his father has said in interviews (yeah I've watched interviews his father has given, that's the rare level of fan dedication I've reached with this bloke). now, I'm a teensy bit unconvinced by the evidence here because by late 2006 yamaha clearly were leaning quite heavily towards jorge as their future. they also seemed to think valentino might be off to do f1 - or at least that's how lin jarvis more recently sold the decision to sign jorge, as a situation where they never actually intended those two nutcases to be teammates. more recently, casey has also suggested that yamaha were deliberately stringing him along as a way of pushing down the price of the guy they actually wanted to sign, which to me sounds fairly plausible. I'm not saying valentino wasn't badmouthing casey within yamaha - it's entirely possible that this is a thing that was separately happening - I just am way less sure whether it actually achieved anything. which leads us back to the 2005 contract cycle... in all honesty, I do kinda want valentino to have blocked casey here, for the reasons I was talking about above: I think it's fun and narratively spicey for valentino's Gaze to have been on casey early and have already had this malicious quality, where he's actively hurting casey's career prospects. I do feel this would be like... a little bit of a stretch, just in terms of how much long-term thinking and planning and behind the scenes malice and also power we're ascribing to valentino here - to make him block a satellite signing that only maybe possibly could become uncomfortable for him a year down the line. still, by the same token... that's exactly what would make it fun. I'm not going to take a stance on whether it happened or not, but I would like the possibility that it might have happened to bleed into the narrative at all times

and then we've got casey's autobiography line about how valentino was hazing him in his rookie season, putting questionable moves on him in practises and during races. I love this so so so so much. look, casey had a strong start to his rookie season, and he DID fight valentino in his very second race which was very cute. but let's be real, valentino had limited opportunities to fight casey in races that season (I'm still struggling to actually think of a non-qatar race.... and having rewatched that fight a few times, it's one of those things I kinda want casey to talk me through, explain what his issues with valentino were) and really should have had bigger things to worry about. like, the man has four championship rivals and none of them are satellite honda rookie casey stoner. if valentino really was bullying that child in practise, then, y'know, what was the vision there. so obviously I really need this to be true... valentino might be a bit of a dick in general on-track but there's just something so charming about the idea that he had a bit of a special treatment for casey from day one. like, yes, that's my favourite talent spotter!! he knew there was something about that surly, stubborn crash prone kid. I want that malicious gaze directed on casey nice and early. obviously, casey has this entire thing where he doesn't believe valentino rated him until he'd basically already lost the title in 2007 and even then wasn't giving him proper credit, which doesn't entirely stand up when checking the historical record... but crucially, let's just accept casey's stance for a minute and say that valentino wasn't being sufficiently complimentary - for all intents and purposes, valentino did understand exactly how good casey was! going back to those autobiography sections I included in the similarities post, with valentino's whole thing about how he knew exactly why he won and lost every single race... I think it's really key that valentino did recognise just how good casey was, that he had quite a clear-sighted understanding of the level of prodigious talent he was dealing with here. that's why the gaze needs to be turned malicious, right. casey's stance here is the 'well the victory doesn't mean as much if you play dirty' approach, but valentino doesn't care. even if he was open to the idea that casey might be 'more talented' than him, obviously that doesn't mean he's going to roll over and die. because at the end of the day, raw talent really is only one of many tools in an athlete's locker. if the only way you can beat the kid is in the head, then so be it

one thing that does go under the radar a bit with casey is just how young he was during the heyday of the valentino rivalry. like, everyone's always on about how marc was only 22 during sepang 2015 - but for what it's worth, casey was 22 during laguna 2008. casey already experienced crowds booing him when he was 21, no honeymoon period there. maybe it's the lack of such a big age gap with valentino (they clock in at six and three quarter years), maybe it's the perceived lesser severity of valentino's crimes in this relationship, the lack of an active betrayal of hero worship, maybe it's how casey is a bit less baby faced and a bit more ill-tempered, maybe it's just lack of interest in casey in general... (to be clear, I do not want any discourse about this rivalry. like casey, I also do not need The Gaze to be directed at him too much.) but y'know, it is important to remember. laguna 2008 as a formative experience for casey is at its most coherent when we treat it first and foremost as one of humiliation. I talked about humiliation in that black rose arc post and then also did address that a bit in the similarities post:

this is what the gaze does to you, right. nobody is humiliated in private - that's not how humiliation works. you can be embarrassed in private without anyone else knowing what you did to embarrass yourself, even though you can argue about how there's an element there of judging yourself against an imagined external observer. still, though... with humiliation, it's far more direct. humiliation requires an audience. and humiliation has so much potential as a formative experience. the crash itself is really key here imo - it's not a scary crash, it's not a dangerous crash, it's a comically slow one as the bike goes into the gravel and then goes into the slightly deeper gravel and then tips over. it's one the commentators treat as a little bit silly, because it is. it feels like such an anticlimactic end to the battle, but it works perfectly because of it. casey is even denied any real pathos in the moment of his downfall... it's his own mistake, it's one that has so slender, seemingly harmless consequences. and then he has to ride to second place, he has to sit with the sting of that mistake, of knowing everyone watched it.... the entire show valentino puts on in parc fermé, perfect for the cameras, interrupting casey's tv interview and all of it... they both know they're being watched. valentino leans into his triumphalism in a way he never has in quite the same way before or since. casey cannot hide his bitterness and must eventually worsen his own humiliation by apologising to valentino. that's the kind of thing that sticks with you, yeah

and it's predicated on all the watching and studying and learning valentino has been doing throughout the course of the rivalry... valentino has come to understand casey and come to understand just how unbeatable his adversary can be. when you're fighting a god, after all, you kinda need to pull out all the stops. valentino reinvents himself in that laguna race, he's willing to take a massive risk on several counts, and it's all because he knows just how good casey is. it's the coldness of the whole thing, the violence, the radical steps valentino has taken, that make the whole thing so compelling. a series of calculations based on valentino watching casey, assessing not only his talent but also his character. and in that race comes the moment of revelation, where their characters are tested to such an extent that you inevitably expose a lot of said characters. valentino is inviting the audience in on the show... it's a spectacle - that's why it works

so, let's flip it and make casey the observer. after all, it's casey who's got the eyes plastered all over him

including in pressers where it's a backdrop! got it nicely displayed on his chest too as casey watches valentino talk. I did already give a lot of my thoughts on this dynamic in the similarities post - it's such a key theme to me of that entire rivalry that casey is so... actively engaged in the process of learning from valentino. jorge and marc used valentino as a 'reference' before they entered the class; casey felt first hand what happens when valentino focuses in on a rival and knew he needed to learn some of those tricks. luckily, he's talented enough to be a quick study. I really like the angle of this photo because it does kinda make it look like all the eyes are on valentino... which they obviously are. a man who is always aware of where the cameras are! sometimes for better and sometimes for worse

kinda have to bring it in when we're talking eyeballs, right? valentino really is the master of bringing in his own surrealist imagery. as all the best bits of valentino symbolism, you can interpret this in several ways... it's him paying extra attention to where he's riding a year after the leg break, but also him deeply, deeply aware of the eyes of the world on him after his ill-fated switch to ducati. the world gazes - and he shows his awareness of that gaze by gazing right back at it. acknowledging the camera, making his own humiliation into a bit of a show

anyhow... see that overly long post of casey and vale photos WAS good for something because the ask made me take a closer look at some of those photos. check this one out lol

you're right, anon!! this slaps! perfect gaze from casey, perfect placement of the eye right next to him. it kind of functions in two different ways, right, because you've got the element of casey studying valentino and learning from him - but also the gaze of judgement. again, you've got laguna as this decisive moment of revelation... "valentino showed who he really was", after all. casey's gaze is one of moral consideration, of condemnation. it's that duality that's really fun with them, where casey is on the one hand so fundamentally disgusted by valentino and his entire deal, but on the other hand is also learning to become more like him. leaning into his 'worse' impulses to fight him - the spite, the grudges, the determination to hold his own against his enemies that will supersede morals or self-preservation. if you look too long into the darkness, the darkness may end up looking back

it's that kind of vibe where... y'know, there's such a disparity between how the pair of them experience the rivalry, but also just how it functions narratively for them... part of the point I was making in that post is that it's like. valentino is obviously capable of these ultra heartfelt emotionally thorny rivalries. this was not that, but it was for casey - and so in some ways casey ended up taking on the valentino role. spite, grudges, delayed retribution... it's all a lot more straightforward from valentino's end, especially during the time period where they're actually competing for titles, where there isn't any real interpersonal animosity and valentino is just sort of willing to do whatever it takes... it's not like he even massively wanted to make an enemy out of casey; he just had a far more liberal understanding of acceptable tactics than casey did. and then casey's got so much going on... which means these two rivalries just end up operating on completely different levels, where valentino's dealing with this tricky and kinda fun challenge and casey's confronting demons... casey judges valentino, casey learns from valentino, casey never entirely understood valentino. this lingering awareness that he never really knew valentino as a person - that's catnip for this discussion. he can look all he likes, but all he sees is a shell

speaking of... well, valentino having these two natures, valentino's perceived fickleness, valentino being so slippery and tricky to pin down for casey... you can kinda bring in another symbol already featured in one of these posts, right

sun and moon on one rider vs an eye on the other. now, remember, valentino liked using this as a way of distinguishing between two sides of his character:

lovely stuff. not a million miles away with the internal distinction casey sometimes seems to draw between valentino the person and valentino the character. and that's what the eye is supposed to do, right - perceive the truth. see valentino for what he really is. positioning casey as the heretic who won't shy away from seeing valentino's true nature... the callousness casey has been exposed to, an awareness of everything valentino would do to win a race, to win a title. to beat casey

another link I was thinking of going through my lil collection of photos - this pair of photos which I think are both from qatar 2007:

while I generally prefer my sun and moon logos a bit less minimalist, valentino does have a nice helmet design here with the sun on one side and moon on the other. I mean this is just fantastic stuff, isn't it, like it really writes itself. two photos from different pov's, one where you see casey's face and one where you see valentino's. one where you see the sun and one where you see the moon. you can play around with the interpretation a little depending on what you want the sun and moon to symbolise respectively, but it's all in there lol. casey sees the moment one way, valentino quite the other. casey sees one side of valentino, but valentino's other side is already lurking, biding its time. valentino wearing a helmet at all is of course also quite a nice touch - see casey hiding in his helmet as a teenager, embarrassed by how good he was, see valentino deciding against taking off his helmet when he goes to confront casey after jerez 2011. it's a literal mask, a way of maintaining distance. works very nicely, doesn't it

here's a photo of them on-track, where you can just about see both sides of the helmet:

so you get a bunch of nice photos that year where depending on the perspective it's being photographed from, you get a different side of the helmet visible. casey spends so much time in front that season, he really doesn't need to be studying valentino's helmet all too closely. and sitting behind someone is overrated, as laguna 2008 showed so nicely

valentino also has a more intricate version of this design at phillip island 2007

which I'm mainly including because I think the whole thing looks kinda snazzy

but that's!! not!! all!! because there is one last 'casey and eyes' theorem that absolutely needs to be included here. like, this whole thing of casey watching valentino, having all these eyes around him doing the watching, perceiving valentino's true nature... it's all a bit third eye, isn't it, of having another eye open and being able to perceive truths your two regular ones can't. and, well, eyes... if we're talking about eyes and symbolism, then there's one symbolic link you just need to bring in: conspiracy theories. plastering a bunch of eyes on things, it's all a bit illuminati innit, a bit eye of providence, a bit freemason. one of my favourite things like,, narratively with casey is to really lean into the paranoia and the conspiratorial leanings; it's fun and juicy and adds so much to his character. he's just the type of guy who ends up being very attuned to a certain type of pattern! a certain type of colour, even - the bloody luminous yellow thing really is just such a perfect little detail that is so unintentionally revealing. casey noticing it, casey exaggerating it in his mind, casey including it in his autobiography.... he's got such a particular way of seeing the world, such a specific and slightly odd viewpoint that just makes you want to prod at him... and he does have a little bit of the flair of the traditional conspiracy theorist

that built-in wariness, disillusionment from systems and the establishment and all the rest of it, the alienation, the suspicion of malice... the whiff of paranoia! all absolutely perfect to make use of all the eye imagery. I think it's so so telling that casey thinks valentino might have been a victim of a plot like that, like it almost feels a bit counterintuitive the first time you think about it... casey's whole thing with valentino was about how valentino was always being favoured, always being given preferential treatment - casey complains about it several times in that same book! but, like, at the end of the day he really does view the system as the main villain. valentino is almost like an unwitting, unsuspecting, undeserving beneficiary of the whole thing, who doesn't even know what's Really Going On.... it's not valentino's malice behind these neverending injustices - though he might be representative of all of them. apparently, it is possible for valentino to be stitched up too. it is kinda a little bit that classic conspiracy theorist dynamic of gaining satisfaction from being one of the few who actually know the truth... like on the one hand it's frustrating in the isolation it causes, but on the other hand it's also extremely rewarding because it makes you special. 'welcome to my world, mate' - you almost get the sense casey wants to yank valentino behind the curtain and explain to him how the world really works. casey wants valentino to understand him, remember. maybe at the end of the day casey wants valentino's gaze to be a little more finely attuned. oh, please let me moderate a dinner between the pair of them, pretty please

still, for balance, let's chuck in some casey paranoia actually aimed directly at valentino:

10/10, no notes. watching someone closely isn't always a good thing

anyway this is probably the place to wrap up this post lol. basically I agree, anon, the eyes are great. I do not have the energy to edit this, so hope it is at least vaguely coherent. everyone's always watching each other and it's all fun and kinda creepy and unsettling and long live paranoia